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Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Turkish Torment

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Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
Having fallen behind in my reading of this thread, I’ve now had the opportunity to read in quick succession the three installments that lay out the tragic denouement of Trixie’s State Department training, and all I can say is that PrPr is unquestionably a master writer! He has me totally hooked, emotionally involved, feeling intense anger and sympathy over what Watson is doing to her! Whew! What next. Keep them coming PrPr!
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
I have probably confused several readers with the change of focus here.

When I started this thread, as I stated and the Title confirms, I intended to write concerning Trixie's time in Turkey after the action in Singapore III. However, I thought it a nice idea to fill in her background in Alabama a little.
"A little!"
As I delved into her background in Branchwater, the details forced a significant expansion of the story. I also became interested in making her a fully realized character and enjoyed chronicling the details of her sordid youth. This was all intended to make her downfalls even more compelling.
This is the danger of starting to post a story that has not been written.
As I have written here, the story has radically expanded and it will not reasonably be contained in one section. I have decided on a unified Trilogy that takes Trixie from Branchwater to Arlington to Singapore to Turkey.

I shall complete her time in Arlington with Watson, and send her on a plane to Singapore and wrap that up as "Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Torments - Part I, Branchwater to Singapore."
Then I shall take some time off for other projects.
I'll come back with a shorter section, "Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Torments - Part II, Life in Singapore," told from her point of view but with cameos of many of the old fan favorites from Singapore III.
Then I end with "Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Torments - Part III, Hell in Turkey"
Perhaps with an extended epilog, "The Fate of Trailer Park Trash." I already have some ideas to use that to meet out some well-deserved karma to some of her tormentors.

Stay tuned!
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
You have most certainly done that.
And it continues

Trixie was beside herself. She sobbed and begged hysterically. This news cut like a stake through her heart. Would she not graduate? Would she be sent back to her old life in Branchwater with nothing to show for two years of intense work but staggering debts and dashed hopes? After a couple of minutes, Trixie quieted down, softly crying, looking up at her supervisor for some sign of hope.

“You want me to give you another chance?” Tom asked with almost a sneer. “You don't realize how badly you've messed up here. It isn’t just that your work has let down the rest of the team, Trixie. You have hidden facts that would certainly have disqualified you from the beginning. I just had the chance to read this. How do you think I felt?”
Tom reached around on the desk and brought back a paper report bound in a clear plastic cover. He held it up in front of Trixie so she could easily read the title on the outside, "Counselor's Report on Beatrice Thomson by Simon Reedy, Ph.D.
Trixie's mouth opened in horror as she stared through watery eyes at the report. So Mr. Watson just got it! That's why he never said anything. What must he think of her?
"After reading this, it is impossible for me to recommend you enter the foreign service of the United States. We cannot have people representing us overseas who possess such questionable moral character."
Trixie's mouth moved, trying to make words to answer, but no words emerged. Finally, she stuttered out, "But, that was my family, not me! Yes, I made some mistakes, but nothing illegal!" As the words left her mouth, Trixie realized to her dismay that her best defense seemed to be that she was not a criminal.

"Not illegal?" Watson laughed at the phrase. "Okay, Trixie. Not Illegal. But let's see exactly the background that qualifies you as a trusted representative of the United States of America on an overseas Mission. Is that fair?"
She stared in shock and shame.
“I said, ‘Is that fair?’” her supervisor raised his voice impatiently.
"Y...Yes," she didn't know what to say now. Visions of her life in ruins, returning to Branchwater and her home with nothing to show for all this work were tormenting her.
Watson leafed through her folder. “You grew up in a trashy trailer park?”
"It is called a 'Mobile Home Resort.'" She sniffled.
“Don’t prevaricate with me, girl,” he snapped, pounding his fist on his desk. Trixie almost jumped out of her chair.
"If you want me to reconsider and give you a chance, you'd better cooperate, admit the truth, and show your good intentions. You certainly don't want to make me angry right now!"

