Monday, June 18, 2018

Inked Passion

The studio was light and clean, with all white furnishings and colorful art hanging from the walls in stunning designs. I squeezed his hand a little harder, communicating my bit anxiety as we entered the room. The artist was already waiting for me, wearing an all black outfit that contrasted with the white apron, bandana and mask. Without a word, a hand already covered by blue rubber gloves indicated I should take my place at the chair.

I took a last sip of Jack Honey, and handed Red my bottle and purse. Laid down, I tried to relax as I felt the cold of an alchohol-soaked tissue being rubbed against my skin. "Can I put some music on?" - Red asked. "As loud as you wish, bro. This room used to be a rehearsing studio, the doors and windows are pretty soundproof"- was the answer.

So, he dropped my stuff over a glass side table, and went to deal with the sound system. I took a deep breath, trying to get more comfortable. one window, behind me, had its curtains opened to a probably beautiful view of the city from the 7th floor. In front of me there was another big window from where one could see the studio reception lobby, with its vintage-futurist decoration that reminded a mix of old fashioned drive-in restaurants with some kind of harbour side cabaret. There was a bunch of people there (and they were all as unique-looking as the scenario), but they couldn't see inside the room we were, because of the one-side mirror effect of the glass.

He put some music on, walked a bit and stood beside me, taking a peek at the work. "This is going to be really beautiful" - he said. "Yes" I answered. The artist was silent, concentrated. Red walked a bit around the room, took a look outside through the windows, and stopped in front of the chair, staring at me with a sweet smile. He opened the bottle and took a sip of my whiskey, making an interesting expression: "I still prefere the original shit" - analyzed him.

I gave him a bit nervous smile back, uneasy with the pain that was starting to get tad annoying. "You want a sip?" - he offered. I reached with my right arm in his direction and he came closer to handle me the bottle.

-Is it hurting? - he asked, and the bright in his eyes was already changed.
-A bit... - I answered, staring him back while I felt his fingers softly caressing my thigh. - But I'm a big girl. I can take it.

-I know you can take it. - his fingertips were moving up to my hips, careless about lifting part of  my skirt. His touch was soft as a feather, and now directioning to my inner tighs. I bit my lips. I felt him smoothly touching my pussy from over my panties, in slow up and down movements. As my bean was getting hard, he'd circle it, tickling its arounds, without taking those hypnotic eyes from me.

"Is that pain and pleasure..?" - he'd affirm, more than ask. One finger lifted up the corner of my panties, and another one slided into my soaked pussy 'til I felt the pressure of his hand against my labia. I let escape a muffled groan, that was probably inaudible, through the music and the typical noise of the tattoo machine. With one finger way deep inside me, he offered another sip of the drink and softly kissed me.

I could feel the moist starting to flow out, as his thumb touched the top of my clit. I felt a small shock and bit my lips again. He smiled, made a deeper pressure inside me, before slowly taking out his now smeared finger, and sticking into my mouth. I eagerly sucked it, tasting my own pleasure, and teasing my instincts.

He pulled a bench to the front of the chair I was, took a sit and gently bended my legs, caressing all along them, without any rush. When his hands got to my hips, he pulled off my panties, kissing my naked ankles as he freed me from the lingerie. Then he bended my legs up, spreading it in a gynecological position, as he pulled himself closer.

The one-way mirror window was right behind him, and the impression I got was that everyone outside could see the scene, which was at the same time uncomfortable and exciting, like the pain in my arm as the tattoo needles hurt my skin. As if part of the machine, the artist just kept going, eyes on the drawing as if nothing unusual was happening. As I turned my head to see how the work was evolving, I felt Red's breathing between my legs as the tip of his tongue tickled my clit. His stare was profound and intimidating, and I closed my eyes as his mouth was getting hungrier, sucking me greedily.

I firmly grasped the sides of the chair with my hands. The artist then delicately tapped to my forearm, making a sign to relax the arm muscles. I tried to apologize, but again was deeply penetrated by one long, decided finger, as I felt the palm of his hand cupping my whole cunt, pressing my sensitive spot.  His finger started moving inside me, teasing and stretching, as another one was tickling my butthole, and spreading over the juicy drips of my fluids.

