Chapter 4: They Made Me The House Maid

I woke up giggling.

I don’t even know why.

Maybe it was the way my throat still ached. Or how my lips still felt slick. Maybe it was because I could still taste him. Jace. Jace. His cum.

Jesus. I sucked off the hottest guy on campus. In my bed. And not just sucked him off, I swallowed every fucking drop. Like some obedient little pledge.

I turned over, pillow still damp from sweat and spit. My jaw was sore. My ass was sore, even though he never fucked me. I was just that sensitive. That used.

And I liked it.

Then I saw it.

Another note.

Folded neatly on my desk chair, weighted down by ... clothes?

I sat up and padded over barefoot, my body still sticky under the covers. I unfolded the note, heart already picking up pace.

“Wear only this for Task #2. Downstairs. Living room. Now. – Jace.”

What “clothes” meant turned out to be a tiny red skirt. That’s it. No shirt. No underwear. Just this soft, slinky little thing that looked more like a belt than a piece of clothing.

I held it up in disbelief. Laughed. Gulped. Then put it on.

It barely covered anything. I felt like if I bent over, even slightly, my whole ass would hang out.

Maybe that was the point.

When I opened my door and stepped into the hallway, I swear the house smelled like last night. Beer. Sweat. Weed. Boys. The place was a wreck. Cups tipped over. Pizza boxes stacked. Someone’s socks were stuck to the wall.