Arranged: Bound By Contract (girlxintersex)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1
Stella Glazed POV

Nine years, Three Hundred and Sixty-four days left.

My tongue slammed against the roof of my gum, then slithered out of my mouth and slapped around, my saliva splashing all over the paper carrying the regulations and conditions of my forced arrangement.

The flashing brilliance of charred cinder silvereyes hit me, and I was left slamming the black fountain pen against my suddenlysecurely shut lips. I gave her a guilty look. Her eyes were disdainful, and sheconcealed no remorse about marrying me.

My varnished brown eyes, looked back at the paper. I want to get out of thisdamn dress. I didn't see what's the big fuss about having to wear thisCinderella, lost her glass shoes looking dress when it was just my parents—herparents. A couple of witnesses and of course the pastor.


I got dolled up for nothing—well, not quite. My father's poker and gamblingempire, which included a large hotel, was about to be rescued. In my father'sopinion, it would be unpleasant for a company in the center of Los Vegas tohave fallen into disarray.

The business was treating my father shitty and well, he didn't have shittyfriend's. I glanced across to the woman to whom I had signed my ten-year overto—he does have some shady friends. Her.

She had coal-black hair. Gleaming like a star. Every strand, measuring thelength of my two pinky fingers, is lined up, creating an obscenely seductivetangle on her head.

Each strand is constructed of exquisite, unique silk, which is fragile enoughto flow through the fingers. Her obsidian silver eyes, however, did not have asoft touch as she stared at my fingers, which grasped the pen.

Her fingers gently extended in the direction of the pen. My brow wrinkled withbewilderment. I flushed as I focused further on the solitary ring around herfinger. We swapped a ring that she purchased. As she slid it over my fingers afew minutes ago, she made sure to murmur, "I'm just doing this soI can become extra rich from your father."

And I muttered back, with a lot of sarcasm in my tone—and your face is awful.

She wasn't; her face was like that of God and Satan having a baby—beautiful andcunning. But, given that it fractures her ego like a huge tree limb, I'd sayone point goes to me.

"The pen," her dark, wormhole-like voice said. I stared at the pen,embarrassed, and gently handed it to her.

"Sorry,"

"You're dumb, so it's fine?"

I sneered, unable to formulate an intelligent response. I did, however, extendmy legs over, elevating the garment somewhat. My gaze focused on mytoothpick-like heels, which I shoved into her foot.

You might be wondering. Who is she? Who is she? Her name is Matteo Allard. Oneword may describe her.

There are lots of adjectives to describe her. Rich. Elegant. A chunk of crap.Sexy. Handsome. Cocky. Literally arrogant.

And I recently signed a ten-year contract with her to assist my father to thetop. Most certainly, her shoes will fall on me. Speaking of shoes, my heel wasstill wedged inside her shoes. But as her stone-hard face turned, there was noanguish brim on it.

I sneered and removed my foot.

"Matteo, It was a pleasure to join hands with you. We speak business, twomonths later?"

"Well, I'd want to spend some time with my new wife." Matteo smiledfake-ly as she shook my father's hand.

I looked across at my father, who smiled as broad as the Pacific Ocean.

He looked dapper, both he and my mother. I've never seen them dressed likethis—cut puss before. I believe it all boils down to money and how far theywere willing to go.

My father didn't give me the option of accepting Matteo's marriage proposal—Iwouldn't have. In my life, I pledge to be the stereotypical cat witch lady.With no children and virginity still intact.

I leaned over to my wife; it felt strange to call her wife. She does not feellike my wife. She does not resemble my wife, and if I had the opportunity tomarry a woman, it would not be her.


"Just so you know, you're not going to receive any sex from me." Iknew sex was necessary, but I simply wanted to reach over to smell her and slamthat sentence in her face.

Her piercing eyes remained fixed on my father as he babbled on about his wickedhotel. Her shoulder leaned slightly towards me. "Just letting you know,you signed the paper, so you're anything I want you to be?"

I watched as her hand leaned down and rested on my thigh—or what appeared to bemy thigh. The clothing was far too thick to feel anything.

"And I can poison your coffee."

"I'd love to watch you try."

"We will see." I groaned and moved away from hearing anything comeout of her darn attractive mouth. I jerked my head toward my mother. I firmlysignaled with my head for us to enter the back of the church. We have a lot todiscuss—and complain about.

She groaned and rolled her birdlike eyes. And gently stand. The heels make herappear taller, which they also do to me. However, as I was about to fall down,a taller figure sprang up and used itself as a wall—it was Matteo.

"You should have let me fall on my face."

"And not make you be my little shape shifter for the next 10years."


"Wrong. Its 9 years and 364 days left, stupid fuck. Not ten."

"Still a long way to go?"

