Enameled in the clutch of superiority from the burdensome inheritance inscribed as wealth from his parents weighed down the regions of Tyce’s impetuous palm as an industry of trafficking secured the underground game of the filthy rich exchanged the mere presence of five million dollars personally transferred to the hands of a dealer for another woman’s raw flesh granted under his possession as well as mingling in the preferences of business and pleasure. Against the undeniable proposition in the charge of preserving the auspicious lifestyle of one’s arrogant flick of the wrist to surge in ornate lusters of vehicles coordinated to the alignment of his mansion’s marble field extending a runway for statuesque covergirls not only captivated by the boy’s musing charm, but also the luxury imposed in the imperious eminence of the Veyron namesake which ironically controlled the unconquerable son desperate for the family’s trust. Despite the detached sentences rehearsed to a one night stand’s constant modifying of a face to meet the requirements whether on hotel mattresses or office counters never held any significance of those dishonest syllables intricately rehearsed soundlessly with a hush in the morning with nothing more and nothing less. From the emblem of bite marks sinking into the teenager’s shoulder blades to retain the memory of his name by the renewal praises from the women’s lips unlike the importance of what was educed if she looked better without any lingerie to confine the raging torrents pounding against their glowing chests. Whereas no genuine feelings instigated concerning his selfish motives as the gesture of buttoning up his dress shirt and a chuck of waded pocket change taking the place of his silhouette atleast wasn’t completely understood by the girl who lost herself in the dark to find the boy nowhere in the sun. With the abominable predicament to evidently bite his ass in the future, the explicit answer to his question was perfectly embodied by a heavenly brunette raised in the streets of New York with any chance the remnants of wings flexed rigid by the inevitable rain and cold for the angel to fly any further because the wrench by Satan’s abduction, in the fair swap of handshakes belonging to a vendor dawdling right aside him as the tunnel began to discover the slightest bit to let light in.
“You can always rely on me to provide my most loyal customer with the highest quality of assets under your property, Mr. Veyron. I also took it upon myself to bring you records from a birth certificate and anything else you ever want to clarity about your purchase.” The pleasing beam of the administrator manipulating the reigns with each fiber profited in the corporation erupted with a harsh spilt resembled as a smile imprinting itself into the blank marble face while his firm fingers granted the confidential profile over to the boy’s gain. Without a spare of hesitation to swiftly browse through the catalog of an eighteen year old titled as Andrea Vera, or presently recognized as whomever Tyce wanted her to be.
“Because I’m responsible for dropping the most amount of money on anything you’ll ever own, I expect more than just sucking up, Bass.” Persisting to seal the commission of the night as the forbidden gateways invited the frost of November’s breeze as the head honcho’s hands cloaked the gentleman’s biceps. With the slight angle of his collar arched to stifle a chuckle from the glimpse of the anxious man’s inability to helplessly mount a sentence besides stutters, “Y- yes with the services I provide is much, much more than just sucking up for my benefit, I can absolutely assure you.”
Outside in the endless stygian depths of a perfect void kindled by the city torches had broadened the potential boundaries of power from the skyscrapers and private jets overlooking everyone else was there for the heir’s taking, to his limo’s faint revving bellowing the air’s silence where all good was gone for the bad to forever remain. “It’s almost amusing to see you anything but nervous for a change.” While his nimble fingers fleetly clasped the suit’s inky buttons to token the documents within the pockets as his animated lips unzipped a half crescent grin enlivening a radiance opposing the darkness engulfing him little by little until he left the hellhole for something beautiful. “Trust me; I’ll get plenty of sucking tonight just for my benefit. Have a good rest; you might need it inorder to deal with all your loyal clients who want validity in a woman.” His arising thick brows verged into a slant as Tyce’s tendency of beckoning a motion with his hands in a shooing manner to be escorted towards the extended space within the automobile supplying an ample amount of comfortable range to get a feel of something other than sportscars or an unsoiled entrance exposed as new territory to yet again to be claimed his.
