"ARIANA'S RICHLY DESERVED DESSERT"
How the Tables are Turned!

Ariana, the dominatrix has her own show on "the Dom Channel" a subsidiary of the Messy Fun Network. She goes by the stage name of Dominique the Dominatrix, or 'Dom the dom'.

She really treats everybody like shit, most especially her "boy toys," as she calls the subs that she humiliates on a weekly basis. This time, however, the tables are about to be turned. The network gets a large payment for a "custom" shot, and this calls for Ariana to get the punishment. And it's going to go down over a game of Hi/Low, the old card game where you have to guess if the next card is going to be higher or lower than the previous one.

If she gets it right, Ariana gets a prize (a chocolate cream pie, to go, HeHe). Wrong, and she still gets the pie, but it will be in the face. Of course, Ariana does not like this, but the studio pulls out Rule Number "69" and tells her that she WILL comply or be in breach of contract. LOL!

A regular deck of cards, 52, minus the jokers, is used. Little does Ariana know; the game is going to be rigged. And then, to top it off, there are large amounts of chocolate pudding to go over her head as forfeitures for using the F-word and the S-word. And, in addition, there is a large bucket full of chocolate brownie batter to go over her head last. There may even be a bucket of Hershey's chocolate syrup on top of that.




IN THE BEGINNING!
It was Monday, the start of a new week, and Ariana was feeling especially good as she walked on the set. She had just received her quarterly bonus check and all those zeroes just kept piling up. Her show, "Dom the dom" was, once again, number one in its time slot as it had been for months. Life was good. All was right in heaven and on earth. Ariana didn't have a care in the world. That would all come crashing to a sudden halt.

"Hey, Ariana, got a minute," her producer said, as he saw the beautiful brunette walk, or rather, strut across the stage.

"Sure, B.J.," she said, "but I've got to get to 'make-up' rather quickly."

"Oh, don't worry, Ari," her rather portly boss stated in his high squeaky tone, "this won't take long."

If Ariana hadn't been so full of herself, she might have noticed a highly satisfied, almost smug look, on the face of the man that she had started taking for granted. But she didn't, and that made his short, rather grandiose, speech that much more devastating.

"We've got something new for tonight's show, Ari," B.J. announced.

"Oh really," Ariana's expression changed from her usual self-assured, but measured look, to one of high anticipation. "Have you got a new one for me," meaning a new sub, or submissive young man, or as she called them, her 'boy toys'? "You know how much I like breaking a new one in," she added with a look of supreme anticipation.

"No, not that," her long-time producer said, "we've got a little," he pronounced it 'leeeetole' "change in the show for tonight."

"Oh, how's that," Ariana asked, though already distracted by thoughts of how much fun she was going to have at the expense of which ever boy she got to wreak havoc on, all the while getting paid to pleasure herself.

"We've got a special show tonight, Ari," B.J. came to the point, "one of our long-standing advertisers has paid a substantial sum for a change in the format for tonight's episode."

"Oh, really," the former beauty queen-turned dominatrix said, her interest piqued, "what's up?"

"Which of my boys do I get to have fun with tonight," she quipped while looking around for a familiar face.

Ariana was so used to getting her way. The former beauty queen from Valdosta, Georgia had been the host of the show, Dom the dom on "The Dom Channel," a subsidiary of the Messy Fun Network, for over three years. And the last fourteen months had seen a gradual but steady rise in ratings until its now weekly number one status was assured as the highest ranked television show in its category.

Ariana was proud of that lofty status, as she felt sure it had come from her own efforts rather than anything anybody else had done. Yes, life was good in Ariana's world. It fell apart with B.J.'s next words.

"We're going to have a different person getting the pies today," the producer all but smirked with what he was about to say, Dominique the Dominatrix is going to be getting messy on this episode"

"WHAT!" The normally unflappable woman, who spent her winter months in an eight-bedroom, twelve bath, villa in Beaumont, Texas, all but shouted, as realization sank in. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"We had a special request for you to take the pies tonight, Ari."

"Well," and she said it whaaa-elll, as only Ariana could take a single syllable word and turn it in to two, "that just . . . isn't going to happen."

"I'm sorry, Ariana, but you will have to. There's just no debate to this," the producer, himself just a little tired of the arrogance that success had bred in the beautiful brunette. "Corporate has spoken, and that's it."

"Well, they can just kiss my ass if they think I'm taking a pie."

"Ariana, be reasonable about . . .," but that was as far as B.J. got before the stormy diva went into another tirade.

"Reasonable my ass," the prima donna's face twisted into a nasty scowl, "I won't do it!"

"Ari, I didn't . . ."

