Epilogue (Part 5): Talk Dirty to Me

After going through the kitchen, living room, backyard, and a few bedrooms, I believe Helen and I have probably seen everyone on the ground floor of the mansion. She seems to agree with that assessment, as she suggests we move on to another floor once we come back inside. The two of us debate if we want to go up or down before ultimately deciding to head down into the basement. Most of the excitement in the house takes place on the ground floor, but there are a notable areas downstairs, like a home theater as well as the aforementioned gym.

While a majority of the bedrooms are on the upper floors, there are a handful of girls who stay down in the basement. You might be able to guess who if you take a second to think about it. Helen and I haven't seen any of them so far, so we make our way downstairs to see if we can find them. We come to the first door on our list to check, and I reach out and knock on it. A moment passes and nothing happens, so I knock a second time. Once again, we're met with silence.

"It looks like she's not in," Helen says.

Helen is about to walk away, when I stop her. I place me ear up to the door and can hear the sound of someone shuffling around from inside. I knew it.

"I know you're in there, Christina!" I call out as I knock again.

"...N-no, I'm not..." a soft voice comes from the other side.

"It's just me and Helen. We wanted to check on you. Come on. Open the door," I tell her.

"I... I don't want to," Christina responds.

"Drop the act, Christina. I know you don't mean that. Just come out and say hi. And make sure you do it the way I taught you."

"...Do I have to?"

"Well, you know what's going to happen if you don't..." I remind her.

A few seconds later, I can hear the sound of Christina approaching the door. Guess someone didn't want to spend the rest of the day on all fours. The next thing I know, Christina's door opens and she steps out into the hallway.

"H-hi, Matt. Do you like my tits? Your pathetic little piggy loves when you stare at them," Christina recites before jiggling her breasts up and down a little.

What can I say? I love messing with Christina. I just can't help myself. She's so fun to embarrass. As you can probably guess, that's why she's dressed up in that ridiculous outfit with her boobs pulled out. I told her she has to wear this getup anytime she's in the house. Technically, she is allowed to change when she leaves the house, but most of the time, she actually forgets to, which has resulted in quite a few hilarious moments where she realizes she has a fake pig snout attached to her face because an entire crowd of people are staring at her in public.

Christina has fallen a long way from the stuck-up sorority bitch she used to be. She isn't in contact with any of her sorority sisters anymore, which really isn't that shocking since I'm pretty sure she never really cared for any of them anyway. Nowadays, she mostly works various odd jobs wherever she can so she can pay me. Usually how it goes is she gets a job and does really well at it despite repeatedly stumbling into embarrassing situations, until one day she claims something happened that was so humiliating that she can't bring herself to go back. She never tells me what those moments are, but occasionally she'll come home covered in chocolate syrup or not wearing pants or something absurd like that, which gives me a vague idea of what happened. Interestingly, she's never actually been fired from a job, only ever losing them when she quits herself. I guess most employers aren't too bothered by a hot woman who does good work while also occasionally finding her in sexy, yet compromising positions. Can't imagine why that is...

Anyway, we're at the point now that Christina pretty much hands her entire paycheck to me the second she gets it, and I have to say, I'm often impressed by how much she's able to scrap together in such a short time. When she doesn't have as much to give, it's usually because she's saving up to buy me a gift instead. And each time she gives me something, it just continues to make her feel more and more inferior to me. While she used to see herself as the most important person in the world, now that couldn't be further from the truth. Like, watch this:

"Hey, Christina. Who in this house do you think is a loser?" I ask.

"M-me! I am! I'm a loser! I'm nothing but a stupid loser who gets turned on from giving away her money!" Christina answers without a moment of hesitation. A second later, she blushes at how willing she was to admit that.

