Tiffany Crosses the Color Line

Tiffany Crosses the Color Line

CHAPTER THREE

** Tiffany visits the tattoo-and-pierce parlor again, services a line of Mexicans in a strip club, and encounters Kaitee again **

I let Tiffany cry for exactly ten minutes then went into her bedroom and threw the envelope with the photos and letters on the bed in front of her face. She slid her hand upward and touched it, like a magical talisman defining and controlling her future. Slowly, she regained composure. She stopped crying, sat up on the bed, then dropped to her knees in front of me. She crossed her arms behind her back, hands holding opposite elbows, classic slave style.

"That's better," I said, picking up the envelope. "Take off the outfit, straighten your hair, and get scrubbed clean. I want you perfect in half an hour. I will have your clothing on the bed ready for you." She nodded weakly and started for the bathroom. She stopped. "Sir? May I use the toilet?" I leaned close and gave her a kiss on the tip of the nose. "Yes, dear. And leave the dildo on the shower floor for Kaitee to discover." She leaned forward about to speak but caught herself and nodded. "Yes, Sir."

It took her twenty-eight minutes to finish preparing herself. I didn't actually expect her to make it, unbraiding the cornrows should have taken a lot longer. She must have ripped through them, I could imagine how painful it was. But, she did it. Obedient, no matter the cost to herself. She was coming along just fine.

"Show off your outfit for me."

She turned slowly around, arms raised at a forty-five degree angle. The outfit was Latina-stereotype all the way. It hugged her body like a second skin, the outfit had short sleeves and the top was cut straight across the tops of her small breasts, the same place across her upper arms. There was a four-inch fabric frill all the way around. The tight skirt was slit up the right side all the way to her hip, showing that she was wearing shimmering sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose underneath. The high heeled shoes were just a sole and a series of thin leather straps that criss-crossed the top of her feet then wrapped around her ankle several times. The straps were tied there, then wrapped loosely several more times and tied again, giving a sort of top-of-the-boot look. She wore big, gold bracelets on both wrists, then a series of smaller gold bracelets above and below them. Gaudy green rings on her fingers added a nice touch to her Latin-whore look.

The seam of the dress was ripped on the left side, just above her hips. The neckline was frayed and the colors were faded. It was obviously from a second-hand store and not a good one at that. The jewelry was all costume and the leather of the shoes was worn and discolored. She looked like a cheap street tramp. Exactly what the doctor ordered.  Tiffany never left her dorm looking anything less than completely decked out. Now, she was a step down from a Wal-Mart special.

"And your ass?"

Without flinching this time, she turned around and bent over. She pulled the dress aside so I could inspect her.

"Open."

She knew what I meant. Tiffany reached around and pulled her ass cheeks apart. The middle seam of the pantyhose was open and reinforced from the front to the back of the waistband, I had full access to her naked crotch when she bent over. I got up and slowly walked to her. I pulled my finger an inch or so into her ass. She moaned and her knees bent. "Good. And you left the little one on the shower floor?" She nodded. "Then, let's move you up to the next size." The one she'd taken out was tiny, only three-quarters of an inch. She'd accommodated that easily last night and today. This was the second biggest size, a full inch in diameter and six inches long. It was probably a bit of a challenge for her but that was what I needed. I'd learned enough over the years to know that you didn't go from clenched tight to two inches wide overnight. And she needed to fully believe she was going to be an ass whore from now on. This would definitely help.

"Very good, you’ll be taking it up the ass in no time," I said, pushing it all the way into place. Her spinchter snapped tight around the base. "Stand up. I'll get us a taxi."

---

The taxi took us to the tanning parlor. The girls there stared at her, she blushed and tried to vanish. The young Latina women sneered at her outfit. "You still wanna go darker?" one of them asked.

"Yes, please," Tiffany asked, sounding as sincere as possible. They had her strip and put her in the booth, again giving her the maximum dose she could take without burning. She came out sweating and dehydrated, they let her shower and dress and drink one of Kaitee’s hormone-laced bottles of water.

The next stop was Carson's. It was midday Sunday and he was home sleeping off last night's party, but he'd set me up with one of his favorites, a big, dark tanned mountain of muscle who called himself Manny. We waited in room two while he finished up with the girl before us.

"You ready to be a bad girl?" I asked her. "This time, we'll put the tattoo somewhere your parents can't miss." I traced my finger over her left shoulder. "You're scheduled to go home in three weeks, aren't you?" She trembled and looked at me, her eyes begging like never before. I looked at her, trying not to give away the fact that I was having a hard time measuring her. Was she begging me to change my mind? Or begging me to go through with it? It hadn't really occurred to me that she'd slide into complete submission so easily. No, that's not exactly it. I knew she was submissive enough, but this was different. This was crossing another line. This would be a visible tattoo, not something she could hide with carefully chosen clothing. I felt my dick get stiff as my finger traced a random design on her skin. I had to get myself back under control again. I pulled down her top and flicked both of the nipple piercings until she cried out. That cleared my mind. I was back with the program.

"So, something evil and wicked on her shoulders, something that her parents won't be able to ignore."