"That's Ariana, to you!"

"Ariana, I didn't want to have to resort to this, but you leave me no choice." The tone in his voice might have given the impression that the rather stout man in charge of The Dom Show, was sympathetic to Ariana's cause, but the look on his face, as he pulled a single sheet of paper from a file that he had been holding, belied the joy he was going to take with his next action.

"Network is invoking Rule 69!" After a short pause, the chubby man continued, "you simply have no choice."

"What the fuck are you talking about," Ariana's voice dropped to barely a whisper as she snatched the paper from B.J.'s hands. A quick glance turned into a thorough peruse of the document as B.J. saw all trace of color leave the beautiful Dominatrix's face.

"Oh fuck," Ariana quietly exclaimed after reading the paper. The paper she read, a part of the contract she had signed, stated that once per calendar year, management could make any change they wanted to the content of an episode. It had been so long since anyone had dared to make a decision regarding Ariana's show that she forgot about the clause known as Rule 69.

"That's another thing I've been meaning to have a talk with you about, Ariana.

"Corporate's been getting a lot of flak about your foul language. They've been getting a lot of complaints about it."

"Complaints my ass," the beautiful narcissist, or diva, replied, "only old biddies and little perverts would be complaining. REAL guys have never complained."

"Hey Ari, they are all part of the target audience. Their votes count, too."

"Fuck them!"

"See that's your problem, Ari," and as Ariana started to interrupt, B.J. quickly added, "yeah, I know, it's Ariana, it's Ariana this, and Ariana that."

Ariana's producer stopped but only for a brief pause, "well, we go back a long way, ARI, a lot longer than you want to admit. And, I am saying this, because I do care about you, and because as a friend, I am trying to save you, from yourself."

"There have been a lot of complaints about your language. And corporate is getting tired of hearing them."

"But that's all I'm going to say," B.J. said, "You have a show to get ready for." And with that, the producer of Dom the Dom turned around and walked away.

After her boss left, Ariana stood there steaming and fuming as only the sultry brunette beauty, who was known for sulking about the injustices of the world, could do. Finally, with no other options the brown-haired belle turned to her dressing room.

"Finally, I was beginning to worry, Ariana," Josephine, her long-time make-up artist was waiting by Ariana's favorite make-up station.

"FUCK the make-up, Josephine!" Ariana snarled.

Still glowering at the entire world, Ariana continued, "do you know what those fucking bastards at corporation said? I have to take the pies today . . . ME . . . can you believe that?"

"Uh, yeah," Josephine paused but quickly continued when she saw Ariana turn a steely-eyed gaze her way, "the word went out all over the studio early this morning."

After another pause, the red-haired Josephine added, "there's been nothing else on anyone's mind today."

After a long, awkward moment, Ariana replied in an almost surely tone, "there's no reason to bother with make-up today. It's going to be ruined with the first pie."

"Uh, yeah, but they still want you to look your best. At least to start the show. That means I've got to do it. I have no choice."

"Sorry," Josephine added to a thoroughly dejected Ariana.


Now, after an hour at the make-up station, Ariana slowly trudged out of her dressing room. To say, that the star of Dom the dom was in a bad mood would have been a vast understatement. Everyone else, however, appeared to be in high spirits. In fact, many, if not all personnel associated with the show were downright giddy with anticipation of Ariana's demise. As one guy said, "her uppitiness is finally going to get her richly deserved comeuppance." Ariana could see, as she walked past many of them, the grins and even downright jovial looks on the faces of her co-workers.

The nerve of them. Imagine . . . the audacity. Ooh, if . . . only. Oh well, they'll get theirs. You just wait and see.

As she walked up to her 'table of doom' normally covered with the tools of a dominatrix's trade, such as whips and chains, tiedown restraints and gags along with those little red rubber balls used to subdue her charges, Ariana noticed it was completely devoid of all her usual treasure-trove of delights. Instead, there was a single sheet of paper. A paper that had two short paragraphs of typed words, double-spaced.

Taking a quick look around, the fiery temptress saw that every eye on set was looking at her.

Well, Fuck you! You can kiss my ever-lovin' ass.

"And rolling in five, four, three, . . . " The traditional countdown always ended in a silent two then one count, and though not really wanting to do this, Ariana was a professional so . . .

"Good evening, everyone. This is your favorite dominatrix, Dominique coming, once again, from the Dom Channel, and welcome to Dom the dom."

