Trafficked Love Ch. 19 - Sex Stories

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Trafficked Love Ch. 19

Date: 7/18/2015, Categories: Fiction, Body modification, Discipline, Hardcore, Job/Place-of-work, Male Domination, Non-Erotic, Prostitution, Reluctance, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, Written by women, Author: ObedientAngel, Rating: 78.6, Source: sexstories.com

and he would have to pull all of his girls from there, and find another club. It was the terms that Angel was now forcing him to accept. He had enough on his mind as it was. Pimps were taking more notice in Angel, and that was never good. They could easily corner her and force her to choose up. They could take her from him. They could hurt her. He couldn’t let that happen. +-+-+ Rich had set up his bedroom with candles and had turned the lights down low. It was, in Angel’s opinion, a pathetic attempt to seduce her in romantic way that was clearly more than just the pimp-prostitute relationship they had. She let him believe his seduction was a success, and had submitted to his lustful desires. She knew he wanted her more than she would allow him. He wanted their relationship to mean more than it did to her, and she had to continuously keep him a metaphorical arm’s length away. Rich looked down at Angel, lying on the bed. The comforter pulled up far enough to cover her breasts, still left her collarbone and neck exposed. Her dark hair curled around her neck, and her eyes were closed. Rich ... knew she wasn’t asleep; she was only resting after an hour or so of pleasing him. He turned away, sitting on the edge of the bed. He stared into the flame of a candle that sat on the nightstand. Mesmerized, and lost in his own thoughts. He had to do something to keep other pimps away from her. He had to ward them off; let them know she was his, and his alone. Mark his territory. He reached into the nightstand drawer, pulling out the pocket knife that he kept there. These men needed to be taught a lesson. He flipped the knife open, examining it. They needed to know that Rich wasn’t one to mess with. He pierced the candle’s flame with the tip of the knife, rotating it there; watching the tip turn darker, and then start to turn orange with the heat. He looked at Angel. She was watching him. Gently, he took her chin in his hand and turned her head away… Angel’s short, pained cry echoed through the house. Rich pulled the blade away, admiring the V shaped burn on the left side of her collarbone, its point standing up like a tiny pink mountain peak. She was his; his property had been claimed.