1 comments/ 30018 views/ 4 favorites Tattoo Me By: Gothica_Exotica He tells me to lay down, so I do,"on your stomach" he commands and obligingly I do as requested. I do not need to see his face, it doesn't matter. There is no pillow, so I fold my arm and go to curl it up under my head, "put your arms down at your side" he says gently. He puts on some music, "some Depeche mode?" I smile and tell him that would be good, he'd noticed the badges on my bag and 10 out of 10 for observation, but it will make the whole experience much more pleasurable...'Mercy in you' oozes from his laptop speakers, how apt! and I begin to relax. I have been here before, I know what I am having done to me, the subject matter has indeed been out lined already. I love it, but then I love it all. I love it in ways I am not supposed to love it, it's not just a means to an end, in fact it's not 'even' a means to an end in one respect...I must like being in a perpetual state of frustration. "Are you comfortable?" he asks, I am reasonably so I nod and take a deep breath "how long will this take?" I ask him. Quite cheerfully he tells me it will take about 2 hours, depending on how we go and I look forward to this very much. I don't know how many other people get a kick out of this the way I do. My ultra sensitive back is exposed to him, and I know that laying here in front of this stranger like this makes me feel somewhat vunerable, but thats ok I like it. What I am doing is putting my trust in a stranger, its a very simple relationship, things can go wrong but I like to take this leap in the dark its part of the adventure I suppose. He tells me he's going to start, and the gentle hum begins, the anticipation excites me but I hide this as he places a hand on my back and I make sure my hair is out of the way, then I feel it, a slight scraping, like someone lightly dragging a pin across my skin, it feels all tingly, slightly sore but deliciously so, he asks me if it's ok and I try not to reply too dreamily when I respond with "oh yes thats fine." I wonder if he can guess what I am thinking, I rather think he can't, the sensation has changed a little by now, the initial soreness is replaced by the feeling of heat in a small concentrated area on my back, I feel really naughty because I am not supposed to be loving this quite as much as I am, even though I am laying on my stomach I can feel my nipples harden I smile to myself at my little secret. My mind begins to wander, I start to think about ways a lover could simulate this feeling, try as hard as I might I can't think of anything quite like this, well not that doesn't result in some kind of hideous scarring anyway, I ponder over it some more but am interrupted in my thoughts as I am blasted on the back but a sudden spray of cold water, its like my nipples and my clit are joined by an invisible thread as it jolts my senses...this new sensation. I feel the water drip slowly from its fine mist, down my sides, I know its going to be mingled with my own blood as he wipes me down with some tissue. He tells me he has finished that bit and the session breaks momentarily while he fiddles with his equipment, I listen more intently to the music, Dave Gahan is just peaking in the chorus of "Higher love" now and I hope that this man gets back to what he's been doing to me before it ends. He does. After a little while he tells me how good I am doing, then he asks me if I need a break, I am dying for a cigarette but the desire to continue is greater, so I urge him on. By now its been over an hour, over an hour of constant, unyielding, stimulation, it's like one big long tease. I am tormented by the knowledge that when I go home there is nobody there to forfill my almost desperate need, so I try not to think of this, I push it to the back of my mind. I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep my aroused feelings in check, I am throbbing down there and the aching for some ones touch is becoming overwhelming, almost to the point of being unbearable. I can imagine how wet I must be and what it would be like to have this aching cavity filled by something hard and muscular, to have it pumping in and out allowing me to move the way I wish I could right now. I have to watch my breathing as I realize I am now breathing in shorter, sharper breaths, I make a determined bid to control this before I start making little gasps and groans. I know I could actually come like this if it goes on much longer, I wonder what he would think if he realized how I was getting off on what he's doing to me, that thought just serves as more fuel to the fire, the very fact that he had no idea how he is turning me on, and the excited, heightened, state I