Tiffany Gets Decorated

CHAPTER THREE

** Tiffany finally meets the tattoo artist but is in for a rude surprise. **

At about ten minute after nine, Tiffany let out a long, low moan and started crying. I looked up from my magazine and watched. She was suffering badly. Her legs and belly were trembling, her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. There were small beads of sweat on her forehead. I could tell she was  reaching the end of her endurance. She'd been holding four glasses of water and three glasses of wine for at least two hours, she wouldn't be able to control herself much longer.

"Tiffany?" I said. She stayed quiet. I watched her move her elbows forward, pressing the insides of her wrists against her ears. "Tiffany?"

"You're... not going to...make me do it, are you? Not like this...please?" she managed between sobs. "Sir..."

I stood up and walked toward her. Linda and Marlene looked at each other and smiled. Linda had been filing Marlene's nails. Now, she put her nail file down on the countertop and got up and walked around the end, stood in front of Tiffany.

"What is he not going to make you do, dear?" Without a word, she slid her hand between Tiffany's legs and started rubbing her clit with her finger. "Do you want to make tinkle all over my hand, little girl?" Linda teased. Tiffany was sobbing loudly now, nothing in all of her years of reading Gor, playing with online BDSM chats and flirting with spankings had prepared her for this. She muttered, "no, no, please, no, no, no Sir, anything but this, no please..."

"Marlene?" I called. She shifted her position against the wall, sliding forward just a bit.

"Yes?"

"Would you please show the little girl to the ladies' room?"

Tiffany turned her head and opened her eyes. Tears and mascara ran down her face and neck but the look of relief and gratitude overshadowed everything else. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Ma'am, Master, Sir," she muttered as she closed her legs and started following Marlene. They walked through a swinging door at the back of the room, Tiffany taking short, quick steps, her thighs pressed together tightly.

Linda sniffed her fingers and smiled at me. "You were never going to make her pee in the bucket, were you?" I shook my head. "Wimp," she laughed.

I stared at her. "You know why I didn't. And I know that you know why."

"Of course I know why," she said. "It's only the threat that matters." I nodded and she continued as she walked back toward her stool behind the counter. "The act doesn't even enter into it, does it?"

I walked to the refrigerator against the back wall and opened the door. "No. No, it never does." I reached for a cold bottle of water and pulled a dollar bill out of my pocket.

"Free for customers," she said. I smiled and put it back.

I looked at the clock. Nine twenty. Linda shook her head. "Don't watch the clock, it slows him down." I took a drink of water and looked around at the designs on the walls.

Snakes seemed to dominate, followed by skulls and daggers then a variety of Celtic looking swirls. There were cute girlies leaning against palm trees and motorcycles and logos of the top Nascar patrons. I was fascinated to see the amount of reds, yellows, and greens among the standard blue designs.

"You should get one," she said. I turned around and shook my head. "No. Nope. Never did understand why people get tattoos. Guess I'm just too old."

"You're never too old," Linda said, reaching out her hand. I gave her the bottle and she took a long drink. "So, what's her story?"

I took the bottle back and twisted on the cap. "She thinks she's getting her ears and one nipple pierced." I set the bottle on the counter. "She's been telling her girlfriends about the ear piercings all week. And, she's completely turned on by the idea of transgressing her parents' boundaries by getting a nipple pierced."

"'A' nipple? Who the hell gets one nipple pierced?"

"Scared Asian girls who are flirting with the edges," I said. Linda sensed the edge in my voice.

"That's not all there is to it, is it?"

I shook my head. "No. No, not at all."

"I read her comments in the email you forwarded." I smiled. There was nothing like the rush I got sharing her intimate emails with strangers. "About the big hoop earrings and Latina sluts." I nodded. "Yes. She's certainly learned the stereotypes. It's from her parents, I believe. I haven't met them but I've heard a lot about them."

