“Here, pig.”

Owner’s tone was casual, offhand, indifferent. But at the sound of those two words, and the sight of him gesturing towards his groin, River’s heart leapt with joy and relief. Springing up from her sprawled position with an excited squeak, she charged across their bedroom as fast as her four limbs would carry her.

Her natural enthusiasm to be close to him, to be between his legs, was magnified beyond measure by the effects of the penance she’d been serving for what felt like an eternity. As soon as she’d returned home from work, she had confessed to him about the unsanctioned blowjob she’d given her former colleague. She’d apologised, and wept, and begged for his forgiveness on her knees. Owner had cradled her head in his hands and told her, not unkindly, that although he understood her actions - and, in a way, appreciated the cunning nuances of her strategy to alienate all her old co-workers - he couldn’t let her actions go unpunished. He had responsibilities as her Owner, just as she had responsibilities as his sex pet. She understood, of course, and was grateful for his empathy... until he’d detailed her penalty. It was just about the cruellest thing he could have thought of, and although she’d accepted and borne the weight of it ever since without complaint, it had been a nightmarish few days. (Weeks? Months? She’d lost track. Again, it felt like forever...)

It wasn’t that she was restricted to all fours in their home, unless Owner told her otherwise, or unless performing household chores like cooking or cleaning. And it wasn’t that she had to wear either her nosehook or a rubber pig nose in the house at all times, along with her tail plug. Those rules had been in place ever since Owner had helped her realise her true nature, and she’d embraced them, and the meaning behind them, wholeheartedly. The thin metal rods distorting her nostrils into a porcine shape, and the springy pig tail bouncing against her buttocks as the plug shifted inside her, were a constant reminder that she was a lowly, depraved animal. For the same reason, she mainly communicated in oinks, squeaks and grunts these days, which had actually been her own idea. She revelled in the dehumanisation, the bestial behaviour, making it obvious that she could never be more than this, that she lived to be her Owner’s fuckpig - just a dumb fleshlight, a horny piece of meat, a barely-sentient set of holes for him to use and abuse.

No, the punishment was that he hadn’t been using her. He hadn’t fucked her once since her misdemeanour. The blowjob she’d given Will had been the last time she’d had a dick inside her.

For a dumb hypersexual creature that existed to be stuffed full of cock, this was the worst kind of torture. She had grown more and more distressed as the days had dragged by, her constantly simmering arousal quickly rising to a nigh-intolerable level and staying there. She was allowed to touch herself, but that did little to relieve the pressure - in fact, it did the opposite, making her even more horny. She couldn’t get off by herself - that wasn’t how her body functioned (at least, not any more). She could only cum if she was making someone else cum, and that wasn’t happening at the moment. Even knowing that, she found herself masturbating most days regardless, unable to resist the temptation, generally foregoing the use of her own fingers (her touch proving too intense to handle) in favour of humping a pillow (the same one she slept on every night, of course), and playing with her tail to grind her plug inside her anus.

Owner had done nothing to help her - in fact, she thought he might be actively trying to make things worse for her. He often walked around the house naked, tantalising her with the sight of forbidden fruit. He barely looked at or spoke to her, unless he needed her to do something for him, fully aware that being ignored and neglected drove her even wilder with desire. He brought other women back to their home more frequently than ever before, making River cower under the desk and watch him fuck them on their bed for hours on end, helplessly rubbing herself to the blatant, unapologetic cuckolding. He hadn’t even jerked off into her trough for days, and she’d noticed the difference in how her food tasted - it was so much blander without any cum in it. A healthy fuckpig needed semen in her diet!

Most frustratingly of all, she couldn’t hope for any satisfaction even when he did fuck someone else, or masturbate - because he’d removed her clit from his cock. He’d hidden it somewhere else, apparently, and wouldn’t tell her where. He promised he’d put it back eventually, but not until he was sure she’d learned her lesson.

She wanted to tell him that she had learned her lesson, that she’d never do anything so flagrantly disobedient ever again, that she lived to serve him. But she feared that to do so would be to contradict him, and that would be another act of insubordination, which could end up extending her punishment. So she kept her silence, aside from her usual inarticulate pig noises.

It was hard not to let her desperation show, though. Every time he strode past her with his cock swinging in mid-air, she had to suppress a whimper of longing - and sometimes she couldn’t. She had a permanently plaintive expression these days, wordlessly imploring him to show mercy and reinstate the status quo, going back to roughly spearing her thrice daily (at least). She couldn’t help trying to move in enticing ways in front of him, swaying her bum from side to side as she plodded along, making an exhibition of herself. She would sit back on her haunches and hold her mouth open, her tongue dangling down her chin. She would bow down on the carpet and arch her back, showing off her arse, clutching her cheeks and spreading them apart to expose her needy holes (on the rare occasions when she wasn’t wearing her tail).

