"See how good I'm treating your– Hah!– I mean, it's MY money now. You should practise more gratitude in your life before someone else does it better for you." Like a slave, you find yourself nodding along agreeingly to a woman you barely knew.

She sounds pleased with herself for a second as she mentally totalled the amount in her hands, then a flicker of her smokey gaze sets on you in hardened dissatisfaction and your body shivers in delightful cold sweat. The good kind that buries itself in the lower part of your jeans. You never knew you could be this turned on in your life.

Helplessly, your eyes track her newly bridal manicures combing through the money you tributed her, as she hums along to the song being played overhead, a classic nude shade matching her cocktail dress though tastefully chosen– you know in your heart of hearts that it could've been done better. She could've and should be treated to better things. 

A goddess like her, albeit a not-so-single stranger you just met and got pressured into joining the fun, deserves even more. 

Exaggeratingly you clear your throat to be heard over the surrounding chatter, heart hammering in it when you gesture politely to her hands. "Can I pay for your nails? When you want new ones, of course." 

In nervous wait, you dare not to make eye contact until sensing her sharp gaze on you.

Her electric pink lips purse upwards before she releases a genuine laugh at you, making her abundant auburn curls bounce over her bare shoulders. "Awww how sweet… Oh you would like to, now wouldn't you?"

Laura checks her nails under the soft light like she's assessing how much of your offer is deserving of her acceptance… Not that you would know what a goddess like her is thinking, you could only anxiously (and excitedly) guess in your stuffy seat. 

"Well? Don't waste my precious time, it's nothing like yours." She snaps, one hand tightly gripping the tribute money while she pointedly looks at her empty open palm expectantly and beckoning for more. More of the hidden money in your large pockets.

Hesitantly, with an obvious nervousness at this interaction, you fished out a large crisp bill from your wallet and placed it carefully in her open palm. Hoping the amount would please her.

- $1000 

"Wow… Wooooww, I can't believe you're trying to be a smartass little piggy," Laura scoffs viciously, easily crumbling the bill in her hand to make a show of her point.

The degrading nickname she called you had sent multiple electric waves down to your… growing arousal.

"A thousand dollars isn't nearly enough for the kind of nails I want. I can't believe you tried to trick me, Me. Do you know who I am?!" 

Your mind instantly answers that she is a goddess, unlike your delayed mouth. "N-No?" Crap.

"A worthless virgin piece of shit like you should be bowing to me right now, heck, you should feel grateful for every second you BREATHE in my air. Get down on your knees, pig." There was a slight mutter of disgust beneath her breath as her ruby lips curled in displeasure, sending you to instantly bow forwards and fall onto your knees like a loose Russian doll. 

Her disgust further grew at the sight of your eager and willing display to please her.

No doubt some of the bar patrons' curious gazes skirt to you like, some bubbles of laughter towards your display of obedience while most ignored what was going on. You just became another piece of entertainment for an uncaring and leering audience.

"Hmph. At least you can listen, that's not too bad… But I can't believe you're actually doing this. This is so embarrassing for you, ugh." Laura giggled almost delightfully into her hand after a quick glance down at you by her feet. 

"Now go make yourself a little useful and get me and my girlfriends some bottles."

And you did. The server coming by had to bend down to take your order from your position on the floor, an uncomfortable look from them all the while smiling professionally.

Laura didn't talk to you for the rest of the party, just chit chatting with the ladies and other people with a full glass of bubbly. It was difficult to convince yourself to change sitting positions to relieve the burning numbness in your thighs and legs when you'd sense Laura's overwhelming grey gaze over you as if to check whether or not you listened well. 

The smallest quirk of her auburn eyebrows gave you the feeling while she wasn't exactly pleased- she had approved, even without sparing another word. The tingles across your spine from knowing that was wonderful.

You felt that hours must've passed but in reality the night had just begun.

Excusing herself for the restroom, Laura got off the bar stool and in the process accidentally her heels half-stepping on your thigh, gifting you sharp and hard pain. She let out a laugh as she disappeared to the back of the bar while you swear you could still feel the indent and shape of her stiletto heels.

A cute mousy woman looks down at you with eyes shining in concern before returning her attention to the rest of her drunken friends at the table. "Don't you guys think she's being a little mean to that poor man?" 

The drunkest woman hiccuped and smacked the table, loudly scoffing. "Oh please! He wants to be here, it's his choice- if you were really worried about him then you would've tried to pull us all away from here. But you didn't, so it's not that bad." 

"A pathetic fuck is what that is, the poor guy." Another friend of Laura's laughed snidely, downing a shot from the third round of drinks that you paid for. 