See? It's almost like the way she sees me and herself in her mind has flipped. And funnily enough, despite that, she's still the only girl in the harem who acts like she doesn't enjoy being here. Keyword being "acts," because I can tell that deep down, Christina actually really loves it here. The fact that she's standing here in our basement dressed up like a pig is proof of that. Remember when I said she often "forgets" to change out of her costume when she goes out? Yeah, I'm not convinced that's actually the truth. I think she likes people knowing what she's become. It's also worth mentioning that no one is forcing her to stay here. Sure, she may feel compelled to pay me, but there are plenty of ways to do that which don't involve living here. And that's not to mention the fact that she willingly shows up and participates in ever single group activity the harem does. She can pretend to be annoyed all she wants, but she can't hide her true feelings from me.

"Actually... speaking of money... I have some more for you!" Christina continues before realizing how eager she sounds. "I mean... whatever. You can take it if you want. I don't care."

Christina reaches into her room and pulls out an envelope filled with cash. Woah. This is quite a bit. I wouldn't call her a primary earner like Katia or Daisy, but she's definitely graduated from giving out a little extra spending cash. I give the envelope to Helen, who sticks it inside her notebook for now. As always, the pig girl immediately feels a rush of arousal the second she hands over her money. Realizing that we still have more people to visit, I decide to leave her alone for now and let her deal with her wet pussy in peace. As soon as Helen and I say goodbye and Christina goes back through her door, I hear the noise of her digging through the mess she calls her room before making out the distinct sound of a vibrator being turned on.

Heading further into the basement, we come across the next room to check. Well, I use the term "check" loosely in this case, as I'd be genuinely shocked if she wasn't in here. This also happens to be one of the only rooms in the entire house with no lock (the reason why will probably be obvious in a moment), so Helen and I are able to walk in without any trouble.

The second we enter, we notice a figure scramble from lying down to sitting on their knees, as if getting ready for our sudden arrival.

"Owner?"

Where do I even begin with this one? I know I harp on this point a lot, but it's still hard to get through my head that the cumrag in front of me used to be my history professor Dr. Shannon Powell. She used to be a self-centered know-it-all who ruled her class with an iron fist. Now, she's nothing more than a human toilet who gets off on being degraded. And unlike Christina, this thing doesn't even pretend to not enjoy her life. She absolutely revels in being treated like an object. In fact, she was the one who asked us to put her in that straight jacket. She also has the worst living conditions of anyone in the house, which was her request too. We actually had to intentionally make the room less accommodating because she was too uncomfortable staying in a place she thought she "didn't deserve."

As I mentioned before, the cum dumpster's room doesn't have a lock on it, which in addition to making sure she doesn't get stuck inside, is also meant to allow anyone in the house to access her anytime they want. The masochistic slut thrives off of people using and abusing her, so she sees no issue sitting around down here until she's needed. It's pretty common for someone to come down here when they're craving some relief, especially if not many other people are available. Sometimes, we'll even bring her upstairs and pass her around, which I'm pretty sure are her favorite days.

"Did you come to make use of this slut's worthless holes?" The masochist asks hopefully.

"Not right now. We just came to check on you and make sure you were still in one piece," I answer.

"Check on me? I don't understand. I'm just a stupid fucktoy. It doesn't matter what condition I'm in."

Man, we really have done a number on her. And yet, it doesn't bother me all that much. I still feel the constant need to belittle and **** her. Just the thought gets my blood pumping.

To my surprise, Helen walks over to her before I have a chance to say anything. My assistant leans down in front of the sex doll, grabs a nipple in each hand, and twist them both. The slut instantly starts to scream in pleasure as juices spray out from between her legs and onto the cushion she uses as a bed. Once Helen lets go, the slut falls face-first onto the cushion, leaving her ass and cunt fully exposed. Helen quickly takes advantage of the opportunity and slaps our toy hard on her wet slit, resulting in another moan.

"Don't talk back to your Owner! If he wants to check on you, that's what he'll do! Remember your place, you piece of shit!" Helen states sternly.

Uh... wow. I didn't expect that. It's not every day you hear Helen swear like that. That compulsion to **** the masochist is really something else.

"Y-yes, Ma'am... I'm sorry. It won't happen again..." the living urinal mumbles into her cushion.

Helen recollects herself and returns to my side, biting her lip to contain her obvious arousal as she does so. Perhaps we should get out of here before we spend the rest of the day roughing this bitch up...