Enlightened Descent Ch. 04

Enlightened Descent Enlightened Descent, is a novelette that explores the relationship between two close friends. Neither was aware of the other's sexual attraction, and so it is a revelation when they discover their mutual desires. They soon learn that there are very distinct differences in the roles they wish to play however, and this leads to some very entertaining reading.

This story deals with various aspects of the lesbian lifestyle, as well as BDSM, extreme humiliation, shaving and fetish play.

Enjoy!

Saphhia

*****

Chapter Four

My head was pounding, and I had no idea why. I had only one drink the night before, but still I felt hungover. Was there such a thing as a sex hangover? Bits and pieces of the night before were trailing in and out of my mind, as I sat on the edge of the bed. I ran my hand over my head and was half shocked to find nothing there but smooth scalp. Then I remembered.

"Oh god, what the fuck did I do yesterday?" I slowly got myself out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. By body ached all over, and my pussy was swollen, rubbing between my thighs as I walked. The mirror told the story quite thoroughly. My lips and tongue were also swollen, my head gleamed like a boiled egg, and I had welts all over my breasts. "What the fuck?"

Slowly but surely, all the grisly details from the day before began to come back to me; but as reality rather than some imagined dream. The barber, the wig, the bars we went to, and at some point, did I promise Penny that I would be her slave? I remember her asking me, but did I agree? Surely, I did not, especially in whatever condition I was in last night.

It was then that the scene in the cage came roaring back to me, the abject humiliation as I lost control of my bladder and finally the whipping I received from Penny for soaking all those people below us. "That's where the welts came from." I turned and was horrified by the condition of my back and bottom. If I thought my breasts were badly marked, then the raised and even scabbed welts on my back were evidence that I was the subject of a brutal flogging.

I panicked and walked back to the bedroom, but was relieved to find that my wig still rested on the pedestal stand, where I had placed it the day before. I had to get ready, and I just was not up for work. After yesterday's fiasco, I felt like crawling under my bed and never coming out. I had to put up with the stares and even the verbal ridicule. Everyone knew that I had nothing beneath the wig, and they all knew it was a wig. The frizzy ball of fuzz that was my hair in the morning, was replaced by my somewhat elegant shoulder length bob. Then there was my disappearance for half the day. At least the meeting with my client went well, the account secure for at least a further six months. Today, I would be in the New York offices, so no one would be the wiser.

I hopped in the shower after starting the coffee maker. As I washed, I was pleased at how quickly things went, no longer having the burden of hair to deal with. What I did have however, was stubble. I remembered that my head had to be absolutely smooth in order for the wig to hold securely to my scalp. I quickly ran a razor over its surface, removing the fine sandpaper nubs, until there was nothing but the same marble-like ball I had sported yesterday, when leaving the barbershop. I applied the wax that I had purchased, and buffed my scalp with a convenient t-shirt.

I now had to run my makeup higher than I was used to, to disguise my hairline, but once the wig was in place, there was no evidence that I wore one, so fine was this hairpiece. I donned a conservative suit, and was just about ready to leave, when there was a knock on the door. "Oh god, not now." I said under my breath. Of course, it was Penelope.

"Hey there, Allie. How are you feeling today?" She gave me the up and down.

"I've felt better. I know I only had one drink last night, but I feel completely hungover." I ran my fingers back through my fake tresses.

"Well, the way you were carrying on last night, I'm not surprised you're feeling under the weather. Your back must be a little sore, huh?" She ran her hand over my ass, inciting a wince from me.

"Yeah, you could say that." I looked at my watch. "I really have to go, I'm going to be late for work as it is." She smiled at my hurried attitude.

"I don't suppose you have given too much thought to my proposal?" She asked, her fingers stroking my cheek, lifting my wig away from my face.

"No, not really. I barely remember you asking me. Everything is such a blur." I moaned. She produced a manila envelope, identical to the last one I opened at work.