Whereas Tyce’s parents a couple together as the most thriving entrepreneurs permitted the privilege of control for half of their industries and bank account had fabricated a boy who was no longer claimed as their son, instead the teenager that had everything conveniently without ease would have to attempt to win them over despite of so much he had already lost solely speaking of unmaterialistic subjects. If it was sincerely of commanding his creator’s stringent scheme regarding to their sole son’s gameplan of an everlasting promise engraved in golden rings to prolog their dynamic reign or naturally an addition to prove someone wrong condemning the enterprise of power lounged in a leather chair with both feet perched on the desk breathing in a new empire. Either way “commitment” was redeemed to deprive his envious presence ensuing to gain something temporary where nothing good ever lasts in Tyce’s world, with the vicinity of the supreme life surviving by swanky parties of living large and living for today because there might not be a tomorrow was his accurate proven fact. Along several convictions meandering midway throughout his devious imagination has lead the troublemaker’s promenade approaching the luxury vehicle with intricate structure, with a capacity to hold many individuals except for only a couple tonight. Among the dim contours of his puppets, a minion to serve their purpose of fulfilling every duty accommodating the dirty work. With the teenager’s fingers caressing the murky exterior as the cutting realization ached his bare right arm of the prize’s absence molding within his domination. “Where’s my girl at?” A prominent question dawned the appearance of what could make angels weep masked by a predator’s forehead creased in folds of confusion. When one of the slaves distinguished in a hefty frame copious of dark muscles heaved across of the nineteen year old’s posture causing Tyce’s menacing eyes to threaten darting back and forth instantly between the two figures with no option to trust anyone.
“We took good care of her boss, alittle incorporative but I managed to fasten her in the trunk just for you.”
From his vacant eyes hastily shading in livid fuming vexation flashing into an icily glare conceived most of everyone aware of the shallow level of tolerance, from Tyce’s unreadable demeanor rapidly contorted in dents of wrath slashing his fixated upper lip entwined into a intimidating snarl.
“What you’re trying to tell me is that you tossed the girl, the one I spent an obscene amount of money on, is tossed away in the goddamn trunk?! Don’t expect me to listen when dumbasses like you both take literal in everything I say.” With his hands deeply encompassing the tips of his ivory fists rattling violently onto the limousine’s trunk concealed the female in the definite lacquered shell echoing within each blatant syllable as he exhaled visibly through his flaring nostrils lucidly, exasperated from all the troubles others compelled the tension between his instinctive response.
“We were just following your orders and besides people always do whatever you say I guess…” Behind the foothpath of the bulky attendant was a rather lanky employee striding with each small step of boldness to speak against the boss’s enraged bark with a toothy smile magnifying the crinkles along his quivering body which provoked Tyce’s brusque alteration to seize the grown man by the collar suspending him slightly off the gravel suffocated by his lock, “Now follow my orders and unlock the trunk.” With the cloudy mist evaporating from the small gaps of his clenched teeth acknowledged the workers to release the car’s locked ignition as the trunk uncovered wide open. To proclaim a contract’s inked signature entrusting ownership of the heartbeat throbbing between flesh and ivory components to venture the secrets secluded in her body that were no longer anybody’s but his to confess. With the mystery’s woven darkness in the strands of nightfall discovering the sunlight of her bronze skin splayed across the carpet like a broken dream scattering into a thousand pieces of nightmares as Tyce’s arms gently cradled the beauty satiating each hollow he would ever feel, “If you want a thing done well, do it yourself.” As his orbs haunting along the delicate assemble of freckles brushed on the gentle line of her backless dress to leave the boy’s rampant imagination wandering until the arrival of his mansion. With branches swallowed by the fabric’s realm, hugging her delicate limbs like it didn’t want to let go as the entrance of the limo’s interior of velvet seats welcoming the girl as the nestle of his arms settled the brunette inside, “This will only take a minute, make yourself enjoyable while I go take care of business.” Without a faltering glance or a merciful smile to ease the outline of his chiseled features before the door handles were pounded with a piercing slam as the artic current illustrated the organ shattering against his ribcage, cold and vacant.
“There won’t be any mistakes again, my apologies it won’t happen —.” Among the sudden aura of gray confining the mist that wouldn’t rise from the state of desperation shadowed an appalling weight secured his shoulders to shudder as the worker couldn’t rearrange his posture to straighten up, the trembling line of his mouth pleated like wrinkles surrounding his ancient eyes with untold stories interpreted in the struggles of his sleeves as the man tried to catch his breath entirely.
“I would hope no one will after the mistake of hiring you, in which case you’re fired. I assume you’ll be packing up your belongings in the warehouse and without doubt get the hell out of town if you know what’s best for you.”