"Tonight's episode is going to deviate from the traditional format just a bit." Though not wanting to finish reading the statement on the single-page introductory, Ariana was not going to risk Rule 69 being invoked, so she continued, "the Messy Fun Network has received a special request, 'and I might add,'" this last line was something she stuck in there as a kind of revolution against what she considered an injustice to her, "'a Very Large sum of money,' for a completely new script on this, the 500th episode of the top-rated show in network history. Tonight, you are going to see something never seen before." Ariana paused for a long time, so long in fact, that B.J. actually got out of his Director's Chair. "Tonight," the chocolate brown-haired performer said, "you will see ME . . . get hit with the pies."

As oohs and ahs rose from the live studio audience, Ariana could feel her face come afire as she blushed. As the standing room-crowd came alive in anticipation of seeing Ariana take the messy slap, a term she had coined over the years of messy subjugation she dished out to her boys, a wave of melancholy swept over Ariana, and she could feel her face light up even more.. I can't believe this is happening to me. Setting down the sheet of paper, Ariana continued with her spiel setting the stage for the show.

"Yes, for the first time EVER, you will get to see Dom the Dom get the mucky splat. You will get to see this beautiful face," Ariana points to her especially perfectly made-up face, before continuing, "get covered, some might even say, obliterated, with pies of various colors and substances."

As she looked out over her audience with a look of defiance, Ariana noted that more than one member of her startled target audience was starting to smile. As the shocked dominatrix took everything in, she heard a soft round of applause that gradually grew in volume until, soon, everyone in the auditorium was standing and stomping their feet as they roared their approval.

Well, fuck you . . . and the horse you rode in on!

Now, as she watched in shocked amazement, Ariana watched a young, good looking, man cross the stage with a deck of overly-large playing cards. Coming to a stop at the edge of the desk, the well-dressed man turned so that Ariana could see who he was.

Instant recognition crossed Ariana's face as she recognized one of her former boy-toys, a man named Martin.

Why that's the bastard I got fired because he . . .

"Oh fuck, this just keeps getting better and better," the dominatrix mumbled under her breath when she saw the look of triumph on the man's face.

"Good evening, your worshipfulness," the mock saltatory greeting was more than evident to the entire audience, many of whom had witnessed his humiliation on more than one episode. "The name of the game," and now he turned toward the audience, "is Hi/Low. The rules . . ." he paused to allow the tension to build, "are simple. You guess whether the next card drawn will be higher or lower than the previous one."

"If you guess correctly, you get a prize. But if your guess is wrong, I'm so sorry to say, but you will get a pie in the face." His complete lack of sincerity was evident, to everyone in the crowd, that he would NOT be sorry to see the beautiful dominatrix receive a multitude of pies to that perfectly made-up face.

THE PIES!

After the first round of commercials, the young man, or rather, the Emcee, looked at the audience and then with a flourish, he turned over the first card. It was an eight of diamonds.

"And now, the game begins," he said in a clear and startling loud voice, "Dominique, will the next card be higher or lower?"

Oh fuck. This is going to be a long, damn, night!

"Lower," the dominatrix who was, at long last, getting a dose of her own medicine, said with a touch of trepidation.

The eight of any suit, was the worst card to draw. The odds were exactly 50/50 with six cards lower, two thru seven, and six cards higher, nine through Ace being your choice. The odds on any other draw would be better, one way or the other. So, it was easy to see why she was a little hesitant on this first guess.

Ariana's choice, however, was good, as the three of spades was turned over.

"Congratulations, Dominique. You have won this round," the young man said with almost a pout on his face.

"Great. What's my prize?" Ariana asked.

An assistant brings out a chocolate cream pie.

"For winning this round, you get to take home this lovely chocolate pie," the emcee stated while the assistant, a pretty blond-haired technician, who had once run afoul of Ariana's fiery wrath, set the pie on a table to the left of where Ariana sat.

Ariana won the next round as well when the Queen of diamonds was turned over to her 'higher' pick. Dominatrix, the Dom of doms, was suddenly feeling pretty good about herself after picking the first two cards correctly. Maybe this won't be so bad, she thought to herself. With the next card, however, her world came crashing down.

With a queen sitting on the board, the next choice should be a no-brainer, lower, as only a king or ace would be a loser. Ariana's look of triumph, however, turned to one of dismay as the King of hearts was turned over a matter of seconds after she chose lower.

"Oh, I am so, so, sorry, Dominique, but you lose." And he really let that single syllable drag out, saying "you looooossse."

Oh fuck! Ariana raised her arms in dismay, clasping the top of her forehead before ruffling her hands through her hair from front to back.

For the third time in less than a minute, the perky blond technician stepped forward carrying a chocolate cream pie. The look of sheer exultation on her pretty face told everyone that she was relishing her role as the 'bearer of bad news' for Ariana.