“I’m s...sorry, Tom.”
“Given your tenuous position, you should say Mr. Watson or Sir!"
“Yes, Sir.”
“You grew up in a falling-down trailer park, right? In a shitpile of a home. You are what everyone calls ‘Trailer Park Trash,’ aren’t you?” he asked with a sneer.
His words cut Trixie to the heart. She had first heard the expression in Second Grade. Over the years since, she had heard it many times, especially from boys she'd dated who came from homes far better than hers (shit - everyone’s home was better). They all had assumed that she was an easy lay from her background. For the last two years, she had worked to rise above her humble beginnings. Now her supervisor seemed to spit out the expression like he was referring to stinking excrement.
 

Fossy

Senator
And it continues

Trixie was beside herself. She sobbed and begged hysterically. This news cut like a stake through her heart. Would she not graduate? Would she be sent back to her old life in Branchwater with nothing to show for two years of intense work but staggering debts and dashed hopes? After a couple of minutes, Trixie quieted down, softly crying, looking up at her supervisor for some sign of hope.

“You want me to give you another chance?” Tom asked with almost a sneer. “You don't realize how badly you've messed up here. It isn’t just that your work has let down the rest of the team, Trixie. You have hidden facts that would certainly have disqualified you from the beginning. I just had the chance to read this. How do you think I felt?”
Tom reached around on the desk and brought back a paper report bound in a clear plastic cover. He held it up in front of Trixie so she could easily read the title on the outside, "Counselor's Report on Beatrice Thomson by Simon Reedy, Ph.D.
Trixie's mouth opened in horror as she stared through watery eyes at the report. So Mr. Watson just got it! That's why he never said anything. What must he think of her?
"After reading this, it is impossible for me to recommend you enter the foreign service of the United States. We cannot have people representing us overseas who possess such questionable moral character."
Trixie's mouth moved, trying to make words to answer, but no words emerged. Finally, she stuttered out, "But, that was my family, not me! Yes, I made some mistakes, but nothing illegal!" As the words left her mouth, Trixie realized to her dismay that her best defense seemed to be that she was not a criminal.

"Not illegal?" Watson laughed at the phrase. "Okay, Trixie. Not Illegal. But let's see exactly the background that qualifies you as a trusted representative of the United States of America on an overseas Mission. Is that fair?"
She stared in shock and shame.
“I said, ‘Is that fair?’” her supervisor raised his voice impatiently.
"Y...Yes," she didn't know what to say now. Visions of her life in ruins, returning to Branchwater and her home with nothing to show for all this work were tormenting her.
Watson leafed through her folder. “You grew up in a trashy trailer park?”
"It is called a 'Mobile Home Resort.'" She sniffled.
“Don’t prevaricate with me, girl,” he snapped, pounding his fist on his desk. Trixie almost jumped out of her chair.
"If you want me to reconsider and give you a chance, you'd better cooperate, admit the truth, and show your good intentions. You certainly don't want to make me angry right now!"

“I’m s...sorry, Tom.”
“Given your tenuous position, you should say Mr. Watson or Sir!"
“Yes, Sir.”
“You grew up in a falling-down trailer park, right? In a shitpile of a home. You are what everyone calls ‘Trailer Park Trash,’ aren’t you?” he asked with a sneer.
His words cut Trixie to the heart. She had first heard the expression in Second Grade. Over the years since, she had heard it many times, especially from boys she'd dated who came from homes far better than hers (shit - everyone’s home was better). They all had assumed that she was an easy lay from her background. For the last two years, she had worked to rise above her humble beginnings. Now her supervisor seemed to spit out the expression like he was referring to stinking excrement.
Offer him a blow job Trix and bite his cock off! A very, very unlikeable man - excellent narration PrPr
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
And it continues

Trixie was beside herself. She sobbed and begged hysterically. This news cut like a stake through her heart. Would she not graduate? Would she be sent back to her old life in Branchwater with nothing to show for two years of intense work but staggering debts and dashed hopes? After a couple of minutes, Trixie quieted down, softly crying, looking up at her supervisor for some sign of hope.