Linda leaned forward across the counter, her chest pressed against the glass, face turned up toward me. I stared at her cleavage. Part of a tattoo peeked out from between her mounds. She caught me staring. "It's OK. I like men to look at me." She slid her hand across the countertop and touched my arm. I got hard and she smiled. "So, you're going to play that up?" she asked.

I stood up straight, stepped back slightly. "Yes. Absolutely. It's the best way I can think of to get inside her head. Like tonight, for example." I took another drink of the water. "She doesn't know it, but she's going to get both nipples pierced. And a tattoo."

Linda shook her head. "No way. She'll never go for it. She's like a kid who stumbled into an adult movie. She'll say no."

"We'll see," I said. Marlene and Tiffany came back into the room, chatting happily about Marlene's boots. Marlene was holding her hand, her other hand motioning in the air.

"She wants a pair just like this," Marlene said.

I nodded. "For Kaitee, right? Kaitee would make you wear them in public so you'd look like a hooker?" Tiffany stopped giggling and let go of Marlene's hand. She lowered her head and let her arms drop to her sides. I felt a rush go through my crotch. Her obedience training was so much a part of her she didn't know when it was going to kick in and take over. Even Marlene was taken off guard, I could tell by the way she stared from Tiffany to Linda then to me.

I pressed the issue. "Are you juicing, Tiffany? Didn't you write me over and over about how you wanted Kaitee to dress you up like one of those Latina whores and parade you around the campus?" Tiffany squirmed but I could tell from the red on her neck she was getting aroused again. "Tell Marlene your fantasy."

In a near whisper, Tiffany started. "Kaitee comes into our apartment one day and finds me at my computer, playing with Master David online, touching myself between the legs. I don't hear her come in because that time Master David made me wear earplugs so he could talk to me. He didn't want to type his instructions when he told me what to do to myself, he wanted his hands free so he could touch himself. Kaitee stands outside the door and listens for several minutes as I talk to Master David about how much I want to be her lover, how much I ache for her to touch me, how much I long to serve her on my knees as her faithful slave. As she listens, she starts to understand so many of the things I've done for her. I go out and buy her favorite coffee and pastries every morning, I give her backrubs, I make sure to replace her favorite soaps and shampoos when they run low."

I watched Tiffany's hands as she talked, sliding up underneath her skirt, touching her shaved, naked cunt. Marlene and Linda noticed too, nudged each other and smiled.

"Kaitee pushes the door open and I turn to see her. Immediately, I click the screen to a music video but it is too late. She knows. She knows everything. But she doesn't say anything. Not right away. Not until two days later when she shows up with a pair of thigh length latex boots. With four inch heels. She doesn't mention the other night, she doesn't mention anything. She just orders me to strip naked and put the boots on.

"I start to argue but she just walks away. I am hot now, completely aroused by her absolute confidence that I will obey. Kaitee is from a much richer family than mine and has never had to ask anyone for anything. She just tells them and they obey. And now, I would be doing that as well.

"I put on the boots and she returns with two other girls, two girls I've never seen before. Both are black girls with big chests and bottoms pressed into tight clothes. They are drinking straight from bottles of Hennessy and smoking. Kaitee points with her finger for me to follow them. She tells me to put my hands behind my neck and I do. Then, they walk me out of the apartment and out of the building. They parade me around campus, men and women laughing and pointing, gasping when they recognize me, asking her if they can touch me...aahhhhh..." Tiffany froze as she came, her fingers rubbing frantically at her pussy. She looked from Linda to Marlene to me, then back to Marlene.

Marlene laughed and asked, "so you're saying you like my boots?"

Tiffany put her hands over her face and stood silently while we laughed and talked about our favorite parts of her fantasy.

---

"What's the party?" I turned toward the voice and recognized the face immediately. Carson. He looked a bit thinner than he had in the magazines and he'd shaved his head bald, but it was him. His pale, hairless chest showed underneath his open leather vest and his black leather pants hung loose against his thin legs.

