When Melissa called for an emergency house-sit, you wondered if this was the time you would say no. You suspected that she'd appear in a few Snaps tonight, and not because she was at the vet with her roommate. It wasn't even the first time she'd used that excuse. You sometimes wondered if she was only friends with you so she could ask you for favors while 'never checking her phone' when you needed help. Still, the $100 she offered would go a long way to filling your pantry – cereal was soon becoming an all-day cuisine – and the StreetView pictures of the address looked amazing. Even if she was using you, you could still enjoy this.

And as amazing as the pictures looked online, the real thing was almost unbelievable. The complex was palatial, all gilt and marble and vintage furnishings, with several doormen to direct you to the private elevator. The apartment itself exuded opulence: the living room was larger than your apartment, with multiple pieces of fine art hanging from its white walls, decorated like something out of a magazine. The guest bedroom was its equal, but it looked like Melissa had trashed it a little, leaving skimpy club dresses and bright lacy underwear strewn all over. There was even a set of black thigh highs and gorgeous black-red heels sitting atop a silk pillow, maybe a club outfit she decided against. You imagined how she'd look in it: sleek and exuding sex, dark eyeliner creating an alluring contrast with her wavy blonde hair, drawing the eyes of every guy that saw her. While you knew you were pretty, you were sure no guy saw you the same way. Maybe that's why she was “busy” right now and you were getting ready for bed.

It was already pretty late, and you decided to check out the adjoining bathroom by getting ready for bed. You remained impressed: a marble hot-tub sat in the corner of the room, and instead of a towel rack and soap dish, there was a sliding cupboard that could be pushed to be flush with the walls. You stripped down and got in the shower, letting the warm water roll down your skin, imagining you were a pop star enjoying her mansion, humming a tune in your head as you rubbed conditioner against your smooth dark skin.

That's when you heard the beep, nearly inaudible, but ringing through the bathroom like a gong. A small red dot in the corner of the ceiling blinked, and beeped again. You took a closer look, and you could hear the whir of a lens behind what looked like decoration. You shrieked, goosebumps running down your skin as your mind ran wild. As grand as this apartment was, those sounds could only belong to a camera of some kind; Melissa was probably house-sitting for some kind of perv, recording your friend in the shower completely unaware. He might try to blackmail her. He might try to blackmail you. Your breath became tight – it felt like there was a rock trying to squeeze down your throat, and covered your breasts and crotch with your hands.

“What do you think you're doing, slut?” a deep, scratchy voice resounded through the bathroom. “Even if you're uglier than your friend, I still paid to see you naked. Take those hands off!”

You could barely process the words you just heard. Paid? Show? Just what did Melissa get you into? You crouched in a corner of the shower, although whoever was behind that voice had probably seen everything already. Eventually, you regained enough of your senses to stammer out, “What...what are you talking about?”

“Hah, the other bitch really didn't tell you anything huh? Guess I have to come clear things up.” The static cut out, and you were alone with the silence. Not wanting to delve deeper into this nightmare, you ran out the shower, grabbing your clothes in your arms. But when you got to the bedroom door, you found it shut and locked, the ivory handle that you found so alluring now unyielding to your grip. You heard footsteps coming down the hall, and suddenly the handle started turning. You tried to pull against it, but it soon turned against you and you were pushed away along with the door.

A dark-skinned man stepped into the room, locking the door behind him. He was powerfully built but fat, his hairy belly barely covered by a black silk robe splattered with stains. Wispy black hair was pulled over his scalp in a pathetic attempt at a comb-over. He seemed to talk with his hands as much as his throaty rasp, fingers and fists flying through the air, towering over you as you crouched in a corner of the bedroom. “Don't fucking try that again until you understand what's really going on, you fucking cunt. Me and that slut friend of yours had an arrangement. I paid her, and she performed for me. That isn't a bathroom; it's her stage. And your stage now, since you're her stand-in.

“Whether she told you or not, you work for me.” You turned away as he thrust his finger in your direction, like it poked into your skin. “This is your job. Try to call the cops and say otherwise, tell the papers, and I'll land your monkey-chink ass in jail for trespass and attempted burglary. You're Viet right? No one would believe a Viet whore. All those doormen you saw on the way in will corroborate that claim.”

“Next, you are doing a FUCKING terrible job,” he said as he slammed his palm against the wall, jowls trembling, fury flying with his spit. “Ugly, flat, you don't know how to dance AT all. How much did she give you?”

Surprised by the question, it took you a few moments to find your voice. “One...one hundred.”