He got a second finger into my gash, revolving as the other hand was now pressing the bottom of my belly. I was now moaning out loud, twisting my toes inside the high heels, trying to keep steady. Sometimes the tattoo artist would rub a tissue to my wounded inked flesh to wipe the blood that was probably running hot through my whole body. This was terribly painful and still would make me even more sensitive to the stims down my intimate sites. A woman approached the mirror to check out her newly got tattoo. Her friend came closer, and they were cheerfully talking and pointing. I couldn't listen to them, they couldn't see me  there, kinda hostage of that kinky scene.

He spreaded my legs even more, exposing my puffed up glossy pussy.  He stepped aside, again searching for the bottle. I felt too vulnerably and put my knees together. " Keep it opened" - he firmly commanded, taking another sip. I just obeyed, and reached again with my hand, silently asking for the bottle.

He came to me, pulled my head up a bit from the chair headrest, but didn't let me hold the bottle. Instead, he put the bottleneck to my lips and lift its bottom. There was a bit too much, and some of that honeyed tennessee spilled from the corner of my lips, dripping over my neck and cleavage. He forced me to drink all the rest of the liquor - there might had a whole dose left or more, counting the wasted. "Good girl". - he said, still holding the now empty jar in front of me - "Now suck it."

I looked down to his pants and noticed he had a hard on . My eyes questioned, his firm gesture pushing me the bottle was the answer. I then holded it with my right hand - the left arm was almost numb, the fleshy canvas for that focused artist - as Red was grabbing the back of my neck, keeping my eyes on him, as his other hand slapped my pussy.

I started licking and sucking the cold bottleneck as if it was his hardened cock. "That's it..!" - he complimented, and slapped my cunt again, this time harder. "Deeper, bitch, I want to see you deepthroathing it." - he said, louder than the music, careless  of the presence of a third person there...Well, definitely that didn't matter any longer.

I could notice a few people occasionaly passing through or even stopping by the one-sided mirror. The heavily pierced receptionist fixing her pink hair. A young couple admiring their matching tattoos. A group of drunk motorclub members arriving for some celebrative inking. I could only have quick glimpses of them while Red's fingers worked hard on me. One, two, three...revolving, exploring, as if he wanted to retrieve something from the depths of my welled pussy. I could no longer hold the bottle, I left my arm rest aside, still holding it by the bottleneck, moaning out loud as I was being extremely fingered.

A whorish-looking women was retouching her lipstick as Red leaned over me and whispered: "Keep sucking this shit if you don't want this bottle to end up on your asshole..!" - he then took his hand out of my pussy, slapping it even harder. My body shook for a second and even the tattooer seemed to have had a little jump scare, stopping to draw for a second, then wiping off the excess of ink and blood and continuing the work.


Red then slapped the bottle from my hand, that went to the floor into zillion pieces. I could notice a reaction from people outside as if they heard that noise of shattered glass, but then I felt my arse being merciless penetrated by his fingers. Deeply, slowly and strongly. All in. All out. He let go on my neck and had his two hands grabbing me, loosening my butthole with both thumbs, tickling my vagina with his index fingers .

"I'm almost done" - the artist said, loud enough to be heard  throughout the music and moaning.  "Time to cum" - Red smiled a pervert, delightful smile, drumming his fingers on my cunt as I could still feel his pinkies holding my hole gaped.

In seconds, I felt the shaking. An exploding orgasm shocked my body and again the tattoo machine stopped working on me. A big amount of moist was spitted out my pussy, almost in a squirt, and I did suffocate a louder cry.

"It's done" - the artist announced, and rubbed me with the tissue one last time. Then said, begining to thake the gloves and mask off : "I'll have some water, you can suit yourselves, I'll be right back. Nevermind the mess, someone will come to clean it later" -and left the room.

Red reached the tissues and handed it to me with a passionated kiss. I cleaned myself,  put on my painties and pulled down my skirt.  He  disconnected his phone from the sound system and then helped me to get off the chair, after another of his sweetest kisses. We both were staring at the mirror, admiring my new tattoo. Admiring ourselves. We are a hell out of a great-looking pair.

-Did you like it?
-I loved it.
-I love you.

That would be forever under my skin.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Go ahead and show me what you´ve got..!