You were just there, an existing humiliation as the conversation continued to flow above your head— soon enough the women forgot about you as more desserts and colourful drinks were served

Meant the lighter your wallet felt, it didn't matter because you loved every throbbing second of it. 

You were becoming Laura's personal walking ATM machine. Disposable.

.   .   .

Sephora shopping sprees with a group of beautiful women sounds like a dream come true, especially when you've been dragged along by Laura every week– it wasn't a problem after the first month or so but she ignored your tiny protests to meet her despite her knowing you had work today. It's not as if she cared about you or your hard-on.

 Nothing stopped her from pressuring you to call in sick like a 'loser pig' while the invisible pressure belted around your neck squeezed pleasurably tighter as Laura verbally forced you to spend more than your consented limit.

Looks like you were going to have to cancel the restaurant reservations for your nieces and nephews or survive off the impending doom of pennies remaining in your bank account.

The only thing you couldn't cancel was the uncomfortably taunt and hardcore boner taped against your inner thigh. An order by Laura and her friends for shits and giggles. 

They never checked to see or asked if you really listened to their words. They didn't need to. 

You know they don't give a shit about you, the fact cementing itself pleasurably in your mind as none of your messages to your mistress received any replies. She only texts you the necessary details, nothing more and you loved it.

— 'Ashlee Avenue. Raven's spa. Tomorrow 4 PM.' 

'Yes, Madame.' The only appropriate response.

.   .   .

But there are unfortunate times where you've made her unhappy. Just to what extent, you were about to find out her wrath. 

On the pristine marble flooring of her bedroom in her shared penthouse. Her fiancè at the pool, lounging under the sun and barely batting an eye when you were ordered around. 

"I'll say this once nicely, piggy, since you're going to be MY pig and anything I own should have somewhat of a brain cell left in their pathetic skulls. Am I right?" Laura's voice viciously echoed in the large room, her auburn hair lit like an intimidating smouldering flame against the entirely white walls and decor.

"Y-Yes, Madame." Instantly you answer obediently.

"Good, good! See you're not so stupid, piggy… Understand this from now onwards, if you aren't making me happy or trying to, then I'm gonna have to be the big bad wolf and blow you away." Laura let out half a cackle at her own joke before collecting her composure and continuing, looking down her sharp nose at your dog seated position in plain judgement.

She slowly lowers herself to a deep squat, serious eyes levelling an inch right above yours as she leans in slightly close, wrinkling her nose at the 'stench' of your pathetic desperation to be fully hers. Her next words almost took you out of consciousness from the shock and pleasurable terror. 

"I'll blow your fucking reputation to the ground by posting about you attempting to fuck me, Mr Assistant manager, an engaged woman. You can say bye bye to your career and family if you even have any. The fucking point is, I'll destroy everything you're apart of and make sure your name is too ruined for you to get back up on your feet—" 

Laura cut herself off for a short intake of breath, playfully glaring at you as if you had tired her mouth. "So if I were you, unless you want your boss finding out about you trying to steal somebody's wife, be ready to oink whenever I call for you. It's simple instructions just like opening that big fat wallet of yours for me, don't you agree, little piggy?"

"Y..Yes—" Her glare narrowed on you in warning. "— Uh, oink. Oink!" 

Your brain must've fried itself on the high dosage of dopamine and horniness as you realised you were sounding out the words instead of making the actual noises a pig would. It was pathetic either way, your attempts too.

"Oh you can do better than that, I know you can." She tutted, smug in her absolute power over you. "But… practice does make perfect. Animals like you need to remember their place. Now next time oink louder, cheap piggy." 

For her, you did. 

🐖🐖🐖

Within the year, you've 20 000 dollars tributed to your Mistress. Everything was worth it but nobody could ever find out about the true degenerate that you are.

"Piggy piggy," a lazy beach-themed manicure hand beckons you to come closer on all fours towards the edge of the swaying hammock, the rough sand beneath grinding painfully into your bare knees and palms as you did your best efforts to oink despite the delicious exhaustion.

Laura admires her nails under the bright sunlight and barely acknowledged you, as your nose caught the faintest whiff of the expensive feminine perfume you've bought for her clinging onto her slightest tanned skin. "You still got your savings right?" 

"Oink oink oink!" You hoped your voice conveyed an eager 'yes.' 

"Good, good. You'd be even more useless to me if you're penniless so soon. I've drained one of your wallets high and dry huh?" She laughs without a care in the world, as she should.

"Oink oink!!!"

Yes, Mistress.