Down and Down She Goes Ch. 02

Down and Down She Goes

By Saphhia

Chapter Two

A Slow Realization

I was almost beside myself as I downed two fingers of single malt scotch. Looking across the bar, I was certain that no one could ever have suspected that this well-dressed, exquisitely coiffed young woman was harboring a disastrous secret. How could they?

I had practically run out of the office after my encounter with Vanessa, my new nemesis. I had always wondered just how she would get ahead of me, and now it was all too clear. Izzy had stopped me of course, confirming the fact that I had agreed to Ms. Worth's plans to steal my cases out from under me.

She had given me that look; the one you get when they know something that you hope they don't. I cannot imagine she hadn't seen my clothing scattered about in the corner as she left my office; me sequestered under my own desk, naked, with Vanessa's foot buried deep in my mouth. She was a smart girl. She may have already deduced that something a shade off-color was taking place.

In the end, she hoped that everything would be alright, concerned that I hadn't shared whatever it was that was forcing me to relinquish my cases. How could I? If she knew even the first thing about what was actually going on, I'd be mortified.

As expected, a message was waiting for me when I arrived home, not quite, but very nearly half in the bag. My phone had rung in the tavern, but I dared not answer it, for fear of it being Vanessa.

"Oh, hello, Skunk. I just wanted to thank you for having that little chat with Isabelle for me. All those important cases just popped into my itinerary for the week. I can't thank you enough. I suppose I should probably let you know exactly why you are going to be needing the week off. Well, my little slave, you'll be performing some tasks for me while you're off. Aside from those luscious lashes that are scarring up so nicely on your back, I thought I should give you something you can see more readily."

She cleared her throat, creating a little theatrical tension, I think. "You'll be going to 4587 Swanson Street tomorrow. I've already made the appointment for one in the afternoon, so don't be late. She'll be expecting you. Bye, Skunk." And just like that, she ended the call.

I tried to imagine just what she had planned. An appointment? Surely, she wasn't going to do anything too outrageous. I suddenly had visions of some overzealous hairstylist having at my hair. I imagined worst, of course, and clippers would undoubtedly be involved. I sat up dreading the next day but finally dozed off without ever making it to my bed.

I managed to keep a small breakfast down as I worried myself sick over the appointment. I looked up the address on Google Earth, and all I came away with was an empty storefront. It was a seedy part of town, and the image was undoubtedly out of date.

As I pulled up in front, I was confronted with an image that was not all that far removed from the one on the computer. Aside from a few small images in the window, there was nothing. It was as I approached that I realized just what the appointment was for. The seedy little shop was a tattoo parlor.

I thought for a moment about getting back in my Bentley, but then, what if word that I had chickened out got back to Vanessa? What kind of hell would she create for me if I started disobeying her commands? It wouldn't be my first ink, having had a delicate chain stenciled around my ankle some years before. I didn't for a second assume that this was going to be anything so innocuous.

As I opened the door, the stench of stale cigarette smoke hit my nostrils, and I was immediately unimpressed. Of course, that was nothing compared to the reaction I had when the heavy-set butch walked out from behind the wall and welcomed me inside.

"You Harriet?" She grumbled, shaking her head.

"Yes. I believe I have an appointment?" I queried.

"You believe right. Now get your ass in the back so I can get this done on you. I'm still trying to figure out why the...well, not my snatch. Ha!" She chortled, indicating a worn Naugahyde bench that was only just hidden from the view of the front windows.

"What exactly..."

"Don't you worry your pretty little ass about it, sweet cheeks. Speakin' of which, get 'em off." She gestured to my jeans, which I had stooped to wearing that day.

"And your shirt, unless you don't like it too much. I tend to be a bit messy with the ink." She seemed to have everything laid out, including what looked like a blindfold. Once I had stripped, something I was getting all too good at, I slipped onto the bench, the plastic surface sticking to be nerve moistened ass.

"I'd really like to know what..."

"You ain't gonna know 'til I'm done." She held out the blindfold. "Courtesy of your lawyer friend."

Sighing, I took the satin blindfold from her and laid back, allowing the darkness to envelop me. I felt the woman pressing what must have been a transfer of some sort onto my mons, of all things, right above my cunt. She must have realized that all that hair had been lasered off, as there wasn't going to be the slightest stubble. She must have also known that whatever she put there was going to be on display for good.

