by Cecilia Tan
That didn’t surprise me. Lots of tattoo artists were into other forms of body modification and lots of them were into BDSM, too. I would be willing to bet this wouldn’t be the first time he’d be tattooing a sub for a dom.
“Name’s Nat,” he said. His hair, what little of it he’d let grow, was blond. There was a bigger tuft on his chin than on his head. I liked him right away when he pointed his goatee toward the Bondage Beauty on my upper arm. “Classic Gary, right? You get that done here? I don’t recognize you.”
“No, had these for years,” I said, showing him the one on my other arm.
“Well, if you ever want more…” He indicated the sample wall behind him where there was a section that was all Frank Gary pinups. Nice. Seeing a Gary in the window had been what led me to look on this street for FOR RENT signs last year but this was my first time inside the shop. “So what’re you here for today?”
“His and hers tattoos,” I said. “We’re looking to ink her with my name, and me with…something else”
Nat didn’t miss a beat. “What’s your name?”
“Chino.” I spelled it for him.
“I thought you said that wasn’t your real name,” Madison teased me while paging through the sample book on the counter.
I laughed. “Trust me, you don’t want ‘Aloysius’ tattooed on you.”
“Is that your real name?” She looked unsure whether I was joking or not.
“My given name,” I said with a nod. “It’s a saint name. I have to guess when I was born my parents were going through an Anglo assimilation phase and a Catholic guilt phase at the same time. Chino’s my chosen name and that’s what’s important.”
Nat was all business. “A shorter name’ll be cheaper. You want it in a heart or anything?”
“No, no, just the lettering.”
“If all you want is black letters, about yea big? Hundred dollars. Hundred-fifty if you want the really heavy black.”
“No. The slim letters are more her style, don’t you think?” Madison was pointing to an elegant style in the book and I nodded in approval.
“Okay, and upper arm?”
Madison framed a spot under her belly button with her fingers. “No, here.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Nat looked back and forth between us. “And for you?”
Madison answered, leaning her chin on my shoulder. “‘Maddie’s Daddy.’”
“I can take you right now,” Nat said to Maddie, “but I don’t think I can get you both in before my eight p.m. appointment.”
“That’s fine. I can come back for mine,” I said, and Maddie squeezed my hand as she grinned. We’re doing it, she mouthed silently.
Yes we are, I mouthed back. That phrase could mean so many things and I meant all of them. We’re doing the partner thing. We’re doing the tattoos. And we’re going to “do it”—after all, once my name was on her skin, I could make good on my promise to consummate our partnership in the traditional way.
Nat led us into the back of the shop where there were small rooms all along one side of a hall. Some of the doors were open and I could see glimpses of chairs and equipment. Some of the doors were closed and I could hear the buzzing of tattoo guns in use as we followed him into his room.
“Okay, so the panty line. Are you talking about above the snatch, shaving the snatch, or what?”
Madison pushed her shorts and panties down to reveal the very top of her pubic hair. “I think right along the top of there is best?” She traced where my finger had indicated.
From behind her I pushed her panties all the way down to mid-thigh and kissed her bare ass as I stood back up. “Yes, right along there. Don’t get any ideas about touching her, Nat.”
Nat chuckled. “As if I didn’t already have a clue you’re kind of possessive. Not to worry, boss. I don’t do fish, only meat. Miss, if you’d lie down on the table here, I think that’s probably the best way to do this.”
He prepped a sample tattoo first, positioning it and then peeling the backing away so that purple letters stood out against her pale skin. That looked about perfect so the next step was to fill it in with black ink. He prepped methodically, laying out tiny cups of ink and testing the tension on the tattoo gun.
While he busied himself with that I slid Madison’s pants all the way off her and massaged her pussy. There was a layer of sanitary paper under her on the massage table and I wondered if she was going to leave a wet spot. I grinned at her.
I love you, she mouthed at me.
I love you, I mouthed back.
I held her hand as Nat began to actually apply the tattoo. She squeezed hard. “Oh, fuck that hurts.”
“Not a masochist?” Nat asked idly as he worked.
“Well, I sort of am but ugh, that feels like you’re knifing me in the stomach.”
“Breathe,” I reminded her. “Breathe and think of me.”
Her attempt to smile came out a grimace as she gritted her teeth. After ten minutes of that, I was worried she was going to crack a tooth. “I should’ve brought a vibrator.”
