Down and Down She Goes Ch. 03

"Oh, I won't. Ms. Worth has made that very clear. I'm no longer fit to be in the courtroom, at least not at my new pay grade, for goodness sake." I said, miserably.

"Can you get by?" Punk asked, concerned. We started to dress, and for some reason, that act seemed to be more humiliating than simply being naked, for both of us. Perhaps it was that feeble attempt to return to normalcy that we both knew was only a façade.

"For a while, at least. I do have a healthy amount of savings and investments I can fall back on. I think though, that Ms. Worth has her eye on my townhouse and my Bentley. I suppose I'll be obliged to relinquish them to her." I said, ashamed.

"She is difficult to say no to, isn't she?" Punk observed.

"You noticed." I chuckled, but I was certain that my humor never reached my eyes.

Together, They Fall...

I pulled my Bentley into the pull-through entrance as I always had, but upon handing my keys to the valet, he gave me a suspicious glare.

"How does a slave afford such extravagance?" He said under his breath. And so, it became obvious that the word of my downfall was not limited to the club itself, but all that was associated with it. I wondered how long it would be before I was outed altogether. The name change would certainly be known to the circles I moved in, as it was necessary to publish the change in the local law journal as part of legal requirements. I laughed under my breath as we entered the foyer.

"You know the rules, Stinker. Take it all off, including the wig." The concierge insisted. Having already been humiliated in the same fashion a few nights before, I did as they asked, finally slipping the wig from my bald head. I watched, amused as Punk did the same, our clothes mingling together on the floor before being swept up and thrown into a bin marked only 3G.

We were escorted down the hallway, kneeling outside the door to our Mistress's lair. I wondered just how low I would stoop to please her that night. I imagined it would be devastating, and I was grateful that Vanessa was quick to usher us inside.

"Hello, my slaves. On your bellies, like the worms you are." She pointed at the flagstone floor as the two of us prostrated ourselves before her. Vanessa quickly bound our hands and our feet, cinching them tightly together behind our backs. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I'm going to sit on my throne and watch the two of you slither over to me."

Hogtied, I began rocking back and forth, moving forward at a painful pace. Punk was doing no better, the abrasive stone floor grating against our breasts and bellies cruelly. Taking what must have been a quarter of an hour, my face finally touched Vanessa's foot, but at least I was there first. A few seconds later, Punk's tongue traced the bottom of Vanessa's boot as mine had done.

Vanessa rolled me onto my back, my hands and feet crushed beneath me. I looked down to see my entire front reddened and soiled with the grime from the stone floor. Without warning, Vanessa pressed her full weight onto my face, grinding her cunt into my mouth, my lips forced open violently.

I could feel the stone floor against my skull, my bald scalp offering little in the way of a cushion against her aggressive attack. Back and forth, gyrating, until her juices filled my mouth. I was a poor excuse for a Sybian, but I could tell by her moans that I was at least performing a service she appreciated.

After only a short time, I felt her tense. I doubled my efforts, bringing her to the orgasm she sought, her cries music to my ears. Then I felt it, just a trickle at first. Then the torrent released, and I was forced to swallow her urine, or drown in it. The salty liquid was coming at such a pace that I had trouble swallowing fast enough. I knew what she wanted.

By the end of it, I knew that only a few drops had escaped my mouth, and those never made it to the floor, clinging to my cheeks precipitously. As she stood, she turned my head side to side with the tip of her boot, smiling as she examined the floor.

"Very good, Ms. Stinker. You certainly do make a good toilet. I must, at least, allow you that." She smiled, scaping my shaved head with the side of her boot. "You really are disgusting, now. Just look at you, Harriet." She used my given name, I think to rub in just how far I had fallen in so short a time. "I wonder. Are you pleased by your new status, Ms. Stinker?"

I struggled to speak, but knew I must. "Yes, Mistress." I groveled, the overpowering taste of her acrid urine still coating the inside of my mouth and throat.

"My, my, your breath would knock a sailor to the deck, I must say." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I think it would be better if you didn't talk at all." Walking to a rack, she retrieved the largest ball gag I had ever seen, forcing it between my teeth painfully before strapping it tightly around my barren skull. I thought my lips might actually spilt, but the moisture provided by her bladder spared me that indignation.

"Now, what to do with you?" She looked over at Punk, who had rolled to her side slightly, I was certain to enjoy my struggles. "Of course, there will be a penalty for losing, you know, Punk," Vanessa warned. "Perhaps you'd like to join your old boss at the barber's next time she goes?"

I heard Punk gasp. "Oh, please, Mistress, I..."

Vanessa did not hesitate to show her displeasure over the girl's outburst, bringing the sole of her boot swiftly over punks open lips, silencing her. "Shush!" She pressed firmly, tipping Punk's head to the side. "Perhaps you'd like something that would be a little less obvious?" Vanessa mused. "I think you two would look quite the pair with matching tattoos."

Punk knew better than to try Vanessa's patience a second time and remained silent. She quickly glanced down at the humiliating tattoo that marred my pubis, wincing at the thought of wearing the same herself, I was sure.

"Yes, but like Ms. Stinker here, I'll keep the details to myself. Yes, I enjoyed the intense shame of her discovering after the fact, how she had been marked." Vanessa smiled. "You can keep your hair, for now, Punk, but I think something more suited to your position would be in order."

I watched as Punk's eyes glazed, knowing how she would be changed under Vanessa's stern hand, just as I had been. My mouth felt wet, but the saliva had nowhere to go but down the back of my throat. Unable to swallow, I began to gag, forcing the bubbly liquid around the gag in a disgusting spray of my own making.

"Stinker! You really are a disgusting pig." She leaned down and loosened the gag, allowing me to force the gag from my mouth with my tongue. Too many more sessions with that gag and my lips might be permanently stretched. I was certain Vanessa would find that amusing. My open mouth free of the impediment, I swallowed what remained of my spit and breathed freely for the first time in several minutes.

Tiring of our mutual wiggling, Vanessa untied the two of us, instructing us to crawl on our hands and knees to the center of the room. "Now, just as I have done, Punk, you will empty yourself into my new toilet." She directed Punk to her knees, squatting directly over me so her delicate cunt was over my face. "Ms. Stinker, you will seal your mouth over Punk's slot, and don't spill a drop, I'm warning you."

Punk sat, in essence, on my face, the smoothly shaven folds opening inside my mouth, her scent powerful and almost intoxicating. For a second, we were in limbo, but what began as a trickle, soon exploded into a steady stream of urine, which I struggled to keep ahead of, swallowing repeatedly. Her piss tasted different than Vanessa's, more bitter, almost too much so.

I could smell it in my nostrils as I fought to exhale and breathe around the seemingly endless spew of her pee. I could feel my belly getting full as the combined volume of urine stretched my stomach. I suddenly found myself outrageously aroused, being used as a toilet not only by my Mistress but my sister slave, as well.

I fought the nausea I was tempted to feel, replaced by an intense humiliation and sense of worthlessness that was unequaled in my experience. There I was, Gertrude Stinker, quid erit, a sad excuse for a Harvard lawyer, sucking piss from the tap, baldheaded, tattooed, and scarred on a filthy stone floor. I tried to imagine anything being more degrading than that, and I was convinced I had sunk as low as I ever could.

I could not have been more mistaken.