Dollar Swine

He held the stack out to her, but as she reached out her hand, he dropped them to the ground, obviously on purpose. "Oops." he said innocently with a wide grin, "looks like you'll have to pick them up."

Blair felt anger flare up inside her at this arrogant fucking prick. Her backside faced the rest of the crowd, which had caught onto the game and was watching with anticipation. One last humiliation was being forced on the party's slutty entertainment for the crowd's amusement. She was supposed to give them one last good look at her rear as she bent low to scoop up her payment. Blair was better than that. Her lip curled up in a sneer. She wouldn't play along with this boy's sick game.

The stack of money on the ground ruffled slightly in the breeze. One twenty fluttered a few inches away. It really was a nice, fat stack of cash. It would be the perfect cherry on top of the hard-earned tips she had made tonight. Blair bit her lip, trying her best to resist. But... the crowd had been checking out her ass all night... did it matter if they got a little better look at it? She couldn't tear her eyes off the money. A few more bills fluttered off the stack. If she didn't grab it quickly, the wind might carry the bills away. Money was for those who were willing to sacrifice. If she wanted to make money, she should at least be willing to do something as minor as showing her butt to people who had been staring at it all night.

Before she could change her mind, Blair slowly began bending down to retrieve the money. It wasn't easy. The tight jeans gave her very limited range of motion. The crowd behind her murmured and laughed in excited appreciation as her ass somehow pushed up even tighter against the dark denim, looking rounder and juicier than ever before. Her hand closed around the stack of cash just as the twenty fluttered another few inches away. Just a little further... she stretched her hand out, her waist bending just half an inch more.

That was all it took. All of the poking and prodding and crammed in fingers and cash, combined with an ass that they were never designed to hold, finally proved too much for Blair's jeans. It was her worst erotic nightmare come to life. The overstuffed jeans practically exploded, splitting completely along the back seam. The sabotaged waistband worked exactly as Owen had intended, failing completely and allowing the tatters of the jeans to fall loose around Blair's thighs. Sweaty, crumpled bills rained to the ground as Blair's big rosy ass was exposed completely to the whooping, cheering crowd of rowdy drunks, the tiny string of her pale pink thong doing nothing to preserve her modesty.

Blair gasped in horror, her face, already pink from the night's embarrassments, turned bright scarlet with shame. Dark, hot humiliation bloomed in her belly, inflaming the strange lust already built up there. Her little hands flew down in a ludicrously inadequate attempt to cover her naked ass, succeeding only in creating a more alluring display for her mocking audience as her desperate fingers pushed her cheeks together and sunk into their luscious softness. She was surrounded by laughter and leering eyes, and, she couldn't help but notice, hardening cocks making bulges in pants.

There was nothing else to do: she ran. In a ridiculous waddle, trying and failing to hold the scraps of the ruined jeans up around her waist, Blair retreated, followed by the roar of the crowd. She finally stopped and slumped in the cool, wet grass on the far side of the catering trailer, catching her breath and letting out a choked sob.

She had been disrespected to her very core tonight. Sexually objectified. Humiliated for the sport of young men whom she considered her social and intellectual inferiors. She had put her body and dignity on sale for money she would have scoffed at a week ago. She gingerly touched herself between her legs, feeling that she had soaked completely through her thong and was dripping down her thick thighs. For some fucking reason it was the most erotic night of her entire God damned life. She was as horny as she had ever been. She couldn't wait any longer. The raw erotic energy of the humiliating night had stripped away her sense of shame. She pulled her dripping thong to the side, exposing her throbbing pussy to her fingers.

"Wow," said a gruff figure leaning against the corner of the trailer, "When I hired you for the night, I didn't know I was getting such an... enthusiastic entertainer."

Blair jumped in shock, quickly scrambling to roll her panties back over her exposed sex. She searched Owen's face for any sign that he had seen what she was doing, but his expression was the same poker face as ever.

"But I can't argue with results," continued Owen nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smile, "The boys loved it. That little strip show at the end was a nice touch. The other guests are already clamoring to hire me for their next party."

