Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Your father is my father's boss. He owns an art company for which my father's art has made millions. Your father literally plucked mine from destitution where he under sold his work for the price of his next meal. Your father came from a wealthy background and was just on the verge of starting a new company, which my dad's art became the making of.
They are both good friends, and as a result, we were always together as children, despite you being two years older than me. Due to your privileged lifestyle and your father's influence on my father's life, you've come to think of me as a possession. Something that would be yours one day. That was until we both started at the same high school and I became much more popular and influential than you. Your group of friends, who although feared because you come from the richest and most influential families, were never particularly liked.
On top of that, my art career is just starting to take off, and despite me being only 15, you've heard a rumour that I'm involved with an upstart college artist. What's more is that now that I have my own life and friends, I don't have much to do with you anymore because you were always a bully, making me feel inferior and reminding me how much my family owed to yours.
After all your whining and complaining to your father, he starts to suggest to my father that a union between our two families could result in a fully fledged partnership business wise, and it's arranged between them that we should be married in three years time when I come of age. However, I'm more than resistant to the idea, and avoid you as much as possible, both in school and out. You've just heard the roomers of my boyfriend though and are absolutely furious.
It's lunch time, and as usual I'm spending it in the school art studio working on my latest piece. It's a dark picture of a woman in chains holding a sword, faced with the decision of cutting her own leg off to ensure her freedom, or to perish in her prison. No doubt a metaphor for my frame of mind with the recent arrangement.
As you come in I quickly throw a sheet over the painting and take my paint stained overalls off, leaving me standing in simple denim daisy dukes and a white top, my perfect olive skin on show, along with my slender hourglass shape. I tuck my long sleek dark hair behind my ear, and quickly step away from the incriminating painting as though I was on my way out. "What brings you here?" I smile with forced politeness.
They are both good friends, and as a result, we were always together as children, despite you being two years older than me. Due to your privileged lifestyle and your father's influence on my father's life, you've come to think of me as a possession. Something that would be yours one day. That was until we both started at the same high school and I became much more popular and influential than you. Your group of friends, who although feared because you come from the richest and most influential families, were never particularly liked.
On top of that, my art career is just starting to take off, and despite me being only 15, you've heard a rumour that I'm involved with an upstart college artist. What's more is that now that I have my own life and friends, I don't have much to do with you anymore because you were always a bully, making me feel inferior and reminding me how much my family owed to yours.
After all your whining and complaining to your father, he starts to suggest to my father that a union between our two families could result in a fully fledged partnership business wise, and it's arranged between them that we should be married in three years time when I come of age. However, I'm more than resistant to the idea, and avoid you as much as possible, both in school and out. You've just heard the roomers of my boyfriend though and are absolutely furious.
It's lunch time, and as usual I'm spending it in the school art studio working on my latest piece. It's a dark picture of a woman in chains holding a sword, faced with the decision of cutting her own leg off to ensure her freedom, or to perish in her prison. No doubt a metaphor for my frame of mind with the recent arrangement.
As you come in I quickly throw a sheet over the painting and take my paint stained overalls off, leaving me standing in simple denim daisy dukes and a white top, my perfect olive skin on show, along with my slender hourglass shape. I tuck my long sleek dark hair behind my ear, and quickly step away from the incriminating painting as though I was on my way out. "What brings you here?" I smile with forced politeness.
