“I need you to bend over more; I’ll warn you before I put anything in, okay?”
Laurel hid her smile. Even through her nervousness, her mind could only go to her crotch.
“This is my first tattoo.” She made idle conversation as she felt him slither her pants further down. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get winked at.
Mr. Personality wiped something cold and wet on her lower back.
“You sure you don’t want to do this with color?”
“I’m sure.” Laurel didn’t like tattoos with all of those God-awful bright colors. They looked like someone had thrown up Fruity Pebbles on their skin. “Nope, I just want the dark ink.”
“She’s gonna be beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Better with color.”
Laurel had been obsessed with the Tarot ever since she was a kid. Her favorite card was the Enchantress. So much power, so much feminine wisdom, sexuality. Her Enchantress would be standing just above her sacrum and the tendrils of vines emanating from her cauldron would swell across her entire lower back.
“She gotta name, this lady?”
“Well she’s ... ” She really didn’t want to go into the Tarot with him. “Sure, yeah, uh her name is ... Lilith.”
“Huh, that’s funny. That’s my great aunt’s name.”
“Okay, I need you to hold real still, now, K? I’m pressing the drawing onto your skin.”
The cold tacky paper caused her flesh to tingle and gooseflesh to travel up her arms. She hoped he could work on her if she had gooseflesh. His fingers wrapped around her waist as he held the paper; his fingers were warm, so close to her. She wondered what Mr. Personality would be like in bed, with all of his gauges, tatts and piercings. How would she ask him?
So do all of your piercings and tatts improve your fucking performance, or are they just something to look at if one gets bored?
“K, here we go.” The sound of the needle startled her a little. She hadn’t expected it to be so loud. Her heart thudded in her chest and her hands turned icy as she braced for the pain. And pain it was.
At first it was like a lit match being held to her skin. She wasn’t expecting the burning sensation. She wished she’d taken her friend Abby’s advice and popped some pills beforehand. Now, along with burning, she felt the sting. Her mind went to the sheer size of her tattoo; her heart sank. It was going to be a long session.
He wiped her skin to remove blood. She noticed that when he began again, the burning stopped.
Endorphins must’ve kicked in.
When he took the needle away, she craved it again. She missed the tingle, missed the way it prickled on her skin. She wanted more.
He did the sides first, the vines snaking and interlacing, ending at the base of the cauldron. He came to her sacrum; he said it was more sensitive there.
“The endorphins kick in, then I do the spine. That’s where it gets really tender. More nerve endings.”
She felt the needle anew right smack in the middle of her back. The burning lasted only a moment, and then she relished the sensation again, now more pronounced and sharp. Time slowed as she smelled smoke and listened to the vague screeching of Mindless Self Indulgence in the background. She also had an odd sensation she wasn’t quite expecting.
She was getting very, very wet. She could feel the seam in her jeans slippery and moist. She tried not to move, but found it irresistible.
He leaned into her and she felt him press against her ass. His cock was stiff.
“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, “but you gotta hold still.” His breath shivered along her ear. She decided she wanted another tattoo after this.
The needle whirred to life and the pain was sharp again; she felt it up and through her, a velvet glove reaching into her pussy, fingering her. She laid her forehead down on her arm, concentrating on her breath. His one hand was on her back, the other holding the needle. She knew this in her logical mind. So why did she feel someone stroking her crotch?
She held very still, did what she was told. The stroking became more pronounced, more rhythmic. She heard him whisper again.
Hold still, don’t move.
She wanted to thrust whatever was touching her deeper, wanted it to sear through her while the needles pulsed through her flesh.
As if her pants had been around her ankles, a warm touch ran down her ass and found her cunt wet, dripping, slick beyond anything she’d felt. She realized, with alarm, that his one hand was still on her back. Was someone else in the room?
She was beyond caring as the strokes ground her clit in circles; she breathed in staccato, whimper.
Hold still, hold still...
The needles pricked her with welcome distraction, just enough that she couldn’t collapse. She felt herself tighten, felt herself being entered. Whatever it was became instantly thicker, longer, touching her in that place that was as much pain as it was pleasure. The sensation throughout her whole lower body gripped her, and she felt moisture soak her upper thighs. Her breathing was rapid as she fought for control, fought to stay motionless as the whir of the needle became louder, pulsing through her body. The music blasted as she lost the fight, groaning and quaking. Her breath huffed out with moans as her pussy throbbed, spurting hot creamy liquid, completely soaking her jeans.