am now in is purely a result of his innocent efforts. He tells me he is done. That I can look now, so I do, tiny pin pricks leak a mixture of blood and ink and I admire the latest colorful addition to my back, he asks me if I am pleased with it and I tell him I am, adding "it's always a pleasure" and I smile, wondering where would be a good place for my next tattoo. Tattoo Meets Her Master I fidget in my seat, smoothing the skirt of my dress down for the hundredth time, waiting for further instructions. His IM earlier said to wear a dress, nothing underneath, and for me to insert my Ben Wa balls. Then I was to go to the lobby of the hotel and wait for further instructions. My IM beeps and I fumble my cell phone. I read: Get up, walk through the front door. Directly in front of the doors is a red sedan with a man leaning against it. Walk to him and follow directions. I rise shakily and move to the door. I spot the car and the man. I move through the doors and a cool breeze blows up my skirt as I walk to the car. He smiles and stands up, opening the door. He steps close to me and whispers in my ear, "Put your hands behind your back." I do it instantly; the voice in my ear is his. I close my eyes for a second as he secures my wrists behind my back. He takes my arm and leads me to the car. He helps ease me into the seat and pulls the seat belt across my lap. Shutting the door he circles the car and gets into the driver's seat. He turns to me and asks, "Did you follow my instructions?" "Yes, Sir." I whisper. He chuckles and leans forward to slip his hand into the top of my dress, cupping my bare breast. I feel my nipple grow hard against his warm hand and he gives it a pinch. He slips my dress down a bit so my breasts threaten to spill out, my nipples peeking. "Spread your legs and turn towards me," he says. I turn in my seat and spread my legs for him. He pushes my skirt up and tells me to pull my left leg up so he can have a better view. Of course, I open myself completely to his eyes. "Good girl," he says, "Keep those legs open for me now." He starts the car and pulls away from the hotel. We start to drive and he asks a few questions about my trip, the room, etc. He pulls up to a red light and reaches over to pinch my clit. I moan out loud and the light changes. We drive for a few more minutes, eventually pulling into a parking lot. He gets out, walks around, and helps me out of the car. We walk to another motel room. He opens the door, allows me to enter, and follows. He walks up behind me and puts a blindfold over my eyes. He then pulls the top of my dress down, exposing my breasts fully. I feel my nipples pucker and he runs his hands over them, pinching them and attaching a clamp to each nub. He reaches up under my skirt and pinches my clit again, then moves away. I stand straining to hear what is happening, to no avail. He returns. "Spread those legs." I do and he pushes me forward; bent over, ass pushed out, legs spread. He flips my skirt up and strokes my ass. I feel cold lube run between my ass cheeks and a rubber instrument starts circling my asshole. Slowly, the tip starts pushing in and he works it in bit by bit. He pushes the plug all the way in and gives my ass a slap. He stands me upright and then pushes me to my knees. I hear his zipper come down and I feel the tip of his semi-hard member against my lips. I open and wait as he slips his cock into my mouth. I curl my lips around my teeth and start sliding my mouth back and forth along the length of his cock, letting my tongue swirl. Then I pull back to work the tip with my tongue until he is fully erect. He grabs my hair to hold my head still and moves his hips, fucking my mouth good and proper, making me gag, then pulling back. He continues to use my mouth for his pleasure until I feel his balls contract and he spills his seed over my lips and tongue. I swallow my reward happily. He pulls me up, releases my wrists, and tells me to get on the bed on my knees. He tells me to pull up my skirt and to spread my legs. He steps away again and when he comes back and I hear the familiar buzz of the Hitachi. He places it between my legs and gives me my instructions: I am to grind on my toy and, if I please him, he will allow me release. He presses the vibe against my clit and I start to move, the sensations already so intense. I feel my juices making the toy slick, making me press down harder. I am moaning, my chest rising and falling with each breath. The little chain on the nipple clamp jingles and suddenly he unclasps one. I hiss as the blood returns to the sensitive nub. He then releases the other; so painful, yet so good. I ride faster, so close to climax. I whimper and start to