My name is John Padilla Corazón and I worked as a butcher at a local slaughterhouse in the ghetto. I lived alone in my ‘self-contained’ bedsitter ‘condominium’, located right in the middle of the Philippine Island. I had a wife who was four months pregnant, but she died due to still birth.
Every day I travelled across the island to my work station on my motorboat. There, it was business as usual, no idling around. My lady boss was one you didn’t wanna mess with. She was a no-nonsense lady who owned multiple ranches all over the Philippines, Spain, Mexico, Brazil and even Kenya.
She was a voluptuous wrench with blonde hair, blue eyes and a really bright future ahead of her. She was a German-Filipina national with dual citizenship in both Germany and the Philippines. She was also the beautiful mastermind behind the Lord Delamere Ranch in Kenya. She went by the name Madam Regina Monte and in terms of beauty, she was the epitome of modern beauty.
I don’t know if it was love or obsession, but the ‘boss lady’ – as we called her – had a crush on me. She always visited the abattoir once a week to check on me and ignored all the other workers. She always used me as some kind of intermediary between her and the workers.
She appointed me as the new supervisor, salary distributor and head of all the employees working in the meat factory. Mind you, she fired the previous supervisor.
The salary was worth boasting about, but being a spendthrift, I devoured my servants pay in some local pub or brothel and went back to square one the following day. I usually thought that men were more stalkers than women, but my boss’s case proved the opposite.
There was a day she nagged me into having sex with her at her residential mansion in the leafy suburbs of Quezon City. She was a widow and single with one child, and rumour had it that she sacrificed her husband in a money-making ritual called Illuminati. That’s why she was filthy rich and famous, I hoped these rumours were fake!
She made my life extremely good.
I even got a nice house, car and weekly allowance in exchange for sex. In her eyes I was nothing but a toy boy, a Ben 10; a sexpot. But I didn’t care about all that because my life was already a mess.
My life sucked. It was like the ever smelling stench of the abattoir effluent emitted in a river and thus destroying marine life. That’s why I didn’t mind Mrs Regina being my Sugar Mummy cadence.
Tell us: Would you give sexual favours in exchange for money?