“You want me to give you another chance?” Tom asked with almost a sneer. “You don't realize how badly you've messed up here. It isn’t just that your work has let down the rest of the team, Trixie. You have hidden facts that would certainly have disqualified you from the beginning. I just had the chance to read this. How do you think I felt?”
Tom reached around on the desk and brought back a paper report bound in a clear plastic cover. He held it up in front of Trixie so she could easily read the title on the outside, "Counselor's Report on Beatrice Thomson by Simon Reedy, Ph.D.
Trixie's mouth opened in horror as she stared through watery eyes at the report. So Mr. Watson just got it! That's why he never said anything. What must he think of her?
"After reading this, it is impossible for me to recommend you enter the foreign service of the United States. We cannot have people representing us overseas who possess such questionable moral character."
Trixie's mouth moved, trying to make words to answer, but no words emerged. Finally, she stuttered out, "But, that was my family, not me! Yes, I made some mistakes, but nothing illegal!" As the words left her mouth, Trixie realized to her dismay that her best defense seemed to be that she was not a criminal.

"Not illegal?" Watson laughed at the phrase. "Okay, Trixie. Not Illegal. But let's see exactly the background that qualifies you as a trusted representative of the United States of America on an overseas Mission. Is that fair?"
She stared in shock and shame.
“I said, ‘Is that fair?’” her supervisor raised his voice impatiently.
"Y...Yes," she didn't know what to say now. Visions of her life in ruins, returning to Branchwater and her home with nothing to show for all this work were tormenting her.
Watson leafed through her folder. “You grew up in a trashy trailer park?”
"It is called a 'Mobile Home Resort.'" She sniffled.
“Don’t prevaricate with me, girl,” he snapped, pounding his fist on his desk. Trixie almost jumped out of her chair.
"If you want me to reconsider and give you a chance, you'd better cooperate, admit the truth, and show your good intentions. You certainly don't want to make me angry right now!"

“I’m s...sorry, Tom.”
“Given your tenuous position, you should say Mr. Watson or Sir!"
“Yes, Sir.”
“You grew up in a falling-down trailer park, right? In a shitpile of a home. You are what everyone calls ‘Trailer Park Trash,’ aren’t you?” he asked with a sneer.
His words cut Trixie to the heart. She had first heard the expression in Second Grade. Over the years since, she had heard it many times, especially from boys she'd dated who came from homes far better than hers (shit - everyone’s home was better). They all had assumed that she was an easy lay from her background. For the last two years, she had worked to rise above her humble beginnings. Now her supervisor seemed to spit out the expression like he was referring to stinking excrement.
I hope something very awful happens to Watson :mad:
 

NewUser

Magistrate

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
The TPT gets put in her place

Tom broke into Trixie’s tortured thoughts, “Well? Aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she meekly replied. The admission sent a cold shiver through her body. But she daren’t anger this man who held her future in his hands.
“You say it, bitch," Watson said. "Say exactly what you are."
Why did he have to shame her like this? Trixie choked on the words she had never spoken out loud before, "I'm Trailer Park Trash." It felt as if she had vomited acid.
"Now we are making some progress. Your acknowledging the truth of your disgraceful background makes me think that there is some hope for you yet in the State Department."

Trixie looked up at her supervisor with bright, hopeful, tear-filled eyes. Might he relent?
"Let's see how willing you are to cooperate in admitting your shortcomings, Trailer Park Trash." Every time the insulting expression was used, it was like a knife cut her flesh.
"Can we be honest now about your background?”
“Yes, Sir.” Trixie tried to control her sobs.
“Your family? What words would you use to describe the occupations of your parents? The kind of work examples they gave you to be a State Department employee. Your father was what?”
"A drug dealer." Trixie was shaking with shame as Watson forced her to demean herself and her family. It hurt more than she ever imagined to say such things out loud. But, she had no choice but to go along.
"Yes. A drug dealer. They are the lowest of the low, aren't they? And that's the kind of man who got your mother pregnant with you, wasn't it?"
“Yes.” This demeaning reference to her mother, made Trixie blush brighter.
“And your mother's occupation – the bald truth now."
“My mother is a whore." Trixie's head fell as she confessed the shameful truth."
"So, your father, the drug dealer fucked your mother, the whore, to produce little Trixie?"
"Y...Yes." How horrible he made her whole life sound!
"How romantic,” Tom said with the sarcasm dripping from his lips. “And they were never married?" Tom didn't know but guessed.

