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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2013 18:29:38 GMT
modern men dream of what they can't say The blanket of soft, velvet darkness that sank the city into a thick, dense flavour of despair. It was a sickeningly pleasurable feeling, watching blood and sweat and tears merge into one. Barely a single star stuck out in the sky, and the night was lit up only by artificial lighting. Mitch grinned, showing off the gap in his teeth, which made the boss glide across her uncannily white teeth with her tongue as if looking at the gap would've caused her own to escape. Luckily, teeth were much more obedient than say, silly girls.
Marina's eyes widened in delight as another punch was aimed above the wench's stomach, and the corners of her lips picked up in a controlled, elegant smile. Her hands reached to pet her elbow patches, rolling skin in circular motions as more and more cries of pain filled the dense air around them. The dark haired women rose her head, smile widening at the thought of the generation of more profit.
Whimpering and withering by the back wall of her castle, Marina polished her nails with the tips of her fingers. The artificial gloss felt warm to the touch as she stretched a lazy eye towards the disobedient little bitch. Look at that face. Battered, bruised, blotchy. She even wondered if it was worth the trouble letting her recover her injuries.
"Listen," She spat, hand now toughly grabbing the chin of the ruined hen. "Have you repented yet? Paid for the weight of your sins? God is laughing at you! Oh how disturbing. Lord almighty. How fucking dare you hurt your customer. Know your place, whore." During the end, she rose her voice in an alarming twist. Mitch and Matty knew to get out of the boss' way when she was pissed off.
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demigod
with 311 posts
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Aug 20, 2013 19:19:38 GMT
How long had it been – a month? Two? Well, at any rate, it wasn't his fault. He had been kidnapped, and it was the pimp's job to be protecting him from that shit. It hadn’t ended too badly – he was dressed better than he had ever been – but really what he'd wanted was his freedom. And now between Nevada's money and Angel's freedom, well, he didn't need much else. He could totally quit. Nevermind that Nevada would probably get bored and throw him out eventually and then he'd be back begging for a job, but he was drunk, in the 'fuck the world' kind of way. The usual. He walked with a sense of purpose – and a swaying gait – and nobody really paid him much mind, whether they recognized the top whore of the house or not. The back rooms where a bit of a maze – he wandered into the wrong room, into a tangle of sweaty limbs, and he laughed and said something about a threesome before there was a shriek and a shoe aimed for his head. Then he slammed the door shut with a chuckle, stood there for a moment until his sense of purpose returned. When his hand was on the knob, he noticed he was wearing a lot of rings, a lot of shiny and expensive things. He fumbled them off and dropped them into his pocket – some missed, onto the floor, but he didn't bother to pick them up because Nevada could just get him more. Man it was great being rich, but it was a secret. A secret from her. His eyes glazed over the sight, but he wasn't particularly disturbed or repulsed. You took care of your own around here, and it was only a shame she was in a bad mood. It wasn't enough to cast any doubt. He just stopped short with a hand on his hip, frowning as he took in the little hooker and the woman intimidating her. He had had something to say. Probably. |
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