Blair's confusion and arousal were swept away in a wave of white-hot anger. "It wasn't a fucking strip show, you stupid motherfucker!" She hissed through clenched teeth. "I told you these piece of shit jeans DIDN'T! FUCKING! FIT!" She slammed her hand against the trailer for emphasis with each word. Owen watched her with cool, amused eyes. "Those animals out there took one look at these tiny fucking jeans and declared open season! This was one hundred percent your fault! I had the worst night of my fucking life tonight!" It was the truth, but the slimy, traitorous heat between her legs insisted that it wasn't the WHOLE truth. Whatever. She didn't need to think about that right now.

Owen chuckled, a condescending reaction that only made Blair more furious. "Well, princess, you're a natural at the job. You have a place on my staff whenever you want it."

Blair snorted in scorn. "Watch it, fucker, I told you not to call me that. And you fucking wish! I've had enough of this minimum wage job for one life. I'd rather die than do this fucking poor person job ever again."

"Now, now. Don't be rash. Take a look." Owen pulled the crumpled, sweaty wad of cash she had left in the staging tent from his pocket. " I'll just take a little cut here..." he said, lifting off a portion of the stack and offering the rest to Blair, whose eyes had widened at the sight of the money. "Even after my cut, you still have almost a thousand bucks here. That's incredible! It's probably more than the other girls made in tips combined tonight!"

Blair reached out and grabbed the stack of bills: her hard-won prize, earned by her sweat and humiliation. A thousand bucks. It was enough to make up for the shortfall in her rent. All those men had been willing to pay good money for access to her body. The idea was disgusting and shameful, but at the same time oddly thrilling. She hadn't known that her sexual dignity could be such a valuable commodity... Blair once again had the powerful urge to hurry home and find her vibrator.

Owen Novak stared down at Blair with a smile on her face. The little brat's eyes were focused intently on the little pile of money, still moist from her ass sweat. She was already completely obsessed. "Are you sure you won't consider becoming one of my servers?" He asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice.

Blair's eyes never left her money.

"I... I'll think about it..." She said in a weak voice.

...

(Weeks ago, in Blair's office...)

"Why is money so important to you?" asked Faria, as Blair flopped down into her chair once again.

Blair raised an eyebrow, looking at Faria like she was the dumbest person she had ever met. The entitled woman across from Faria had bounced back rapidly from her momentary fear over Faria's threats. Despite the fact that she was more naked than ever before, shifting her naked ass uncomfortably on the cheap office chair, Blair had regained some of her self-confidence.

"I guess I don't understand the question, Ma'am," said Blair, laying thick sarcasm on the title. "Everybody needs money. It makes the world go around." She gave Faria a wide, fake smile.

"You're in a good mood, considering your circumstances," observed Faria dryly.

"You seem to think that I'm going to fly off the handle again so that you can give me some sort of sick punishment," said Blair with forced civility. "It's not going to happen. I'm an adult. I can be calm and professional when I want to be."

Blair was underestimating Faria's ability to manipulate emotions.

"Hmm. We'll see. But you take the love of money to a whole new level, dear," said Faria, casually leaning forward in her chair and resting her elbows on Blair's desk, her eyes flicking downwards once again to examine Blair's nakedness with a lingering gaze. Blair couldn't help but notice and be disturbed by the lewd examination. Faria smiled. Her captive was already growing flustered again. With some people, it was too easy.

"You seem to base your entire opinion of people on their wealth," continued Faria, her hard eyes boring into Blair. "Explain. Why does it matter how much money someone has?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "It's not about the pieces of paper or the numbers in an account somewhere. It's about what those numbers get you. Money buys respect. It buys power. It's proof that you worked harder and smarter than everybody with less. Why would I respect someone who hasn't earned it? Why would I be nice to someone with no power?"

Faria laughed long and hard. Blair's eyebrows drew together. She was trying hard to remain calm, but Faria's display of amusement was calculated to offend her, and she simply didn't have thick enough skin to ignore it. "What's so funny?" Blair finally asked in a tightly controlled voice.

"Sorry honey, I know I'm being rude," said Faria, wiping a tear away from her eye, "But you have to realize how stupid you sound, right? Money buys you power? Tell me, what is the one thing you've wanted more than anything else in the past few years?"