Trixie's eyes snapped open. How did he know that? She had never told anyone what her mother had confessed in one of her drunken stupors. How did he find out? Trixie hadn’t even told Dr. Reedy. Maybe Tom was bluffing. But she couldn't take the chance.
"No, they weren't."
"Your parents weren't married. What does that make you?"
“Oh, my God, No.”
“Answer before you make me angry again, bitch,” Tom spat out the words.
“A b...b...bastard, Sir.”
"The Trailer Park Trash is a bastard. How typical! How did your father pay your mother to fuck her? Money or alcohol or drugs? Or was she just a horny slut who wanted any dick she could get rammed in her?”
God! thought Trixie. That was the question she'd asked herself a hundred times since she'd learned they weren't married.
"I don't know. Please believe me. I don't know.
"Perhaps it's best that you don't, Trixie,” he said, almost sympathetically. Trixie now was racked with heavy sobs.

“We'll move on from your parents to your choices. How many boys did you fuck before you went away to Evergreen?"
Trixie paused a moment, counting. "Nine, Sir."
“Did you love or even care for any of them?”
"No, Sir." Trixie was answering by rote. She was now following his lead to make the most humiliating statements possible.
"How often do you let these boys have sex, any sex they wanted, on the first date?"
“Every time, Sir."
“So you went out with boys you didn’t care about, gave them whatever sex they wanted the first time you were together. What word applies to you then, Ms. Trailer Park Trash Bastard?”
“I...what?” Trixie wasn’t sure what he wanted.
“A girl who will perform any sex act that any boy wants on the first date is called a slut, isn’t she?”
Oh, God! “Yes, Sir.”
“Then say it, bitch. Say I am a slut.”
“I am a slut,” Trixie whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Louder.”
“I am a slut, Sir!” Trixie gagged and hung her head.

"Okay. You admit you are Trailer Park Trash, A Bastard, and a Slut! Now we've made some progress. You just might convince me that you are truly regretful and deserve to graduate."
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
"Okay. You admit you are Trailer Park Trash, A Bastard, and a Slut! Now we've made some progress. You just might convince me that you are truly regretful and deserve to graduate."
This is even worse than I imagined … now, what did I do with my official Wragg loathometer? I’m sure it’s here somewhere.
 

Fossy

Senator
The TPT gets put in her place

Tom broke into Trixie’s tortured thoughts, “Well? Aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she meekly replied. The admission sent a cold shiver through her body. But she daren’t anger this man who held her future in his hands.
“You say it, bitch," Watson said. "Say exactly what you are."
Why did he have to shame her like this? Trixie choked on the words she had never spoken out loud before, "I'm Trailer Park Trash." It felt as if she had vomited acid.
"Now we are making some progress. Your acknowledging the truth of your disgraceful background makes me think that there is some hope for you yet in the State Department."

Trixie looked up at her supervisor with bright, hopeful, tear-filled eyes. Might he relent?
"Let's see how willing you are to cooperate in admitting your shortcomings, Trailer Park Trash." Every time the insulting expression was used, it was like a knife cut her flesh.
"Can we be honest now about your background?”
“Yes, Sir.” Trixie tried to control her sobs.
“Your family? What words would you use to describe the occupations of your parents? The kind of work examples they gave you to be a State Department employee. Your father was what?”
"A drug dealer." Trixie was shaking with shame as Watson forced her to demean herself and her family. It hurt more than she ever imagined to say such things out loud. But, she had no choice but to go along.
"Yes. A drug dealer. They are the lowest of the low, aren't they? And that's the kind of man who got your mother pregnant with you, wasn't it?"
“Yes.” This demeaning reference to her mother, made Trixie blush brighter.
“And your mother's occupation – the bald truth now."
“My mother is a whore." Trixie's head fell as she confessed the shameful truth."
"So, your father, the drug dealer fucked your mother, the whore, to produce little Trixie?"
"Y...Yes." How horrible he made her whole life sound!
"How romantic,” Tom said with the sarcasm dripping from his lips. “And they were never married?" Tom didn't know but guessed.

Trixie's eyes snapped open. How did he know that? She had never told anyone what her mother had confessed in one of her drunken stupors. How did he find out? Trixie hadn’t even told Dr. Reedy. Maybe Tom was bluffing. But she couldn't take the chance.
"No, they weren't."
"Your parents weren't married. What does that make you?"
“Oh, my God, No.”
“Answer before you make me angry again, bitch,” Tom spat out the words.
“A b...b...bastard, Sir.”
"The Trailer Park Trash is a bastard. How typical! How did your father pay your mother to fuck her? Money or alcohol or drugs? Or was she just a horny slut who wanted any dick she could get rammed in her?”
God! thought Trixie. That was the question she'd asked herself a hundred times since she'd learned they weren't married.
"I don't know. Please believe me. I don't know.
"Perhaps it's best that you don't, Trixie,” he said, almost sympathetically. Trixie now was racked with heavy sobs.

