This story includes the following:

– Nonconsent

– Pig play

– Abuse of power

– Public humiliation

– Bitchsuit style bondage

– Extreme mud humiliation

– Messy food

If any of these things are uncomfortable for you, please avoid reading this story. If you think there is a warning that should be added to the list, please let me know and I'll add it as soon as possible.

—ALL NAMES ARE MADE UP—

—THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY—

Unlike my last two days, today I don't wake up to the sound of my door unlocking. Instead, I wake lazily from an odd dream, in which Parker was dangling a toy rabbit over my head and I was squatting with my hands up at my chest, like a dog doing a special trick. The dream has made me feel uncomfortable and ashamed of myself, even though I'm of the opinion that dreams can be meaningless and don't always come from a deeply buried desire. Sigmund Freud has no place in the psychology of my mind.

I wish I had a clock. It feels strange to be stuck in this room, unsure of what the time is, and how much time I have before Parker comes to fetch me for my daily humiliation. All I do know is that it's raining, and the drops pelt down on the roof of the station loudly.

The paw mitts are still buckled and locked tightly around my hands, and the collar has twisted uncomfortably through the night. There's no way for me to fix it myself.

That's another thing I hate about all of this. My ability to look after myself has been taken away completely. I can't make my own food, walk properly, or even use the toilet. Instead, I'm stuck eating from the ground, crawling on all fours, and using puppy pads like an actual fucking dog. The puppy pads were a new form of humiliation that I experienced last night, after crawling around on the floor using my elbows to feel for one.

I spend some time feeling sorry for myself, sitting up in the corner with the blanket wrapped around me. It's at this point that I hear the familiar sound of the footsteps echoing down the long hallway, then the clinking locks being undone.

Parker pulls the door open, and light streams in. I've been awake for a little while now, so my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. I squint in the light, then cover my eyes with my paw mitts.

"Good morning," Parker says cheerfully. "Let's get you ready for the day, shall we?"

He enters the room, and untwists the collar before releasing me and attaching the familiar leash. I crawl out of the room, stretching like a cat to ease the ache from sleeping on the floor. It's become familiar now, on my fourth day of community service, to be taken first to the holding cell for breakfast and preparation for the day.

One of the black bags from yesterday is in here, but it looks almost empty. Parker sits down on the bench and pulls his phone out. He starts to type quickly.

My stomach gurgles. "Don't I get breakfast?" I ask. He looks past his phone at me and raises his eyebrows. I roll my eyes. "Don't I get breakfast Master?" I repeat, putting emphasis on the ridiculous name I have to call him.

He looks back at his phone. "No. You'll be fed in town."

I frown. This doesn't sound good. "Why?"

"Never you mind why. You'll still have something to eat."

My stomach grumbles again and I pout at Parker, trying to put my puppy eyes to work. I'm easily ignored and this makes me huff in annoyance. I don't have much time to complain, however, because I hear the cell door opening and turn my head to see the female officer entering. Parker gets up and greets her warmly. Finally, I manage to catch her name.

Julia. I like that a lot more than her last name, Markoth, which glints on her name tag. Together, the name sound sweet and kind, like a teacher you would give gifts to at the end of the year. Julia Markoth.

The woman herself, however, doesn't seem very sweet at all. All my experiences with her have been painful and embarrassing. My butt still smarts from Tuesday.

There's more talking between the two, then Julia turns away from Parker and I. She leans down, and starts to undo her shoes.

My eyes go very wide when I hear her belt unbuckling. I watch as she strips naked in front of us both, then turns back around. Her tits are smaller than mine, but only slightly. She's shaved all over, and her blonde hair tumbles smoothly over her shoulders as she unpins it.

"Come here," she says. I glance up at Parker, wondering if he's got anything to say about this, but he just frowns at my hesitation.

"Listen to her. She's your superior."

Isn't everyone? I think.

I crawl towards her and sit at her feet, looking up at her. She pushes me down onto my back, making me squeak in shock, and pins my arms down with her knees. It's painful and I try to move my wrists out from under her to no avail.

"Lick," Julia orders. She doesn't give me time to react as she sits down on my face. I immediately begin to lick, tasting her against my will.

Parker walks over, standing over the both of us. "You look cute like that," he says, looking down at me with an amused smile. "Our little sex slave."

"Such a little whore." Julia grabs my hair and starts to grind herself on my face, releasing breathy moans as she does so. Parker disappears from my view, and seconds later I feel him kicking apart my legs.

