Derek slammed the door of his sprawling penthouse behind him, the city lights glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows like a sea of diamonds he could buy and burn if he wanted. At thirty, he was the king of Hale University—rich, ripped, and untouchable. But tonight his cock was throbbing painfully against his zipper, angry and denied, all because of that stuck-up little bitch Stiles.

“Fucking tease,” he growled to the empty room, yanking off his tie and throwing it across the marble floor. The memory of her in the library stacks—bent over, micro skirt flipped up, that tiny pink thong glued to her fat pussy lips—had him hard as steel for hours. She’d called him a perverted asshole and glared like he was dirt under her heel. No girl ever said no to him. No girl ever looked at him with disgust. It made him want to ruin her.

He poured himself a whiskey, downed it in one burning swallow, then pulled out his phone. The escort agency app was already open—his dirty little secret for nights like this. He typed quickly: Need the BEST one tonight. Top tier. No limits except whatever the fuck she says. Make her the sluttiest, most eager hole you’ve got. Transfering now.

Ten thousand dollars flashed across the screen as he hit send. Paid in full.

On the other side of the city, Stiles stepped out of the shower in her tiny apartment, water still dripping down her massive tits and thick ass. Classes had been hell—Professor Hale’s double-meaning lecture, then that hallway bullshit, then the library where he’d basically eye-fucked her soaked thong. She needed the money, though. Badly.

Her phone buzzed on the sink. Agency number.

“Hey, baby girl,” the handler purred. “New client. High roller. Wants the absolute best for tonight. Ten grand for one night—highest payout we’ve ever had for you. Address just sent. Be there in an hour, dressed to destroy. He asked for the sluttiest.”

Stiles’s eyes widened. Ten thousand dollars? Her mouth went dry. “Holy shit… okay. I’ll be perfect.”

She didn’t ask the name. Never did. Privacy was part of the deal.

She went full whore mode. The tiniest dress she owned—a microscopic black thing that was basically two thin straps and a scrap of fabric that barely covered her pussy and the bottom curve of her ass. No bra. No panties. Her huge tits were practically naked, nipples already hard and poking through the sheer material. She did her makeup slutty as fuck: glossy cock-sucking red lips, heavy smoky eyes, lashes so long they brushed her cheeks. Hair loose and wild. Heels that screamed “fuck me.”

She looked in the mirror and smirked at herself. “Time to earn that ten grand.”

Exactly on time, she stepped out of the elevator into the private penthouse floor and rang the bell. A deep voice from inside called out, lazy and arrogant: “It’s not locked. Come in, baby.”

Stiles pushed the door open, stepped inside, and clicked it shut behind her. The place was insane—luxury everywhere. Then she looked up.

Derek was standing there in nothing but low-slung grey sweatpants, cock already half-hard and outlined like a fucking weapon. His eyes locked on hers.

Both of them froze.

Stiles’s stomach dropped. Her professor. The arrogant bastard who’d been tormenting her all day. The one who’d just seen her thong in the library.

Derek’s jaw actually fell open for half a second… then he threw his head back and started laughing. Hysterical, deep, arrogant laughter that echoed off the walls like thunder. His muscled chest shook with it, eyes watering as he stared at her tiny dress, her hard nipples, the way the hem rode so high you could almost see her fat pink pussy.

“Well, well, well…” he finally gasped, wiping his eyes, still chuckling. “Campus princess by day… perfect little straight-A English major, always giving me that disgusted glare… and by night you’re the highest-paid cock-sleeve in the city? Holy fuck, Stiles. I just paid ten grand to fuck the stuck-up bitch who won’t even smile at me in class.”

Stiles stiffened, cheeks burning crimson, but deep between her thighs her fat pussy clenched hard, a rush of wetness already slicking her bare lips. “Professor Hale… please,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ll do whatever you want tonight—just don’t ruin my life at university. Please.”

Derek’s smirk turned predatory. He stalked closer, circling her slowly like a shark, eyes devouring every inch of her barely-covered body. “Whatever I want, huh? Look at you… dressed like a cheap fucktoy even though you pretend to be so above it all. Those fat tits spilling out, that ass ready to bounce, and I bet that pretty pink cunt is already dripping because your professor caught you being a whore.”