This time, the young woman from Flagstaff, Arizona, was not intimidated by the stormy look on Ariana's face. Without further ado, she slapped that chocolate pie into the center of Ariana's face. And the mess was ON!

As the old saying goes, "payback is a bitch." Well, this young woman took great delight in getting her payback. As the loud spat reverberated throughout the auditorium, she slathered the remains of that really messy pie over Ariana's face, then the top of her head, ruining her perfectly-styled hair, and even down the back of the dominatrix's head. Gooey chocolate mixed with whipped cream slowly dripped down Ariana's face. To say that Ariana was a mess would be vastly understated. Her entire head was covered with mucky glop.

"Fuck," Ariana, the mistress of mess, one of the many nicknames she had acquired over the years, said in a rather subdued tone, "this sucks!"

"Oh, I am so sorry, Dominique," the emcee said, though it was clear to everyone that he really wasn't. But it's time to move on. Let's see what we have next."

"Dom, the King of hearts is on the board. Do you choose higher or lower?"

"Duh, what kind of stupid question is that. LOWER, of course," Ariana said in a rather snippy tone.

And she won this round as the three of diamonds was turned over. In addition, the dominatrix, also, won the next three rounds as the ten of clubs, three of hearts, and nine of spades, were turned over.

Her run of luck, however, came to an end when the Ace of hearts was turned over after she chose 'lower.' A petulant look crossed Ariana's face as she knew what that meant.

"Fuck!" Ariana exclaimed, to B.J.'s dismay.

This time, the technician bandied a large banana cream pie before, once again, stuffing it into her antagonist's face. The yellowish-color filling made a startling contrast to the dark brown of the previous pie, and it was just as messy. Instead of sloping the entire pie over the top of Ariana's head, however, the blonde just left it hanging there. The pie crust, broken into several large parts, hung over the front of the dominatrix's face for several seconds before Ariana slapped the parts aside. After using the backs of her knuckles to clear the goo from her eyes, the slop-covered brunette could see again. The withering look she gave her former boy-toy, turned emcee and the blond technician promised a suitable revenge if she ever got the chance.

Chance returned to Ariana's side as she won the next three rounds before fate reared its ugly head again. Following her loss with the Ace, the Queen of hearts, eight of spades and six of diamonds all resulted in prizes as she guessed low correctly on all three cards. However, luck failed her when she guessed high only to see the four of diamonds turn over, as did a very large grin on the face of the emcee.

"Shit . . . fuck!" As Ariana's temper, once again, got the better of her, J.B. pulled out a small notepad and made a mark on it.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Dominique, but that was the wrong answer," once again, the emcee, no love lost for his former tormentor, said in an almost giddy voice. "But that's okay, because our good friend, Natalie, has a present just for you."

This time, the pie came flying in from the right side of Ariana as the blonde extracted another round of messy revenge on the woman she had feared for so long. And from a distance of only six feet, it would have been hard to miss.

SPLAT!!!

This time, however, the mess was from a chocolate pudding pie, the muck overflowing the pie crust. There must have been at least three inches of pudding in that pie, and when it hit, the results were as spectacular as that pie was devastating to poor Ariana's head.

When that missile of mayhem hit the right front side of Ariana's most prized possession, it exploded dark brown chocolate pudding all over the top of the 'Dom of doms'. If you could have recognized Dominique the Dom before, you would not now.

"FUCK," Ariana screamed, "You little Bitch, if I ever . . ."

Splat!

Another pie, this time a custard with a lot of whipped cream on top, hit Ariana from the other side. She had not been paying attention and the emcee, wanting to get in on the action had stepped up and slammed the yellowish-colored dessert into her left side.

Now, half of the professional dominatrix's head was covered in dark brown goo while the other side was dripping yellow slime. And everyone in the audience were laughing their heads off. So was Martin, the emcee and Natalie, the technician. Ariana, or course, was not.

I swear if I ever get the chance . . .

But the trooper that she was, the muck-covered dominatrix sat stoically, while the brown and yellow mess slowly dripped down from her head, leaving slimy trails of mess over her breasts and back on there downward trail toward the floor.

With a four showing, Ariana picked higher and won this round as she did the following three rounds. Once again, however, a queen was her downfall, as the Ministress of Mess, as some called her, chose 'lower' with a ten of spades showing, only to see the queen of spades pop up.

"Fuck," was all she could say, when the Dom of doms saw what her upcoming fate would bring. And once again, Natalie was ready to serve her retribution. This time, the 'just dessert' was a nice coconut cream pie with extra whipped cream on top.