plead, hoping this is allowed. He chuckles and allows me to cum. I do: my hips bucking, breasts bouncing. He pushes me down face first, pulls out the butt plug, and replaces it with his cock. My body is still spasming from my orgasm as he takes my ass; fucking me hard, slapping my ass to a lovely, rosy pink. He pulls out and cums on my ass. Reaching around, he removes the blindfold. "Go clean yourself up, my little cumslut. Do not get dressed when you are done. Instead, walk to the center of the room, get on your knees with your bare ass facing the door, and await my return." Tattoo of Her Name The following story is based off of a VAST song titled Tattoo of Her Name. I don't know why I decided to pen this tale, but the song took me, and I knew I had to type it out. Something about sometimes being a vessel for some greater good. Don't ask. Anyways, I just wanted everyone to understand that this story is meant to be tongue and cheek. I don't condone murder, or adultery. I just have a twisted sense of humor... In fact, I don't even quite know where to post it... Erotic Horror, or Humor & Satire. I'll post first in the later of the two. Which is the purpose for this warning. I'm sick and twisted. In what you would call "fetishes" and "humor". Basically, I'm not the person you want your kids to be around. But I am quite useful as a bad example. Feel free to always tell your children not to grow up weird like me. I tell my own children that. ^__^ Macabely, Yours. * Alice and I had been seeing each other for about 4 months, she was married, but said her and her husband were not working out. She never did go into details about it. But she always had these strange bruises in strange places on her body. That looked remarkably like hand prints, and belt buckles. But when I questioned her about them, she would always have some story as to how she had gotten them. Like falling down, or running into tables. Or she'd quickly change the subject with one of her mind blowing blow jobs. And once she had my cock in her mouth, there was no thinking about anything other than what she was doing... We had planned to meet up next Wednesday at a coffee shop in the foothills of the mountains. The place we always "meet up" at. She always insisted on never meeting in the town we lived in. And if we saw each other randomly on the street, we'd pass like strangers. I thought it genius at the time. Here we were this sexy little couple, this in love couple, and no one knew a fucking thing! But that Wednesday, she never showed. It didn't take me long to worry about her. So I started to drive by her house, or places I knew she would be, to just see if she was okay. I mean, we might not have ever really "talked" about it, but I knew her husband beat her. It was so obvious. I must have driven by those places for a month straight before I finally saw her walking to her car. I know she saw me too, I slowed just long enough to make sure of it. I was letting her know she had better call me. Or risk her husband finding out about the two of us. She didn't let me down. She called me that night. She said she was at a friends house, but she was there with her husband, so she had to be quick. She asked if we could meet at two in the morning. She asked to meet off of a country road out to the east of town. I agreed, and told her I loved her. I'll never forget what she said after that; "I'll hold you to that." I didn't think much of it then, but if I knew then what I know now, I would have never gone to meet her that night. When I pulled up to the spot I noticed a car parked off the side of the road. As I passed it, I cursed, if someone was already there, she'd just drive right by. FUCK! I wanted to see her so bad. I wanted to know how she was, and why she didn't show. No sooner had I passed the parked car, than it flashed it's brights at me. Instinctively I knew it was her. I slowed, and came to a stop on the shoulder, before slowly reversing. Before I could even put the car in park, there was a knock on the passenger side window, it was her. She was wearing big dark sunglasses, and a coat with long jeans, even though it was out of character for her at this time of year. I unlocked the doors, and she climbed in. Her mascara was already running down her face from behind her glasses. And her whole body shook with the force she was exerting to keep herself from crying still. I could feel my heart rate quicken, and I asked her; "Alice, I want you to tell me the truth. Are all the bruises you have all the time from your husband?" I knew the answer. I kept my hand on my wheel, and my eye straight forward, and tried to brace myself from the rage that was building inside of me, as she said; "Yes. Frank