He suddenly roared with laughter, then thundered toward you and pulled your hair, forcing you to look at his dark stare. “So you're working with her to pass off cheap goods to me.” He waved at the room around him. “Does it look like I cheap out on anything, you fucking slut? DOES IT?”

“No...no. Sorry. I don't, I didn't...” Your mind raced in so many directions, it felt like it was fragmented, unable to put a thought together. A tiny voice was telling you to stand up for yourself, that he was the one hurting you, but it was drowned out by the pounding, primal fear reverberating through your head.
“I don't know how. I don't know what you're asking. I don't know what you want me to do,” you cried, tears mixing with the water that beaded on your skin.

He pulled harder at your hair. “I DON'T GIVE A FUCK.” He slipped his robe aside, revealing a thick uncut cock and a mass of dark pubic hair. “I don't have a hard-on right now, and it's YOUR fault. And you WILL fix it. You will follow my every word until I am satisfied. Do you understand?”

You nodded, afraid what he might do otherwise. What once seemed like a palace now became a prison, the freedom that beauty represented locked away by your burly captor.

“Look, I know all you chinks are motivated by money. Money numba wan right?” He fished around a pocket of his robe and pulled out a few twenty dollar bills, throwing about half of them at you.

“This was supposed to be your friend's tip, but I guess you need it to get your brain working.” You gathered the bills, and it was about two hundred dollars. Noticing your widened eyes, he grinned. “Yes, whore, I'm giving you much, MUCH more than you're actually worth, but I'm also expecting you to rise above your station, to give me a show I deserve. Now get fucking dressed and dance for me.”

You stared dumbly for a moment, and noticed his gaze on the stockings and heels lying on the bed. Swiftly, you rolled the stockings up your slender legs, slipping on the tight uncomfortable heels. They were much taller than you initially thought, five or six inches maybe, and you felt incredibly unbalanced as you stood up.

“Better. Much better. Something I can actually jerk off to.” Somehow, his praise actually made you feel a tiny bit safer, though your animal brain wanted to run like the wind. “The clothes aren't enough, especially for a flat monkey chink like you. So I want my monkey to dance.” The man got on the bed, lying into two pillow's he'd propped up against the headboard. He pulled a remote from his robe and click, and a pop song started playing.

You didn't know where to start, and you pulled your arms above your head, trying to sway seductively, trying to mimic all the hot girls at the club, the way your favorite stars moved their bodies in their videos. You stumbled almost immediately, the heels ungainly, like walking on stilts. You steadied  yourself and got back into the rhythm, but as the song reached its crescendo you attempted a twirl, hoping to look spectacular, to capture some part of his mercy. Instead, with your toes as pointed as they were, you missed your footing and went crashing to the floor.

The music stopped. “You're pathetic,” he said between his teeth. “I'll make this easier for you. Just do what the other Viet sluts do.” He reach inside a cabinet and pulled out a large plastic dildo and a bottle of lube, throwing them toward you violently, where they crashed against the wall mere inches from your face.

“You're ugly by normal standards, but you still have half-decent tits and a cunt, as dirty as it is. Show me how you would get a guy to fuck a dirty monkey like you. Show me in a way that will turn me on.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You were a 'good' girl. You stayed at home, studied, only went out with large groups of friends. You had some experience, but not nearly as much as someone like Melissa, as the kind of girl this man was imagining. You could only think about the extremely public displays you'd seen at some frat parties, at the porn you turned to when you needed to relieve your urges.

You drew the dildo between your breasts, sliding it along your skin as you took the plastic into your mouth. At the same time, you dribble lube along your fingers, onto your crotch, and you gently slid inside yourself. The situation was so insane, your mind was so fried, you actually felt your pussy quiver as you fingered yourself.

“Let me see that dirty cunt. Now.”

You obeyed, just like he had told you, for your self-preservation , for your validation. You took your hand off the dildo, holding it only with your lips, and pulled your pussy lips apart, showing him the raw pink of your pussy, showing him what he wanted.

“You have ten seconds to show me that dildo inside you, whore. Ten, nine, eight...”

You did not want to find out what would happen if he reached zero. You grabbed the dildo, so big you could barely fit your hand halfway around it, squirting as much lube as you could on it. You spread your legs apart, as far as you could, sliding the thick plastic shaft inside your pussy, tears forming immediately as pain seared through your pussy.

“Now fuck yourself. Think about how you would fuck your next john, how much money you'll be stealing from him with your dirty body.” You could hear a schlepping from him, and caught glimpses of his thick cock rising within his beefy hands.

The words hurt as much as your cunt did, but you feared the wrath you would face if you didn't go along with him. You slid the dildo in and out, feeling the plastic against the walls of your cunt, letting out short moans of faked pleasure.

