by Sheri Savill
God I wish he’d just fuck me already.
She tried not to think about what he was about to do.
“This makes a 14-gauge hole, which is a good size for a clit hood hole. I’m going to use surgical steel jewelry, just a simple straight barbell, but once this heals up you can change the jewelry to gold or whatever else you like. Any questions before I do this?”
“Is it going to bleed? I don’t know if I can do this, Mark. I really don’t. What if I faint or something? How long will this take to heal, anyway?”
His voice was calm, measured, coming from close by. She realized that by only being able to hear him, to sense his nearness, his movements, without being able to see him, aroused her like nothing she’d ever experienced.
“Well, these usually heal pretty quickly. As for blood, hmmm, maybe a little, nothing too serious. Trust me. I’ve done a bunch of these, girl. It’s not going to jet up and splat into the ceiling or anything. Not usually, anyway.” He laughed.
“I’m sorry but I don’t find that especially funny!” she snapped. “My arm is killing me, too. Just … on fire.”
She sensed motion again, then felt his warm breath on her face. The tiny soft hairs on her cheek felt like they were standing on end, almost electrified at his closeness.
“Stop the whining, Janna, or I will gag you.” The deep tone, so close she could almost feel the vibration in it, was oddly soothing despite the unnerving intent of the words. “You just relax now, girl. I’m gonna to mark the two spots where the needle has to go through your clit hood. Hold real still.”
Try? He’s going to TRY to mark it? Jesus what have I gotten myself into? I’m not feeling the confidence here. No I’m not.
She felt him push her pussy lips apart again, as slick gloved fingers worked their way inside. She realized she was wet again. Very wet. Her juices made sloshing sounds as he fingered her, pinching her clit area to hold it steady for the tip of a marking pen of some kind.
“Jesus, Janna, I just wiped this down and you’re wet as hell again? Already? Someone likes the idea of her pussy being pierced, don’t they?”
“Mmm, no I – I don’t know–”
“Well I know. It’s obvious. Listen to this sloshing.” Mark’s fingers played among her folds; the sounds of wetness, of her intense and building arousal, were unmistakable. Then his hand left her pussy again. She felt him leaning over her, into her, then sensed him right in front of her face. His presence, the very essence of him, so palpable and immediate.
“Open,” came the deep commanding voice.
Heart pounding, she felt his finger tap brusquely at her bottom lip and instantly her lips parted, more in surprise than as the result of his demand.
She felt a gloved finger enter her soft warm mouth. Then another.
“Taste yourself.” Mark shoved fingers – she couldn’t tell how many – into her open mouth, forcing her jaw to widen. She groaned in protest at the sudden invasion and felt a rush of heat fill her cheeks as the eroticism of what he was doing hit her fully. Again she was annoyed at her own body’s betrayal, at its embarrassing display of need. She felt his fingers wipe across her tongue as he spoke again.
“The funny thing is, with a clit hood piercing there’s a good chance you’ll stay even more wet, and pretty much constantly, too. Kinda the whole point, yes? Anyway, you’ll love it. You’ll feel it all day, when you sit, cross your legs, maybe just while walking.” He was talking as if everything happening was a routine occurrence.
She felt his fingers slip from her mouth and then strong gloved hands moving down her body, stroking lightly as they went, skimming her breasts, over the gentle slope of her belly, then tracing her mound and finally spreading her pussy lips again. There was a light pressure at her clit and she knew he was either marking her with a Sharpie or … just pretending to. Either way, she couldn’t move at all under the tightness of the leather straps, and she certainly didn’t want to move now anyway. The thought of him slipping, inadvertently stabbing her in the wrong place, terrified her.
“Hold still, very still Janna. OK, deep breath now.”
She started to inhale, but before she could fully expand her lungs, a sharp searing pain exploded below her center. The needle. Piercing her hood. Time stopped, that moment of intensity so fleeting, when nothing exists but this, now, everywhere. This.
