The Gap Between Designer and Whore

A white silk dress lay crumpled on the floor. Next to it, her underwear lay in pathetic tatters, tossed aside like garbage. The shell of Cha Su-ah, the top designer from Design Su who supposedly swept through Gangnam, was rolling around on the floor like trash.

"I... I've taken it all off... hic..."

Now completely naked without a stitch on, Cha Su-ah covered her breasts and crotch with her arms, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Her face burned red with humiliation, thick tears streaming endlessly from her chin.

I lounged back on the sofa, savoring the sight as I tsked. She probably never imagined her words and actions could hurt anyone else. Time to snap her out of it.

"No one's telling you to cover up."

"Pardon...?"

"Move your arms. Get on the floor, face down. Crawl on all fours, you fucking bitch."

Cha Su-ah couldn't utter a peep at my command. What could she do? She was the one who stamped her thumbprint on that 3 billion won slave contract. Biting her lip hard in shame, she slowly bent her knees and flattened herself on the floor. Her pale naked body on all fours looked just like a beast.

I adjusted the camera angle to focus on her ass as she lay prone on the floor. The floating chat window was a dopamine frenzy.

I nudged Cha Su-ah's ass with my foot.

"Lower your waist and stick your ass up. Then spread it open from behind."

"Hic... P-please, Director..."

"Director? Still got that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shitty business tone stuck in your mouth. From ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠today, I'm your creditor and your master. Say it again."

"M-Master... hic..."

"Good. Spread that sow ass wide open like the debt-paying whore you are."

Cha Su-ah kept sobbing as she grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands and pulled them apart to the sides. Her red, sensitive insides were exposed raw to the camera lens. Face down on the floor in this humiliating pose, she panted desperately. What a real piece of shit. No, dogshit fits Ji-hee better. This one's a sow.

I tapped the tablet, feeding her a humiliating line.

"Repeat after me: 'From now on, I'm the masters' sow. Oink oink.'"

"......!!"

Cha Su-ah's head shook wildly side to side.

"Th-that vulgar... Please... I can't say that... hic..."

Smack! My palm whipped across Cha Su-ah's ass. The powerful spank echoed with a sharp crack.

"Aaack!"

"Can't? You fucking bitch still thinks she's a Gangnam CEO designer? What? Vulgar? A sow bitch calling anything vulgar?"

I kicked her smartphone on the floor.

"Then pick up your clothes and get out. I'll send all your embezzlement evidence to your audit team lead right now. See you on the news."

The fear of survival stabbed into Cha Su-ah's empty skull again. With her ass beet red, she flattened herself on the floor and wailed toward the camera.

"I-I'll do it! I'll do it...! Fr-from now on... hic... I-I'm the masters' sow...! O-oink... oink oink...!"

The woman who used to look down on people with her luxury getup was now naked on the floor, spreading her pussy and imitating a pig. The VVIP brothers' wallets exploded at this aesthetic of utter destruction.

Wow. This fucking bitch is a goldmine? She's got the makings of a whore who'll rake in more than I thought.

I grabbed Cha Su-ah by the hair and shoved the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tablet with the broadcast screen in her face, making her see the exploding donation numbers clearly.

"Look. That's what you got for spreading your ass and barking bullshit once. All that elite circle crap? Doesn't matter. In front of capital, you're just another tail-wagging sow."

"Hic... sob..."

Cha Su-ah stared at the numbers, lost in a daze, tears dripping down.

About an hour of crawling on the floor, begging, reciting vulgar lines—a thorough mental breakdown training. I ended the live stream without a second thought.

"Haa... haa..."

As the broadcast shut off, Cha Su-ah collapsed fully on the floor, breathing raggedly. What the fuck? I didn't make her do anything that hard, and she's hyperventilating? Her whole body was soaked in sweat, tears, and utter humiliation.

I stood from the sofa, lit a cigarette, and exhaled long. I kicked her luxury underwear and dress toward her face.

With trembling hands, Cha Su-ah gathered the clothes to cover her chest. Then, with tears still wet on her face, she glanced up at me cautiously and asked in a creeping whisper.

"M-Master..."

"What."

"Today's... donations exploded... even roughly, it's a ton... So my 10% share... does that deduct from my debt...?"

I was inhaling smoke but snorted instead. Ha. Look at this bitch? Even while crawling like a piglet, she was calculating inside. Today's haul was huge, so 10% must be billions off, right? Fucking false hope torture. Her brain's so goddamn shallow.

I blew thick smoke right in her face.

"Cough, cough!"

"What bullshit. Zero won off your debt."

"P-Pardon...? B-but the contract clearly says 10% of profits..."

"Profits? Bullshit."

I squatted and gripped her chin roughly.

"Did my cock go in your pussy even once today?"

"......!!"

"You spread your pussy but no sex—what fucking profits? The money the brothers threw today was just admission to gawk at an embezzler's mug. Deduct debt with ticket prices? Thief's got it carved in her bones."

"Ah..."

Cha Su-ah's face went sheet-white. Stripped naked, oinking like a pig, treated like a beast—and none of it paid off a single won of her 3 billion debt. Just shame dumped on her, body exposed, debt intact. I could hear her calculator shatter, her mental crumbling to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dust.

