Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 38961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I’m not sure if I should be mad or grateful. I’m thinking I’ll go with grateful, even though I kind of want to smack them a little. Men like them always get what they want. Another part of why I turned them down. I didn’t just want to be a notch on their belt, even though I had wanted them. At least I was bought by someone I kind of knew. Who knows what I could have ended up with? And now I get a taste of what I had really wanted every time they asked me to dinner and I said no.
Making my way over to the giant island in the middle of the room, I start pulling open drawers. Each one is filled with bras, underwear (if you can even call it that) and lingerie. Picking up a soft blue bra, I read the tag, 32DD. How the hell did they know that? I almost want to laugh. It’s like they snuck into my room and searched my drawers to get all the right sizes, but maybe they just paid attention to details. You don’t own a casino like the Cortez without noticing details
Slipping the bra on, I find the matching panties and slide them on. I’ve never worn a thong in my life. How am I supposed to walk around all day with a piece of string up my ass? Having said that, I also don’t think I’ve felt such soft material against my skin before.
I notice a blue sundress lying on the ottoman in the corner of the closet, with a note placed on top of it.
We thought this would look perfect on you.
Does that mean I’m supposed to wear it? I know I’m to follow all their orders as long as it doesn’t cause me harm or put me in danger. That is what the mistress contract had stated. It’s not something I’d normally wear. I slide it over my head. It takes a little pull to get it over my breasts, but once there it fits perfectly.
The top is tight enough that I don’t think I need a bra. Reaching in between my breasts, I unsnap the hook and pull the bra out. The dress sits snug against my stomach, but flares at my waist, stopping mid-thigh.
I make my way over to the mirror, and have to agree. It does look perfect. But this underwear has to go. There is no way I can walk around like this all day. I quickly pull it off and toss it on the floor. Thongs are the only underwear provided, so I’ll just have to go without until I can buy some more.
It’s then I remember I’m a millionaire. It was almost like I had forgotten for a moment, as if I was going through the motions. I could buy hordes of underwear now if I wanted to. I need to call Tim, my foreman, to let him know we have the money to pay a few bills that have piled up. Hell, we could even replace some equipment that’s been hanging on by a thread now. Tim has worked hard for the farm. He seems to have a deeper passion for it than I do, and I know he has been worried about us losing it. At times I think he loves the place more than I do.
The farm has been all I’ve ever known. My home. I’ve been fighting to keep it alive, and now that I have money in my pocket my mind is racing with ideas. Maybe I held onto it so tightly because it’s all I’ve ever known, like a security blanket, or maybe because I thought I didn’t have any other choice. Today, it seems like I have a lot more.
Maybe not the choice to wear this blue dress today, but in thirty days I can do anything I want. Maybe just hand the farm over to Tim, wipe my hands clean. The opportunities are now endless.
The sound of someone clearing their throat makes me jump.
“Sorry, I knocked, but there wasn’t an answer so I let myself in,” the tall, stunning brunette standing in the doorway of the closet says as she holds up a key card.
“Mandy, I’m guessing?” I say, taking my hand from my chest now that my heart has stopped trying to leap from it.
“That’s me,” she says, striding towards me, her long legs eating up the distance between us. She extends her hand, her perfectly polished dark purple nails catching the light. She’s stunning in that very uptight kind of way. Everything about her seems to be precise and in place. She is perfectly put together. From her crisp white button-up shirt to the tight pencil skirt that matches her nails and shoes to a t.
Reaching out, I take her hand in mine, and her face lights up, a warm smile spreading across her face and revealing perfect teeth. Yes, ‘perfect’ is the word I would use to describe her. At first glance she looked like she would be cold, but looking up into her face, all I see is warmth.
“I’m so glad you’re finally here. You’re even prettier than the pictures,” she says.
“Pictures?” I question.
“Oh! We’re on a tight schedule. I have you set up at the spa,” she glances down at the Blackberry in her hand, “now!” She quickly clicks some buttons, shifting from one extremely high-heeled shoe to another.
I can tell my question is one she doesn’t want to answer, and I don’t want to make things awkward.
“I just need to grab some shoes,” I say, trying to just change the subject.
Her face lights up. “Now that is something I can definitely help you with.”
She looks at my dress and starts pulling shoes off the glass shelves. “Any of these would match perfectly.”
I eye a pair of silver heels. Maybe if I wore those Mandy wouldn’t dwarf me all day, but I’m not sure how long I’d last in them. I’d kill for some flip flops right now.