The hypnotic suggestion forced Blair to answer against her will: "To start a successful business."

Faria's eyes glittered as she asked her next devastating question: "And did money buy you the power to do that?"

Blair felt her cheeks coloring. "It's more complicated than that!" She insisted hotly.

Faria ignored Blair's little outburst. "And money buys you respect? I've talked to your 'friends' and 'business partners'. You should hear what they say about you behind your back..."

"Don't..." said Blair warningly. Faria smirked, the little brat had no idea how ridiculous she looked, puffed up like a cat ready to fight, sitting naked from the waist down in her cheap, tacky office. Time to make her earn another punishment.

"They say that Blair Beaumont is a fucking loser. A spoiled brat so high on her Daddy's money that she can't even see how much of a failure she is. A pathetic, fat-assed bitch who only cares about money, but has never made one red cent of her own."

Blair looked stunned. "How dare you?" She said numbly. Her face clenched into a hateful expression, all of her careful control shattered by her strong emotions. "You... fucking! BITCH! You have no fucking right! You are worthless, you understand me? You are fucking nothing to me! And you're a fucking liar! No one would talk about me that way! No one but a stupid cunt like you would even dare!"

It was too easy.

Faria got to her feet, watching the color and anger drain from Blair's face as she realized what she had done, replaced by anxiety once again. "This time," said Faria with delight, "I think your punishment will be to give me a better view." She patted the desk sitting between them. "Hop up here, sweetie. Let me have a good look at you."

"No... no, please Faria. I...I'm sorry, I went a little too far, don't make me..."

"Shhhhhhh." Said Faria soothingly.

*Get on the desk, Blair*

Still fighting back as hard as she could against the command, Blair climbed awkwardly onto the cheap particle board desk, causing it to creak under her weight. Faria gently guided Blair, getting her in an all-fours position, facing away from Faria's chair.

Then, the hypnotist put one hand on Blair's shoulder and one hand under a wide hip. With gentle, but firm pressure, she pushed Blair's upper body down until her breasts crushed up against the surface of the desk. Her other hand lifted, raising Blair's butt higher, forcing her back to arch appealingly, presenting her ass and pussy in humiliating detail, directly at Faria's eye level from her seat.

Faria noted with glee that Blair's pretty pussy was swollen and puffed open, leaking sticky strands of clear goo down her thick, juicy thighs. Faria reached down and trailed one ticklish finger up Blair's inner thigh, rubbing the viscous, slippery liquid between a thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, honey," said Faria with nasty cheerfulness, "Does it make you all hot and sticky down there when pretty girls are mean to you?"

"Fuck you!" snapped Blair instinctively, followed by a yelp of realization: "Shit! No! I meant... God damn it, that was an accident!"

"Sorry Miss Beaumont," said Faria, "rules are rules."

Faria leaned down close to her captive's ear.

"Have you ever heard of... what do they call it? Twerking?" Faria had better things to do than consume modern music and dance trends, but she was an avid watcher of pornography, and some things trickled down.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Blair in a horrified whisper. But she knew the situation she was in at this point: she didn't even bother to beg for mercy.

Faria took her seat, positioned perfectly with the best possible view: Blair's ass and pussy were directly at eye level atop her desk.

"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart," said Faria, crossing her legs and leaning back to get comfortable and enjoy the show. "You may begin."

Blair's soft roundness jumped up and down in twitchy, rhythmless jolts. As a dance, it was unimpressive, but as a sexual spectacle, it was top-notch. Faria watched hungrily as Blair's cheeks swayed with the bouncing movement, parting and coming back together as her ass lurched up and down, giving little peeks at the tight hole hidden between them.

The poor tortured desk squeaked and groaned with Blair's uncoordinated movements. Faria spoke, raising her voice to be heard over the sound: "Respect and power ARE important, Blair. For some of us at least. But you are getting in your own way. You're letting your obsession with respect and power prevent you from doing what's best for you: making money. That's something I can fix."

For a woman as proud as Ms. Beaumont, Faria was sure that it was a nightmarish experience to perform sexually for a woman you despised. Which, of course, made the whole thing that much sweeter. "You're sick!" panted Blair as she exerted herself in ways she didn't. "Something is seriously wrong with you!"