As the cute blonde stepped up, everyone in the audience clearly heard the loud Splat as that gooey pie further eviscerated Ariana's beautiful face, leaving a new trail of slime down the front of Ariana's body.

More mess left it's mucky trail down the brunette's face before dripping onto her breasts. Using her lips, only, Ariana managed to scoop up a large glob of the tasty treat, one of her favorites.

"Hmm, tasty," the humiliated dominatrix stated as she reached up and grabbed another glob of the pie that had slithered down the right side of her muck-covered face. Munching on a piece of crust that still retained some of the gooey substance that Ariana preferred over any other pie filling, the gunge-covered woman gave a small, almost sedate smile to the audience. "At least this one was coconut cream."

With the queen showing, the next choice was a simple one, which produced winning results, as did the following, a seven of hearts shortly after a three was turned over. But once again, with the only decent choice being 'higher' Ariana saw the four of hearts pop up and her hopes went down, knowing what was in store for the brown-haired beauty.

For the sixth time a gooey pie slammed into Ariana's beautiful face. And for the sixth time, it left a messy trail all over Ariana.

This time, Natalia, standing a scant six inches away, tossed the pie, a banana cream one into her tormentor's face. And with a soft splat, the messy bomb further reduced the dominatrix's face to what some would describe as a big blob of slimy goo. But this time, Natalie didn't escape unscathed. From such a short distance, she received a good bit of splatter, some of which even hit her face. But she didn't care. Natalie was having too much fun.

By this point, the once-mighty dominatrix had resigned herself to the fate that just about everyone knew she richly deserved.

The next seven cards drawn were wins, or in the one case of a tie, a non-loss. Ariana was starting to feel a little better as there was no more mess to run down her body.

This run of luck came to a stop, however, when Martin turned over the five of hearts after lifting the six of clubs on the previous draw. And with Ariana guessing the next card would be higher, it was time for another round of messy payback. And of course, Natalia was more than willing to dish out the gooey pie.

Taking a chance that she might miss, from fifteen feet away, but knowing the splatter effect of a thrown pie from such a distance, Natalie hurled another of the monstrous chocolate pudding pies with unerringly accurate precision.

SPLAAAATTTT!

That missile of mucky mess slammed into the front of Ariana's thoroughly goo-covered face with the force of a miniature atomic bomb. Later, some of the members of the studio-audience, swore they felt the effect of the striking warhead of mess.

As that pie crust exploded against Ariana's face, chocolate pudding flew in every direction. After that, there was no clean spot anywhere on Arian's head, face, shoulders, or upper body. Even her breasts were now covered in dark brown goo.

Ariana, for the first time, actually tried to wipe some of the muck off her face with both hands, but all she did was smear the pudding around even worse.

After a deep sigh, Ariana, the Dom the dom quietly, yet audibly, said, "shit!" And once again, J.B. brought out his little notebook.

As the Dom of doms sat there in dejected silence, half her body covered in mucky goo, she looked so thoroughly dejected that some members of the audience and even the cast started feeling sorry for her. Others did not.

As Ariana sat at that table, her muck-covered head supported by her right hand, the dominatrix thought about all the injustices she had inflicted on so many others.

Fuck, this must be karma.

Her moment of respite, though, came to an end as Martin, in a loud and crisp tone said, "the card is a five. Will the next one be higher or lower, Dominique?"

"Higher," Ariana said in a whisper.

She won this round with the ten of hearts and was victorious in the next when the six of hearts popped up. Following a third straight victory when the nine of hearts was turned over, Ariana's heart sank when the Jack of diamonds was turned over. She had incorrectly chosen lower.

"Oh shit." Not again!

This time the color was purple, as the grape cream-filled pastry that Natalie plopped into Ariana's face had a deep-rich violet hue that left another color of mess on the dominatrix's face.

"Fuck. Grapes. You hit me with grapes?" Ariana hated grapes of all kinds.

With a seven of spades justifying Ariana's lower pick, the dominatrix's spirits came crashing down on the very next turn of cards when the four of clubs popped up after she had guessed higher.

"Fuck," was all she could say. The look on her messy face told the audience all they needed to know. "When it rains, it pours," the Queen of Muckydom, as one yellow journalist had penned in his column, muttered to herself just before another coconut cream pie slathered itself over the top of her head. And to add insult to injury there seemed to be about two inches of whipped cream on top of the heavy pudding pie. Globs of mess just, literally, bounced off the top of Ariana's head and showered the floor on, and around, her Stuart Weitzman black pumps.

"Fuck," Ariana said with a sigh.

Those WERE my favorite heels!

After her latest round of misfortune, Ariana managed two correct guesses in a row before the hand of doom fell upon her, once again. And this time, it was a double whammy!