Her efforts had been in vain, thus far. He usually completely ignored her - and sometimes he would shove or kick her aside, if she’d chosen a particularly inconvenient spot to display herself (by mistake, obviously, because she was trying hard not to displease him any further). He never showed any real irritation with her, though. He must know she was suffering, and was probably impressed that she was enduring it so well. He hadn’t given any indication of when her torment would end either, though.

So him turning in his swivel chair and beckoning her between his legs was more than she could have hoped for, especially after she’d had another futile round of pillow-humping and collapsed in a heap in the corner of their room. Finally, her Owner was going to use her again! She got to fulfil her purpose in life!

As she approached, he rotated back towards his desk again. Undaunted, she crawled beneath it and nestled between his legs, eagerly snuffling at his lap. Even through the shorts he was wearing (unusually), she could still pick up his scent. How she’d missed it! She inhaled it greedily, her hook tugging at her nostrils as she did so, rubbing her face into his crotch.

His hand landed heavily on her head. “Be still,” he told her, without any annoyance or harshness - his tone was merely lightly expectant, the sound of someone who could be completely carefree in issuing his commands because he was certain he would be obeyed. That was how he usually spoke to her - and, as always, she did as he said, freezing beneath his palm.

“Good girl,” he said with equal nonchalance, giving her a couple of tender pats before lifting his hand away. As she heard him resume typing on his laptop (the laptop he’d appropriated from her, along with her desk and the rest of her belongings, when he’d moved in), she felt his right leg rise and rest its calf just above his left knee, tightening the gap between them. His thighs wrapped around her head, pressing her face further into his groin. Though she continued to hold still, she couldn’t stifle a grunt (which was, however, muffled by his shorts) from the pressure on all sides of her skull. It wasn’t so tight as to be unbearable, but it was definitely uncomfortable. She could breathe well enough, although much of what she breathed in was her Owner’s musk, which was all the more intoxicating now - she still adored it, although it was starting to make her feel dizzy.

A little while later, the pressure suddenly slackened, and Owner reached down and pulled River’s nosehook free, untying its cord from her hair. “That was starting to annoy me,” he muttered, setting the metal implement on his desk, and then returned his attention to his computer, his legs closing around her once more.

They stayed like that for some time, Owner hammering away at his keyboard while he squeezed his pet’s head between his legs. As she knelt there with her chin on the edge of the chair and her arms hanging loosely at her sides, River tried to suppress her disappointment at not being used the way she’d expected, and her agitation at being so close to the object of her desire and not being able to enjoy it. She could feel it against her face, separated only by a thin layer of material. She struggled to stop herself salivating, keeping her lips pressed firmly together, not wanting Owner to end up sitting in a puddle of her drool. Her already overwhelming arousal was ten times worse now that she was so close to his cock, yet so far from having it inside her.

She kept glancing up at him, pleading for clemency with her eyes, but to no avail. He paid her absolutely no attention, continuing to type relentlessly. She had no idea what he did on that laptop all day every day (when he wasn’t out and about searching for women to fuck). He’d never seen fit to tell her. Maybe he was making business deals, or completing paperwork. (He seemed to have unlimited finances, and had never revealed where they came from - perhaps he owned his own company, or was a high-ranking enough executive in one that he could reap large profits while doing half the work of his subordinates.) Maybe he was writing the next bestseller - he certainly had quite the imagination, just going by the absurd things he’d made her do since taking over her life. Or maybe he was just playing a computer game.

Whatever. It wasn’t her place to question. Right now, he seemed to need her as an ersatz cushion. Perhaps he gained some kind of sensory stimulation from squeezing her head between his thighs. Regardless of the reason for his command, she would obey perfectly and remain still with her head in his lap, even though she’d much rather he fucked her throat raw...

“Babe, do me a favour and get my dick out, if you can get those clumsy trotters of yours to work.”

Her eyes went wide as a surge of elation overtook her once again. Without waiting for him to change his mind, she scrambled to unzip his shorts and fish out his phallus. “Good pig,” he continued, reaching down and planting his hands against each side of her head to hold it in place, while his thick cock laid across her face. “Now stay still, just like before.” She let out a whimper - the tip of her tongue had already darted out to lick the underside of his shaft, and had barely made contact. “Ah ah ah,” he chided, flicking her firmly on the temple. “Be still, pork chop. Right now I just need a cushion, not a blowjob.” Her partially-obscured face crumpled with despair, her tongue slipping back into her mouth.