Tiffany's reaction was exactly what I expected - she was disgusted. Everyone in her world was beautiful -- naturally or artificially. They wore expensive clothes and sported healthy looking tans and perfectly manicured hair and nails. This man was a scrawny, nasty little thing who looked thirty pounds underweight with bad skin and cheap clothes.

"This is Tiffany," I announced.

Carson looked her up and down, snorted and laughed. "This is the cock tease we're going to decorate?" He walked around her once slowly, stopped once and ran his hand up the inside of her left thigh. Tiffany looked at me, lowered her eyes. Carson leaned back against the counter. "Let's see your titties." I smiled. He didn't waste any time getting to the point.

Obediently, Tiffany pulled down the top of her dress and dropped her arms to her sides again.

"Lean back. You know, like you're proud of them," Carson said.

Tiffany pulled her shoulders back, straightened her spine.

"Firm anyway," Carson said. "Pull your nipples out." Tiffany held them between her thumbs and index fingers, pulled gently. "More," he said. I watched her close her eyes and pull harder.

The front door of the store opened again but this time, Tiffany didn't flinch. I saw her bite her lip but knew she was slipping inside herself now, surrendering to the inevitable. Years of training taught her how to do that, how to vanish inside herself and let her body do what it had to. The couple stood at the door and stared for a moment, then the woman pulled the man's arm and they went back out to the street.

"I guess not *everyone* likes this kind of thing," Carson sneered, "do they, Tiff?" He looked at Linda. "You through with her?" Linda set the nail file down on the counter. "Not quite."

Linda stood up and leaned over the counter, palms on the glass countertop. "Come over here. Bring your little slanty-eyed, slanty-slit self over here."

Tiffany let go of her nipples and started to pull up her top. Linda held up her hand. "Did *anyone* tell you to cover yourself up?"

"No, Ma'am," Tiffany said. She quickly pulled down her top and went to pinched her nipples again.

"Did anyone tell you to do *that*?" I asked. Tiffany froze now, paralyzed. She knew exactly what was going on, she'd read it a thousand times. She was trapped, there was no right answer. Anything she did would be wrong for either Marlene or me. She turned to me and I saw it in her face: she wondered how I was going to punish her. The rush was incredible. It was one of the first times realized how absolutely she could be controlled. To anticipate her own punishment meant she'd crossed another boundary in her mind. I nearly came from just that look. It was so much better than I'd expected. Kaitee was going to be so happy when this was all over.

"Sir?" she whispered. "How do you want me?"

I smiled. "You're doing fine, dear." I looked at Linda and Carson, both of them waiting patiently. I'd given them a rough outline of how I wanted the night to go and they were playing along expertly. They deserved a big fat tip on top of the price we'd agreed on in my last phone call. "Just do what Linda says. Exactly what Linda says from now on."

Linda stared at her. I watched Tiffany frozen in place, holding her nipples between her fingers, the tension exactly where it was when I interrupted her. As Linda looked, Tiffany withered, her body melting, her will vanishing.

"You can pull your top up," Linda said. Tiffany covered herself.

"So, you're Thai?" Linda asked.

"Half. And half Korean." Then, "Ma'am."

"You like your expensive clothes and your pretty makeup, don't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You know it makes you look like a real high class whore."

Tiffany stayed silent and perfectly still, I was enjoying myself and nodded for Linda to go on.

"Do you like looking like a high class whore? A high class little slant whore?"

"I'm not a whore, ma'am. I just want to look pretty, ma'am."

"Well, you do look pretty," Carson said. "Very hot."

Linda raised her voice and asked, "so, does your cunt really slant sideways?" Tiffany closed her eyes and I saw her shoulder slump again. Linda was playing it up. "You know, your little pussy slit? It didn't feel like that when I was touching you earlier. Did you like me touching your slit earlier?"

"No, ma'am. I'm not like that," Tiffany whispered.

"Not like what? You don't like girls touching you? Or you don't have a slanty little pussy slit?" I watched Tiffany's hands ball into fists and tremble. "Hmmm? Which is it? Or do you have a slanted little cunt but don't want to admit it. I can make you strip naked you know. Right here. Right now." Tiffany's face changed. She was clenching her jaw, the humiliation setting in hard now. And the rage at her powerlessness. She'd been well trained to swallow her anger and not let it show.

