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.