“O god, you can’t do this to me, Tyce! Y’know I’ve got a wife in jail and two kids to support ‘em with the little money I got. Besides you can’t just fire me for putting the bitch in the back like you told me to, please I’m begging you!” With possibly the man’s life on the line as the slave’s soiled hands of labor’s sweat gripping onto the teenager’s crisp cuffs ashen as his knees were kissing the repulsive dirt clinging onto Tyce’s feet.
“You think I actually give a damn about your prostitute of a wife rotting inbetween jail bars or your fucking kids? After the years you’ve actually found purpose in yourself to work for me, I thought you would know by now that I only look after myself, Al.” His steady grapple of prying the vile fingers reaching for salvation was met by Tyce’s nimble fingers to compass the coldest steel snugged in one of Big’s pockets within his rigorous hands, with the role of playing God with one flick of his finger where the power of death from the twisted metals to release a pistol from a youth’s impulsive mind.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure I’ve already told you that you’re fired.” Peering down to a spectacle of a forty year old man pleading with every ounce of dignity crawling against his skin as it stiffened to the sight of a gun dipping low enough to be compressed towards his forehead granted the enthralled distraction to snap the trigger of enteral night, Tyce apathetically surrendered a rugged chuckle emitted from the back of his coarse throat reeling in a haze of the frigid tension of silence. “Or you can also take this in literally by me firing this bullet precisely right in between your eyes.” With the adrenaline coating every surface of veins caused the locking down of the gun’s hammer demonstrating a click with loaded pellets towards the victim with hands behind his head, “Your choice.” After the minor nudge jostled against Al’s skull staggering in an odd quivering rhythm from color draining from his face granted a chance to runaway with freedom from the devil’s wishful thinking.
“Make sure to load more than just two bullets in the next time I wanna actually kill someone, will you?” Beside the careless launch of an armed hardware towards his remaining bodyguard stumbling to capture the guns as the automobile’s doors were cracked open to obliterate the unnecessary performance portrayed in the alleyway. With all the frustration heating the ignition of Tyce’s pulse as it urged his respiration with heavy draws, the tense muscles rippling through his seams became untied with the invitation of calmness remaining on the furniture.
The mystery of possibilities leading Product42# from a history of a father’s hands sent ripping through her soul or the visible untraceable ache discreetly leaking out from the corners of her eyes, no matter how fate had brought the girl here was useless as his upperbody clothed with a dress shirt gingerly strolled down with his digits leisurely exploring the trail of Andrea’s backbone. Before the journey of five years could carry on with a pound reverberate between the glass of the chauffeur’s position with a simple command, “Take us home,” launched the car’s rumble onward to the course leading the couple back to his palace.
With pliable curves of the Latina’s petite frame filling up every single entrance of the dress, except for his, without warning guided Tyce’s unyielding arms to settle his toy by her hips specifically on top of the boy’s lap as the heartshaped lips persuaded closer to her olive skin an aim for goosebumps to surge across the surface inspite of the bitter weather. “I’m guessing my lap is a lot more comfortable than the back of limo, don’t you think so.” The supple flush ribbons cinching on his eager lips tugged upwards behind the veil of her skin teasingly grazing his teeth for a taste until a lighter and cigarette casket altered the material of his pants to salvage on the thin roll of tobacco leveled between the brinks of his hydrated lips. While his firm tendons extended over the brunette’s lean frame inorder to toss the inferno supplied within her palms, without a proper introduction of her master’s name was Tyce’s crucial one of the first of many commands, “Light me up, baby.”