"Enough fucking around, let's get on with it," Carson said. He went to the refrigerator and took out a Coke, popped the tab and drank it in one long gulp.

"Before you go," Linda said, curling a finger at Tiffany, "come over here." Tiffany walked to the counter. Linda ran a finger through the accumulation of dust on the countertop -- residue from her and Marlene's fingernails.

"Clean this up."

"Wait," Marlene said. She leaned forward and spit into the middle of the area, then ran her finger around in circles, turning the dust and saliva into a murky paste. Tiffany looked at me but I kept my face completely still, she was theirs for now. Marlene walked around behind her and held her hands then pushed the back of her head down until her cheek pressed against the glass. She rubbed her head back and forth until her cheeks, lips and chin were coated with the slime. Then, she grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her back up.

Linda stared at her. "Nice. Very nice." Tiffany sobbed and shook but kept her body perfectly still. Linda ran her finger down the side of Tiffany's cheek, then pushed it into her mouth. Tiffany closed her lips and sucked the goo until Linda's finger was clean. Linda did it again, cleaning the other cheek.

"You're one sick bitch," Carson said to Linda.  He went through the doors at the back of the parlor while Linda slowly wiped the rest of the muck from Tiffany's chin and feed it to her.

---

Linda led us into one of the four rooms where Carson and his team did their work. They were small and dark except for bright lamps on adjustable arms that dangled over the chairs. Almost like medieval torture chambers, I thought. Everything was focused on just that tiny spot in the room where metal encountered flesh.

She sat in the big soft chair. It was more like a dentist's chair than I'd pictured - it reclined and had leather covered head and arm rests, plus a footrest that swung up when the seat leaned back. Tiffany recognized it too, trembled a bit as she sat down.

Carson wasn't in the room, which was good for me. I needed to talk to her alone. Things were going along almost perfectly but I was about to make the biggest push of the night and I needed to reinforce my position. I took a few tissues out of a box on the shelf and ran some water over them. "Clean your face." Tiffany took them and dabbed her eyes and cheeks, cleaning up the mascara and caked makeup that her tears had been washing down the side of her face. She was attractive even with most of her makeup gone. A very pretty girl who hadn't needed all those clothes and makeup to hide behind. Who hadn't needed to become such a cock tease to get attention. But who had chosen that life and was paying for it now.

I took the wad of tissue and threw it in the trash can. Then, I handed her a bag and told her to fix her makeup. "I want you to look pretty for your phone call."

"Phone call?"

"We're going to call your parents." Her face changed again, a look of terror now. "You're going to have a nice little chat with them and ask them if you can get your ears pierced." She shook her head, more from fear and shame than resistance.

"They'll see the room," she protested weakly as I handed her the telephone.

"You'll tell the it's for a play. It's the set and you're helping put it together."

"Please, please, don't make me do this. I'll do anything, anything you want. Haven't I been good all night already?" She was shaking, the telephone nearly fell out of her hand.

"Would you rather I talk to them?"

Crushed completely now, she hung her head and started dialing the number. She put on a cheerful face and confident voice and waited for her parents to answer her video-call. She jumped right in, told her parents things were going incredibly well both in class and at work. They ignored her and asked about the room she was in. She told them it was the set for a school play, a play about a tattoo parlor. They told her they wanted her to leave immediately, she shouldn't even be around a "fake one of those places", it would corrupt her. She looked quickly at me, begging for a reprise, but I mouthed "ask them". Haltingly, she forced the words out, "Mother, Father, may I have my ears pierced?" There was silence for only a few seconds, then simply the word "no" and they broke the connection.

"I own you now," was all I said. She didn't flinch, didn't respond. "Me and me alone." I reached into my pocket for the camera and pressed the Review button. She watched as it played through the pictures of her in the other room, on display, legs open and bucket on the floor, then the photos of her with the two bikers. She started shaking her head and whispering again, begging me to turn them off.