"Take this with you. Open it and read it at your leisure, but I suggest you do it in private." This must be the details of her proposal. I unzipped my laptop case and slipped the envelope inside. "Have a good day." She smiled, leaning in to give me a peck on the lips. I waited for her to leave, but she showed no sign of doing so. "It's alright, I'll lock up when I leave." I forgot she had a key. I dashed down the steps, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Inside my panties, my swollen lips rubbed furiously together and against my thighs, causing me to become far too aroused for so benign an activity. This day was going to a challenge.

Traffic was terrible, as it always was heading into the New York. I parked at the PATH in Hoboken, and ran for the first available train. It still freaked me out that it ran into the base of what once was the Twin Towers, the station part of the memorial. I still had to get a taxi to midtown. By the time I arrived in the office, I was already thirty minutes late.

No one seemed to notice my tardiness however, as they were all fixed on something one of the employees had up on their computer. I ducked in to look, and was shocked by what I saw. There I was, my frizzy hairdo in all its glory, being berated by my boss. It was taken through the glass of his office windows, but there was no doubt what the conversation was about. It then showed me dashing out, my briefcase under my arm. Fast forward, and it also showed me coming back in with my hair all in order. Whoever had made the video, inserted an arrow pointing to my neatly coifed head, saying 'is she bald under there???'

I thought I was going to sick. How humiliating. I quietly snuck back to my desk, but not before being noticed by several people. There was some subdued laughter, and I was horrified to think of everyone now knowing about my bald head. Hiding in my cubical, I opened my computer and started reviewing an account that I was directing a meeting over in three days. I could feel a presence behind me, and turned to find Mr. Newell standing there. "Allison, can you come to my office please." Leaving everything at my desk, I followed him.

Mr. Newell's office was much larger, with windows that looked out over the financial district. He motioned for me to have a seat. "It seems that you are the subject of some conjecture, Miss Knight." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. "I know from speaking to Mr. Brodin, that you had a rather trying day yesterday. I know he said that you secured the S&G account for us, well done there." He stood up and walked over to his windows, seeming to look out at the east river. "There is an issue that still remains, however. This irresponsible behavior of getting so radical a hairstyle, especially directly before such an important meeting; it shows a disregard for the importance of your position." He walked back to his desk and sat again.

"But I fixed that problem, Sir, and no one was the wiser." I offered.

"Well, no one from Stammet and Gloss was the wiser, I'll grant you that. We on the other hand are acutely aware of your solution to this problem. That is a wig you are wearing, is it not?" He asked, his chin jutting out as if in defiance of my privacy.

"Yes, Mr. Newell, it is." I replied, shyly.

"So, it is with some curiosity that I ask how you can possibly fit all that fuzz, under so delicate a wig?" I thought I was going to be sick. I didn't answer, and he seemed to grow short. "An answer to my question would be forthcoming sometime soon, yes, Miss Knight?"

"It did not fit." I shrank into my chair as he rose again, only this time, walking to the door and closing it, securely.

"So, what was your solution to this problem, Miss Knight?" He didn't wait for my answer however, and I felt the cool air of his office against my head as he suddenly lifted the wig away from my gleaming scalp. "I suspected as much." I did not know what to do. He returned to his chair, his hand inside my wig, spinning it around as if admiring it.

"May I please have it back, Mr. Newell?" I begged. My hands had instinctively gone up to cover my naked pate, and remained there as he stared at me. He shook his head, and I could tell he was disappointed in me. I think he was also amused, but he did not display that emotion as clearly.

"If you were in my place, Miss Knight, and a subordinate such as yourself, did something as irresponsible as this; what do you think your reaction might be?" He mused.

"I would probably have her get some help." He raised his eyebrows, and seemed pleased with my response.

"Yes, very good answer, Miss Knight. Now, I'm going to ask you one simple question. Do you think you need psychiatric help?" Again, he raised his brow, in anticipation of my answer.

"I suppose I do." I said meekly.

"You suppose you do?" He chided. "Miss Knight, do you know what the first step in seeking help is?" I thought for a minute, but I already knew the answer he was expecting.

"Admitting that you have a problem?" I moaned.