Breathless and unknowing at the sudden slam of the door, the sight of her owner was cut and explanations couldn’t possibly exist at the moment but the conclusions storming a hurricane in the center of brunette’s head refused to bow and rest. The pictures Andrea had weaved in the insides of her head couldn’t have been less parallel from the actual, and the wonderment of the youth encasing the suited man’s features began to grow and flourish in a velocity that could describe the speed of a rolling stone well. That was him. Instead of the ivory hairs and wrinkled crowning underneath eyes that has seen what half a century could offer, the winning customerwas a boy—a young man that seemed to have age quicker than she has with the amount of queries dripping from the sharp edges of his emotionless face that wielded the purity of minority. With clouded orbs that occupied a dozen hues of maintained marigold and troubled stardust matching the blizzard storm ranging his vocal chords, there was something about the nameless authority that stated that the only way that can be drove upon is his and anything less than the best wouldn’t even be worthy of a second’s timing. Whipping her sharp vision into the back glass in hopes of spotting what exactly he had to handle, luck had decided to wither and the black tinting blanketing the crystal layering clouded the opacity of the events occurring a barrier away from her and winded her waist back to face the front. “Holy shit,” Andrea murmured as she brought the throbbing knuckles that chained her hands together to the relieving caress of her opulent lips, kissing the throb resulted from pounding the hood of the car’s core with intentions to calm more than the apparent pain. With one tick of a clock’s short stem, the life the brunette had known before was swiped from the reality printed in the story and the originals appeared to be just like the copies. It was all so odd, and almost alarming in a way that caused one to overthink even the facts, rethink the blueprints, and blur what was already given. Assurance was lost and irony seemed to be at its absolute peak, but there was one thing she’s now born to know. Whoever he was, whoever owned the lifeline produced by the heart inside of her was, had commands that controlled every neuron stitching her together and his pleasure now stood above her own preferences.
Perhaps legends are exclusively told by the truth and the curiosity in the cat’s ignorant veins would be the reason for why their ability to live was erased, but the criminal behind all the ploys upon straying pets has never been able to plot a succeeding murder against one Bronx alley feline. Although nothing had the stance that cradled solidity, there was something about this particular stranger that sparked an interest in the industry of her mind; thirst to unravel each and every piece of information he’ll soon find the reason to hide from her. He, the one who’d be much more handsome if the amber jewels he had as vision tools , had a certain kind of arms that bended a field of paradoxes on its own and fertilized it with dusts of mysteries and questions. The way he had held her opposed to the intimidating look he gave to all of the world, and the strange compatibility against the molding of Andrea‘s limbs enlightened an eagerness for an explanation behind it and everything else. Though answers certainly won’t be provided, there was a specific conundrum of how the young male’s touch was sure and almost defending in a way that assured protection for his prey, but around the curve of Andrea’s back and the contour of each inheritance, there was tender warmth underneath that couldn’t be denied despite the cold armor that coated around it. Fitting her pieces perfectly as if meant mold against her skin and swallowing her as a whole, compatibility grappled the impossibility of the two somewhat belonging and the check that ensured a thousand eight hundred twenty five days of slavery just kept her along for the ride he’s driving. No matter the amount of denial flushing her thoughts, Andrea truly was his except that the stubbornness she inherited from an unyielding mother refused to put faith in such a sentence. Even when she was four foot tall, and unable to reach the switch to ignite the lights within the stuffed rooms of her home, the little girl with dimples deep enough for one to be entranced by its depth and illuminant amethyst eyes imprisoned the combo of ambition and motivation inside the simple cave of her palms, and never will there be a day where she would let one think that they owned her as a whole. They could manipulate her limbs as they please, but not once will they make her retaliate and brew a reason of letting her own mind and soul to slip into someone else’s management. Not a moan or a whisper of the name she lacked in her possession would slip out the bridge of her lips in her own will.
Looking out the fogged windows, Andrea’s finger rose to play the tradition she had for herself in days when clouds decided to shed tears and the atmosphere bled chilled breaths; drawing out random shapes and words her reckless voice would never be too fearful to slur out before the sound of someone she was anticipating to see again erupted into vibrations that allowed it to be heard. Sliding into complete appearance, the cherub faced nineteen year old allowed herself to take in the competition she’d battle for five years; the war she was in no condition to fight. Though the man couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than her, if not conserving the same age, there was nothing innocent about the devilish plains mapping against his science—fire practically finding home into his pores as sins cloaked just on top. His pristine ensemble was completed with a cashmere bowtie adorning a crisp, white blank button up; wealth effortlessly decorated each cinch of his body and the rumble of his order to the driver assented the driver to forward on, to wherever his home was. Sense was nowhere to be found in the coding, but Andrea Vera has never felt more weightless despite the invisible claps of ownership presently preventing her limbs from the free constellations she once depended on with the dust of her wishes and knew at best with the hands of nameless authority lifting her body to tend it into the bed of his own lap. Legs crossed, squirming together as the sweep of his mouth began to clean her chastity right off, the words of denying no longer existed and the games she once had the choice to object to was an immediate scheme she’d have to take part in. Prepared for the worst, the pressed lids of Andrea’s curtains ascended and found a lighter tossed to the seams of her fitted, ivory dress.