Her pussy clenched involuntarily. The pain was intense and she let out a small shriek but before the sound even subsided the pain below was gone! And she breathed again. She felt a slight jerking at her clit, Mark’s thick fingers moving the delicate skin. Her mind raced again, now that the actual pain was gone, filling with all kinds of crazy little thoughts.
Fuck! My clit and I were always so close. Inseparable, really. We’d bonded. From the start. ‘Hello there’, clit, I remember saying, long ago, and my clit said ‘Hi Janna!’ right back to me. All friendly, just like that. Yes, and we did things together. Fun things. All the time. I’ll miss those times. Oh FUCK, Janna, get a grip. You’re delirious.
“Sensitive, yes,” Mark almost whispered. “Almost done now. The barbell is already in. God, Janna, this is fucking gorgeous. So sexy.”
She felt a snapping sharpness at her clit, a harsh squeeze that made her insides tense.
“Just trying to screw in the end pieces,” he said. “These tiny balls are really hard to work with … slippery … stay still, breathe.” She forced herself to exhale as he affixed the balls to either end of the barbell.
At least the needle part was done. It was over, and not nearly as bad, she thought, as she had imagined it might be, or would have been in the hands of a less capable guy. Mark’s experience, his confidence, turned her on as much as his physical aspects did.
Still, she wondered if any of the wetness she felt in and around her pussy was … blood.
“There ya go. You did great.” She loved his praise.
She felt him at her head as a strong hand jerked the blindfold off. Her eyes adjusted to the new light, she blinked to see him wiping the black- gloved hands on a towel. No blood, at least, not enough to see. He stood staring at her pussy, looking at it just as an artist would reassess his work in the middle of an artistic frenzy.
“Holy fuck, Janna, this looks smokin’ hot on you. Here – take a look.”
He grabbed a small mirror from the counter and held it up near where her crumpled shorts were still bunched around her thighs. She tried to sit up a little but the tension in the straps kept her from moving much at all. Still, she managed to maneuver just a little so she could focus. He held the mirror in one hand and her pussy lips open for her with the other, waiting for her reaction.
“Like it?” he asked. “Told you it’d look awesome.” The pride in his voice, and in his expression, made her feel special, treasured as a unique work of art in his hands.
The mirror reflected the bright silver barbell hovering vertically in the soft pinkness of her clit hood. It almost seemed to float. Oddly beautiful and so erotic, she thought. She was aware of the strangeness of seeing metal there for the first time, but she had to admit she, too, was proud – yes, that was it, proud – that she’d been able to handle the pain. For herself, and for him.
Jesus, there’s a hunk of metal IN my clit hood. I’ve lost my fucking mind. This guy must be hypnotizing me or something. I don’t do shit like this! I just don’t. Christ.
“Oh my god … it’s really there. I can’t believe it. It’s really there,” she said. She felt her face flush a little at her own inability to express herself more eloquently. “And, whoa, yeah, you’re right, I’m amazed … it really didn’t hurt like I thought it would! Not that bad at all.” Instantly she regretted saying it.
Well that was a dumbass confession, Janna! A man with obvious sadistic tendencies and a serious needle fetish has you strapped to a table and you tell him ‘it wasn’t that bad’?
“How does it feel, Janna?” He was grinning at her, waiting for her answer. “Tell me.”
“Well, it feels … sore. Duh. A little sore. And … weird. Weird in a good way, though. I don’t know – is it supposed to feel like this? Tingly and intense.”
Mark laughed. “Get used to it, yep. Some women don’t notice anything much at all different with a VCH piercing, but others say it stimulates their clit pretty much all day and all night, every time they move at all. I bet you’ll be aroused all the time. You might be able to come without even touching yourself – who knows.” The self-satisfied grin was back on his face. She blushed a little at his prediction.
“A VCH?” Janna’s voice croaked. “Great. I’m an acronym now.”
“Vertical clit hood piercing. Time to get back to the tattooing, Janna.”