"Well, here's goes nothin', I guess." She giggled, as I felt the first sting of the needle against my sensitive pubis.

With no breaks at all, and a good hour and a half later, she declared whatever she had tattooed me with, finished. She cleaned me up, slathering some sort of ooze onto my sex, and finally allowed me to lose the blindfold. Of course, by this time, the entire area was covered with a dressing, leaving me in the dark still.

"Two hundred." She sneered, holding out her hand expecting to be paid.

"I don't even know what I'm paying you for." I spat, lifting four fifties out of my purse and handing them over.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, Skunk." She mused. "You really let her call you that?"

All I could do was nod as I couldn't wait to get dressed and out of that shop. After I'd managed to ease my jeans up over my tender sex, the woman laughed.

"That'll be sore for a few days, then it'll itch, but don't scratch it, or you'll mess it up. Hey, at least nobody'll get your name wrong from now on, huh?" She cackled as I disappeared into my car and drove away.

The idea that I had let some anonymous woman mark me with ink was getting me hot. I was flabbergasted over that, too. Whatever design she had engraved on my cunt was certainly prearranged by my new Mistress. I hated the idea of calling Vanessa Mistress, but there was no mistaking that this was who she was now.

Before I arrived home, my phone rang, and I just assumed it was Vanessa. "I see you've followed my instructions, Skunk. Well, there won't be any peeking until tonight. Trust me, I'll know if you've looked. I want you down at the club at eight o'clock. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress." I sleezed, rubbing the bandage through my jeans, feeling the extent of the ink. This was no little flower or anything. I was fairly certain it covered my entire pussy. What the fuck am I doing?

"Good girl. Wear something baggy. Do yourself a favor, Skunk. Just pretend you're no longer a high-priced attorney. It's not too much of a stretch, right?" She laughed. "See you soon, slave."

As much as I was dying to see what was under the bandages, I dared not even peek. For all I knew, there was some little piece of thread or something that the woman had been instructed to plant. So, I just waited it out. I imagined that Vanessa wasn't going to keep me in suspense. She put the damned thing there. I figured she'd be anxious to see what I'd paid for.

She's a Stinker

As I walked into the club, I was surprised to be stopped by security as I passed. Everyone knew me there, but the way I was dressed probably had them guessing. The loose-fitting sweatpants and oversized hoodie made me look decidedly below my station. "Yes?"

"Ms. Musgrove? Sorry, I didn't recognize you. Going incognito or something?" The younger man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Or something." I agreed, continuing to the front counter. Once there, I was immediately taken aside and stripped, without so much as a by your leave. "What on earth?" I squawked, annoyed by the rough handling of the men.

"Owned slaves get stripped at the door, Skunk." The one argued, tossing my clothes to the woman behind the counter, who quickly stashed them somewhere out of sight. I was left standing, naked, except for the white dressings covering my sex. Without even asking the one leaned down and divested me of the dressing as well. It seemed that everyone in the room would get a look at my shame, myself included.

A round of laughter preceded my being allowed to bend, taking in what had been so forcibly embossed on my sex. There, in stark black and white, was a caricature of a skunk, something that vaguely reminded me of Pepe Le Pew. If that wasn't bad enough, in bold inch-high lettering above was, Lil' Stinker!, for all to see.

I couldn't even imagine the look on my face as the staff and a few of the guests, some of whom I knew, took advantage of this humiliating tattoo. I was the only one who wasn't laughing.

Finally, one of the staffers had mercy on me and led me down the hallway to what I remembered being Vanessa's private room. "Kneel here, until your Mistress comes." He ordered.

And so, I knelt. After what seemed like an hour of one humiliating stare after the next, the door finally opened behind me. "You should have knocked, Skunk." She scolded, pulling me backward by my braided hair.

"Sorry, Mistress. The man said that I..."

"The man said? Since when do you listen to what any man says?" She spat, belittling me as I was pushed down into the floor in front of her. This angry act lasted all of a minute or two before she let loose with a raucous laugh. "Oh! That's even better than I imagined!" Pointing at my cunt with both hands. "Lil' Stinker! Oh, that's rich! I mean I paid her extra to think up something demeaning, but Jesus Christ!"

"You mean you didn't..."

"The skunk, well yeah. It is your name after all." She admitted, allowing for my question, unpunished. "But that, that is so fucking degrading!"

