My slave served food to my five guests
My name is Raquel. I’m going to tell some of the things I do, because I think they deserve to be told. I’ll start with what happened the other day, when I invited five friends over for lunch and let them get to know her thoroughly.
I have a sow named Berta. She is fifty-five years old. She is plumper than thin, with love handles marked at the waist and belly, and huge breasts hanging loose over her chest. I’ve been turning her into a real pig for months, slowly, without rushing, until she no longer remembers having been anything else.
Before, she was a homebody, the kind of woman who greets people in the lobby and goes to Mass on Sundays. Now she crawls when I call her and lowers her eyes when I speak to her. It didn’t happen overnight. Every week I took something away from her: first the bed, then the clothes, then the right to sit in a chair. What’s left is exactly what I wanted to leave.
That morning she spent the whole day in the kitchen preparing lunch: roast chicken, potatoes, salad, rice, and freshly baked bread. She left everything ready and set the table completely, with the cutlery lined up and the glasses gleaming. When there was nothing left to do, I called her into the dining room.
—Come here, pig.
She came crawling over, head down. I put a wide black leather collar on her with a large steel ring at her throat. I took the thick plug with the curled tail, smeared it well, and slowly shoved it up her ass all the way in. The tail was left hanging between her buttocks. She breathed harder, but didn’t say a word.
—To the cage.
The cage was for a large dog, with a smooth metal tray on the floor so nothing could get away. I had placed it right next to the dining table, fully in view. Berta crawled inside and settled on all fours as best she could. Her breasts hung heavy, almost brushing the cold sheet metal. I locked the door and put the key in my pocket.
***
The friends arrived one by one: Tomás, Pilar, Óscar, Nuria, and Andrés. As soon as they came in they saw the cage and the comments started.
—Jesus, what an old fat sow you’ve got in there —said Tomás, hanging up his coat.
Pilar approached the bars and looked at her with feigned disgust.
—Look at those drooping tits, disgusting. They look like an old cow’s udders. That body is a disgrace.
Óscar let out a dry laugh.
—For how old she is, and you’ve got her crawling around like an animal. Pathetic.
They sat down at the table, served themselves, and started eating and talking about their own things. Every now and then they looked toward the cage and threw scraps to the floor: some inside the tray, others right beside it, where it was hard for her to reach.
A large piece of chicken skin fell near her face. Berta lowered her chest until her breasts flattened against the metal and licked the skin until she got it into her mouth. Another piece of potato fell farther away. She had to drag her body forward, with her knees slipping on the sheet metal, and stretch her arm as far as she could to reach it with her fingers and bring it to her mouth.
Every time something fell she moved within the cramped space: twisting her torso, lowering her chest to the floor, or sliding her fingers between the bars to drag over what was out of reach. Her breasts swayed and thudded against the tray with each movement. Her face and chest grew stained with grease and sauce. Beneath her, the leftovers began to stick.
I ate calmly, without rushing, enjoying the show. Every now and then I gave her an order.
—Pick up that sauce that fell beside you. Lick everything, filthy pig.
For more than an hour they kept throwing leftovers at her and humiliating her with laughter.
—Look at the old whore eating off the floor —Nuria said—. For how fat she is, she still licks like a hungry sow.
Andrés threw a small bone near her breasts.
—Suck it properly, pig. Make it obvious you’re an animal.
Pilar added, without lifting her eyes from her plate:
—It’s disgusting to see her drooling all over her own sagging tits. You should be ashamed, Berta.
Berta’s face was red and covered in stains. Her breasts had dry sauce stuck to them and smelled of cold grease.
***
When we finished eating and the plates were dirty on the table, I got up and took the chain.
—Now clean everything, pig.
I opened the cage, hooked the chain to the collar, and pulled her out. Berta crawled quickly, obediently. First I took her around the table.
—Lick every plate one by one. Until they’re shiny.
She started with mine. She slowly ran her tongue over the whole surface, gathering up the sauce and little bits. She went on to the rest. She licked the rims, the bottoms, the sides of the plates. While she did it, Óscar commented over his coffee:
—How far you’ve fallen. Licking the plates of normal people at your age.
When she finished with the dishes, I pointed to the floor.
—Everything that fell outside. Every last crumb and drop. Don’t leave anything dirty, pig.
She crawled under the chairs. She licked the tiles, the table legs, the sauce stains and the crumbs trapped in the grout. She got to every spilled drop of drink and collected it with her tongue. The chain clinked against the floor with every movement. The comments didn’t stop.
—Look at her dragging those tits across the floor —Pilar said—. How degrading.
—At fifty-five licking up crumbs like a filthy fucking pig —Nuria added.
When the floor was clean I chained her to the large ring on the wall. The chain was short and only let her move a meter to each side.
—Now the chairs and the edge of the table. Everything perfect.
Berta licked the seats of the chairs, ran her tongue through every sauce-stained corner, stretched her neck to reach the edge of the table, and cleaned the drops that had splashed while serving. The friends kept talking and drinking coffee, occasionally letting slip some filthy remark.
—What a disgusting old bitch. All sweaty and already smelling like rancid food.
***
When everything was clean I took her by the chain and put her back in the cage. I locked the door. Then I yanked the plug out of her ass with a sharp tug. Berta clenched her teeth and let out a low, hoarse moan.
—You’ve gone the whole day without being able to shit. Let’s see how long you hold out now, pig.
The afternoon went on. We kept drinking and talking. After a while the friends began to get up one after another and approach the cage to humiliate her a little more.
Tomás was first. He pushed his cock between the bars and pissed directly into her open mouth.
—Drink, filthy pig. Open wide.
The liquid overflowed down her chin and fell onto her sagging breasts. Óscar aimed at her face and soaked her hair, forehead, and closed eyes.
—You look like such a whore now —he said, shaking himself off.
Pilar and Nuria stood on either side and pissed on her body: one on her breasts and the other on her back and ass.
—Let the smell really stick to you —said Pilar.
Andrés was last. He pushed his cock between the bars and pissed inside the cage, soaking the tray around her knees. Berta was completely drenched and the smell of piss was getting thick in the dining room.
She couldn’t hold out much longer. First she pissed herself. A long, hot stream came out between her legs and spread across the sheet metal, forming a puddle that touched her knees and feet. Then, with a red face and heavy breathing, she started to shit. Three large, soft pieces fell one after another onto the wet tray, right beside her left foot. The smell grew stronger and heavier. Everything was piling up there: the five men’s piss, her own urine, and her shit.
Nuria let out a short laugh.
—Fuck, what a repulsive pig. Now you’re surrounded by your own shit. That’s what you are.
Tomás added, looking down at her:
—With those drooping tits and shitting in the cage like an animal. Pathetic.
I came closer, looked inside the cage, and locked the door again.
—You’re staying in there until tomorrow. With all that, pig.
***
I sat back down with the friends and we kept talking as if the cage weren’t there, less than two meters away. Berta stayed on all fours, surrounded by her own shit and piss, her body wet and the smell slowly rising to the table. No one looked at her again. That was the idea: for her to stop existing, to be nothing but a dirty piece of furniture in a corner.
Before leaving, Tomás came up to me at the door and quietly told me he wanted to bring more people next time. I told him yes, we’d arrange it. Meanwhile, Berta listened to us from the cage, fully understanding that her humiliation had only just begun.
When the friends left, it was already night. I turned off the dining room lights. I looked at her from the doorway for a second. The sow was still there, motionless, with everything piling up beneath her in the tray, breathing slowly in the dark.
—Tomorrow I’ll let you out, pig... or maybe not.
I closed the door and went off to sleep perfectly at ease.