She saw the inscrutable, slightly amused, expression on his face again. Frustrating. He was so hard to really read. Obviously he was a total sadist, or at least a Dominant. Both? What did it matter? Just labels. Words. All she cared about right now was the flood of sensation all over her body, how turned on she was. Her arm still burned from the tattooing, and now her pussy was slick and throbbing, alive with new sensitivity.
The piercing. Had she really just been pierced … there? Was this some weird horny dream she would awaken from, frustrated, as usual, that it wasn’t real? Embarrassed by her own depraved subconscious, that it could conjure such sick fantasies at all?
But no. This was reality. As real as it got. Her clit hood had been pierced – it really had. And she already felt … different. The entire process had been one of the most intensely erotic things she’d ever experienced. Strapped down to a leather table. Allowing this handsome tattooed man to pierce her delicate pink clit-hood tissue. Letting him slip a surgical steel barbell into the fresh wound. Feeling him taking his time as he screwed two tiny ball-ends on tightly with those evil-looking black-gloved fingers. Feeling his fingers rubbing her clit roughly, painfully, as he tried to line up each tiny ball and screw it onto the barbell ends. The look of concentration, of pure lust, on his face, as he worked at it. It was all so HOT. She would never forget it.
The entire area around her clit didn’t “hurt” now so much as … tingle and pulse. It was already driving her insane, making her want to be fucked, roughly fucked. Now. She wondered if it would always be like this, or if these intense aroused feelings would eventually mellow out.
She smiled a little and tried to wriggle her pelvic area as much as she could within the confinement, wanting to feel the metal barbell, to see if it would actually rub her clit, to see if she could stimulate herself just by moving slightly. Of course the other six rings added to the sensations in their own special way as well.
I wonder if I’ll set off metal detectors in airports? Holy shit that would be embarrassing! Woman Detained At O’Hare In Embarrassing Security Scare: Personal Piercing To Blame. Yeah, that’s what they’ll call it. A personal piercing. Right. As opposed to a Communal Piercing, I suppose? What the fuck am I talking about? Get a grip, Janna. Get a goddamned grip.
She blinked hard and swallowed, trying to get used to the new … feelings, wondering whether the barbell was already rubbing her clit. She wasn’t even able to really look down there yet. But she could feel it … very clearly.
Yes, it has to be rubbing already. A lot. And I’m not even moving!
“Feels good, doesn’t it, little slut?”
She nodded, feeling her face heat again.
Mark looked at her with a mixture of amusement and arousal, a look that only made her more turned on, more aware of her exposure, of just how insanely erotic the entire evening was turning out to be. Tattooed and pierced, and now a hunky man hovering, asking her embarrassing questions and making comments while staring at her nakedness, at her moist cunt.
He reached out a gloved hand and cupped her exposed mound possessively. “The hood area should heal up fairly fast. You’ll feel it more later tonight, I’m sure, but even after it’s totally healed you’ll be amazed at how much the jewelry rubs whenever you move at all. Based on your responses to me tonight, I’d say you’re going to be a constantly-horny wet little slut from now on, Janna.”
He grinned and continued, casually. “I love the idea of you being constantly turned on and unable to help it. I’ll want you to think of me, of this, every time you feel the metal rubbing in that wet cunt. You’ll think of me and how I gave you this, how I changed you.”
Smirking sexy bastard! What is wrong with me that this is turning me on like this? Jesus, Janna, get a grip.
He pushed his middle finger all the way into her pussy. She moaned a little as she felt it slide in easily, the slick slurping sound it made only increased her embarrassment yet again.
“Damn girl, you’re still one wet little cunt, aren’t you? I should tattoo this pussy, you know? Just right here, real fast. A small black ink tattoo, maybe just a word in a nice bold script. How about ‘slut’? What do you think, Janna?” She writhed, pathetically, trying to fuck herself on his thick gloved finger. Suddenly she felt a small stinging smack on her breast that made her catch her breath and go still.
“Ow!” she protested.
“No you don’t!” Mark corrected. “Stay still, Janna. You want me to finger-fuck you? You have to ask. Just ask. But yeah, I think a nice little script tattoo on your mound here would be pretty fuckin’ hot.” He went right on musing and planning as if she wasn’t there, as if she was an object, a surface for his art, a practice canvas.
