𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 |𝟏𝟖+|

𝐄 𝐈 𝐆 𝐇 𝐓

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

✼ N E V A E H ✼　

Atticus' henchmen or whatever he calls them, really don't budge. Not even a little bit, not even at all. It's like they're robots except they're emo and they wear sunglasses inside which is so disrespectful might I add.

Like who the fuck doesn't tap that when you shove your boobs in their face. I know I would.

All jokes aside, I really tried my hardest to channel my inner seductress, tapping into my feminine energy and convince them to let me go. They must've been trained really well not to act on what they feel because I sure as hell know what I felt. I know they were trying their hardest to keep it in, but I did make their jobs very difficult.

Since they resisted me so much, I resisted them which meant they ended up bringing three extra men to help them.

Their pay must be good for them to keep doing this. Doing it won't just benefit them, also me, because I need to get some and I need to get the fuck out of this place. And I'll even gift them with the greatest fuck of their lives.

Wait, there's five of them. How am I gonna fit all of that in me? 

Oh well, we'll make it work, they don't all have to go to one place.

My plan didn't go according to plan, obviously, because I'm now locked in a room with literally no windows and any sign of exit except for the door I had just came from which requires a specific code in order for one to enter or exit.

The room is quite barren, with plain white walls on all four corners of the room along with only five pieces of furniture. A bed, more like a mattress because there is no frame or any base; a side table that barely has any use unless it was designed for a four year old; a recycled vintage television that probably would've been used, I don't know, maybe in the 1990's; a small dresser with drawers; and a plastic full length mirror for me to admire my reflection on.

There's not even a ceiling fan. How the fuck am I even going to get air. These people really want me to suffer from a heat stroke before I can even turn forty.

Now, I'm really questioning the logic that went into the design of the room without the ceiling fan. What did they think I was going to do with it? Break it apart and use it to break down the door? Or no, even better, they thought I would find a way to get on there and start twirling around with it.

I don't know, but what I do know is that whatever they were thinking when they came up with this blueprint, was honestly truly really stupid. Stupid to the point that I'm sure they weren't even thinking. But it's not my place to judge.

Whoever designed this room really put a lot of detail and thought into it. Especially with all the windows and doors and everything. Right, there isn't any. That person is truly a mastermind- in doing absolutely nothing.

Nice ass mansion, but this room is ugly as fuck. No hate though. It's not like I can afford this place anyways.

When I do pay further attention, I see two more doors. Wanting them to be a secret door to the attic or anywhere outside of this horrible room, this whole house perhaps, I open it. I don't know how to feel about them.

The good thing is that I have somewhere to take a piss and I don't have to relieve myself on the carpet. The other good thing is there's a closet and I love closets.

The bad thing is neither of them are exits and I'll be doomed for the rest of my time here, which may or may not be the rest of my life. But hey, at least there's clothes and shoes in the closet, I can have a fashion show.