His foot comes down hard on my cunt and I squeal in pain. Nobody listens, and in unison Julia continued to grind my face while Parker begins to rub his foot cruelly on my clit.

Tears sting at my eyes. I make a miserable moan underneath her and she pulls on my hair harder. Her knees are digging into my wrists.

"Fuck–" Julia stutters, her breath hitching. "I'm going to cum all over your pathetic little face."

My face has been painted with so many loads of cum over the past few days that I've lost count, but this is the first time in my life a woman has ever done it. She moans loudly, coming to a stop and gripping my hair tighter than ever. My tongue is deep inside her hole and I can feel it twitching. Her clit is also pulsing and throbbing. She lets out a final moan, then lets go of my hair so she can take a deep breath and clamber off me, all traces of the gracefulness she carrier earlier completely gone.

Parker takes his foot off me. I'm breathless, so I stay on the floor. My pussy hurts.

"It's nearly 9am," Parker says suddenly. "Come on, we'll just have to get it ready in town."

I'm pulled up, and the paw mitts are removed hastily from my hands as Julia gets dressed. I stretch and flex my fingers, delighted to finally have them back, but my wrists are very quickly locked into a pair of handcuffs with a long leash attached.

My ankles are locked up too, making it hard for me to walk properly. I stumble and nearly fall several times as Parker leads me out of the police station, but he is kind enough to walk slower than usual.

The rain has died down to a light drizzle, and droplets stick to my hair. Julia walks beside Parker. "Can't have come at a better time," she says, so quietly I barely catch it.

I'm not gagged, but something inside me says to keep quiet. I have lots of questions, all of which would probably annoy the two walking ahead of me.

There's the usual crowd of people around what I've come to think of as 'my lot', and I'm marched through them. Several people grope and feel me up, but every time I try to shrink away from them someone on my other side do the exact same thing.

We reach my empty lot, and I stop. I stare.

What was a little patch of grass where a small store should be has now become what I can only describe us a marsh. The grass has been turned over and a large hose, with the addition of the rain, has flooded the area. All the soil has been turned into mud.

Whats more, a little fence has been put around it. There's a stake in the middle, presumably for me to be tied to, and a trough of water on the side. Parker opens the gate.

I immediately dig my heels in. "What the fuck?" I snap. "I'm not going in there! It's all muddy!"

He tugs on the chain and my hands lurch forward. I stumble towards him, only just managing to catch myself. "You are going in there," he replies sternly. "You were so adamant that you didn't want to be a dog, so I've chosen a new animal. You're a fucking pig."

Regret fills my body. Why did I have to behave so badly? Why did I have to talk back to him? Why didn't I realise that being a dog is probably the best thing he'll ever let me be?

I'm practically dragged into the mud. Two large men from the crowd, wearing gumboots, grab my arms and pull me into the pen. I feel the mud squishing between my toes and cringe in disgust.

The crowd watches as my hands are released from the handcuffs. I immediately attempt to move, but the two men holding me are gripping tightly. "Stop! I don't want to be in the mud!!" I protest, pulling against them. Parker picks up a long length of rope that's hanging on the fence, and starts to walk towards me.

He pulls a rag out of his pocket and stuffs it into my mouth. "Don't worry, you won't be gagged for long," he promises. "This is just to shut you up while I get you ready."

No matter how much I struggle, my arms are easily moved and positioned in the way that he wants them to be. My hands are put onto my shoulders and Parker loops the rope around several times, making sure its nice and tight. When he's done, I'm left with odd stubs for arms. A length of rope on each of my wrists is tied to the back of my collar to ensure I can't attempt to release myself at all.

I know it's about to get much, much worse. Not a single part of me believed I would be allowed to remain on two legs, but there was still that desperate hope inside of me. It disappears as I'm forced down onto my knees, then my stomach. The mud splats upward, staining my body, and I groan.

The same thing is done with legs. My heels are pressed against my butt. Parker starts to weave a small rope through my toes and attached that to my collar as well, making sure my feet remain pointed upwards.

"Get up," he orders, and the men holding me down release me. I struggle to push myself up, and my neck is already beginning to hurt from my effort to keep my face out of the mud. After a long struggle, I finally manage to stand up on all fours.

It's as if I've been transformed into a proper animal now. Instead of crawling on my hands and knees, I've been given these stupid little stubby legs made out of my elbows and knees. I can't help it – the humiliation of it all is too much. I dissolve into tears.