He’s gotta be kidding about tattooing my pussy. He’s just trying to scare me. He just wants me to freak out. Well I won’t. I’m OK. I’m just … horny as fucking HELL right now. God, I can’t even think.
“Mark, please … I need you to–”
“Need what, exactly, Janna? What do you need? To come? You need to come, is that it? Yeah, I bet you do. That metal, rubbing on your clit hood … is it making you hot? The little balls on the ends, those must feel nice rubbing all over your clit? And you feel like you need to come. Aww, well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?” She felt his finger abruptly pull out of her pussy. All the way out.
“I told you to ask, but you waited too long, Janna. So, no. You don’t get to come now. But I will let you taste yourself, for being a good girl while I pierced you. Here. Suck.” He pushed the gloved finger into her mouth, roughly. “Suck yourself off my finger like a good little slut.”
She licked and sucked and tasted herself, feeling her face heat again in shame and … arousal. He pulled his finger out, then shoved it back in, as if it was a cock fucking her mouth. Frustration, horniness, swept over her again, making her body tense in need. A delicious new heat began to radiate from her pussy – was it partly due to the trauma of the piercing? – she wasn’t sure.
Oh god I wish he would fuck me already! Something. My clit is fucking throbbing. It could be bleeding for all I know. No, that’s not blood, that’s my own wetness. He’s right, I’m a slut.
Chapter 8
Mark picked up the tattoo machine and took his seat on the wheeled stool at her side again. The whirring sound began and instantly she felt an entirely new type of pain.
What the hell is this shit?!
“Ow!! Damn! What–?”
Mark kept his gaze trained on her inside elbow area, the delicate pale skin already stinging under the sharp pressure.
“Shading needle.” He said it matter-of-factly. Intense pain flooded her senses as waves of searing heat shot through her skin in rapid succession, causing her to try to lift her entire body off the table. He acted like he didn’t notice. Or care.
“It’s a different type of needle, see?” He lifted it off her skin briefly and held the tip closer to her so she could see it. “It’s more broad, in a way, but it’s really just a bunch of tiny needles all lined up together instead of just one bigger one for outlining.”
Is that supposed to make me feel good or something? A bunch of tiny needles instead of just one? Oh yeah, so much better. NOW I see what you mean, you bastard. The shading needle is almost like a sleep-aid,
you’re right! In fact, I may just nod off here! Sadistic, smug, arrogant, fuc–”
She felt the gun pressing back into the soft flesh of her inner elbow again. No warning at all. And Mark continued his dry explanation as if he was narrating a boring documentary.
“I decided to shade heavily in this area – it’ll make the design really pop. Some people say the shading needle isn’t quite as bad as the outlining needle. I guess that’s not true for you, though.” His gloved hand kept swiping roughly over the freshly wounded skin as he worked, adding to her torment.
This fucking KILLS. I’m going to have to say something. I’m going to have to make him stop for a while. I need a break.
She tried not to levitate off the table. She felt an overpowering urge to move, to flee, to break loose somehow, to get away from the source of this awful, relentless new pain. It was probably the worst pain she’d ever felt in her life – like being burned and cut at the same time. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of anything else. Everything in her centered on the pain, wave after wave of it, unceasing, making her forget anything else even existed in the world. Nothing but pain now. Hot, cruel, immediate, mind-fucking pain. It went on for a solid twenty minutes, neither of them speaking, the music the only sound other than the incessant buzz of the tattoo gun.
She felt tears welling up. Useless, weak, embarrassing, tears. She turned her head away from where Mark sat leaning into his work – her arm – hoping he wouldn’t see, wouldn’t notice, as she fought the tears back with everything she had.
NO! You are NOT going to cry. Not now. You can’t cry. Just breathe and try to think of something else. TRY. Goddammit, TRY.
Just as the first tiny tear began to crest over one lower lid, the pain stopped. The whirring noise was gone. She felt a nibble at her ear and heard Mark’s low rasp.