After guessing right that the eight of hearts would be lower, the Dom of doms missed out, first with the Jack of clubs and again with the Ace of spades, both times guessing lower, only to see these cards turn up.

"Ah shit," Ariana exclaimed, and then quickly added in a shout, "AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" She had finally noticed B.J. pulling out his notebook.

But that's all she got to say as another coconut cream pie came flying in from the right side. It's impact on Ariana's face left another fine mess with more slimy grime slithering down her chin to deposit itself on her boobs.

Still glowering at her producer, and one-time friend, the mucky dominatrix barely had time to catch her breath before Martin said, "the card is a jack, higher or lower, Domanique?"

"Lower you jackass, what do you think I would . . ."

But as if she were already anticipating the turn of the next card, Natalia planted a heaping custard cream pie down on top of Ariana's head just as soon as the Ace of spades was turned over.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH," Ariana shouted as rage contorted her mucky face. An avalanche of yellow goo seemed to flood down her messy features.

Raking muck from her eyes with the tips of her fingers, the outraged dominatrix stood as if to attack the slender blonde.

"SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN!"

Taken aback, at the verbal assault by her producer, Ariana stumbled back into the slime-covered chair.

The look of mortal anguish on her face, completely silenced the audience. For the first time, since Ariana had announced that she would be taking the pies, there was not a sound in the room.

Everyone could see Ariana mouth the words, "oh shit," but no sound escaped her lips. Oh shit . . . why me, Lord . . . why?

Completely numb now, Ariana stumbled through the rest of the show. She hardly remembered mumbling low, high, low, high to the next four cards, a seven of diamonds, ten of diamonds, two of spades and eight of clubs, before the fickle fate of messiness reared her ugly head, once again. Ariana's low guess turned out wrong as the King of clubs was turned over.

The look of exasperation that now came over Ariana's face was quickly turned into a look of defiance, as the 'Dom of doms' squared her shoulders and sat there, as if challenging the entire world to do its best.

And Natalia was more than willing to step up to that task. She picked up a bright orange cream pie that seemed to be a miracle of modern technology. How that simple pie crust was able to withstand all of the messy muck contained within its boundaries is beyond imagination. There must have been at least four inches of orange pudding in that crust, plus a healthy dose of whipped cream. And poor Natalia, struggling with this mound of mess, had to use both hands just to contain it. But that didn't stop her from smashing the pie into Ariana's face. And once again, another layer of mess, this time orange, was added to the walking blob of mucky goo that Ariana had become.

Ariana just sat there. For at least a full minute, the Messy Mom of Muckiness, as some derisively called her, just sat immobile. She looked like a multi-colored statue of glop. Every so often, however, those closest to her could see she was still breathing as muck-covered bubbles of snot would come out from her nostrils as she exhaled, or rather snorted, as much of the messy mayhem that she could.

Sitting there, with her head bowed, some might have thought Ariana was praying. Most, however, didn't. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Ariana opened her eyes. Amazingly, she could see, as most of the orange slop had already rolled down her face and onto her breasts.

The rest of the deck, the last eight cards were anticlimactic, as Ariana guessed correctly on all of them. She didn't, however, care. She just sat in numb silence, only commenting when she had to make a guess.

Finally, the last card, a Queen of clubs, was turned over. And so, the show ended, where it started, with a queen on the third draw. It was almost as if the cosmos were laughing at what some people had referred to as the Queen of Mess. Only this time, she was the one that had gotten the mucky treatment.

At long last, Ariana's humiliation was at an end. Or was it. As she stood up, the spectacle that Ariana, the Dom of doms, or the queen of muckiness, had become, was an interesting contrast of before and after. From her waist up, the dark-haired dominatrix was a mass of multi-colored muck. Below the beltline however, she was virtually spotless. Some splatter had hit her black-leather, crotchless trousers but for the most part they stayed clean. Her shoes, on the other hand, did not fare so well. A lot of the slime had flowed down her back and sides and left those shoes in a sorry state of condition. And they were a special order that had cost over $1,000.00.

Now, as the dominatrix walked gingerly toward the rear exit, she stopped to look back at the studio audience. The once rowdy and rambunctious crowd had been mostly subdued by the look of remorse that had come over Ariana.

The dominatrix, who had inflicted so much pain, on so many, now knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of the mess, though she had not felt any physical pain like young men such as Martin, had at her hands. Now that Ariana knew the dark abyss of humiliation, she could sympathize a little more with the other side of the aisle.

"Hey, where's my pies," the beauty queen turned dominatrix asked as she noticed there were only four pies on the table behind her. "I won a hell of a lot more times than I lost."