"If you're pissed, start taking cum properly from tomorrow. A whore selling her body needs to work her pussy."

"And you fucking bitch. What have you even done? Didn't make you do shit hard, but you're huffing like that? Fuck, I did all the directing and you're expecting pay? Real fucking bitch. Ah... annoying."

Cha Su-ah's expression hardened. Scared now that I'm pissed.

"S-sorry... Master, my head must be messed up... Sorry..."

"Pick up your clothes and fuck off."

Cha Su-ah staggered up in a daze, fumbling into her underwear. Ripping stockings or not, yanking on the dress—total mess. Hilarious.

As she grabbed her bag and bolted for the door, I nailed her from behind.

"Tomorrow, 10 AM. Bring your team and clock in here exactly."

Cha Su-ah froze. She turned slowly, face pale with terror.

"Gotta measure the whole 1F space and basement, right? Set 1F for good light. I'll split it into antique room, modern room, horizon, etc.—pretty concept rooms."

Basement for soundproof fuck chambers, 1F for my real art studio.

Cha Su-ah swallowed hard and nodded.

"Y-yes... Got it. I'll bring the team."

"Oh. And."

I grinned and added,

"Tomorrow, no bra or panties when you clock in."

"......Pardon?"

"No bra, no panties. If your nips show through or your lines don't hug your body in front of your staff, I'll flip your skirt and fuck you doggy right there. Got it?"

Cha Su-ah's face twisted in horror. But she had no right to refuse. Pigs don't get human rights.

She bit her lip, trembling violently, then bowed her head and whispered like a mosquito.

"G-got... it. Master..."

The front door shut. I sprawled on the sofa and lit another smoke. Ha. Fuck... tiring. Immersed in underground director mode, the fatigue hits hard.

Next day, 10 AM. The Yeonnam-dong mansion doorbell rang. I opened the door, and three figures entered.

"Good morning. Design Su team here."

Cha Su-ah in front, her two subordinates with tape measures and laser measurers flanking her, bowing politely. Cha Su-ah had slipped back into her flawless Gangnam top designer shell from head to toe. Whore sow bitch.

Fucking idiot. Beige H-line skirt hugging her body, sheer silk blouse hinting at what's beneath. Horn-rimmed glasses and haughty chin adding intellect. Perfect recreation of the decapitated Design Su CEO look.

But the curves under her skirt and blouse. No bra meant her nipples faintly poked through the thin silk. The tight H-line skirt showed no panty lines, proving she'd come with nothing underneath, just outer clothes over bare skin as ordered.

Forcing poise in front of her staff, but every step made fabric rub her sensitive skin and nipples—she flinched her shoulders, crossing and uncrossing her legs. A total spectacle.

So fucking hot. I smirked inwardly, plastering on the eager young artist's mask.

"CEO Cha! Team here early—thanks so much!"

I bowed low; the subordinates bowed back in confusion. Cha Su-ah, maybe from the staff presence or no-panty tension, lowered her voice and squeezed out CEO dignity.

"Yes, Director. We'll measure 1F spaces as discussed."

She scanned the empty 100-pyeong 1F living room. Just the sofa, table, bar corner with coffee machine and fridge I'd bought—raw, empty space. But to me, this blank canvas was my stage to unfold my real dream. A canvas for my true art, even if built with dirty underground money.

"This'll be my studio, so maximize light. Make it feel antique room, modern room, horizon—all cozy and sensory. Concept rooms too."

Half-genuine passion in my briefing; Cha Su-ah forced an arrogant smile and gestured to her team.

"Yes, Director. Design Su will deliver top-notch. You two, measure basement for special soundproof walls first. It'll take time—detailed blueprints. I'll discuss 1F main hall skeleton with Director."

"Yes, CEO!"

The two grabbed gear and headed to the basement entrance. Footsteps faded; the door thudded shut.

Vast, sunlit 100-pyeong 1F, empty. Just Cha Su-ah and me.

Staff gone, her legs buckled. Sweating cold, she gripped the bar table, breathing hard. I dropped the groveling pose. Eyes that sparkled with art talk, friendly smile—gone. Back to cold creditor.

"CEO Cha."

My low voice made her jolt and turn. I strode up, wrapped one arm hard around her waist at the bar. Slid the other under her tight H-line skirt hem.

"Hnng..!"

No pesky panties—nice. My fingers dove straight between her thighs.

"Stream's already on, don't worry. It'll pay today too."

Her secret spot was slick with juices already, slippery. Staff could pop from the hall any second. Extreme tension, shame, taboo thrill—her pussy burned hot, gushing endlessly.

"Hmmph..!"

Cha Su-ah couldn't scream, muffling her mouth, trembling violently lest her basement team hear. I pressed her slick folds, whispering in her ear.

"Our CEO Cha."

"Hnn..."

"Coming to measure someone's house no bra, no panties—your pussy's dripping because you love it?"

In the precarious living room center, helpless to my fingers' teasing, soaking up shame, fear, and weird rising excitement, twisting her legs—Cha Su-ah. Elegant CEO designer by day, exclusive 3 billion debt whore by night. Her secret double life had truly begun.