Parker doesn't seem to care about the pathetic sobs escaping from me, muffled by the rag, because it seems there's still more to be done. A bag is hanging on the fence and out of it he pulls what looks a buttplug with a curly spiral on the end. A pig tail.

It's quite large, so he lubes it up generously before walking around behind me and spreading my cheeks. I nearly fall from the pressure, still unsteady in this ridiculous bondage. He presses it inside me and I yelp in pain, taking two steps forward and nearly slipping over. I look over my shoulder, straining to see what the pink plug looks like, and cringe when I see it. A tail. A pig tail, nonetheless. And I thought yesterday was humiliating.

"Just one more thing to do now," Parker says cheerfully. He's digging through the bag again, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion when he pulls out what looks like a large bra hook. It's the only way I can describe it. It has two metal prongs, with a thick string tied onto the middle where they meet. He walks towards me and steps over my back, locking his legs around my middle.

I squeal when he inserts the hooks into my nostrils and pulls, but this only makes him laugh. "That's right. Squeal like a pig for everyone. You're already the laughing stock of this town."

The string is pulled over my head, right in the middle, and attached to the back of my collar. It forces my nose into an odd shape and I feel disgusted when I realise what he's given me. A pig nose.

The rag is removed from my mouth. My sobs, no longer muffled, are loud against the quiet snickering and laughter of the townsfolk. Parker steps back over me, releasing me from his grip. He bends down and wipes a tear from my cheek. "Do you know what pigs do?"

I sniffle. "What?"

"They roll in the mud." At this, he grabs the back of my head and forces my face right down into the soaked earth. My bound limbs slip out from under me and I struggle, unable to breathe as my face is completely buried in the mud. It seems to be getting everywhere too, and I cough when I'm pulled back up to breathe. My eyes are covered now, but I can hear the laughter and camera clicks louder than ever.

Parker gives me no time to relax, and pushes me with his foot until I roll onto my back. He wipes the mud out of my eyes and I squint up at him, crying harder than ever. His foot comes down on my stomach, making me grunt in pain. "I bet you want to be a dog now, huh?"

I nod desperately, but he looks away from me before he can see my silent pleading. "Have we got any food for the pig?"

A few jeers come from the crowd. Parker looks back down at me as he takes his foot off my stomach so he can kick my side gently. "Roll over and get up. It's time for your breakfast."

I don't know what pigs eat, but I know it won't be good. I procrastinate a little, making a big effort to roll back onto my belly. It is actually quite difficult, and when I have managed to do it I spend even longer pretend-trying to get back onto all fours.

Parker walks away, then quickly returns with a long metal stick with two prongs at the end. "This is a cattle prod," he says. "Get up, and follow me. Now."

I have no idea what a cattle prod is, so this threat doesn't really mean much to me. With a sigh, Parker walks around and jabs my butt with it, and I suddenly feel a very painful shock. I howl, scrabbling up onto all fours and bawling when he waves it in my direction.

All the gentleness that Parker usually has is gone. Was it only reserved for a dog? And, even more worryingly, why did I just refer to days of humiliation and pain as gentleness compared to this?

A plastic trough has been placed by the fence, and I see a man enter holding a bucket. Parker waves the rod at me again and I scramble forwards, coming to a stop beside the trough. The bucket is tipped into it and I stare in disgust at the creamy, sludgy white substance. There's so much of it.

"Slop," Parker says cheerfully beside me. "That's what pigs eat. Slop and scraps. But we're not sure if you're ready for scraps yet, so this is just porridge and – don't you worry – quite a few loads of semen. Mm, yummy right? Have a taste."

I can't bring myself to do it. I'm sure that it'll taste fine – hell, I actually like porridge – but the texture looks absolutely repulsive. It clearly hasn't been cooked right, because it is exactly as Parker described: slop. It's far too runny and I can see odd smears of white in it, although on second thought that might be cum.

As I'm standing there staring at my breakfast in horror, Parker jabs my butt with the prod again. I scream this time, then quickly move forward and lower myself carefully until my head is in the trough. I stick my tongue out and taste the porridge. It's not bad, but mud is already beginning to drip off my face into it. Great.

"You have until 10pm to eat that," Parker tells me. "All of it. I know it looks like a lot, but three helpings through the day shouldn't be too bad. Don't worry though, you'll still have lots of time for wallowing and snuffling around, or whatever it is pigs do."

He puts his foot on the back of my head and dips my face into it briefly. I cough and blow it out my nose as best I can, making quite a few people laugh.

I watch as he leaves the pen and carefully props the cattleprod up against the gate. Feeling more miserable than ever, I look back down at my meal of the day. My stomach growls at me.