"How about a skull? With a big snake crawling out of the eye socket?" Manny smiled, traced his finger over her flesh. "About this big, right here."

Tiffany was barely able to hold back her tears. She knew that if I made her cross this line, there would be no coming back. I let her sweat while he swabbed the shoulder and outlined the tattoo lightly. She was barely breathing, trying to control herself, muscles tight, brain swimming. Her normal life was about to end.

Manny switched on the needle and she heard it buzz as it came closer to her arm.

I reached out and took Manny wrist. He lowered the needle.

"I changed my mind." Tiffany looked at me, filled with both hope and fear. Manny just grinned.

"Pierce her tongue instead," I told Manny. "It will help her remember to keep her mouth closed when she’s around her parents." I smiled. “They’ll appreciate that.”

---

Tiffany's dark body twisted in the spotlight, the music blaring too loud to let anyone talk. She was soaked with sweat and beer, grinding her bottom against the brass pole the ran from the stage to the ceiling. She was naked except for a red G-string, pulled up hard between her legs and soaking wet. There were ribbons and brightly colored streamers hanging from her nipples, wrapped around the barbells and tied in tight knots. Her hair was plastered against her head, sweat dripping from the ends. I watched from a stool at the far end of the bar. The bouncer smiled and I smiled back. Four hundred dollars for him to keep her safe, he'd better be smiling.

Tiffany was already drunk, we'd been there for three hours, drinking for the first two and dancing since then. The place was wall-to-wall people, the heat was stifling and she was soaked with sweat long before she took off her clothes. I'd tipped the manager and one of the girls. Him for permission and her to make sure Tiffany put on a good show. Lexy got her started, replaced the panty hose with the thong, then sat on the stool next to me, trying to make a little more money the best way she knew how.

"Shots time, putana!" someone yelled. The other men in the bar took up the chorus. Someone unscrewed the top from the tequila bottle and set it down on the chair next to the shot glass. I watched Tiffany as she tried to focus on it. The chair was at the other end of the stage and it must have looked like a long, long walk. She let go of the pole but immediately fell to her knees. They started clapping and chanting, "crawl for it, crawl to it." She looked up and gave a sexy smile that made half of them hoot, then started crawling down the stage. She exaggerated her movements, stretching her legs behind her, making sure her belly touched the stage each step of the way. By the time she got to the bottle, the men were practically grunting, their lust palpable in the room.

She picked up the bottle and tried to pour a shot. It spilled all over the chair and onto the stage. She tried again and knocked over the shot glass. Someone grabbed the bottle and pulled the chair away. They started chanting for her to drink the spilled liquor. She got up on her knees, ran her hands over her body while they cheered, shuddered as she came, then threw herself forward, mouth open, tongue out, and licked the tequila off of the tiles. The crowd got quiet when they saw her tongue. The men were turned on now, the gold ball there told them everything they needed to know about her. She looked around, giggled and hooted again, trying to get the energy back in the room but it was too late. The place had turned from a roomful of drunks watching a woman shake her titties to a roomful of cocks needing to be satisfied.

Tiffany didn't know it, didn't sense it. But I did. I'd seen it before. I'd expected it. And I'd planned for it. I nodded to the bouncer who looked to the manager. He nodded back and the bouncer locked the front door. Lexy pushed through the crowd and took Tiffany's arm, pulled her off the stage and behind the bar before anyone could react. Then, the back door opened and a half-dozen hookers flooded in. I'd never seen anything like it, it was complete bedlam. The men took the hookers in the booths, on the tables, in the hallway, anywhere they could find a little bit of open space. Money was flying everywhere, the men pushing each other out of the way to be next in line.

But Tiffany was still the star attraction. She knelt behind the bar obediently with her hands clasped behind her back, knees wide open, and her mouth available to anyone who could find it. Lexy led the men there one by one, pocketing twenty dollars from each one who wanted to feel Tiffany's new piercing sliding across the bottom of their shaft.

When there were no more interested men, Lexy slipped Tiffany out the back door and got her dressed. I tipped her an extra hundred dollars and asked her to flag down a taxi for us.

---

I checked my watch. It was just before midnight. Tiffany was asleep on the bench, slumped against me, still damp and stinking of beer and tequila. I looked at her right leg, bare and exposed. The new tattoo circled her thigh, just where a stocking would sit. It looked like an abstract design until you looked closely. It was a series of naked bodies, a chain of silhouetted men and women, fucking and sucking in a continuous circle around her leg. I wondered if she'd looked closely. She had her eyes closed through most of the procedure, biting down on her lip as the needle stung her and shot the ink underneath her skin.

At midnight, Kaitee would be at one of the upscale clubs they used to frequent while there were trolling for free drinks. They'd abandoned it long ago and moved on to greener pastures but Kaitee was certain someone would recognize Tiffany. It would be another step downward for her. Especially looking like this. Especially if it was someone she'd led on. Especially if we let him have his way with her.