“We'll move on from your parents to your choices. How many boys did you fuck before you went away to Evergreen?"
Trixie paused a moment, counting. "Nine, Sir."
“Did you love or even care for any of them?”
"No, Sir." Trixie was answering by rote. She was now following his lead to make the most humiliating statements possible.
"How often do you let these boys have sex, any sex they wanted, on the first date?"
“Every time, Sir."
“So you went out with boys you didn’t care about, gave them whatever sex they wanted the first time you were together. What word applies to you then, Ms. Trailer Park Trash Bastard?”
“I...what?” Trixie wasn’t sure what he wanted.
“A girl who will perform any sex act that any boy wants on the first date is called a slut, isn’t she?”
Oh, God! “Yes, Sir.”
“Then say it, bitch. Say I am a slut.”
“I am a slut,” Trixie whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Louder.”
“I am a slut, Sir!” Trixie gagged and hung her head.

"Okay. You admit you are Trailer Park Trash, A Bastard, and a Slut! Now we've made some progress. You just might convince me that you are truly regretful and deserve to graduate."
I know this is awful for our poor girl, and this bastard needs well and truly sorting out ... but the way he humiliated her, so freaking hot. It gets even better on the second and third read through. So good.

"... “I am a slut, Sir!” Trixie gagged and hung her head ..."

I am a slut.jpeg
 

NewUser

Magistrate
The TPT gets put in her place

Tom taunts Trixie the trailer park trash bastard tart would be better alliteration…

I hate him. Rooting for Trixie with all my being!

I know this is awful for our poor girl, and this bastard needs well and truly sorting out ... but the way he humiliated her, so freaking hot. It gets even better on the second and third read through. So good.
For me, everything is not so clear. This shows PrPr brilliance.
After all, the TRUTH is on Tom's side!
All his words about Trixie are de facto true! And Trixie does not hesitate to cross the line-betrays friends, lies - everything to achieve her goals. It's just that the scale of her actions is still small.

It's just that in RL, I always forgive girls for offenses that I should not forgive. Only for a pretty face(firm ass). And Tom is a good fellow in this sense, unlike me.

However, despite what I just wrote, I hate Tom and I love Trixie!
 

Doragon

Magistrate
The TPT gets put in her place


"Okay. You admit you are Trailer Park Trash, A Bastard, and a Slut! Now we've made some progress. You just might convince me that you are truly regretful and deserve to graduate."
This is like emotional crucifixion.
 
I know this is awful for our poor girl, and this bastard needs well and truly sorting out ... but the way he humiliated her, so freaking hot. It gets even better on the second and third read through. So good.

"... “I am a slut, Sir!” Trixie gagged and hung her head ..."

View attachment 1037783
I took your advice, @Fossy - it’s true, @Praefectus Praetorio the story repays a second and third reprisé!

Your enormous…er, effort, gives us readers emotional dividends!
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
And Trixie does not hesitate to cross the line-betrays friends, lies - everything to achieve her goals.
Well, naturally. What do you expect of a girl who is just Trailer Park Trash? As well as a bastard and a slut!
but the way he humiliated her, so freaking hot. It gets even better on the second and third read through. So good.
I took your advice, @Fossy - it’s true, @Praefectus Praetorio the story repays a second and third reprisé!

Your enormous…er, effort, gives us readers emotional dividends!
Thank you both. That is an interesting observation. I myself reread each section at least three times or more as I edit and refine. Perhaps that leads to your experience. I can hope so.
This is like emotional crucifixion.
I had not thought of it in precisely that way, but it rings true reading your comment. The ultimate mental torture was my goal.

I wish to thank my readers for their wonderful and flattering comments. I was going through some issues last week, but I'm better now. The central reason for my improvement has been the support and love, both publicly and privately, of my friends. Please know that I regard each and every one of my loyal readers as a dear friend - even if we have never exchanged a word.
:icon12:
 
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