(Maybe the first part in a new series, we'll see how this goes~)

It was like everything else around her was muffled. Diana could technically see and hear it all, but her mind honed in on the display in front of her. The mere thought of it, being taken from the carnival audience and thrust on stage before being brutally humiliated like that in front of a crowd, it was so disgusting and humiliating.

"Diana--" A muffled voice.

Diana thought about her own pristine, blonde curls and how much she would hate to have slime poured over it as she watched it happen to the woman on stage. A clown pied the woman then, a louder, still muffled laughter surrounding her. She thought about her expensive dress, her fur, her Louboutin heels getting completely ruined by such mess.

"Diana! Are you listening to me?" the earlier voice pierced her ears.

The woman snapped out of her trance and glanced over at her stepdaughter. "What? Yes, I am. It's loud." Diana answered.

The other rolled her eyes, the young woman's disdain for Diana on display as usual. Skylar hated that her father recently married anyone, let alone someone she often referred to as a "snooty, snobby bitch". They were apart in age too, though Diana was closer in age to Skylar than her own husband, much to her distaste. The twenty-one year old hated the idea of someone only thirty-five being her stepmother. Plus, their difference in age and in personality was enough to set them apart to more naturally dislike each other. Unlike Diana, who stuck out like a sore thumb here, Skylar was dressed much more casually. Ripped jeans, a t-shirt, converse, something that Diana found to be appalling. Why would anyone want to wear ripped clothing, she thought. "Let's go over there then." Skylar spoke, pointing to the food stalls behind the stage, out of sight of the show where less people were right now.

Diana almost stated she wanted to stay and watch, but she realized how ridiculous that sounded. Why would a woman of her status and breeding want to watch this drivel? It was unbecoming of her. "Alright." she responded, stepping away. However, she found herself unable to resist taking another look back as she did. She watched as the woman got pushed into a large sheet cake on the stage, her face sinking deep into it like someone falling into a pit of mud. The thick frosting engulfed her face, rendering it unrecognizable as she lifted it out. Diana hadn't realized how slow she was walking.

"Are you okay?" Skylar's annoyed voice snapped her out of it. "What's with you?"

Diana quickly looked back to her stepdaughter. "Nothing."

"Didn't look like nothing." Skylar insisted as they walked. "You keep staring over there. What, are you into watching people get messed up like that?"

An expression of offense appeared on Diana's face. "Of course not! I simply feel awful for that woman."

"Yeah, okay." They made it to a more quiet area, stopping in front of a pigs in a blanket food stall, that ironically or maybe even intentionally had a pig pen next to it. Skylar looked over at her stepmother. "I need to ask you something."

Diana sighed. "Let me guess, more invasive questions about my "intentions" with your father?"

"No." Skylar huffed. She was hesitating, but she forced herself to say it. "There's this really prestigious film production internship I want to apply for, and it needs three letters of recommendation. Dad's written one, my professor's written one, and I've been trying to find someone else, but I haven't had luck. I was hoping--"

Diana raised a brow, looking at her in surprise. "What, that I could do it?" she asked.

Skylar took in a deep breath, looking at Diana with embarrassment. "Yeah."

Diana let out a shocked laugh. "You must be joking. All you've done from the second you met me, through my whole engagement to your father, through our wedding, you've insulted me and given me a hard time. What makes you think I would have anything nice to say about you in a recommendation letter?"

"Oh, come on." Skylar's face scrunched up. "Don't act like the innocent party here. You've judged me from the second you walked into our lives. When you met me, before I even said a word, you told me I should "consider new shoes" and told me I'm gonna have frown lines and crows feet when I'm older if I keep up "the faces". You told me I could benefit from a nose job. And every day you make comments on my posture, what I wear, how I eat--"

"Which was all meant to be helpful advice. Like that face you're making now, horrible for your skin in the longrun." Diana insisted. "It's not my fault that you're sensitive and took it personally."

Skylar glared at her. "Fine, you know what, this was a stupid ask. Never mind. And by the way, you're such a weirdo for wearing some designer bullshit to a carnival." she spoke as she walked off to start looking for her father.

As she began walking away, Diana realized she had an opportunity to potentially earn some good will with her stepdaughter and she ruined it. Well, perhaps it wasn't too late. She could apologize and offer to write the letter of recommendation. "Wait, Skylar--" She froze immediately as she felt something squishy under her shoe, hearing a loud squelch. Her expression went from remorseful to concerned. She looked down and saw her red-bottom heel standing in mud that had seeped out from the pig pen. Her cheeks felt warm from the blush creeping into them, looking around to see if anyone had seen. There was one woman eating a snow cone who looked over, not saying anything but she was definitely smirking.