She opened her eyes and blinked rapidly, legs quavering. The faint music was now a strange mixture of modern-twenty’s-style music. Squirrel Nut Zippers. They were singing about Hell. She must have fallen asleep. But her jeans told her what happened while she slept.
Oh my dear fucking God.
“K,” Scott, a.k.a. Mr. Personality said in a blasé tone, “It’s gonna be red, but you can see the ink. It looks totally sick.”
She found her voice, “Sick?”
“Cool. It looks fucking cool.”
Her lower body still throbbed as she watched him pick up a mirror. She watched his face; it held nothing for her but pride in his work. Had he not noticed she had fallen asleep and had an orgasm?
He moved near her. “Take a look.”
He held the mirror up and tilted it so she could see. Upside down and from where she sat, it was intricate and amazing. The dark ink was surrounded by bright pink, swollen flesh. She thought of her wet jeans and she pulsated anew. It was the most intense orgasm she had ever had. Her whole body...
“It looks ... wow. I can’t see it that well yet—”
“Yeah, the swelling will go down. I’m gonna put some ointment on it and cover it. Take the covering off in about three hours. Keep it moist. If you don’t, it’ll scar and look fucked up. Got it?”
“Yeah.” She stood shakily and looked at him, searching. The thought crept across her mind with an unwelcome start that maybe she’d been molested while she slept. What if he’d let someone fondle her? What if he ...
“Were we alone this whole time?”
“Yep.” Scott was busily cleaning up the bloodied tissues and tidying up his tray. “I fell asleep ... ”
He smiled and nodded, “I know.” He looked amused, the little fucker.
She was pissed and humiliated and had no idea what to say. She was positive her face was redder than her back.
He looked at her with deep blue eyes framed in dark lashes. “Look, don’t worry about it. Happens sometimes. Pain and pleasure aren’t so far apart. Your secret’s safe.”
“Great.” She smiled tightly, her ears burning with her back. “Thanks again.”
“Yep.” Mr. Personality stood. There was no sign of anything hard in his pants. He caught her looking and smiled crookedly, “You okay? You didn’t take anything before you got here?”
“No ... I mean, yes I’m fine. No I didn’t take anything.”
“If you decide to color her, I can do it for you in a week. I’ll give you a deal. I can make it subtle, not clownish.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Laurel wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there.
Thank God her jeans were dark.
Abby couldn’t stop laughing.
“Almost,” she sputtered, doubled over.
“It’s not funny, Abby! The guy worked on me and I creamed my fucking jeans! How humiliating is that?”
Abby took a deep shuddering breath, “So how was it?”
“Which one?” Laurel held her face in her hands.
Abby giggled, “Both.”
“The ink was fine. I obviously liked it, and I came harder than I’ve ever come in my life. How’s that for fucked up?”
“And he knew it?”
“He said ‘it happens.’ As if that made it better! God!”
“Well, it looks amazing. I love how she’s smiling. It’s so seductive and secretive-looking.”
“Smiling? What are you talking about?” Laurel hadn’t looked that close, but
“Yeah, she has this cat-who-swallowed-the-canary smile.”
“Lemme see that ... oh my God, she does! Why’d he do that?”
“Maybe you twitched.”
“It looks good. I wouldn’t worry about it. When’s your date with Bryan?”
“Seven. I‘ve got to shower. That water’s gonna sting.”
Abby snickered, “Well, use your shower massager¬—that’ll help.”
“Oh, shut up.”
She had way too much to drink at dinner, but damn the wine was good.
They stumbled out of the taxi and into her front door, barely shutting it as their mouths furiously ate each other.
“Sorry,” he panted, “forgot about the tatt.” He peeled her shirt from her and unhooked her bra. He knelt in front of her and covered her nipple with his mouth, sucking as his hand rubbed the front of her jeans. She and Bryan had only gone out four times, but the heat between them was a succulent living thing, taking away her reason. She knew tonight was the night—and tonight, of all nights, she had a new tattoo.
“I, uh, can’t lie on my back.”
“You won’t need to.” He whispered and took her other breast in his mouth, leaving the last one throbbing.
He peeled her jeans and panties down and kissed her stomach. She stood in front of him as his mouth clamped on her pussy, tongue finding her swollen clit. He stroked it slowly, then spread her legs slightly to cover it with his mouth.
She helped him slip off his shirt. His hard body made her vow to go back to the gym—immediately.