A scoff crawling up the marble roadways of Andrea’s throat, the narrow, thin lines of her eyebrows drew together; tightening its place. “You can’t be serious, right?” There, she learned that annoyance could truly bloom before one even knew the name of the person it’s targeting, and laced her fingers against the metal square to kindle the cherry of the wrapped nicotine once realizing his request was no joke and flared the tip into burning crimson. Ricocheting the abaft of her head to motion away from the concentration of the gray clouds, it wasn’t like Andrea had no experience with chronic, it was just that the thought of frustrating him with booming, faux coughs bubbling out her insides seemed much more entertaining than pleasing the boy everyone seemed to have gone out their way to make happy.
The silent conversation of a mere two minutes stretched, and the somber smoke began to painfully violate the temperamental student’s sense of smell. Maybe it was without the effort, but the vexation oiling the machinery in the brunette exploded her tolerance into nothings. “What the hell,” the girl said aloud, sent and directed to herself. Though both just charades to one another, he had no idea who, in all terms of vulgarity, knew who he was fucking with. Pinching the burning, ivory stick away from the boy with the help of her index and thumb, the red lipstick staining the plump hills of her opening stamped the opposite end and inhaled the maximum capacity into the gateway of her mouth before releasing the stone veils in the direction of her competitor’s face before letting her nostrils consume the rest. Too stressed to give a damn, too ignorant to cower in abhorrence from the consequences, the bottom of her hips swayed to a more comfortable position against the cushion of the smug boy. ““Should have kept your mouth open, if I must say. That blow was a good one, no?” Corners of her mouth curling into a practiced smirk as she unraveled her arm from the crook of his neck and extended one hand to be shook in between the little space shared, the daughter of Antonio and Valerie was a born tease. “I didn’t get your name, but of course, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart. The name’s Andrea, Andrea Vera.” And with the sly grin still intact, a provoking tone challenging her opponent, the burning pole of ash toying against the manicured stems of her digits, a small saccharine string of giggles discharged out her tongue. Hopefully, Satan took notes.
From crystal chandeliers dangled by the slender laces of faceless women anticipating to become a man’s well spent thousand for a midnight’s entertainment, where the sacrifices of sinful indulgence were engaged by the pound of gold was a parallel universe contradicting life’s theory where money couldn’t obtain happiness, but did buy fairytales where lost princesses roamed in a pharaoh’s pyramid. With only pureness subsisting in the admiring lines of engraved heirlooms presented through the sterling vaults left disciples clinging to his enticing caress outlining every inch of a body’s canvas familiarized to the touch of gold with a pyrite’s genuine design. To hopeless prayers clasped between their bare palms were in need of something more were ensnared by their wrists shackled away from faith to a bedpost, but instead a miracle had brought too many blessings escorting knees propped from anywhere to elevators or the frigid ground his foot charted as territory. Unlike the trance of finding Prince Charming establishing them to his throne, was now presently a gentleman renowned by the title of Tyce Veyron, a nineteen year old from sole to crown in no need to find a queen in a castle full of slaves to fulfill the king’s every wish. With a malicious voice stinging as an entry wound of many girls became the only way to fix his own, along the introduction towards paradise glided with bronze limbs grazing the brinks of Louis Vuitton belt buckles to unleash impatient demands controlling unsteady moans fluttering in heaven’s bliss only decoded in his silk sheets as hell’s burning flames come across the games of playing with fire. The everlasting corruption was not only perceived in the streets of the living but the fragments in remnants of the unfading taste belonging to the boy’s devouring tongue onto a girl’s lips choking for oxygen where an unknown face struggled a life that has seared through from a temple to a graveyard beholding her soul from the impression of Tyce’s existence still burning within her bones, as an costly exchange for a priceless heart to a precious keepsake preserved in his possession for no one else who dared to take what piece of flesh was now proclaimed as his.