Diana tried her best to power through the frozen state of shock she was in and stepped forward, slightly lifting her shoe to assess the damage. A tiny whine escaped her as she saw how much mud was caked on it. She went over to one of the tables with a napkin dispenser on it and sat down. She winced as she began scraping the mud off her shoe with one of the napkins. "Ew..."

As she was cleaning it, a bit of the mud got onto her hand, much to Diana's dismay. She whined, trying to wipe it off with the napkin. She stared at the thin layer of mud on the side of her thumb, thinking about how thick and wet it had felt when it plopped onto her skin.

Days later, Diana was back at home, unable to stop thinking about the events at the carnival. The woman being humiliated, the mud against her shoe and her skin. Even during dinner that night, the proper and pristine woman, so usually focused on her husband and stepdaughter's habits, instead inadvertently focused on what it would be like if her bowl full of tomato soup just tipped over into her lap. How embarrassing, how humiliating that would be. Diana couldn't tell if it was a newfound paranoia or something else. The thought of it being desire in any capacity terrified her.

In an attempt to clear her head, Diana later began wandering around the large property outside, walking closer and closer to the forest surrounding their house. The grassy ground felt wet, as if it had rained last night or perhaps early this morning, Diana thought. During her walk, she found herself face to face with a muddy area blocking her path. At first, she froze for a moment, staring at it. She felt herself trembling. Was it in fear? In excitement? Both? Diana glanced around, looking to see if there was anyone nearby. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight for her to see her general surroundings. She saw no one.

Diana took a deep breath, hesitantly walking forward. She stared at the mud for several moments, further hesitating, even looking around again. Why was she even considering such a thing? This was undignified. Yet her body seemed to just itch for that excitement of humiliation she felt teased by the other day. She dipped the pointy toe of her shoe into the thick mud, whimpering quietly as she did. Diana lifted it, seeing the mud that coated the fabric. She gasped softly. "Why am I doing this..." she mumbled to herself, putting her shoe back on the grass. She continued to stand there for several moments, until quite impulsively, she crouched down and reached her perfectly manicured fingertips into the mud. She whimpered at feeling the gross, slimy mud against her skin, under her nails. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling the mud slide between them. She reached in again then, sinking her hand in deeper this time, looking disgusted as she did.

"What are you doing--" a voice suddenly from behind her. Diana was so startled by the thought of being caught that she lost her balance, falling face first into the mud. She lifted her head, gasping in intense shock and horror. Her beautiful, perfect face was now so thickly coated in mud. Her mind went to that woman on stage, pushed into the cake. She realized the mud was all over her dress, her arms, her legs, even in the pieces of her blonde hair that framed her face. She shrieked quietly, especially as she realized the voice had been Skylar's.

The brunette's hand practically smacked against her own mouth as she watched her stepmother faceplant into mud. Skylar watched with wide eyed shock for a moment, before she realized muffled laughter was coming from her covered mouth. "Oh my god..." she laughed as she lowered her hand. "I got that on video too." she chuckled, lifting her camera. She had been in the woods filming, trying to get some ideas for a horror short she was working on.

Diana gasped, her face shooting a glare in Skylar's direction. "You delete that or else!" she huffed.

"Oh, or else? You're threatening me?" Skylar scoffed. "You know what, I was gonna just watch it for my own amusement but now I think I'll actually show it to some people at work."

Diana scrambled to try getting back to her feet, though the mud was so wet and slippery that she just fell right back into it when she tried. Her face plopped deep into the mud again, muffled whimpering escaping her. Hearing Skylar laugh at her again as she lifted her head sent chills up her spine, her whole body trembling in a mix of adrenaline and rage. "You little brat." she snarled. "I'm going to break that fucking camera."

"Ooh, looks like your true bitchiness comes out when you're wallowing in mud." Skylar taunted. "How about this, I'll delete it after you write me a glowing letter of recommendation. And if you don't, maybe I'll make copies and pass 'em around. The frats on campus, some clubs, I mean I'm sure everyone would wanna see the posh lady Diana reaching out to play in the mud and falling in."

Diana's features fell further once she realized Skylar caught that part on film too. "How much did you see?" she asked quietly.

"I saw you reach in, get some mud on your fingers, and then do it again. What was that about, huh?" Skylar spoke with a chuckle.

Diana glared sharply. "I lost one of my earrings, I was just looking for it."

Skylar grinned. "Which one? I see two muddy gems on your ears."