Her trembling fingers couldn’t undo his pants; he helped her, pulling them down to reveal himself, leaning to the left, rock-hard and ready. Laurel moaned and got on all fours, taking him in her mouth. He sucked in his breath sharply.
She worked his head, letting the silky underside of her tongue glide on the underside of him. She could taste his salty sweetness: musky, male ... she groaned as she took him deeper.
“You wanna go to the bedroom?” he whispered.
They stood and grasped at each other again, walking and then stopping to devour each other. After what seemed like forever, they reached the bedroom. She sat in front of him and began working him with her tongue while her fingers slid up and down her clit.
Her tattoo began to distract her as she sucked him. It was itching and little pin-prickly sensations became stronger, as if the tattoo artist was drilling her right there. She tried to ignore it as Bryan pulled his fingers through her hair. She lapped at him, her mouth enveloping his head, drinking him, sweet fluid already seeping.
“Oh, God, fuck, Laurel ... fuck!”
She felt him tense as warm come shot into her mouth. She rolled it on her tongue, swallowed, and gently pulled her mouth away. His hand stayed in her hair as his other hand stroked her cheek.
His eyes finally opened, and he ordered her to turn around and kneel. “Your turn.”
She knelt and again—the pain. She wondered if she needed more ointment on it. “Bryan, wait ... I think I need to put more stuff on the tattoo. Sorry.”
“No worries. I’ll be right here, waiting.”
After she lubed up, she walked out to see him smiling lazily. “Come to papa.”
She crawled across the bed and kissed him, and he turned her around. She was on all fours and he kissed her ass; his tongue found her moist opening, swollen, ready. His finger penetrated her as his tongue worked her clit. The ointment had soothed the pain at first, but now it was really hurting. She would never be able to come like this, but his tongue and fingers felt so very good. She thought about her orgasm earlier and that was all it took for her pleasure to override her discomfort. She escalated, and Bryan began to moan into her. He was rubbing himself, getting hard again.
She arched her back and felt his fingers go deeper. As her orgasm pulsed through her, the pain in her back intensified and she felt herself slide over the edge. The gush of warm fluid spurted and Bryan groaned, covering her whole throbbing pussy, drinking her. She came and came again, but her burning back caused her to call out as much as the pleasure. He moved his mouth away and entered her, slamming into her swollen opening until she shrieked. The pleasure and pain caught her in an agonizing, final climax.
He called out as his body stiffened. She collapsed on her forearms, and then she felt him become very still as he pulled out and away from her.
“Bryan, you okay?”
“Uh ... I dunno.”
She looked over her shoulder and he sat on his heels, staring at her ass. Great, is he just noticing now that my gym membership’s lapsed?
He pushed his hand through his hair. He looked pale, “You know, I think I had too much to drink. I’m gonna get home, I don’t feel very good.”
She swallowed back a lump in her throat, “You know, when you have sex with a woman, you don’t just up and leave.”
“Laurel, I’m sorry.” He looked into her eyes, “You’re amazing and I—I just don’t feel well. I saw something that—I don’t know if it was the wine or what.”
“What? What did you see?”
“Your tattoo ... it disappeared.”
She wrenched her neck around and saw the ink on her lower back. She glanced up at him, eyebrow cocked.
“No, it—it disappeared while I—it was gone and then I saw it come back on you, like someone was drawing it—” He looked ill.
“Bryan, slow down ... what’s wrong with you? My tattoo? Are you going to bolt out of here with that story? Look, I’ll make us coffee—”
“No, I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She sat on her bed as he stalked from the room. Tears threatened as she heard the front door slam. She’d never pegged him for a dog. She should have known with all the rippling muscles. Goddammit. She lost her fight with the tears as they coursed down her cheeks. Her tattoo began to burn anew.
Abby was insistent. “No, Laurel, he’s not like that. I know him through Ben, and he’s no dog. Ben told me that Bryan saw something seriously freaky. Like he’s in a fetal position.”
“Oh my God! What bullshit. He regretted fucking me. That’s it.”
“No Laurel. He is freaked out.”
“Jesus. In this together, are you?”
“Laurel! I’m your friend. Why would you say that? He’s freaked out!”
Laurel hung up and tears burned in her eyes. She hadn’t gotten laid in months. Figures she’d fuck the poster boy for histrionics.
She took the bus downtown and it passed the tattoo shop. Mr. Personality was smoking out front. He locked eyes with her. Her clit awakened and she had a sensory memory of pain ... pleasure. After shopping she would visit the shop again. To see about color.
