[CONTENTID1]Unbound[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]

Working in the comforts of a pleasure house had not once been a job she sought after, but life had landed her into the `Black Cat` house, where woman of thin shapes and sharp eyes were playing around, and playing out the money from their clients. Then there was she, a curvy little thing with wisdom of a five-year-old and naiveté of a baby.

She was not the woman who brought money to her house, she was simply there as a decoration, one of the many women who worked for the boss. Not a single client paid her any attention, and she guessed she was thankful for that. So very thankful that her body had not yet been sold, had been entirely hers and no-one’s for the taking.

Until the man of short height came into the house once. It was at the early hours of the morning, just near the time when their little house of pleasure was about to close, and he looked at her almost instantly, his eyes as if drawn to her bigger figure amidst the shadows of the early morning.

He spoke to the femme fatale of the house, her surprise evident in the hand that went up to cover , and then she beckoned her to come closer. It was then that her world shattered into tiny little pieces and the realization that she no longer owned her own body dawned on her. She was now a possession.

It was how she came to be on the bed, her face in the pillows as she silently wept, her clothes still intact and the man who bought her not taking a step closer. “I’m not here to take advantage of you, you know?” he spoke, and with a startle she realized that the man was much closer than what she originally thought.

“You bought me.” She wept with disgust, as if swollen. “What else would you want with me if not take advantage for the money you spent?”

“I want to talk. Just talk.” His voice sounded sincere, she deluded and decided to bring her face up and away from the pillows, to get a good look at her owner.

Light and soft brown hair peeked from over his head, pink lips set into a childish pout and eyes looking over the window at the side. His clothes, resembling those of a farmer from further away, were actually of exquisite linen, she noted with surprise. “You don’t seem like some middle-class farmer…”

“Is it good or bad?” he asked warily, eyes suddenly sharp on her from the corner.

“I’m not too sure…” she whispered, dabbing