"That telephone call must have reminded you exactly how things will go for you if your parents get any of these pictures. And not only them. These can be made public in just seconds and you know it. Everyone will see what you really are. Your teachers. Your friends. Your roommate. Everyone who's ever known you."

She nodded, eyes brimming with tears, lips pressed tightly together. I left her like that for a full five minutes, the slideshow cycling just inches from her face. Her eyes dried up, her mouth relaxed. Again, she'd swallowed it and normalized it. The perfect submissive. It was automatic by now. She'd had years of training before she even learned about Gor. Before we met. She knew her place thoroughly.

"Now, let me tell you how tonight is going to proceed. You are going to have your nipples pierced. But not a nice gold ring like you thought. You're getting the little barbell type piercings." I leaned closer. "Do you know that's the kind of piercing black girls get? And brown girls? Big stainless-steel barbells. Not nice little gold rings like white girls." I was making it all up but Tiffany had no way to know that. I knew that her head was full of racial stereotypes -- black and Latina girls at school scared her. She knew they were all wild, drug-using whores who loved to dress in Spandex and cheap jewelry and show off their "junk". Just the idea that she'd get the same kind of piercing as a black girl terrified her.

"You are also getting a tattoo." As I expected, she pushed herself upward in the chair and shook her head violently. "Never, no, never. No matter what you do, no." I ignored her and went on. "It will be at the top of your left thigh, as high as we can go." I reached into my pocket and took out a small piece of paper with some characters written in black. "Do you recognize this?" She shook her head. "It says 'chang nyeon'. Do you know what that is?" Again, no. "It's Korean. For 'slut'. 'Whore'. You know. A girl who gets paid to give handjobs and blowjobs?" Through gritted teeth, she asked, "why Korean?" I smiled. "Isn't your girlfriend Korean? Kaitee?"

"I can't get a tattoo," she continued to beg. She reached for me but I didn't move. She froze halfway through the motion. It had hit her. This was happening. Slowly she slumped back into the chair, defeated and empty.

I picked up one of the piercings from a tray. "Do you know why they get this type?" I held it in front of her face. "You know, the brown girls?" I rolled it in my fingers slowly, watching her eyes focus, the fear growing. "They get these so they can have their nipples stretched." I picked up another device from the desk. I wasn't sure what it was for but it was adjustable and I knew Tiffany wasn't going to think too hard about it. "They put these under the piercings and wear them every day, turning just a little every morning," I turned the small adjuster on the thing, "and, over a few weeks, their nipples get longer and longer."

"And I like long nipples." Tiffany jerked upward in the chair when she heard the voice. Standing in the door was a man in his sixties, white hair cut close, cleanshaven and muscular. His navy blue suit was obviously tailored and looked like it cost what I make in a month.

"Allan?" she choked through dry lips.

I put my hand on her belly, told her to lay back down. "I've contact most of your regulars, Tiffany. Allan here seems to be one only one who's really very excited about you asking for these piercings." I stoked her belly as she slowly leaned back into the chair. "So, I invited him to watch." Allan pulled up a chair and sat at the end of the chair. He reached and wrapped a hand around each of her calves, massaging them slowly.

"You're really going to go through with it?" he asked. Tiffany looked at me and I answered for her. "It took her a while to convince herself, but she's always wanted it and decided 'what the hell?'. I've known her a long time so she asked me to come and kind of hold her hand, you know?" I kept eye contact with her through the whole lie. Finally, she nodded and said, "Yes, Allan. I figured what the hell. It's...nice to know...you like the idea." I smiled at her. She was learning fast.

"Are you getting your ears pierced too?" he asked, still absently rubbing her legs.

"No, no, she decided not to," I answered. Tiffany gave me a puzzled, angry look. "It will give her something to talk about with her friends. She'll be saying 'no, I decided not to get pierced' knowing all the time that she just..." I turned to her "...got pierced somewhere else."