“Back for more huh? Addicted?”
“What? Oh ... I guess.”
He smiled and walked close to her, “Notice any peculiar sensations?”
She swallowed, “Like what?”
He shrugged, “Itching, pricking sensations. Sometimes it takes the spine awhile.”
“Well, something’s peculiar, but I don’t know what,” she grumbled.
He tilted his head. “What’s goin’ on?”
“I—nothing, it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” She found herself getting angry all over again, and the last person in the whole world she wanted to tell was Scott the Tattoo Guy.
“Okay ... ”
She blurted, “I was with a guy last night. He said he saw the tattoo disappear and then reappear. Then he bolted like he’d seen a fucking ghost. Okay? That’s the only peculiar fucking sensation I’ve had!”
Scott stared at her unperturbed.
“I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear about my fucked up sex life. I should go. Sorry.”
“Wait.” He took her arm. “Wait, I want to show you something.” He pulled her to the back room. Great, he’s going to show me his giant knife and leave me for dead in a dumpster.
He pulled his shirt off. On his chiseled chest was a tattoo. It was in full color, and she knew it from her deck—it was the Enchanter.
“My God, I recognize ... that’s—”
“Yeah.” Scott moved like lightning and thrust his mouth on hers. She pulled back and responded, all at once.
“What the hell—!”
He held her shoulders and looked into her eyes, “Shh, wait.”
“Wait for what? This is—” before she could finish, her back began to tingle, the prickly pain a welcome sensation. As the feeling spread throughout her whole body, she felt moisture spread down her thighs.
Her body came alive, every inch quivering, as he pulled down her skirt. He backed her up and claimed her mouth as her whole body pulsed with sensations she had never known, pleasure she had only felt yesterday as she slept on his table. Pain, pleasure, energy, all swirled between them as his hands found her dampness and stroked her. She instantly exploded in wave after wave as she had the day before, her whole body convulsing.
His eyes clenched shut as his face shone with sweat, his hands on her, in her. He kissed her neck, clamping down on it and biting so that she felt herself throb again. His pants were still on and she reached for him, but his hand caught her and held her wrist back. On and on he brought her and her vision blurred as she stood, half propped against a table.
She adjusted her eyes and a scream caught in her throat. Her Enchantress splayed across his chest, moving, as his colored Enchanter covered her. Laurel fought to get away, shaking her head, pulling his hands away. “No, no—oh my God! Jesus Christ!”
“No!” Scott gripped her. “No, please! I’ve waited so long!”
Her orgasm spilled up and over her again as she watched Lilith writhe on him, felt wave after wave rush her, her pussy ejaculating against his pants, his cock straining until dampness seeped through the front of his faded, torn jeans.
A sob caught in her throat as her back tingled again and the tattoo from his chest melded into one again.
“What have you done to me?” she whispered, quaking.
He brought his hand to her face and whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what? How did this...?”
He placed his hand on his chest and held it over the Enchanter, dressed in purple and black, holding a staff. “I haven’t been able to be with a woman until you.”
She stared at his chest, and then looked into his pain-filled eyes. “Why?”
“He gets angry, my chest burns, he moves, women scream ... run.”
“Are you telling me that he’s been waiting—for her?” She reached around, felt her back, hot and tingling.
“I haven’t been with a woman without scaring the shit out of her for five years. Until you.”
“Oh hold on! You’ve absolutely scared the shit out of me! Didn’t you see it ... them?”
“Yes ... they belong together.”
“But we don’t!”
Scott swallowed and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I’ve just waited so long.”
Laurel walked into the street, the cool air rustling her skirt, her legs still not steady. She turned as Scott stared at her from the dirty window of the shop.
Pain again, prickling, a sensation of dampness as she reached back to feel warm droplets of moisture emanating from her middle back. She tasted it, and salty liquid played on her tongue. Sadness. Pain.
Apparently, Lilith had been waiting a long time, too.
Copyright © 2007 by Trinity Wolf. All rights reserved.
Trinity Wolf is a pen name for an established, published author living in Salt Lake City, Utah. Ms. Wolf portents a new voice in erotic literature, writing erotica like she enjoys reading it: filled with sensual imagery and, of course, she likes it hot! She has won awards in erotic fiction and hopes to continue pushing the envelope and creating new and exciting material for her readers.
If you enjoyed the story, why not let the author know? Type your message below and we’ll send the author email. Leave the from box empty to be anonymous, but include your email address if you want a reply.