beats me." My blood began to boil, my fists tightened on the steering wheel till my knuckles were white. My shoulders tightened as I drew in a deep breath. I closed my eyes tight, and exhaled. And through greeted teeth I ask; "Is there anything I can do to make it better?" And slowly re-opened my eyes, and turned my head to look her deep in her eyes as she removed her sunglasses to reveal a busted lip, and a black eye. And she said; "Honey, you should make him go away." And she kissed me, while I lowered my seat, and she crawled on top of me. We'd always fuck in my car. I'd drive around for the next week smelling her sweet perfume, and her own lust. You know that intoxicating smell of your woman, it can make a guy do some pretty criminal things. The things "love" will do to you... She went into detail about her plan, and how it would all work out... There's a hundred thousand dollars in the bank, and he just took out a life insurance policy yesterday. You just have to make it look like a gang hit. The cops will buy that with my husband." She breathed in my ear as she took my already erect cock out of my pants and began to stroke it playfully. She slowly started to rub the head of my cock on her wet pussy, teasing me with it. She knew just how to get to me. Before I knew it I was saying; "Baby, for you, I'd do anything." As she slowly lowered herself on me. She began to rhythmically push off of me, and then pull back down. Kissing my neck, biting my lower lip when we kissed. My hands were busy grabbing at her perfectly shaped ass, grinding her against me. Holding her tight when we kissed, touching, and rubbing her ample breasts. Sucking on her pert nipples. And in a moan she said; "We could move to Paris until everything is worked out, and safe back here." Meanwhile, I had latched onto her hips, as I held her in place to quicken my thrusts in her tight pussy. I knew I didn't have much more time before I came. And I know she liked it when I pounded her pussy ruthlessly. And I had to give her an orgasm before I could get mine, just the kind of guy I am. And to show her gratitude that I always put her before myself, she's always swallow my loads. After she had sucked every last drop from me, she looked up at me, and with her tear stained face, and blood shoot eyes asked; "So it's settled then?" I nodded yes, and kissed her deeply before pulling away and saying; "I'll get a gun." She smiled sweetly at me and as she pulled my face to hers said; "When you do it, I should be out of state. So I have an alibi, just in case." And then kissed me, before quickly crawling out of my car and back into the one she had driven here. As I straightened myself out, I saw her drive away in my review mirror. As I drove back to town all I could think of was how bad I wanted that son-of-a-bitch dead. I bought a gun, and a mask without having to use a name. And when I knew Alice would be safely out of town, I waited for her husband to leave work. When I saw him cross the parking lot, I felt hot and cold. Like there was suddenly a war for my soul. After he got into his car, I walked up and unload my gun in his chest. And as he lay there bleeding out, looking up at me, I pulled the mask off my face and said; "You'll never lay a hand on her again!" And I ran to a pay phone to call Alice, to tell her it was done. God was she good, she started to cry? I could hear someone's voice in the background, consoling her. I tried to reach her on the other end, but she must have dropped the receiver. I yelled to get her back on the line, to know what was going to happen now. To see if she was okay. It's funny how life is what happens to you while you're busy making plans. She called the cops, and told them I was some depraved soul that had shot her husband in order to "have" her. It helped her case that she had started getting her neighbors to start noticing when I was driving by her house. Or her friends when I would drive past any other place she might have been. You see, there was never any policy, or money. And all those bruises were from her martial arts class. The Instructor even confirmed her story. They had the gun with my prints all over it. I was tried by a jury of my peers. They felt I had motive. The judge sentenced me to one hundred thousand years, all the while she was in the courtroom, crying her fake tears. The whole trial, she held on to her lawyer's hand, and they always both looked so damn tired. Like they never slept at night. Never once looked me in the eyes, even though I stared at her. From the moment of my arrest I knew how it was going to go. I knew that I was always just her pawn. So now, she lives in Paris, with her layer, and I will never have parole.