Despite the unconquerable hunger of feasting a five star secret revealed beneath a pair of ebony lingerie was also the craving for power ensured within his insatiable hands to seize more than just a supple landscape. Foreign to those without a blueprint of suave persuasion structured by cryptic smirks unraveled anything but a newly discovered way to God’s city. Upon the enhancement with the extravagant aroma of the world’s fastest automobiles and contentment approaching a obstruct gateway derived from what was exactly bundled firmly between the seams of a leather briefcase upheld by a Veyron’s potential influence to either sustain his reign over the empire or ruin not only his life, but also another victim caught in the affair for the forbidden love to wealth. Since the isolated mornings of roots descending into the crippled earth where a family slowly held onto each grain of soil with crooked limbs carried a golden threads of scars blemished on a seven year old counting mythical constellations twinkling through airport windows outgrew the years of estimating bruises throbbing in his heart sprawled across a drunk one night stand forgetting how to breathe. Only accommodated by a challenging compromise to barricade any suffocation was declared by his guardians’ abstract thinking of a son’s voracious arrogance to rely on the distorted reflection in loving himself to the point where restriction of the block for anyone versus to Tyce’s mentality of domination therefore the absence of dependence to have to hold someone to hold on. Regardless of the appearances to household banquets faded from reckless exhilaration discovered in paper bills was in need of a pursuit in living proof where the boy could make others inhale in a passion yet to be discovered to stir among fairytale’s dust to an awakening of gasping ache in a heartbeat still pulsing.
Until the possible last cent regarding to his name would be consumed in something more tangible and valuable than any other, the payment worth a king’s ransom for the treasure of love. Although the remarkable concept of souvenirs who have mistaken the faint lines stroking their inner thighs as to Tyce’s fingerprints embedded into every dream his next would ever long for until she became a nightmare worth breaking. As each merchandise sauntered forth the silver lining of any man’s invested desires has none the less engaged the nineteen year old’s insensibility to choose an attainable pauper into a suited queen overthrowing the wonderwalls for a glimpse of the throne. Where the components of his fingers to untie a woman’s sacred chest could feel claws on her delicate curves brushing and stealing innocence away from a pair of hips had gifted a milky cloud blurring the windows evaported by his cigarette stained lips promptly to be drawing in the wind flicking against his prize’s paralyzed neck. Behind the mirrors framed by a dim mist radiating a light above a new claim showcased the final audition to bid from acouple of hundreds to thousands where cash was the competitor’s weapon. As the ignited annoyance of nothing but the ruins of what everyone has left behind had the boy unsettled away from the soft onto a hasty wave of indication to commence the chauffer as a night alone with Jack Daniels until, the stunning silhouette of Product 42# molded by a white dress exposing onto the tasteful pieces of copper skin stitched by ivory lace inviting any bidder’ caress to ache away intentions that would soon be ripped from the seams by midnight. To the clocks strike had steady prices elevating to the climax of a possible new record to uphold of nine hundred and seventy- eight thousand claimed by millionaires breeded from all around the world. Prior to the nineteen year old advancing slowly back to his seat with overbearing confidence to overpower royalty itself.
“Setting the new record with that little amount is kind of insulting towards a fine piece of ass is really degrading someone’s value if you ask me.” With a push of a button commissioned the taunting offer to auction from the intercom vibrating into the alabaster barrier towards the strangers, staring deep into a pair of chocolate brown eyes through the screen as his own depths tantalizing with deception and a hint of smug satisfaction.
“It’s also alittle tiring seeing you here every single weekend to take the leftovers. How about a million for forty two. Try me, Veyron.” A husky voice provoking his temperance with a mocking tone, as the luminescence of numbers ranked higher as well as his ego.
“Don’t fuck around me bastard, because I’ll be taking that bitch home with five million. In cash.” A brash suggestive glint evidently boasted in his sharp facial features as suddenly became one of bitterness and he shook his head sullenly, scoffing jokingly as the thick of silence immersed within the building’s confined room. Until the unlock of a briefcase unveiled on top of the timber scattered with abundance of model profiles was now cluttered in response to the assortment of emeralds. “It was my pleasure doing business so, if one of you could put her in my trunk for me.” Tyce commanded to one of the employees a faint trace of some strange emotion of curiosity and eagerness infiltrating in his eyes to the mysterious purchase of the night lurking behind his words as the thought of consequences to throw five million into hell could atleast offer him a little piece of heaven.