My humiliation was so intense, that I swear I very nearly passed out right in front of her. "Yes, it is degrading, Mistress." I whimpered, pathetically.

"Well, I suppose that's it for you and sex, huh?" Vanessa teased but knowing that she was so right. What person would have anything to do with a cunt marked with so ridiculous a tattoo. "I mean, it fits, right? That's how you got your name."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Tell me, Skunk. What does the tattoo say?"

"Lil' Stinker," I murmured, ashamedly.

"What, I cunt hear you?" She yelled.

"Lil' Stinker!" I blurted.

"Louder!" She pressed.

"Lil' Stinker!"

"Again!"

"Lil' Stinker! Lil' Stinker!"

"What's your name?"

"Lil' Stinker!" I shouted, not really hearing her question.

"Is it, now?" She chuckled. "Yes, I do suppose it is, or maybe just Stinker, for short? Isn't that right, Stinker?"

"Yes, Mistress." I simpered, almost in tears from my humiliation.

"From now on, Harriet Musgrove, whenever anyone asks your name, you're going to tell them what it is, aren't you." Vanessa raged.

The idea of this humiliation carrying over into my regular life was unimaginable, but I was in no position to refuse her. "Yes, Mistress."

She held out her hand, seeking a handshake, and for a moment I was confused. Not knowing what she wanted, I complied. "Good evening. Vanessa Worth, attorney for Musgrove and Young, and, you are?" She paused, waiting for my reply.

"Lil' Stinker." I sighed, shaking her hand as if I was truly just meeting her.

"Oh, just imagine your shame, Stinker. Just imagine it." She laughed, almost insanely. "Oh, this is so much more fun than I ever imagined it being."

She couldn't possibly be serious? I'd be the laughing stock; drummed out of the firm. Oh, my god, what if she was? I was shocked to discover that my fingers had wandered down to my folds, frigging myself shamelessly over the idea of such a degrading display of depravity.

Everything I'd built my life into was in jeopardy, all because of a chance liaison with an eager colleague with her own set of kinks. I felt I needed to say something in my defense, but what was there to say? I had already submitted to her at work and been marked by her, twice. I was slipping down a slope that was a one-way ticket to ruination.

Vanessa laughed at my feeble ministrations as I masturbated over my own apparent downfall. "You really are pathetic. Look at you, no shame at all." She stooped down, looking me eye to eye. "You find this so exciting, don't you, Stinker? Masturbating, while I slowly disassemble you, bit by tantalizing bit." She slapped me, not once but three times across my face, the tangy flavor of blood spreading through my mouth, as my tongue searched the small cut that had been opened inside my lip.

I had no choice but to agree with her. It was obvious that although my mind was screaming over my impending demise, my cunt was in heaven, relishing the prospective humiliations to come. What could this woman have in store for me? What could she do? Anything she wanted, I decided. "Yes, Mistress. It is exciting." I finally admitted.

I looked down at my hand, furiously rubbing at my clitoris, the freshly-inked skunk, and those insipid words vibrating as I insulted my flesh with my well-manicured fingertips.

Seeing as your cunt is out of service, for now, I have something more demeaning for you to do, slave." Vanessa walked across the room, flopping down on a large throne-like chair. She spread her legs, propping them up on the ornate arms, and pointed between her legs at the floor beneath her. Crawling on all fours, I slithered, until I was face to face with her perfectly groomed pussy.

I could smell her, and knew she too was aroused by what was happening between us. I waited until she pointed at the moist folds and delicately trimmed thatch of dark curls. "You will lick my asshole, slave. One stinker servicing another, oh, it's too good to be true." She gushed, guiding my face into her crack until my tongue was pressed obscenely against her sweaty little rosebud.

By necessity, my nose was buried between her labia, the tip moistened by her copious arousal. I began to lick, to worship her exit, the point by which all that was rejected by her body was expelled. I tasted the acrid flavor of her as my tongue pressed inside, searching, deeper and deeper as I debased myself. Her moans of pleasure drove me to probe as deep as my tongue would allow, her juices running over my face as her cunt drooled down my lips.

Finally, she pushed me away. Smiling as she looked down at me, my face surely a mess, coated in her juices and smelling of her ass. "Very good, Stinker. I think we've found something that you are actually good at. That's your new title, I think. Lil' Stinker, ass licker, esquire." She chuckled, pushing my face to the floor with her bare foot.

