“We’re not finished with slut-training.”
“I’m a great slut,” I say.
“You’re intermediate at best,” Cassius says and smooths a hand over the ass cheek where he spanked me earlier, still tender. “But that’s okay, you’re getting better at it every day.”
Cassius puts on a playlist of my favorite pop songs and tells me to dance, then tosses money into the air so that it falls all around me like confetti. He tucks some bills into my flimsy thong and makes me kneel in the center of the mess, then brings out different props and toys. He shoves a dildo into my mouth and clamps clothespins onto my nipples, then my lips and tongue. The clothespins make me drool and talk funny. They think it’s hilarious.
“You’re laughing,” I say with a pleasant surprise, but it’s garbled, which brings on another round of titters, but I’m too dazed by the strobe of the camera flash to make sense of it all. Models shouldn’t speak anyways. I’m not even allowed to look at the photographs because Cassius says I’m too conceited as it is. He sets me in front of his mother’s mirror and jacks me slowly while telling me all the things I like to hear, I’m so beautiful, I’m so sexy, I’m going to be a famous movie star one day, just wait and see. “Come for me, Adam. Show me what an intermediate slut can do.”
I splash my load all over the glass and Cassius makes me lick it up, but I can hardly feel my lips and tongue, so it takes a while. The surface of the glass is cold and my cum is slimy. The flash pops again and again.
“You guys are getting along,” I manage at last. I’ve been trying to say it all night.
“Besties,” Cassius assures me. He’s behind me now, twisting my nipples until they are purple and swollen like two little plums. His teeth are on my neck sucking and biting.
“Vampire Barbie,” I say with a ditzy laugh. Elliot stands in front of me with a black box for a face, vomiting pictures like paparazzi.
Chapter15
Cassius
“This isn’t right,” Elliot says to me while we take a break and I make Adam drink a full glass of water, but it’s difficult for him because his lips and tongue are swollen, so he’s making a goddamned mess of himself. I could have offered him a straw, but where’s the fun in that?
“What’s that?” I ask Elliot.
“Drugging your boyfriend and using him as a sex doll?” he huffs.
“Ah yes. What are you worried about now?”
“He’s going to wake up tomorrow and remember this and be pissed at us both. Maybe even press charges.”
“No, he won’t. First off, he’ll only remember bits and pieces, and what he does remember, he’ll probably find funny. Adam is a shameless slut, and so long as he gets to come, he doesn’t complain much at all.”
“Are you going to let me come?” Adam pipes up
“You came once already, you greedy bitch.”
“I want to come again.”
“Shut up or I’ll gag you,” I say mildly, then turn back to Elliot. “Here’s the thing you should know. Adam’s my bitch, not yours. You can photograph him, and you can paint him, you can even ask him to get naked for you, but if I find you touching him, even to angle his face toward the light, I will cut off your fucking hands.”
“Cassius,” Adam protests because unless there’s a dick in his mouth, it’s impossible to keep him quiet. “You’re supposed to be getting along.”
“We are getting along, babe, I’m just laying out the rules for Elliot like I did for you. Making everything crystal clear.”
Adam snorts and pouts, but he’s got the attention span of a gnat, especially when he’s rolling, so soon enough he’s lying on the bed, surrounded by a wreath of pillows and rubbing hundred-dollar bills all over his gorgeous muscles like he’s discovering his body for the first time. My boyfriend is hot as fuck. I want to get deep in his guts, but first I have to deal with Elliot.
“And these pictures are for your eyes only,” I tell Elliot, motioning to where they’re scattered all over the floor, along with the money. “Not even Adam gets to see them.”
“Not even me?” he lifts his head to whine some more. “But this is my photoshoot.”
“This ismyphotoshoot. And slutty Barbie has ruined her makeup.” His lipstick is smeared all around his plush whore mouth. His smudged mascara makes him look even more sultry and debauched.
“I did?” He climbs down from the bed on all fours, crawls across the carpet because his feet are probably killing him by now and sits in front of the mirror to inspect his face. He’ll be there for a while.
“Do we understand each other, Elliot?”
“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his conscience catching up with him a little too late.
