Spitfire: Superhero Fiction

They call me Spitfire, and they called me that long before I actually could. Spit fire, that is. No, they called me Spitfire because I had red hair and I wouldn't let them get handsy. I might have been a pole dancer, but I wasn't a prostitute, and I made sure they knew it. They liked it. Thought I was spunky. Cute. Not a victim. They didn't have to feel guilty watching me, because they knew that Spitfire wouldn't have put up with anything, and I would have got out if it was something I couldn't handle. I wonder if that time's come now. Is this more than I can handle? I don't know; I haven't really known what's going on since the change happened. I don't know why I ended up becoming a real--

Inspiration: "They Call Me Spitfire" by Prodigy
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Because everybody likes reading stories about strippers made good!