According to the proven statistics and researched data printed upon the glossed pages of racked magazines, by the gentle age of tender seven, every little girl already began planning the basics of her wedding and at the tenth year spent on earth, the monumental dress adorning her curves would’ve already been picked out and extracted from the rest of the ivory fabrics that fell limp against its beauty. The materialistic necessities were undeniably chosen with reasons strengthened by preference and knowledge, but half of those anticipating the very day when dreams of becoming a princess they knew of in bedtime stories bloomed into reality fell clueless about the connection needed in order for two souls to connect as one and concealed little to no interest in learning the lifetime commitment processed in golden bands fit only for specific fingers. While a handful solely placed their happiness against the power jade bills supposedly gifted, a rare bunch have understood every lesson based upon love and cherished the morals even when their lifeline dripped of youth, and a family that settled their lives within the two bedroom apartment had taught their daughter the enchantment of affections in every language known to man’s ears. Despite the fact that the last thing auctioned off to stardust and hopes was their daughter finding enough comfort in a different man’s arms, the hardworking guardians knew that their pride and joy deserved to be, in simplest words, loved. Cared for and given all the things their daily payment couldn’t afford, Andrea, in their perspective, was fit to be any fine gentleman’s wife. In nights where their challenging jobs allowed them free time, all they would say to her were reasons why she was a princess that shouldn’t be swept just by any royal, and she too, placed her faith in those statements, but with the amber spotlight dimming to a close, the statement of the final deal decided declared differently. While the mounts upon Andrea’s face haven’t changed, underneath the hardened shelling layering against the feeble muscles coating her bones, was a withering soul that instantly forgot what they had lived for and remembered nothing about love.
The auburn set of roasted eyes decorating backgrounds of whites darted across the lit room; anticipating the hands that soon lifted her into a sculpted shoulder measuring a width that fully covered the length of product’s amiable waist. “Shit!” Andrea yelled—the sharp cuss being the beginning of a cycle of pulling and pushing away the countless grips that worked against the million dollar purchase’s limbs; an infinite amount of firecrackers suddenly bursting. With each punch, shove, and attack transacted from the branches of her body, the lissome brunette found the energy to fight against the unknown opponents evaporating at a speed meant to shock and destroy any type of assurance. The sense of feel igniting against the silk of the girl’s skin, unfamiliar patterns of finger tips webbed across her more than needed. “Don’ t touch me, you fucking Neanderthals,” she grunted sharply as another push from her hands were shot to a nearby guard that reached to calm the ignited beast down. Perhaps that had caused the addition for an equation to result in a covering thin enough to breathe through and thick enough to blind the new slave from the preferably secret surroundings they rushed through was tugged and carefully tired around her face, but the ebony man handling the fighting doll’s lacking patience showed through the snarl that twisted on the corners of his chapped lips.
“Damaged goods ain’t fucking paid for, so watch how you handle her, Big,” a near voice that sounded much like a tone worn out from the infecting rasp of cigar piped up post noticing the bitter expression in his co-worker’s, a cough echoing out the damaged walkways of Andrea’s throat. “Even if this whore’s a bitch, I think we both know how much that Veyron kid puts to the table and the way he gets when his shit isn’t delivered the way he wants it to be. Don’t fuck it up, I gotta family to feed.”
A family; words from a faceless being that are, too, familiar with Andrea.They were all needing and desperate for a solution towards their problems, but an upset of sickness deteriorated her stomach’s plains. It wasn’t that the cocoa haired merchandise hadn’t known what she had gotten into, considering the fact that daddy’s girl damn well was aware of the consequences written after the page of action where everything she offered was bought away as nothing more than a toy to mutate. It was just the truth that angered the lacking pieces of sanity she had left; the undeniable statements were the culprits to flesh coiling into sweet nothings a millionaire’s lust could violate anyway he wanted just because he had the money to. She was angry that this was the path she needed to take just to ensure that the road of her parents lasted longer than what their heartbeat had suggested, but the genuine adoration encrypted within the passages of her story conquered overall chapters as whole gold and everything else just existed as pyrite. Worthy, but nothing would ever stop the once so little girl, not even the worst of danger, from always finding a way to take care of the sensible woman and man that molded her everything that she is today. Though it seemed so long ago from the time when she felt free, but the ticking in the chrome machinery of each clock stated that only a span of five hours has passed since the selfless kiss goodbye was planted against the cobweb veins of unconscious bodies in timed, blank hospital rooms.
Silence consuming the bitter cave of her mouth, Andrea’s blemished mind began to crowd with thoughts of her forced new lover; adding complexity upon the original simplicity, but a sudden feeling of closure against the realms she walked through at her own pleasure clouded into existence. Strobes of confusion populated against the boarding of her conscience and each ounce of clarity blurred into nothing—focus disappearing rapidly as the thumps of feet had stopped and motion jogged to a halt.