He stopped behind her, breath hot on her neck. “You know how many girls would kill to be here right now? And here you are—my perfect, studious little Stiles—selling your holes for cash. Say it, princess. Tell me what you are tonight.”

Stiles’s voice was small but she forced it out. “I’m… your escort. For tonight.”

Derek laughed again, low and filthy, and moved back in front of her. He dropped onto the huge leather couch, legs spread wide, the massive bulge in his sweatpants obvious. “Good girl. Now c’mon, princess. Strip for me. Slowly. Let me see exactly what I paid ten grand for. Show Professor Hale what that slutty body looks like with nothing on.”

Stiles’s hands trembled with anger and humiliation, but she nodded. She couldn’t risk him talking. She hooked her thumbs under the tiny straps and peeled the dress down inch by inch, making it sexy even though rage burned in her chest. The fabric whispered over her huge tits, letting them bounce free—heavy, perfect, nipples dark and stiff. Then lower, over the curve of her waist, until the dress pooled at her heels and she stepped out completely naked.

Derek’s eyes widened. A low, hungry gasp escaped him. “Jesus fucking Christ… you’re even sexier than I imagined.” His hand went straight to his cock, stroking the thick outline through his pants. “Those massive tits… that juicy ass… and look at that fat pink pussy. Puffy lips already glistening. You really are the hottest little whore on campus.”

He licked his lips. “Dance for me, baby. Shake those big tits and that fat ass for your professor. Let me see every inch of my ten-thousand-dollar slut.”

Stiles’s face burned with embarrassment, but she started moving. Hips rolling like a stripper, she cupped her heavy tits, squeezing them together, pinching her nipples while she bounced them up and down. Then she turned, arching her back, and shook her thick ass cheeks, making them clap and jiggle obscenely. She bent forward, spreading her legs a little so her bare pink pussy peeked between her thighs, glistening.

“Fuck yes,” Derek groaned, stroking faster. “That’s it, you dirty little campus whore. Look at you dancing naked for the man you called a perverted asshole earlier. Keep shaking that ass—harder. Make those fat tits bounce like you do when you’re riding cock for cash.”

Stiles kept going, humiliated but moving sluttier, hands sliding down her body, spreading her ass cheeks for him while she twerked.

Derek’s voice dropped even lower, filthy and commanding. “Now open that pretty pussy for me, baby. Sit on the edge of the coffee table, spread your legs wide, and play with that fat cunt. Outside only—no fingers inside. That hole is mine to wreck tonight. Rub your clit, pinch those puffy lips, show me how wet being exposed as a whore makes you.”

Stiles was flushed head to toe, angry tears pricking her eyes, but her pussy was throbbing. She sat on the cool glass table, thighs spread obscenely wide, and reached down. Two fingers parted her swollen pink lips, showing him everything. She started circling her clit slowly, then faster, pinching the puffy folds, rolling them between her fingers while her hips twitched.

Derek leaned forward, eyes glued between her legs, hand still pumping his cock through his pants. “That’s my good little escort slut. Look how soaked you are. Your fat pussy is dripping all over my table because your professor knows your secret now. Rub it faster, princess. Circle that swollen clit like the desperate whore you are. Bet you cream yourself every time you think about me in class, don’t you? All that disgust is just you trying not to beg for my cock.”

Stiles’s breathing was ragged. Her fingers moved filthier—pinching, slapping lightly at her clit, spreading her lips wide so he could see her tight little entrance clench and leak.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Derek growled. “Keep playing with that cunt, baby. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone thinking about rich clients stretching you. You’re not the ideal student anymore—you’re my naked, dripping fucktoy. Pinch those pussy lips harder. Yeah, just like that. God, I’m gonna fuck that pretty hole so deep you’ll feel me for a week.”

The humiliation crashed over her like a wave. Being naked, exposed, forced to masturbate in front of the one man she hated most—while he stroked himself and called her every filthy name—pushed her over the edge. Her thighs shook, pussy clenching visibly, and she came hard with a broken moan, juices coating her fingers as her fat lips pulsed and fluttered.