“If you want to, eh, soothe her, I don’t mind,” Nat said. “Just don’t get in my way.”
I was on the opposite side of the table from him and he was working on the letters upside down, his hands on her belly, leaving her legs free.
I slid my thumb against her clit and saw her begin to relax. “That’s a good girl. Don’t move.”
Her clit grew more and more swollen as the process went on and her breaths became long and deep.
“Hey, Nat,” I asked, checking the watch on my wrist. Almost quarter till. “For another hundred would you leave me alone with her for fifteen minutes when you’re done?”
“If it’s cash, sure,” he said with a grin. “And I’m just about done, actually.”
He cleaned up, showed off his handiwork to me—the letters stark against her pale skin, my name staring me in the face, permanent and real—then bandaged it over and withdrew, leaving us alone.
Madison was sitting on the table at that point, swinging her feet. “Fifteen minutes?”
“I’m not waiting until we get home.” I freed my cock, which was pretty well strained to the limit, and sat down on the chair. “Get on.”
She straddled me eagerly, one hand on my chest, the other sliding up and down my shaft. “So hard already, Daddy.”
“Get on, girl,” I repeated. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
She rubbed the head back and forth in her wetness. “I’m not on the Pill,” she said, and I knew she was serious, not role-playing.
“Then I won’t come inside you,” I said, just as serious. “Not until we get somewhere with condoms.”
We searched each other’s eyes. Yes, it was a small risk. But neither of us was going to let that stop this moment from happening. She sank down onto me with a tiny cry.
“Slowly,” I murmured against her skin.
“It’s hard to hold back,” she answered, panting as she pushed herself down further. “You feel huge this way.”
“And you feel like everything I ever dreamed of.” I meant it, too. She wasn’t just warm and tight and pulsating with need; she was mine in every way. I thumbed her clit again and felt her squeeze me. “I’m not coming while I’m inside you,” I said. “But you sure as hell are.”
She made that tiny sound again, trying to keep quiet, and I put a hand over her mouth to silence her while my other hand worked on getting her off. Her clit was so slippery I almost wondered if maybe there wasn’t enough friction with my thumb flicking back and forth, but her hips began to jerk and her breath to come in steam-engine gasps through my fingers, and then her spine went rigid with orgasm. I pushed her to a second one and she pushed herself to a third one, rocking back and forth and banging her clit against my pubic bone.
I pushed her off after that one because I’m not made of stone and I was about as close to my own limit as I could stand without coming myself.
We cleaned up quickly, using the wet wipes
Nat had in a dispenser, and put our clothes back together as best we could.
My balls were aching but I had never felt better in my life as we stood at the counter while Nat ran my credit card for the tattoo (and pocketed the other hundred). While he was waiting for the transaction to clear he said, “Hey, I think Frank would love to see your Bondage Beauties.”
“Frank. You mean, Frank Gary?”
“Yeah, you didn’t know? He’s in back doing someone right now but he was almost done last I looked.”
“I had no idea he was a tattoo artist. I only know him from the comic books.”
“Yeah, he got into tattooing maybe ten years ago. The work’s steadier than comics.” Nat pulled my receipt from the machine and handed it to me with a pen. “Sign here, and let me see if he’s done.”
“An artist you idolize?” Madison asked, as Nat slipped into the back again.
“Yeah. When I was a kid my dad had a ton of magazines with kinky bondage art in them. Frank Gary was my favorite, though.”
I could hear Nat’s voice as he neared the counter again, leading an older man from the back hallway. “Yeah, what a coincidence, huh? He’s just a walk-in, had no idea you worked here.” Nat waved toward me. “Frank, meet Chino Garcia. Chino, the inimitable Frank Gary.”
He stepped aside to reveal a face made long by the receding of a graying ponytail. Older, but still a face that I knew.
My father.
My real father. “Chino?” he said with a frown on his face—disbelieving, skeptical, but eyes widening as he realized he recognized me after all. “Aloysius Francisco Garcia?”
My lips were numb but I managed to say, “Dad?”
Nat’s mouth hung open. I was vaguely aware of Madison closing it with her hand on his chin, his teeth touching with a click.
At almost the same time, my father and I said, “What are you doing here?”
Answering that question was going to take a while.