"Yes, that is correct. You see, you are a smart girl, just a little deranged is all." Deranged, if he only knew. "You see, only a deranged girl would get herself locked inside a cage with another girl, naked, and allow her to do such demented things to her that she lost all control of her bodily functions." Fuck, how did he know! Was he there?

"Were you there?" I squeaked, my humiliation so acute that I thought I might pass out.

"You insult me, Miss Knight. Of course, I wasn't there. But, you, are an internet sensation. Had you come into the office a little sooner, or on time, as some people might call it, you would have been treated to the rest of the video. This part!" He turned his phone around, the screen popped up with a close up of my face, my bald head lit up by the multicolored lights. The view widened to show the girl with her entire fist inside me, and I twitched with the memory. The view was suddenly obscured by a droplet of my own piss that had hit the camera filming my degradation.

I hung my head, and waited for the inevitable, and it surely did come. He tossed my wig at me, and I caught it just before it fell to the floor. "You can collect your things, Miss Knight. Your employment is terminated." I could not help but cry, my tears raining down on my wig as I held it in my hands. With that, two security guards entered his office and stood over me while I hastily attempted to place the wig on my head. I was escorted back to my cubical, to the applause of the rest of the office staff. When I got there, I noticed that my laptop was missing.

"Where is my laptop? I searched inside my briefcase and the only thing remaining was the manila envelope that Penny had given me.

"That, is company property, and has been seized with your termination." Oh my god! I had completely forgotten that the laptop was company issue. My mind was reeling, all the videos of my self debasing acts, the Tumblr blogs, the incriminating video of me masturbating with my company award, everything was on that insipid computer. Now it was in the hands of my former employer. My humiliation was so intense, and complete that only one thing could make things any worse, and I could feel that happening as we walked towards the elevators. Slowly, my wig began to creep up the back of my head, and I was not fast enough to stop it from falling off. So, in front of the entire office, my bald head was exposed, confirming to everyone that I was indeed the girl in the cage.

My head was so wet with perspiration, that I could not effectively put the wig on. I begged the security guards to allow me to visit the restroom. One of them was kind enough to allow it, much to the chagrin of the other. I dried my scalp and replaced the wig properly, something I had not been allowed to do in Mr. Newell's office.

I was in shock the entire trip home. I don't even remember getting from midtown to the PATH. The emptiness of my brief was a constant reminder of my computer being missing, with all its incriminating video. I sat in my car for an indeterminate amount of time, before I turned the ignition, and began my drive home.

I hated myself. What had happened to me, that caused me to stoop to such degrading acts. I couldn't blame Penny, because all this was happening long before I had even met her. Granted, she had encouraged me to go one step beyond, and that was what had eventually landed me in this mess. But, who was to say that I wouldn't have ended up there eventually? Again, the drive home was a blur, and I don't really remember getting there, only that I was home.

I slowly made my way to my apartment, and began to undress. I removed my wig, and stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over my naked body. It suddenly occurred to me that I was now unemployed, and couldn't possibly afford to live there. I didn't even bother to dry myself, but simply sat on the sofa, totally soaked. My brief laid open on the counter, and I could see Penelope's proposal poking out, the manila envelope tempting me to open it. Right then, I just couldn't be bothered.

Curiosity killed the cat, and after only a few minutes, my curiosity got the better of me. Penny would probably want nothing to do with me now. I was useless to her without any income. I tore open the top and took out the two-page document. Examining it before I dove into the meat of it, I noticed that it was actually a contract. Quite formal as well.

The first few lines spoke to the participants, as willing and legally able to enter into a contract. My name as well as Penelope's were then mentioned as the prospective slave and Mistress. I scanned through the various parts of the contract where it talked about obeying and conforming, things I was already doing. I then saw something which lifted my spirits considerably. As her slave, I would be expected to forfeit any gainful employment and devote my time specifically to her needs. Well, that was certainly taken care of, although I was not quite certain how I felt about it.