"Oh, about that, Ari," B.J. said as he walked up to her.

"We really didn't have enough pies for every card. I mean, do you know how much that would have cost?"

"What do you mean, by that," Ariana snapped at her long-time producer.

"Well, we didn't really have fifty-two pies, Ari. I mean just imagine how much that would have been."

Grrrr, "Well, how many did you have?" Ariana said, as she looked over at the table and saw just two pies.

"Um, actually . . . only sixteen, Ari."

"WHAT," Ariana screamed while straitening up and squaring her shoulders, she pointed at her producer. "What the fuck, arrrrrrrggg . . ."

SPLATTTTT!!

She had been so enraged at B.J. that Ariana lost sight of her two would-be antagonists. And while this was going on, Martin and Natalia had each grabbed a couple of the heaping chocolate pudding pies. Stepping in quickly, they inflicted the good ole pie sandwich upon the sides of the dominatrix's face, completely obliterating it with chocolate goo.

This time, however, the two combatants did not escape unscathed as in their indulgence, they hit her so hard that a lot of the splatter landed on them. Natalie, in fact, received half a face full of the brown muck. But she didn't care. Naty, as some of her friends called her, was laughing too hard at Ariana's predicament.

"YOU FUCKING BI . . ." Ariana had no sooner turned on Natalie, than Martin crept in behind her with another of the chocolate pudding pies. And while the messy dominatrix had her attention on Natalia, he plopped it straight down on the top of Ariana's head.

"Shit, you fuck . . ."

But when Ariana whirled around toward the emcee, Natalie scooped up the last chocolate pie.

"Hey, Ariana," she shouted.

"What," a distracted dominatrix said rather snippily as she turned.

SPLAT!

This time Natalie slammed that pie in Ariana's face with such force, that she really rocked the dominatrix back on her heels, almost knocking her down.

"OH FUCK! Why is this happening to ME!

Once again, the messy one, as Ariana had quickly been anointed by some of those watching her total destruction, was on the receiving end of another round of chocolate mess. And now her pretty face carried an even larger amount of dark brown gunge.

"Oh fuck," Ariana turned to B.J. and said, "just give me whatever you have left and then I'm out of here."

Throwing her hands up in dismay, Ariana said, "I just want to take a shower and go home." She was in tears as she made this last statement.

THE PUNISHMENTS!

"Well, not quite so fast, Ari," B.J. said with a little twist to his smile. "You see, there is the little matter of your punishments."

"Punishments, punishments, what fucking punishments are you talking about," Ariana said as real tears started flowing over the slime on her cheeks. And then in a whisper, she added, "don't you think this has been enough?"

"Well, I do, Ariana, I mean . . . I really do," the not-quite overweight director of Dom the dom, said.

"And, if it were left up to me, I would, but I can't. See it's not up to me. Corporation has had their say, and I must obey them . . . I have no choice."

As Ariana stood there, covered in layers of mucky mess, and with dark goo running down her face, over her breasts and then down her chest and stomach, before falling off her body and soaking the already-ruined shoes, she started to sob, softly at first, and then more deeply as she realized her day was not over yet.

"I tried to warn you, Ari. I really did. But . . . you wouldn't listen," B.J. said while shaking his head. "You brought all of this on yourself."

Ariana hung her head, as if in shame, and was led back to the chair. This time, the table was moved out of the way. And several large buckets, five-gallon containers, to be exact were set down in front of her. Ariana's heart almost seized up when she looked down into the first bucket and saw it was full to the rim with creamy chocolate pudding.

Oh fuck, I am so screwed!

"Domonique, the dominatrix, are you ready for your punishment," this last was especially painful to Ariaina, as B.J. made this announcement.

For one who was normally full of words, especially when it came to humiliating a tied up, usually gagged young man, Ariana had nothing to say. Although her mess-covered head was no longer hung over, the mistress of muck said nothing. All defiance, however, was completely gone as she stared back with what can best be described as 'a whipped puppy dog's eyes.' And with that, Ariana gave a slow, barely perceptible nod.

Turning his eyes to Martin and Natalie, B.J. the presiding judge passed sentence. "Domonique the Dominatrix, for using the S-word too many times, I sentence you to five gallons of especially gooey chocolate pudding. May the bailiffs carry out the sentence immediately.

Struggling with the weight from five pounds of chocolaty mess, Martin, who had more than once felt the brunt of an illegal verdict by Ariana, and Natalie, who almost lost her job not once, but twice because she had done some trivial thing that had pissed off the dominatrix, stood over the cowering figure that had so humiliated them. And not showing one iota of remorse, the two poured that humongous amount of dark brown mess directly over Ariana's head.