“Don't just grunt like a stupid monkey. Tell your John how much you love his money.”

“I love your money, Sir, I love..”

“Say it like a Viet would say it, whore! Like one of you monkey chinks would say to the men who deign to buy your pathetic services.”

You choked the words out between tears, your pussy crying out in pain. “Thank youuu Sir. Thank you big big money. Thank you make me rich rich, fuck me with big rich cock.”

Suddenly you heard him get up, and all you could see when you opened your stinging eyes was his dark, hairy belly and cock.

“So suck me off then. Take my money and take me in your mouth.”

You felt the bills against your shoulders, your arms, your calves. More money for rent. For food. Money that you were earning with your body. Money you were earning with what little dignity you had left.

You licked his shaft with the tip of your tongue, the taste and smell foul and overpowering, but his quivering flab almost making you proud. That pride was soon forgotten as he thrust his fat cock down your throat, spit drooling down your chin as you choked on him. You tried to pull away, pushing against him with your hands, and he simply yanked your hair and growled.

“Suck.” Thrust. “Me.” Thrust. “Off.” Thrust.

“Give.” Thrust. “Me.” Thrust. “What.” Thrust. “I.” Thrust. “Paid.” Thrust.

“For.”

He stuffed his cock all the way down your throat, and you thrashed beneath him, unable to escape, unable to breathe. His grunting grew louder and louder, and you began to pray. Not for escape, but for him to cum quickly, to unload in you and let you draw breath once more.

That wish he granted, hot cum bursting down your throat, so much that it burst out your mouth with your spit, splattering your chin, dripping down to your breasts and stomach, where he finally withdrew and air rushed back into your lungs. You broke down, big heaving breaths between your tears, fighting the urge to retch all over yourself.

“We're not done yet. That was just for the first payment I gave you. I still get to use you for the second payment.”

You froze, then tried  to crawl towards the door, completely aware that you would not be able to stand up. He let out a deep chuckle and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you away from the door and toward the bathroom, slapping your ass when you struggled against him.

“Do not disobey me, cunt! Try to fuck me over and I'll fucking ruin you. You took my money, you took this job, so now see it to the end like a big girl.”

He dragged you over to the bed, any fight remaining in you spent. He forced you to crawl onto it and put you and your hands and knees, the silk sheets that once so impressed you offering little succor against his brutality.

You felt him grab your hand, mistaking it for a few moments as tenderness. You quickly realized your mistake as you felt cold lube dripping down your fingers, then he put one of your hands around his thick cock.

“Get that asshole of yours ready for me, monkey. You have five minutes to lube me up and get me hard again. I hope I don't have to repeat myself for the rest of tonight.”

It was like forgot how to disobey him, like the concept no longer existed. You started stroking his thick cock, feeling it twitch and come back to life between your fingers, while you worked one finger, then two, then three into your asshole, the pain even worse than when the dildo stretched open your pussy, but knowing that it would be worse when he took you. Working both hands at the same time, you gripped his cock tightly, and he yelled out.

“Fucking monkey whore!” You suddenly felt your face slam into the bed, momentarily thankful you weren't still on the floor. You felt his foot on top of your head, keeping you locked in your current position, his shaft growing harder at the same time.

“I get fucking hard when I'm angry, especially with filthy sluts like you.” You couldn't hear what else he said as his thick cock entered your tight asshole, the all the lube you applied seemingly worthless as pain filled your world, the screams escaping your lips muffled by the bed beneath you. You focused all your energy bracing against the pain, lungs emptied with your your involuntary screams, limbs now limp by your side as he took all his carnal pleasure.

You couldn't tell how long it lasted. It felt like it went on the entire night. Soon you felt your asshole fill up with thick hot jizz, dripping from your ass down your thighs as he pulled out of you, falling to your side when he finally released you from his grip.

“And the finishing touch..” You suddenly felt a hot stream of liquid  hitting your face, dripping down the silk sheets onto your body, the stench of cum and spit you were covered with now overpowered by the sharp smell of his piss. “Just because I have a bathroom just a few feet away doesn't mean I can't use the one I have on this bed.

“Now get the fuck out out of my house,” he said, kicking you off the bed as his bulk crashed into it.”You have five minutes while I'm still riding this orgasm, then I call security.

“Maybe I'll get the urge to fuck a monkey again. I'll have your friend get in touch with you.”

You took his words as a mercy, quickly grabbing your clothes, but more importantly, the cash, dragging your aching body out of the house into the elevator, your breath heaving as tears refused to flow. You prayed he would find another outlet for his urges, because you didn't know if you would be able to resist your own.