The grip around her head was no longer as tight - he had uncrossed his legs, planting both feet in the carpet either side of her. But this was, nonetheless, somehow worse than before. His dick was lying across the middle of her forehead and down her nose, her mouth nestled in his nutsack. Restraining her impulse to lavish her affections upon his genitals, when they were right against her face, was taking all of her meagre willpower. Her hands clenched and unclenched at the end of her dangling arms. Her cunt throbbed between her bent, slightly aching legs.

River blinked tears from her eyes. This was so humbling. So excruciatingly degrading. To have her face buried in his bare crotch but not being fucked. To be considered unworthy even of having his cock in her mouth. Not fit even to be a fleshlight. Just something for him to wrap his legs around, to squeeze with his thighs, to lay his dick on. No longer permitted to be a cocksleeve - demoted to a mere cockrest, that could only dream of being a cocksleeve. This was the ultimate punishment. She’d fallen further than any woman, or even any fuckpig, ever could.

Naturally, a part of her revelled in it.

This cruel, neglectful, torturous treatment was driving her absolutely mad with lust. She couldn’t help it - that was how she was made. She got off so hard on being ignored and mistreated - and this? Her Owner shoving his cock and balls in her face, and not letting her so much as kiss them? Ohhh, that was so sadistic, she didn’t think she’d ever been so horny... And that arousal was making her frustration even worse, an endless feedback loop that she could neither stop nor satisfy. She was a prisoner of her own perverse emotions, and of her Owner’s demands.

She was so busy waging her internal war, keeping her rebellious lips from pouting and giving his genitals even the most chaste kiss, that she didn’t even hear the porn at first. But as Owner slowly began to slide his dick back and forth along her face, she heard tinny fuck noises blaring from the laptop speakers.

Oh, this was the worst humiliation of all. Rather than use her mouth for the only thing it was good for, he was instead rubbing himself along her forehead while he watched porn? He had a fuckpig in prime position, and yet he was choosing to get off to online footage of other women rather than to her? How would she ever live this down?!

Whatever he was watching was turning him on very quickly, his already sizeable dick getting even longer and thicker as he grew fully erect. (The awareness that he hadn’t already been erect with her face in his crotch made her feel even more worthless, and even more wet.) He humped her face faster and harder by the second, his hand on the back of her head. His foreskin was rubbing all over her forehead, saturating her skin with his scent. His balls were slapping against her nose and mouth, his pubic hairs tickling her. His legs clenched around her head once more.

She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. There was a pounding inside her skull, probably caused by his tight grip, or the increased intensity of his musk. She was finding it difficult to breathe through the pervasive aroma. Her eardrums were full of static, squished by his thighs, and when they could hear, the only things they picked up were the sounds of other women - other fuckpigs, maybe - getting used roughly, the way she should be, endless moans as they were ploughed deeply, deafening gluk gluk gluks as thick pricks probed their throats the way Owner should be probing hers, instead of masturbating against her face as if she didn’t even have a hole he could use, as if her whole head was just a pillow he could hump the same way she humped her actual pillow -

He was cumming, firing thick white ropes into her hair. Unable to see anything but his luscious ballsack, she closed her eyes in anguish, her lips quivering, as he covered her brunette mane with the sticky, salty prize her mouth had been denied. Her cunt wept from the indignity.

As he finished, panting and gasping, and slumped back in his chair, his deflating cock slid down her face, smearing a trail of cum on her forehead, her nose, her cheek... all of it infuriatingly out of her tongue’s reach. He idly towelled off his softened meat with a clump of her hair - one of the few patches he hadn’t already coated in his thick white seed - and then tucked himself back into his shorts. She suppressed a sob as he zipped himself up.

“Good pig,” he sighed, sounding so satisfied. “Now, you’d better get some rest - we’ve got a lot to do later, to get ready for the party tomorrow. Stay right there and have a nap, pet. I’m gonna leave the porn on for you, but I don’t want the noise to distract me, so - hang on a tick...”

The sexual soundtrack was abruptly cut off, but a second later Owner slid an EarPod into each of River’s ears, and then she could hear the lewd noises much better than before. Then he got up from the chair, nimbly climbing over her.

“There you go, babe,” he said, his voice still clear enough over the porn. “Now you can go to sleep listening to cunts being used. I might make that a regular thing, in fact, a part of your everyday life. Nice to hear them being satisfied, isn’t it?” he chuckled.

She squirmed and whined softly. Her envy of the sex workers moaning in her ears was obvious, it seemed.

“OK, pork pie, I’ll come wake you up later. You just stay in that exact position and go sleepies.”

And with that, he strode out of the bedroom without looking back. With a shaky breath, River tried to do as she was told, closing her eyes and settling down for a nap, her chin sinking into the leather seat, her arms still dangling below the chair, her legs still folded below her. She tried, as best she could, to ignore the cramp in her calves from sitting on them for so long, the insistent pulsating of her pussy, and the layers of cum coating her face and hair.