All I wanted to do was pay attention to my cunt, which was screaming to be touched. My arms were locked at my sides as she pressed harder and harder with her foot until the cold hard floor began to dig into my cheek and jaw.

"Stick your worthless tongue out, and lick the floor at my feet, Stinker." She ordered. "Rub that icky little nub between your legs while you think about what you're doing." As her foot lifted from my face, I turned, smelling the dank stone before me, and extending my tongue until the gritty surface was pressed against my open mouth. I licked, one long stroke, all the filth swept up at once. Now permitted, my fingers once again found my cunt, streaming its aromatic slime as my tongue paid homage to the flagstones at my Mistress's feet.

It was beyond humiliating, beyond degrading, it was the most vile, dehumanizing act I had ever committed, and I was loving every second of the depraved spectacle I must be presenting to my colleague. With this knowledge, to know the depths to which I would stoop, there was no limit to what she might be planning for me.

"Enough, Stinker, enough." She finally eased, rolling me onto my back with a firm but insistent kick to my side. "You are the most pathetic creature I've ever seen, Harriet Musgrove, and I am only too pleased to supervise your undoing."

I moaned, my fingers still working my sex unrelentingly, as she put me in my place. She stood over me, relieving herself as she straddled my face, her urine soaking my face and hair as she laughed. "You are mine, Stinker. Mine. You will know how depraved I really am as I take you to places you can't even imagine. Oh, I'll allow you to practice, but only under my strict supervision. There will be changes, changes that will be hard to conceal as you attempt to carry on with your pathetic vanilla life."

Before I reached my orgasm she pushed her naked foot into my face, pressing as hard as she could until I was unable to draw a breath. Struggling for a moment, I allowed her to prevent me until stars slowly began to appear at the edges of my vision. The wave of pleasure coursed through me as my mind faded into darkness. I had come, but at what price?

When I finally came to, I was alone. Vanessa was nowhere to be seen, but I could see the staffer standing guard at the open door. Covered head to toe in urine and filth, I got to my feet, barely. My head was swimming, and I figured it had something to do with being asphyxiated a few moments before.

Where normally I would have been afforded a shower in one of the luxury bathrooms near the concierge, I was tossed the baggy clothes I had arrived in and forced to dress in the lobby. Still stinking of piss and ass, I climbed into my expensive car and drove home, not really caring if the upholstery bore the marks of my debasement.

I stripped in the garage, not really caring who saw me naked at that point. Finally, after I was certain a few of my neighbors must surely have seen me, I closed the door and headed inside. As I expected, a message was waiting for me on my phone, which I'd left at home at Vanessa's direction.

"You made it home. Good. Now I imagine you want to take a long hot shower right about now, but I'm going to insist you live in that skin for the night. Curl up on the floor and sleep like a good little stinker, now, won't you? Good night, Harriet. Oh, I have set up another appointment for you tomorrow. 458 Main Street. Ten o'clock, Stinker. Don't be late."

I tossed the phone down on the kitchen table, and stood there, still naked, and still reeking of Vanessa's piss. By now, it had begun to dry onto my hair and skin and I was desperate to shower. Being a good little 'stinker' I followed my Mistress's decree and resisted the need.

My body ached, my face hurt, and my lip was swollen from where she had slapped me. I looked in the mirror, which was a feat unto itself, my disheveled appearance almost shocking. It was a small cut, caused by one of my canines as it sliced into the corner of my mouth. Shrugging it off, considering the larger picture, I poured a healthy amount of scotch into a glass and plopped myself down in front of the gas insert, and cranked it up to high. If I was going to sleep naked on the floor, I was at least going to be warm.

Skinning the Skunk

Morning came all too soon, with the alarm I had set on my phone clanging away in my addled brain. Reaching for it, blindly, I shut it off and dragged myself to the bathroom. Vanessa had said that I couldn't shower that night but said nothing about the morning. I had an appointment, after all, and lord knew what that might entail.

The water felt heavenly as it coursed over my disgustingly filthy body. It took quite a few tries to finally get the smell of Vanessa's pee off my body but especially, out of my hair. After nearly forty-five minutes, I emerged, pruned, but clean. Brushing my teeth and managing to get the last of the grit from between my teeth, I quickly downed a cup of black coffee.