I woke her and we walked the last two blocks to the club. She was still a little drunk and didn't say anything until we were right outside. She smiled and laughed. "We used to come here." She leaned forward, looking at the doorman. "A lot of rich guys here. You know what, David? I like white guys. You all have a lot of money." She was drunk, taking liberties well beyond what I should have allowed. I remembered one of her emails. "gyrl likes 'white collar' cuz they have the money to make this work...makes me juice..." I felt the anger rising up again. Fucking tease bitch. I hoped we found someone she'd teased, someone who'd paid for dinner, drinks, dancing, hundreds of dollars just to be sent home with a peck on the cheek and a promise of "maybe more next time."

The bouncer stopped us at the door. Her clothes were still damp and she smelled like booze. I slipped him fifty dollars and he shook his head. Another fifty and he smiled and waved us in. Everyone stared. I made her walk with me to the far side of the room. She watched them watch her. As we walked, her steps got shorter, her head sank lower between her shoulders, her body tried to curl in on itself. I looked around for Kaitee, didn't spot her.

"Can we leave? Please? Can we leave?" she whispered futilely. I walked her to the bar and ordered two bottles of Corona. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked away. Maybe someone would take the bait, maybe not. In any case, I had to find Kaitee before the plan could proceed.

At ten minutes after twelve, Kaitee tapped me on the shoulder. I turned. "Look," she said. I turned and saw that two men were standing beside Tiffany, leaning close and talking to each other. She had a forced smile on her face and her hands glued to the bottle on the bar. "I know those two," Kaitee told me. "We were in here a while back." I looked at her. "They didn't get anything off her. But they bought a *lot* of drinks. A whole lot of drinks." I smiled. I wanted to watch how this played itself out. Two guys she'd snubbed, her dressed like this, obviously drunk, her defenses down.

But Kaitee wanted to keep things moving. She took me by the arm and walked me back to the bar. "Get lost," she said to the men. They backed off leaving the three of us alone. Tiffany started stammering, "Kaitee, oh, this is so odd . . . I will explain . . . I have . . . we . . ."

Kaitee stared at her unmoving while she drifted off to silence. Then, she took her arm and gently led her through the crowd again and out the front door. I followed, watching the crowd and nodding. Kaitee knew exactly where to take Tiffany for the greatest impact and she'd proved it again.

When I came through the front door, I saw that Tiffany and Kaitee were already halfway down the block. I ran to catch up just as Kaitee pushed Tiffany into an alleyway.

"Tiffany? Tiffany? What are you doing, my sister?" She started softly, sounding shocked and confused. I stood on the sidewalk and watched, Tiffany's back was to me, I had no idea whether or not she knew I was there. It didn't matter. This was Kaitee's show. "You've been drinking. You are drunk. You dishonor yourself and me. And your clothes, look at yourself. And your makeup. Are you trying to be a whore? A Mexican hooker?" Tiffany was crying and kept reaching for Kaitee, sobbing "I can explain...I can explain..." but Kaitee was relentless. "And earlier today! What did you do to yourself? Your hair was braided -- what do they call it? -- cornrows? And the padded pants. You looked like one of those black girls we saw on Hollywood Boulevard, the prostitutes. Why would you even dress up like that? ... Unless...unless you..."

Tiffany fell to her knees now, wrapped her arms around Kaitee's legs and cried, "no! No! I...I..." but she had nothing to say. She couldn't tell Kaitee what was really going on and she knew it. I could turn the pictures over to her family, to the school, to everyone she knew. Her life would be destroyed.

Kaitee waited a long time before she spoke again. Tiffany slid further down, now kissing her feet, the ankles and insteps, blubbering and begging her to forget what she saw. I looked at Kaitee and she looked at me and nodded. She mouthed, "just another few minutes". She was playing Tiffany expertly. Letting Tiffany punish herself was far more effective than anything Kaitee or I could do to her.

Finally, Kaitee said quietly, "are you ashamed of your heritage? Of *our* heritage?" Tiffany whimpered. "Is that why you are tanning yourself so dark? Why you wear those Hispanic slut earrings? Why you were wearing those horrible pants this morning? Were you out all night? Walking around trying to make men think you are a black girl?" She paused and let it wash over Tiffany. "Or a Mexican?" She crouched down and stroked Tiffany's hair. Tiffany moaned. "What are you going to do at school tomorrow?" She pulled Tiffany's hair, tilted her head back and looked into her eyes. "Will we call you a new name? Are you Maria now? Or LaDonna? Will you be dating only black men now?" She let go of Tiffany's hair and her face fell forward, the tears flowing freely onto the pavement. Kaitee delivered the final blow. "Do you want a new roommate?" Tiffany jerked up, threw her arms around Kaitee, pulled her close, crying loud now, "No, no, Kaitee, I love you, I want to be yours, I need to be yours, I want to be your slave, I've always wanted to be your slave. You own me, I want you to own me, body and soul. I love you..." she broke down into tears, buried her head in Kaitee's shoulder. Kaitee stroked her hair and looked at me.

Her smile sent shivers up my spine.

** This is the end of the second trilogy in the Tiffany series. Watch for the third trilogy soon if there is enough demand. **