3 - Callie

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Trigger warning: domestic abuse

I scooted to the head of the bed and pulled my knees up hoping my own hug would calm me. My heart was racing faster than a thoroughbred.

"What did you say about my mother?" Parker asked in a cruel tone.

I felt the chill go up my spine. I had heard this tone before —worse. I wanted to say that she was a bitch, but I was petrified to even think it.

"I can't hear you, bitch!"

"I said she doesn't like me," I answered meekly.

"She knows that you're a whore," he said with his eyes boring into me. "Look at how you dress."

I was wearing a scarlet red lace teddy. Parker had bought it for me. His insults were worse since he was the one who insisted I dress this way.

"I only want to please you," I responded. He would come to me and it would be either out of desire or anger. I held my breath waiting.

He sat on the bed and jerked my legs and I fell out flat. His eyes traveled up and down my body.

I froze as he reached out his hand bracing myself for a blow. Instead, I let out my breath as he ran his hand down my cheek and neck to my cleavage. He loved my breasts as he gently fondled them.

Parker was a passionate lover. He was always sorry when he became too rough and hurt me. He made love to me to prove just how much he loved me. When I fell asleep in his arms, I knew we could be happy. I promised myself not to anger him and everything would be perfect.

In the morning, he watched me dress for work. It was difficult to please him and get ready for my day on time. I could tell when I'd done a good job and he enjoyed it, although often I ended up undressed and late.

I had come to New York to be a model but was only mildly successful. I was tall, but not tall enough. I had met Parker at a club. He was so handsome and sophisticated. I could tell he was rich —much richer than the family my mother worked for as a housekeeper.

I considered myself lucky because when modeling didn't work out, I was offered a job working for the modeling agency. I dealt with the talent instead of being one of them. It was a dream job except being surrounded by successful models reminded me that I was never quite good enough.

Parker reminded me too. He called me a failure, a loser, and a whore. It hurt because deep down I knew it was true. I was a whore because I slept with him the night we met. I had slept with other men too. Now I lived with him and he let me shop using his credit cards and he bought me expensive gifts like lingerie. I'd do anything to please him because I had to keep him happy.

Delaney rushed over to me when I arrive at the office. "Hey Callie, do you want to shop on our lunch?"

I smiled and agreed. Del could be counted on to shop, although she could only use cash after her bankruptcy because her credit cards had been canceled.

"Are your bills paid? You can't shop unless your expenses are taken care of."

"Says the kept woman."

Truthfully it worked to my advantage because I would charge our purchases and she would give me cash. Parker didn't care how much I spent as long as I always looked beautiful. I was saving the cash for what our boss, Alice called a rainy day. I knew a rainy day meant leaving Parker, but I never would.

Who else would ever want a kept woman —a whore like me?

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