SOLD TO THE MAFIA QUEEN

****ASHLEY****

"Fuck her hard boys; you are doing well," I said, while pitching her nipples with my fingers. She let out a soft moan.

In front of me was a young girl being fucked by two powerful men with big dicks. They always do my bidding. They were getting her ready for the work that was yet to come. She was my new girl, the new whore that would be working for me, and of course, she agreed to do it.

One of the men put his hand on her young breast and started squeezing it. She tried to move his grip away, but he held her body firmly. Another man started kissing her aggressively, trying to swallow her tongue. The kiss was hot and forceful.

This was all happening on my massive, master-sized bed, where I gave lessons on sex. The girl had a nice body, which was the primary reason why I hired her.

"Please... please boss, help me," she pleaded as the man underneath her placed his mouth on her right breast and started sucking. I touched her cheeks and asked, "But you want this, don't you?" She was both beautiful and pitiful, her buttocks red from spanking.

"Don't you want to get rich?" I asked, smiling at her.

"Yes, but..." Her remaining words were meaningless.

"Don't worry, honey. They're getting you ready for the client, but by the time I'm done with you, you'll be freaking rich." I assured her. Although I was a fan of threesomes, I didn't want to join this one. She was a virgin, so they were teaching her how to have sex to please my clients.

As the man underneath her shoved his rod into her ass, her moans increased in intensity. It was clear that he was adept at what he was doing, and the girl was certainly enjoying the experience. The man's entire cock disappeared into her ass which was a clear indication that she was not a virgin, despite her claims.

"Ahhhh!!!" she yelled, her voice filling the room as he started to thrust.

I watched with a tight-lipped smile, feeling my own pussy clench as I observed them fuck her. My hand drifted down the short leather miniskirt I was wearing, and between my legs, my pussy was wet with juice dripping on the surface.

"This is the sound I want to hear in this room," I remarked. "Now, fuck her hard."

As their skins slammed against each other's and their moans filled the room, I felt a sense of satisfaction. This only meant two things: more money and more girls.

I walked over to the door of the room and opened it, turning back to look at them. "I want her to be breathless and unable to walk when you guys come out of this room," I declared.

"Yes, Queen!" The guys chorused; they all called me the queen I was. I stepped out of the room and shut the door behind me, feeling a sense of excitement for what was to come.

My assistant, Dave, was standing at the door with two phones in his hands, both of which were ringing. I stared at the screens of my iPhones, one of which showed "Papa Queen." I hadn't talked to him since our last argument about marriage, and I don't want to talk to him now. I had already taken over his business; what more did he want?

My name is Ashley Barbie Gates, and I am twenty-five years old. I am a pimp and the leader of a gang group in Miami. I took over my father’s business when I was nineteen. Since then, my life has changed for the worse. I became a sex addict and a lover of money, believing that people could get whatever they wanted with money. Because of money, I had the world wrapped around my fingers.

I was the queen of the streets and had a boyfriend, although he was more like a puppet because he was under my control. I was the one in charge of his feeding, so he couldn’t question me if I slept around with other men.

"My queen, are you listening to me?" Dave asked, jolting me out of my trance. He had been trying to get my attention for a while now.

"What’s the matter?" I asked flatly.

"Your father is furious. He's sending a lot of texts, and they're countless," he said, staring at the phone that was beeping uncontrollably.

I huffed, "Who the hell taught my old man how to use a mobile phone? Why is he so f**king annoying?" I took the phone from him and walked down the hallway toward my office, with Dave following closely.

We were in my building, the biggest building in Miami. During the day, it was my office, and at night, I rented it out as a hotel for extra money.

I sashayed into my gigantic office in my high heels. The windows were wide open, letting the morning sun into my office. The whole place was sparkling clean. I loved the red interior design because it screamed me. I sat at my desk and paid attention to what my father was saying over the phone.

"Alright, I understand," I assured him, although I had no idea what he was saying.

"Were you even listening?" he inquired, raising his voice.

"Of course, Dad," I replied.

"So, what have I been saying, honey?" he asked.

"You were saying that…" I muttered, trying to search my brain for the answer, but my brain failed me.

"Looks like I thought you hadn't been listening," he said.

"I said I don't want you to send your mother money anymore." He snapped, and I held an indifferent expression.

"May I know the reason? You know it’s not a big deal giving her money," I stated. My parents divorced when I was seventeen, and they lived in different houses, including me.

"Don’t give her a dime, and that’s final." He hung up before I could respond.