I haven't had much to eat over the past few days and after a battle with my dignity, I finally willingly lower my head into the trough and start to lap up the runny mixture. It really doesn't taste that bad, and I can't really taste any traces of cum.

For the first time in a while, I eat until I feel full. People verbally degrade me and laugh, but I keep my head in the trough and try to ignore them.

When my belly is finally full, I sit up and try to wipe the food out of my eyes with my elbows. It's awkward and hard to do, but I do eventually manage to clear my face enough to see properly.

Without any stimulation to focus on like my last three days, I quickly grow pretty bored. Yesterday I could focus on the pain of continuous orgasms, and today I can focus on... well, not slipping in the mud I suppose. That's not to say there aren't things around that catch my attention, but I'd rather not hear what all the people around me are saying.

Despite my determination to ignore them, the words start to float into my ears. I look around at the crowd gathered at the fence, hoping to see Parker striding through declaring that this is all a joke and I can be his dog again, but no luck.

He said I'd miss being a puppy. And holy shit, only an hour in this mudpit and I really, really do. I just have to get through this day, I think comfortingly.

It starts to rain harder. At first, I'm grateful. The rain washes all the filth from my face and most off my body, and to my delight, most people wander off under cover.

But, I'm really bored. I think another hour passes, and I'm fucking bored and cold and I desperately want to go back to my little room with my blanket. What's more, the bondage I'm in has quickly become quite uncomfortable, and I long to stretch my arms and legs out. My pig nose is also quite sore at this point.

I awkwardly crawl back to my food trough, then stare into it miserably. "For fucks sake," I swear. The rain has nearly filled it, and the porridge is completely ruined. The rain starts to get even heavier. I stare up at the sky.

"For fucks sake!" I shout, swearing up at dark clouds.

"That quite a foul mouth for such a cute pig."

My head swivels in the direction of the speaker, but I'm quickly distracted by the nosehooks stretching tighter at the rotation. Muttering furiously to myself, I turn my entire body to face the man standing at the fence with a large blue umbrella. He holds it out, and I crawl over gratefully, happy to be out of the rain for a brief moment.

"Thanks," I say quietly. It's odd to experience kindness, mainly because I've fucked over plenty of people in this little town. This man, however, I don't recognise at all.

"Do you swear often?" The man asks. I tilt my head, unsure why it matters.

"Yeah, a bit. When I'm not gagged."

"I bet you're gagged a lot."

"Yeah," I answer, a little embarrassed. "Mostly over the last few days."

The man leans over, holding the umbrella fully over my body. Rain pelts down onto his grey hair. He's clearly over double my age, but he seems kind, so I decide to stay in his presence for as long as he'll let me. "You're filthy, aren't you?" He says, looking amused. "What did you do to deserve all this?"

"Graffiti. Stealing. A bunch of stuff."

"A brat, are you? I've got some experience dealing with brats." The way he says it makes me feel weird, and I shift uncomfortably. He continues. "How much are you? Do you know, or do I have to ask your owner?"

It hits me like a blast of cold air. "I'm not for sale!" I protest, disgusted at the question. "I'm not an object."

"No, of course not," he says soothingly. "You're an animal, not an object."

I glare up at him furiously. I want Parker back. Over the past few days I've been groped, anally fucked, used as a cumdump, and humiliated beyond description, so I should be used to this by now. But this man is seriously creeping me out.

I start to back away, but before I can the man leans over and sticks his thumb in my mouth. He pinches my cheek, which is weirdly painful, and holds me in place. I whimper, trying to shake myself out of his grip. "I'd love to have a pet like you," he says, pulling my cheek until my mouth is stretched out. "I think I'll come back to visit you, would you like that?"

"Mngo!" I protest, genuinely distressed. He lets go of my cheeks and I fall backwards, completely toppling over and landing on my back. Mud splatters everywhere. My face turns very, very red. I feel like a turtle, and it is of course this moment when Parker decides to come for a visit.

"What did you do?" He asks the man, laughing as I finally manage to spin myself over and get back up on all fours, unfortunately having to use my face as leverage. I spit mud out of my mouth and attempt to blow it out of my nose.

"I asked it some questions. Are you it's owner?"

Parker hums thoughtfully. "Well, for the next three months it's technically owned by the council, but I'm responsible for looking after it."

I'm annoyed by the casual way they refer to me as 'it', and to show my disdain I awkwardly stumble off in what I believe to be the direction of my food and water. Their voices are drowned out by the steady pattering of rain, and I face the sky, grateful when the heavy droplets quickly wash the majority of mud off my face.