The contract was not without some troubling aspects, and this I worried about. I would no longer be free to come and go as I pleased, my car would be sold to pay for my keep. I wondered if this was all just a little too much? This was not a game any longer, and what she spoke about was sounding more and more like actual slavery. Nearly every aspect of my life would be micromanaged by her, including my dress, my appearance, to whom I was allowed to speak, and to whom I was not.

I laid the papers down on the table, and curled up in a ball, feeling cold suddenly. Why was I thinking that this was an out? My present situation would dictate that I immediately try and secure another job, in a normal world. The world that Penny was proposing was anything but normal. In her world, I would be nothing but property. I reread the entire document, beginning to end, and decided that I would need to speak to Penelope directly, and honestly, before I could even consider undertaking such a thing. There was one more thing.

At the very end of the contract, and underneath where we both would be required to sign, was a small section, that spoke about voiding the agreement. Nowhere did it specify that I had any way to do so, only that she was able, and under specific conditions. I was relieved to read that my health was paramount and superseded anything in the contract.

A million thoughts were spinning around in my head, and I was having panic attacks about the videos which were probably being ogled in some IST office somewhere. Maybe they would simply wipe the hard drive, and never even look at what was on the computer? Who was I kidding? One thing that might possibly save me; all the video files were in a hidden folder. Penny had done this for me as a safeguard for work, in case anyone was to look at the computer without my permission. These guys were computer geeks, they could walk right through that with their eyes closed. Shit, the videos were probably already on the internet.

Speaking of the internet, I worried just how 'out there' this video was, that was taken at the club the night before. I grabbed my phone and typed in all sorts of phrases looking for it, but only came up with various porn. Then something occurred to me, which made my heart sink. I typed 'Penny's Candy Cunt' into the search box, and hesitantly hit enter. "Fuck!" There were nearly eighteen different versions of the video, each with thousands and thousands of hits. The oldest, and probably the original had nearly one hundred thousand hits.

Despite all sorts of warning light going off in my head, I hit play. Watching in horror, I saw that the video was much longer than I had originally thought. Mr. Newell only spoke of the cage, but the video continued well after that, and showed me strapped to an 'X' shaped frame. The camera zoomed in to show a close-up of my tattooed cunt, and then shakily up to my face. I winced as the first lash was delivered, but something I hadn't heard in my confusion, were the cheers from the crowd as I was whipped. I also hadn't heard the comments being shouted at me, calling me every denigrating name imaginable.

I could see Penelope in the background, but her face had been pixelated. Why? I began to wonder about the source of this video. Why would they show me in all my shame, no qualms over revealing my identity, and go to the trouble of hiding Penelope's. The only answer I could come up with, was that they knew her.

Still naked, I walked over to the freezer and pulled out my bottle of spiced rum. It was time to get drunk. I never cared for straight hard liquor, but today was going to be an exception to the rule. The more I drank, the more I began to think that Penny was somehow involved in the filming of the video. I just couldn't get past her pixelated face. Not only that, but hers seemed to be the only face that was pixelated. Plenty of other people were obviously identifiable in the video, but hers was the only face that was deliberately omitted. "Shit!" I slammed the bottle down on the table, leaving a rather large dent in the wood.

I had lost track of just how much of the rum I had consumed, but the bottle was nearly full when I started, and it was half empty now. The world was spinning, and I didn't even care. I didn't remember falling asleep, or passing out, but I must have. I woke to Penny, forcing my head into the sink, and trying to stick her fingers down my throat. Her efforts were rewarded, when I vomited a large quantity of amber liquid into the sink. The smell caused me to keep retching, which seemed to please her.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Allie?" She yelled, her hand wrapped tightly around my arms. I supposed if I had any hair, she would be grabbing me by that instead. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" Still yelling.

"Maybe." I mumbled, my words slurred and garbled. "Maybe I am trying to, you know, that!" More dry heaves as she steadied me. I couldn't understand why, but the vomiting actually made me feel better. For a moment she lost her grip on me, and I fell backwards onto the kitchen floor, making no attempt to stop my fall. I felt a sharp pain in my back as I landed, hard.