Enough comments from the peanut gallery

*Programming mode. Relax. Empty your mind. Calm. Open. Willing.*

Blair's juicy buns continued to bounce while the tension of her shame left the rest of her body. The twerking actually improved now that Blair's humiliation no longer held back her hips. The movements became fluid and graceful. Almost mesmerizing.

*Money is more important than power. It's fine to put myself at others' mercy if it makes me money.* Intoned Faria.

"-makes me money," repeated Blair in a whisper.

*Money is more important than respect. Humiliation and disgrace are no issue if I'm being paid.*

"-I'm being paid."

Well, those commands should have... interesting effects. Faria almost envied Owen. She snapped her fingers, watching the tension rise once again in Blair's body as she returned to full awareness. Faria rested a hand fondly on her captive's jiggling ass.

"We're not done yet, sweetheart. On to the next questions."

...

Blair Beaumont peered over her shoulder, staring into the mirror as she hefted her buttcheeks in her hands and jiggled them experimentally. There was no question anymore. They were definitely growing. She had been in denial for a while, but the hefty, wobbly evidence in her hands couldn't be denied: her snacking during work and her laziness when it came to exercise were taking their toll. Her hips had been wide a few weeks ago, now they flared out dramatically, soft and squishy and tempting to the fingers. Her ass had already been big and round before; now her huge cheeks practically clapped when she walked.

They didn't look bad though she couldn't help but think, biting her lip as she dug her naughty little fingers into the pillowy mounds and gave them a loving squeeze. If she was turning herself on a little, just think of what she would do to the boys at the party tonight... This big sexy ass was a goldmine, and tonight she was going to put it to work.

It had been several weeks since that first horrible, sexually intense party. In the end, Blair made the mature, rational decision to continue her employment with Novak Events. Temporarily. Just until her business got off the ground. It was a good supplementary income, just to make ends meet. She tried not to think too hard about how little time she had spent on her gardening box business over the past few weeks.

Owen's parties had turned out to be an excellent income source. Owen had been right, Blair was a natural: all the boys at the parties loved her! Nothing had been quite as intense as that first panty-soaking experience at the frat party, but at every party after that she had received the attention of at least one male guest and collected a generous tip afterward. Even the boys who didn't have the balls to touch her still tended to tip generously. Blair had been making bank. She had even convinced Owen to let her wear a custom uniform!

Blair glanced at the clock. Speaking of which, it was time to get dressed for the party. She had spent enough time checking out her naked ass in the mirror. Blair quickly grabbed her new uniform and put it on, unable to resist watching in the mirror as she did so.

She pulled on her tight pink crop top, adjusting it carefully so that it just barely covered her bra and the "Novak Events" logo was clearly visible stretched tightly over her breasts. She surveyed the effect in the mirror, loving how the tiny top left her pinched waist, the upper curves of her hips, and her soft feminine belly exposed for the world to see.

Now for the main event: her lower half. She reached for one of the black, lacy thongs she had grown used to wearing, then paused. Her eyes lit up as she stared at her big, bouncy, nude ass in the mirror, and her lips curved up into a naughty little smile. She used a finger to sling her chosen undies across the room like a rubber band. She would try going commando tonight. See how it felt. Maybe it would give the boys a little charge when they realized how close they were to touching her full nakedness when they felt her down there.

She grabbed her shorts and pulled them up, watching as they glided up her thick thighs and settled skin tight over her huge round ass. She might need to go up a size up soon... now the bottom hem of the shorts failed to completely contain the swell of her butt, with a noticeable stretch of chubby white cheeks hanging out below the bottoms. She ran her hands over the stretchy black material, relishing the feel. The look truly wasn't far off from complete nudity. Everyone at the party would know exactly how every curve of her naked ass looked... and how it felt too if they were willing to pay. Blair's hand snuck between her legs, feeling how the tight, clingy fabric intimately cupped her pussy directly now that there was no underwear to get in the way. She wondered if any naughty boys would be able to see the shape of her lips through the tight fabric. They probably would if they looked closely enough. Which some of them surely would.