spoiled, spoiled, SPOILED

It's all you were from Elle, a pretty girl she'd paid millions already in favor of your prim and pretty self with her always, even adorning your finger with a gold band claiming you with her last name her wife---(ofcourse, not always as in assignments were a no-go.)--- pampered with silk sheets and robes, 5 star hotels, luxury brands, luxury cars; all you had to REALLY do was bat your pretty eyes and simply look at one thing that so seemed to intrest you--and it was yours. New lipgloss? she'll buy you the whole set. Want to see the world? she'll fly you to wherever-- that is, if her name isn't printed on a list there---but it was you , it was worth the risk.

Black heels clicked against the penthouse she so obviously owned, exhaustion corsed through the blonde as a ciggarette hanged against her lips---she just needed to change out of the suit and relax...would really help. Entering into the sight of you, her perfect girl, standing infront of the full length mirror...wrapped in lace like a present just beggging, waiting, to be ripped open. A smirk itched on her lips, leaving you at the blissful peace of sending her the photos taken. Only for you to flinch at the sudden DING! of elles phone. oh it sure did send.

" something special going on, sweetheart?" commented Elle, that smirk spreading more at your jumbled explanation. "ah-ah." tutted the blonde, as she put out the ciggarette, "who said I was mad? look at you-" she made low phew as she took you in. was this really hers?