Not sure what else to do, I decide to go and sulk as far away from the two men as possible. The pen is quite small, but at least I can't hear the degrading way they're talking about me.

Finally, Parker enters the pen and walks towards me. I look away from him, frowning as he comes to a stop in front of me. "How are you doing, piggy?" He asks, and I feel even more miserable than before.

"Water filled my food trough," I say quietly. Parker tuts.

"Come on, I'll fix it for you."

I follow him back towards the food trough, trying to keep close enough to stay under his umbrella, which he won't share. I'm happy to see that the unsettling man is gone. Parker tips most of the water at the trough, then places it back down on the ground. "It's nearly all gone, and it's not even afternoon. You must have been hungry."

"Obviously," I mutter. "One bowl of Cornflakes a day isn't exactly substantial, you know."

Parker scowls at me. "Be careful with that attitude of yours. I can put you on a diet of nothing but kitchen scraps if you want to keep going. Do you want to eat potato peels?"

This shut me up pretty quickly.

The rest of the day passed without much incident. I was pretty cold and miserable, and the rain continued without a single break. My little pen quickly became more water than mud. I trodded around, a mixture of depressed and furious at my situation. My porridge tasted disgusting and the texture was even worse.

Night-time fell and the rain got even worse. 10pm felt like a godsend, and the second I saw Parker walking towards me under the street light, I scrambled towards the gate. He entered carrying a leash, which he clipped to my collar.

I was dripping mud as we walked back to the police station. To save me from making the floors filthy, I was taken around the back and lead past the holding cells to the shower room.

My restraints were removed from my arms and legs and I groaned as I stretched, grateful to have them back. The nosehook and the plug were next to be removed, and the relief was indescribable. I rubbed my nose with my free hand as my ankles and one arm were chained, then frowned as my other arm was stretched out to make me stand spread eagle.

For the first time, I was actually grateful as the officers came at me with soapy water and brushes. They scrubbed my skin harshly, but the mud was at least getting away from me. When my wrists and ankles were released, I sat down on the floor and yawned. It was taking everything in me to not cry.

Seeing how upset I was, Parker picked me up and put me over his shoulder instead of making me crawl. I squirmed at first, whimpering a little, but a firm grip and a harsh slap on the ass stopped me from complaining any further.

When we reached my room, he placed me down gently on the blankets and attached my collar to the metal loop on the wall. He then squatted down in front of me, watching as I curled up half under the blanket until only my eyes were peeking out.

"Do you have something to say to me?" He asked. "Something about what animal you should be?"

I sniffled. "Can I please be a dog again?" I asked quietly. "I hate being a pig. I hate it. I want to be a puppy."

"I bet," Parker said in a patronising voice. "You had a terrible day, didn't you piggy?"

"Please!" I whined, pushing the blanket under my chin. "Please let me be a dog. I'll never disobey or bite or say I'm not a dog ever again, I promise. Please, Parker?"

His eyes narrowed. I immediately realised what I had done wrong, and whimpered up at him. "Puppies know who their Masters are," he replied, looking disappointed in me. "I think you can be a pig for another day."

"Please! Master, please!" I sat up, crying after him as he straightened and started walking away away.

He stopped at the door, looking over his shoulder at me. "Convince me," he said.

The door slammed shut.

Hi! So, I'm not actually too happy with how this turned out, especially the ending. I put it into a word counter after Parker and Riley's discussion about potato peels, and was shocked to see that it was 4200 words!! After that, I figured I should close it pretty quickly, which is why the end is ridiculously clunky and doesn't flow at all. Really sorry about that.

What did you guys think about the man who came up to talk to Riley? I'm thinking about making him a reoccurring character. I like the idea of making him the opposite to Parker, in the way that Parker is a comfort to Riley and this man is a threat. Obviously in real life, you don't want to be properly scared of your dom, but this is the glory of fiction. Any name ideas for this new character would be appreciated.

Okay, now I'm rambling a bit even in the authors note. Oops. I'll finish up quick. As always, thanks for reading and if you have any ideas feel free to let me know down below, or send me a private DM if you prefer. Always happy to hear ideas! If there's any grammar mistakes, spelling errors, or typos, please let me know and I'll fix them as soon as possible.

I'll see you guys in part 5! Bye bye!!

– The actual Riley

P.S: I chose Julia's last name, Markoth, as an honour to a very frustrating boss in Hollow Knight