Allan looked at me puzzled. "I don't understand."

"It's just a little game she and I like to play," I said, giving a slight chuckle and hoping he bought it.

It hadn't been difficult to get the numbers of the men she serviced. Kaitee was more than willing to take Tiffany's phone one night and download her entire contact list. I'd phoned the men one by one, always pretending to be one of the others. I learned quickly that none of them would have gone along with my blackmailing her so I had to keep those relationships as normal as possible. I planted seeds with each of them, though, that she was looking to change her life up a bit, get some piercings, maybe do some other body work. The groundwork was laid. Now, they would think that any changes they saw -- anything I chose to do to her body -- would be her way of 'changing things up' to make herself more marketable.

Allan was another story. He really got off on body modification. When I told him she was getting marked and that she'd invited him to watch, he jumped at the idea. By the time I was finished negotiating, he ended up paying for the whole thing. Plus my airfare. In exchange, I told him he would get to watch both the piercings and the tattoo, then he would get how own private show back at his hotel room. Tiffany would model her new marks for him and his camera, then finish him off with a nice deep-throat blowjob.

---

Tiffany was completely quiet through the first part of the procedure. After she signed the consent form, she submitted to everything with an ease that spoke volumes about her submissive nature. When he told her to pull down her top or open her legs, she did it with absolutely no hesitation. It made me want to push her further, nobody could be this submissive. I told Carson she wanted to help. From there forward, she did little tasks for him, holding tools in her open palm, moving the lamp, wiping his forehead if a bead of sweat appeared. She was totally obedient and silent, answering only when someone asked her a direct question.

The one time she showed any sign of resistance was after the first tattoo. It was easy for her to see that Carson hadn't tattooed what I showed her. Instead, he tattooed the word "puta barata" high up the inside of her left thigh. She had no idea what it meant and was shocked and angry that I'd changed the design without telling her. But even worse was when I pressed her right knee down, opening her legs wider, and told Carson to tattoo 'ho dog' at the top of her other thigh. She opened her mouth to protest but it was only a fleeting thought. My cock got hard as I saw her body go limp in the chair, another layer of resistance shattered.

Back at Allan's hotel, she followed his commands and stripped naked, then put on the pair of thigh-high red boots he'd bought for her. She took a few minutes to adjust to the four inch heels, but was quickly strutting around the place just like she always had. In control of her body again, teasing, preening, oozing sexuality and availability. That same combination she'd used in so many bars and on so many beaches to get what she wanted.  Her makeup was perfect again, her hair brushed and shiny, body flawless and tempting. When she opened her legs so he could take pictures of the tattoos, it was easy to see her cunt lips were swollen and her slit damp. It made sense - showing her new body off turned her on. He made her touch the piercings, tugging at them gently, stretching her sore nipples for him.

Allan videotaped her as she sat down at his desk -- legs wide open, hips grinding in his chair -- and looked up the meaning of both 'of her tattoos on the Internet. He told her to read the descriptions aloud into the camera. She cried the first few times around so he made her redo it until she got it right. "Sound proud, you whore. You're proud of what you are, aren't you?" She finally swallowed her shame and read:

"puta barata - literally, a cheap whore who charges so little because nobody will pay a single cent more." Allan smiled. "Maybe we'll start cutting the rate on my blowjobs, eh?" She didn't answer. "Go on," he said. "And 'ho dog' - girl that will give it up to any guy or girl like a dog in heat."

Allan nodded and said, "that certainly sounds like you, doesn't it?" He made her read it again and again into the camera. The last time, he had her touch herself and make sexy, pouting faces at the camera between every few words. That was all he could take, he made her suck him off right then.

She was on her knees, long black hair covering the tops of his thighs, cock deep in her mouth, when I went into the other room and phoned Kaitee. "Things are going better than I expected. Your friend is really something. I think we're ready to proceed with part two of the plan."

** This story marks the end of the first of three trilogies featuring Tiffany Please write me if you'd like it to continue. **