A sentence pronounced, “Put her in,” they demanded flatly.
And with the simple command, there, Andrea was dropped in consumption of pure darkness and the start of saccharine revving from a vehicle soon marveled her senses.
“Are you ready?”
It was a simple question said in monotone manner, but the depth underneath it held complexity a mind of brilliance wouldn’t even dare to tamper with. Follicles of sleeping hair quivered straight and clouded irises darkened even more with storms of worry; each body count in the dimly lit room contemplating whether or not it was all worth it. A small movement of a head—a mere nod, was the switch to guarantee the chance to become another soul sold to a stranger unknown and an ink’s onyx marking upon parchment would seal the deal of ownership on actual limbs and a beating heart. Though the subject held a matter that seemingly grasped a height of immensity, more than a couple dozen girls, who were once the innocent and untroubled daughters of a darling man and a loving wife, willingly lined in a hallway in desperation for a way out their personal Hells. They stood there, aware of the risks that would bloom, but while each had a tragic story to tell and horrific reasons why their presence lingered in the abandoned building, not all had fear jailed in their barred, tinted orbs. A single out the deck of forty… one out of the forty other potential slaves, defiantly held a stance without an emotion lingering in the lands of her face; fully accepting the fate she needed to take in order to save the ill guardians fighting for a steadily beating lifeline in the battlefield of cold hospital beds. The supple contours mapping against the geography of the young girl’s exteriors were ironed flat and not a word shook out the bedding of her mouth. There are immeasurable amounts of cowards in the world—billions if scared out the lies that have armored against their flesh over the years, but Andrea Vera was not one of them.
Born into a world filled with cruelty that pushed lives to be ended early and raised in the cruel pavements of the reckless Bronx, the worst to some was the daily reality the sole child of a lower class family greeted every morning. The blaring shots that pierced the air countlessly within the span of Earth’s sun rising and a moon’s hello were known to be the cause of hurricanes established by tears shed in blackened events and wooden caskets, but it was familiar enough to a certain Latina’s ears for her to recognize it as the declaring anthem her twisted motherland would sing. It was the bloodiest tale one could be told every night, but the crimson liquid of the ruined empire proudly colored the feathers embroidering the angel’s in ways words couldn’t explain. The workings of eyes would be the only sense that could ever define the gorgeous abnormality and in the perspective of many visions, Andrea was an undeniable sensation that caused clusters of confidence to swell in envious insecurities. She was different—she has always been different, and maybe this day would be the moment that it finally blossoms the benefits of not belonging and appear to be a diamond in a rocky, gemmed world.
Adorned in fine garments that completed flattering ensembles on their polished skins, the beauty that straddled each outer layer of the candidates glowed—fighting to be the alpha radiance, fighting to be the most striking. Though the only men that could be spotted within the bitterly cold realm were professionals in crisp, ebony suits, Andrea could feel at least a thousand eyes linger amidst the girls through the tinted barrier; deciding which fit their preferences the most against the black glass. Behind the specialized mirrors would be their new puppeteer; the new master to the strings that controlled their ability to do anything and everything, and with a motion of a worker’s hands, lights set ablaze and the planet’s common individuals cascaded from the heaven of grace and ultimately, just fell as prey. One by one, the basic statistics would be read aloud and folders containing the nominee’s personal information would be distributed with a snap of a finger’s interest; hungrily pried open, and Andrea, containing purity waiting to be corrupted for the right price, was listed last. The female crowd that once took ample space minimized in the velocity of thirty minutes, and an usher from a suited woman pushed Andrea out the dark and into the light that would showcase each blessing for the map that held each direction out of the misery her parents must feel and into the paradise of emerald paper. Once called a queen, the new pawn of the underground business felt heavy silence pound against the drums of her ears and through the illusions painted by a stressed conscience, prices buzzed and tattooed in the inner walls of Andrea’s mind. Before she could even wave a farewell to the life she’s always known, a starting buzzer cried and an enthusiastic voice that might as well have been the devil’s manneredly sounded off. The young woman of nineteen was no longer the valedictorian who was voted to be the generation’s most successful, Bronx’s most beloved native, or Andrea Vera, but Product #42, the last available purchase of the night.
Though she barely held maturity and lived in the cusp of adolescence era, the question most had a lifetime to support would be answered here today, at this very second.
How much exactly was she fucking worth?