Fetish Ezine

Tattoo Fetish…

The moment she comes into the tattoo parlor and sees him, Elis knows she has to have him. His muscular shoulders are bound with shadow stripe tattoos. They’re like primal marks of power uncoiling from beneath his tank top. He’s a primitive locked in the modern world, and he wears his tattoos like badges of rank.

She lures him with her own body as bait. “Tattoo me,” she asks him. “Ink me. Mark me.” She pays her toll and strips for him, which feels hopelessly wrong-way-’round. He applies the design to her lower back and then needles over it. She trembles at the touch of his powerful hands, more than at the pain. She watches him in the room’s many mirrors, his handsome, dark head bent over her in grim concentration.

The pain doesn’t last. Soon she’s flying high on endorphins, like the potent cocktail of lust. By the end, her skin is burning, and it’s from more than the needles. She’s loose-limbed, slippery down below. She knows he can see.

Done, he holds a mirror up and she looks over her shoulder to see the tribal thorns arching over her ass. His hand strokes her flank and her backside comes up of its own accord. He runs a finger over her slit, gathering the wetness, and she moans, still shaky with the pain.

When he puts the finger to her lips she tastes her own salt. His other hand works at his pants, freeing his cock. It’s thick and heavy as a truncheon, hangs down, a ring at the tip gleaming like a drop of liquid silver.

There are mirrors on one wall. She can see when he positions himself behind her. His cock presses against her pussy. They haven’t even kissed. The tattoos on his arms coil as he tenses, closing his hands on her waist. Her new tattoo throbs, her pussy throbs, when he shoves into her.

She watches him in the mirror as he thrusts into her, muscles bunching, tattoos writhing. Her own burns her. She feels the lick of its power, the strength of the primitive markings filling her as his cock fills her.

Head down, she moans. Her breasts press against the tattoo table. His thrusts rock her, shocking the sore flesh. It hurts. It feels incredible. She worms a hand down and rubs her clit. She’s going to cum.

He’s speeding up, too, leans over her, trying to keep his body off the fresh ink, one black-striped arm pinned down beside her, beautiful and strong. She bites it. He’s close too, his breath rushing on her neck.

She comes, an explosion of power, release of tension, hollering out loud, desperately. Her pussy clamps down on him. He cums, cock jerking, fingers digging into the vinyl tabletop, his body forcing hers against the table, then relaxing, sliding away.

They kiss, after. She’s bandaged, clean. Still trembling. And as she leaves, she knows already she will be returning again, and again. One tattoo, and it’s given her a taste for it. One taste, and already she feels the want of him burning in her. Now she knows exactly what she needs.

~Alexandra Rose ~