Diana looked at her in offended shock. "What? No, I'm missing one."

"I have the light settings on the camera turned up." Skylar informed her smugly. "So it's not too dark for me to see that you have both earrings in."

Annoyed at Skylar's noticing of this, Diana continued to struggle, managing to finally sit up at least. "Skylar, I swear to god, if you don't delete that, I will make your life a living hell." she threatened.

"More of a hell than yours would be with people seeing this?" Skylar pointed out. "Maybe I should show this to Dad. How would he feel about his new wife threatening me like that? Like, I'm still recording."

Diana was glaring and pouting. While she had no problem with writing Skylar her letter, her pride hated being blackmailed into submission like this. "Fine! I will write you your stupid letter. Now help me up!" she commanded.

Skylar chuckled. "No, I'm not falling for that. You're trying to grab my camera." she told her. "I'll see you later." She began walking away then, Diana calling out to her.

"Skylar, don't you dare leave me here! Skylar!" she shouted. Her stepdaughter ignored her though and continued walking until she was gone. Diana whimpered, looking down at herself, covered head to toe in all this mud and even sitting in it. And now she was practically stuck in it, unable to get to her feet without slipping. "Oh, I'm such a mess." she muttered under her breath as she stared at herself. The excitement of it all was exhilirating. Like jumping off a cliff or skydiving.

After a few moments, Diana hesitantly got on her hands and knees, trying to crawl out of the mud. "This is so degrading." she whimpered. She made it back to the grass, weakly falling into it. She slowly stood up, looking down at herself again, continuing to softly whimper in humiliation. Her body was covered in so much thick, gooey mud, her trembling hands touching her face as she felt the amount of mud covering that as well.

Once she snapped out of it, she began walking back to the house, hoping she could get inside without her husband or any of the staff noticing. She went to the patio door that she walked out of and went to open it, but the handle didn't budge. Diana's eyes went wide in horror. "She didn't..." she mumbled. She realized that Skylar must've locked the door. She quickly ran to the back door, trying that one. Locked. She ran to the front door then, breaking one of her heels in the process. Diana gasped, practically waddling the rest of the way with her snapped off six inch heel. Once she got to the door, she took off both shoes to avoid leaving muddy footprints in the house. "Please, please be open." she mumbled, turning the knob and finding it unlocked. She slowly opened it, looking inside to see if anyone was there. She silently gasped and quickly hid behind the now slightly open door once she saw the maid inside cleaning. The little brat must've left this door unlocked intentionally, knowing there was someone cleaning near the front door. The thought of a lowly maid seeing her like this filled her with such intense humiliation.

"Ma'am, is that you?" she heard the maid call out.

"Yes, go upstairs now." Diana quickly instructed from behind the door.

"Are you alright?"

"No, I don't want to see anyone, please leave." she called out.

"Yes, ma'am."

Diana waited to hear the footsteps walking away and upon hearing them, she cautiously looked out from behind the door again. Coast was clear. She ran upstairs as fast as she could then, quickly going into her room. She was relieved to see her husband asleep. She didn't want to come up with any kind of explanation for him. She could hardly explain this to herself. She walked past him quietly, stepping into the bathroom and carefully closing the door behind her. Locking the door, she sighed in relief then. She walked over to the mirror, realizing she was truly alone now. She set her ruined heels in the sink and felt the mud covering her face, another pathetic little whimper coming from her lips. She looked so ridiculous. So muddy and messy. The previously blonde now dark brown hair pieces around her face flattened to it. She quietly gasped as she gazed at herself in disgust and disdain.

Minutes went by of her staring at her muddied reflection, her hands running over the mud covering her body. It felt so wet and squishy, Diana hating the way it felt against her skin. Eventually, she shook herself out of it, mentally berating herself, asking herself what was wrong with her. She stepped into the shower fully clothed, turning on the water. Diana brought herself underneath it, closing her eyes as she felt the warm water pouring over her face, the mud slowly but surely disintegrating. All she could picture was seeing herself, seeing how much of a sloppy mess she was, how much mud was caked all over her perfect face. Without realizing it, her hand had found its way to her skirt, grabbing herself through it. She was practically throbbing with need.

Diana pulled her hand away once she did realize. Her eyes shot open and she pulled her face away from the water. No, she told herself. This is not how a lady behaves. What on earth was wrong with her? Between her foolish curiosity that got her in this predicament in the first place and now suddenly feeling an urge to pleasure herself, it was unthinkable. She continued to scrub at her skin then, doing her best to stay focused on that instead of the confusing urges she was feeling.