Page 495 of Filthy Elites

My ass tightens on instinct at his threat and I part my lips and slowly suck him into my mouth.

“Fuck, little bird, fuck your mouth feels amazing.”

I brace for the unpleasant taste, but the salty tang isn’t as disgusting as I was expecting and there’s a sweetness that I can only assume is me? Licking and sucking, I clean all of our arousal from him, enjoying the feeling of being in control, until his hand tangles in my hair and he pulls me off him. “Enough, my dick needs a minute to recover,” he chuckles.

“What time is it?” I ask, wiggling and trying to move from my awkward position.

“Almost midnight.”

“You want to go to a party now?”

His hold on my hair tightens, dragging my head back. “Yes, get up, there’s a dress for you in the closet.”

“I’m tired.”

“You lost, get your ass up before I fuck you again.”

Dragging my sore, aching body from the bed, I pad into the bathroom and turn on the shower, but his arm snakes around me turning the water off. “I need to shower.”

“No you don’t, I want everyone to smell me on you. To know you’re owned and freshly fucked.”

“You’re an asshole, I’m not going anywhere smelling like stale sex and self-hatred.”

His hand tangles in my hair and he yanks my head back so hard a shriek of pain startles from my lips. “You’ll go where I tell you to go, wear what I tell you to wear and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“Prisoner 101,” I nod. “And they say kids don’t learn anything in college these days.”

His laugh is low and rough against my ear. “Cute. Now go get dressed.”

He loosens his hold on my hair enough for me to turn and leave the bathroom. My flight instinct has me eyeing the door, but I know running right now isn’t my path to freedom, so instead I make my way to the closet and open the door. The space is huge and one side is filled with men’s clothes, the other with women’s. Tags are still hanging from the array of dresses, pants, shirts and other stuff. It’s more clothes than I currently own, more clothes than I’ll ever need.

“This one,” Sebastian says, stepping past me and into the vast space, plucking a gold dress from the rod and handing it to me.

“I can’t wear this.”

“Why?”

“Because you need tits and ass for a dress like this, I don’t have either.”

“I agree you need to gain some weight, but try it on for me anyway.”

I’m naked, but I don’t bother putting on underwear and instead just pull the dress over my head. It falls like a potato sack to midthigh, shapeless and awful.

“Take it off,” he orders.

Pushing the straps from my shoulders, the dress falls to my feet and I step out of it, bending down to pick it up.

“Leave it,” he orders, picking the dress up and throwing it into the corner.

“That’s a thousand-dollar dress,” I gasp.

“Forget the dress. Pick something to wear.”

“If I have to go to this party, I’d rather wear my own clothes.”

“All you own is denim shorts and athletic wear,” he says derisively. “Pick something appropriate.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

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