"Fuck you!" I sang.

I was about to walk away, head held high as if I owned the vicinity, when shejerked me back, delivering her final mind-blowing sentence.

"I can't wait to have you on our honeymoon!"
*************
I paced in what appeared to be the pastor's little office, back and forth. Icould hear the fluffy hem of my dress slicing against the seats, pushing themapart.

"You should calm down, Stella." My mother annoyingly announced.

I stepped back, glaring at my mother, who was sitting on the desk rather thanon the chair.

Her milky blonde hair fell barely over her shoulders, creating a veil over herface. It astonished me that she wasn't the one to send me off to thatattractive devil in a half-dress suit because she was more into business thanmy father.

Matteo didn't dressed—cut the core. Along with the tight-fitting shirt, whichhad sleeves, she wore well-tailored slacks. The shirt was simply black and tootight to be worn on the body at all.

"How can I be calm when I don't know what to anticipate in marriage,mom?"

I was confident I wasn't going to just sit on her sofa for the next 9 years and364 days, watching soap operas, drinking wine, and getting foot massages fromMatteo—she didn't seem like the sort to give them.

Mother artificial breasts tucked out in her premium flamingo pink jacket—shepaid a fortune for them; too bad they appear like they're about to bust anysecond. My mother appears to be a walking plastic, and at times I questionwhether she is my mother—I no longer have similarities to the lady.

I don't have false plumy lips, large tits, or a phony ass. Though I had alittle wider hip to waist ratio than usual, my stomach and ass were both flat.

My breasts tell a different story—one to discuss later.

"What every woman does with her wealthy husband." She glanced throughher false, butterfly-length lashes. "In your situation, a wife." Yousuck her till your jaws lock."

"False information, mom." Clearly, that wasn't the only thing mymother offered. I would be upset if she developed balloon-like lips to suck herhusband off.

"Clearly, Matteo doesn't believe you should cook or clean."

When she speaks the two c's words to which I was so allergic, I come to acomplete halt and want to cry. Cook and clean. We have a maid. I have nevercleaned a plate. I've never even taken up my own plate much less.

"She look to have maid." I immediately imagined her to have a largehouse—most likely a mansion on one of those coastal hills—a garage filled withcollections of gleaming cars, primarily black ones, and a house of maids—a fewof whom I'm sure suck her off.

"So there's nothing to worry about. You simply make sure to widen those legs?"

I gasped with dread. I could just picture myself as a normal cat, a witchwoman, softly slithering out the pastor's door.

"No," I muttered. "I'll suck her off, then if I feel brave, I'lljerk her off and probably let her finger my asshole. But no dick shoving in myvirgin tighty tight."

"Stop being a Christian." She spoke with irony.

I glanced over just in time to see Jesus' scathing gaze on us. His photo sat onthe wall, immediately across from what appeared to be a book shelf stack filledwith several Bible editions. His lovely brown eyes tell a judgment narrativethat we are all too familiar with—he knew who wronged him.

"You have to have a child with her?"

"What?!" What a stunning realization.

"That's even worse?" I added in a nightmarish manner. "Do yousee Matteo's head? That suggests, assuming genetics are correct, the child'sskull will be large." I freestyle insulted her.

"You need a child, so when you divorce her, the child receives the asset,which is then passed to you."

I should have done that to your father. But guess what? He's rich again, sothere's no need to worry."

She scaled from the desk and walked up to me, her shoes too high for a normalperson to walk in—I was now leaning against the wall. I got drenched andjabbed. I want to rip this dress off. I could see and feel that this entiresetup was steadily deteriorating.

"Matteo is a popular bachelor in Los Vegas and around the state. Consideryourself fortunate to be married or arranged to her."

Tears saturated my eyes but did not fall. "I'm just doing this for you andDad—mainly Dad."


"Good. To be successful, you must make sacrifices, lose your virginity,get stretch scars from having children, and do a lot of dick sucking."

"Revolting," I said. My gaze shifted to the wooden wall, which waspainted a perfect paradise white. "Wrong place to talk about this, but Iabsolutely get you, mom." Or at least I believe I do.

"You cannot let Matteo throw you to the side. You need to keep up."

I felt me hunching over, and my mom was there, using her long false nails toprop me back up.

"No slouching. No grouching. No mopping. Suck and smile. Also, don't acttoo clever. That is why I colored you blonde?"

I chuckled, recalling the dreadful day when I had to leave my brown hair behindand become blonde in Vegas under the scorching heat.

"Yes, Mother."

"We will pay a few visits every month for the full year. We need to haveadditional paperwork signed, and it's your responsibility to be her little pettill then. After we get the business back up and running, you may cheat andtreat her like trash. Now, become that wife. The wife of all wives. Andremember suck and smile."