The punishment took approximately twenty seconds to finish its wicked toll on the mucky figure sitting beneath the bucket. When the pour had ended, Ariana was pretty much covered from head to toe in dark brown mess. To add insult to injury, Natalia, with Martin continuing to hold the now mostly empty bucket, reached in with both arms and scooped the remainder of the pudding out and onto Ariana's head. In this course, the sleeves of Natalia's royal blue dress became drenched in the muck up to, and above her elbows. And the front of the dress did not fare much better, especially the area where her large boobs got slimed by the brown muck. But she didn't care. Though mess continued to pile up on Natalie's front, she was enjoying the state of disrepair to Ariana too much to let that bother her.

Ariana took the backs of her thumbs and scrapped away just enough of the messy goo to she could see through gunge-tinted eyes. The look on her face was one of shock. It would get worse.

"Dominique, the mistress of mess, for using the F-word too often, you have been sentenced to . . ."

Ariana, too stunned to move, sat stoically through this second verdict. She finally turned her head to see her two nemesis' pick up another five-gallon bucket. Although straining her eyes, she couldn't see what was in the bucket. Not until Martin and Natalie started the pour, and Ariana looked up, just, briefly, did she see the mess that had been delegated as her second punishment. It was chocolate brownie batter.

Ariana managed to close her eyes just in time, as the slime plummeted toward her face. With a loud, splashing sound, that second round of chocolate mess, this time a darker brown color, hit Ariana squarely in the middle of her face, almost equal distance from the tip of her upturned nose to that spot right between the eyes.

Quivering from a second round of cold muck, Ariana sat there, and took it. She said nothing. Not one sound came from her muck-covered lips. For over twenty-five seconds, the Dom of doms sat through another round of messy assault. During the last few seconds, Martin reached out with one hand and held open the top of Ariana's black leather corset so that the slime could run down and cover Ariana's bare boobs. Once again, not an inch of the dominatrix's body was spared the onslaught of chocolate gunge.

As she sat there, shivering violently from the mass amounts of cold chocolate, Ariana could barely hear through sludge-clogged ears, could hardly see through muck-covered eyes and had a very difficult time breathing through nostrils impacted with liquified chocolate. And yet, not one word came from her crud-covered lips.

"And for her third sentence," B.J. boomed, "for the crime of being a mean and nasty, vindictive person, with a psychotic personality disorder, this court sentences you," and this time, he looked directly at Ariana, "to five gallons of chocolate syrup over the head."

"Nooooooooo," Ariana managed to croak through choked vocal cords, already strained from the massive assault on her filthy body. The Ministress of Mess knew just how devastating the five gallons of chocolate syrup could be. And seeing the look of sheer delight on Martin's face, she remembered the many times she had doused him with the liquid goo. She also, remembered how much it stung when the slime got in his eyes. So, she definitely did not want this latest round of torture to descend upon her.

Descend it did, however, and the dom of doms took the full force of five gallons of this latest round of chocolate muck, and she took it fully in her face and then on her boobs before the slime rolled down her body and slowly but surely filled her already ruined heels. And once more, Natalie wanted to heap insult upon injury. While Martin held the nearly empty bucket of chocolate goo, Naty held open Ariana's leather pants so the descending chocolate would flow into them. Slowly the pants filled to overflowing, so that chocolate slime started trickling out of the crotchless opening. From there, it was a direct shot to those custom-made heels that Ariana was so proud of.

When the dual had finished with this round of assault on Ariana, she sat there looking like a chocolate-covered bunny rabbit as the liquid goo was just starting to congeal. Only this time, it was Ariana under all the mess. And she sat there, for the longest time, with her eyes tightly shut to keep out the liquid sting.

And, last but not least, we have one final sentence to carry out. And this one is "Just Because We Can!" B.J. said with a sneer as he looked Ariana up and down, from the top of her chocolate-covered head to the bottom of her muck-strewn feet.

"You have been such a torment to everyone, and I do mean everyone. Now you shall reap the rewards of your nastiness. And that is everything that was dumped over your head and is now being swept up from the floor, THAT, too, shall be dumped over your head. And may God have mercy on your soul!"

"Oh God," Ariana wailed as the first of three five-gallon buckets full of the mucky mess left over from all of her pies and slimmings. For a full two minutes Martin and Natalia, with B.J. helping, dumped the gunge on top of Ariana. When it was over, she was completely unrecognizable.

And then, it was truly over. As the mucky mistress of mess slowly made her way off stage toward her dressing room, the studio audience, which always appreciated a good sport, stood and in total silence gave Ariana a standing ovation.