* * *
MADISON
When the two Garcia men met for the first time since Chino was ten years old, at first I wasn’t sure if they were going to hug each other or fight. When they puffed out their chests I couldn’t tell if it was because their hearts were so swelled or if it was to see who could dominate the room.
They neither hugged nor fought, physically. The elder Garcia held out his hand across the glass countertop and they shook.
“I live up the road,” Chino finally said.
“I’ve been working here for years.”
“How did I not know you were Frank Gary?” Other than shaking his father’s hand, Chino had barely moved. They had nearly identical postures: head high but shoulders canted slightly forward. “How did I not know?”
“Even your mother didn’t know, until the day she did.” He shook his head. “The day she threw me out for being too much of a pervert.” He laughed bitterly and then looked Chino up and down. “Didn’t want me to influence you kids. But I see the nut didn’t fall far from the tree. Who did those?”
Chino patted one of his own upper arms. “Some guy in Cleveland, don’t even remember his name.”
The elder Garcia nodded slowly in a mannerism that reminded me eerily of Chino. “You’re being rude, son. Who’s the lady?”
Chino stood up taller. “This is Madison. Maddie, this is my father, Cisco Garcia.”
“Gary’s a pen name,” he said as he took my hand in both of his and bowed slightly. “Charmed.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Garcia. If you two would like to catch up…”
“No, no, I can’t talk long. Got my next appointment coming in at the top of the hour. But what say we grab a beer after work?” He pulled his business card from the holder beside the cash register and handed it to Chino. “Cell phone’s on there. Shop closes at eleven. That too late for you?”
“Not too late at all,” Chino said. “See you later.”
I think Chino was in something of a daze as we left the shop. I made sure he didn’t walk in front of any traffic on the way back to his apartment. The sun had set while we’d been inside and the cool night air blew Chino’s hair across his face.
In the apartment I sat him down in his armchair and then investigated what was in his fridge. Coke, beer, orange juice, milk…although the milk was basically empty. “You want a drink?”
“Sure,” he said, without specifying what. He was staring at nothing.
I poured us both Coke on ice in mismatched tumblers and brought it to him.
He drank to the bottom of the glass and then set it down, ice clinking. “Well. That was unexpected.” He looked at me. “What’d you think?”
“Of your father? He reminded me of you.”
Chino huffed, a half laugh. “Yeah.” Then he shook himself like a dog. “I guess I’ll find out more later. But you. You just got inked for the first time. How do you feel?”
I slipped into his lap and put my arms around his neck. “Endorphin high and totally yours.”
His smile was blissful and bright. “Which is exactly how you should feel. I’m not done with you yet, sweets.”
“Well, given that I’m your girl permanently, I’d certainly hope not.”
“Mm. That, too. But come on. Let’s do this in the bed. I want to take my time and this rug is hell on the knees.”
In the bedroom he shed his clothes as he went around the room lighting candles. He didn’t have much in the way of home décor, but he had tea lights on the windowsill, the night table, and the bookshelf next to the crates of clothes. I undressed myself and climbed onto the bed, watching him as he went. I’d known very few men who were as perfectly comfortable walking around naked as Chino. And I’d known plenty of wild guys in my time.
“What?” He settled onto the bed beside me. “You look like you’re having thoughts.”
“Just remarking to myself how much you like to walk around nude.”
“You should’ve seen me as a kid. Any excuse to take my clothes off, I would. I’d get the hose and fill up a storage bin in the driveway, fling my clothes off, and climb right in.”
“Your parents must’ve loved that.”
“Dad thought it was hilarious. Mom not so much. She was freaked out that not only was I naked in front of the whole neighborhood, I could’ve drowned. She tried to shame me for showing off my junk but somehow it didn’t sink in.” He stretched. His cock was much redder than the rest of him, suffused with blood and heat. “When we moved to the Midwest I got naked a lot less often, though. No beach, cold weather, and religion. Brrrrr.”
“No wonder you came back here.”
“Where I’m comfortable in my skin. That’s what the tats are about, too. It’s my skin. I’m marking it as my own.” He kissed a line down my breastbone and tummy until he came to the bandage covering my tattoo. “Keep it covered for a couple more hours. Wouldn’t want to get inappropriate body fluids in it.”
With that he dived between my legs and set his mouth to my pussy.
I found myself impatient, though, wanting him inside me. I’d had plenty of orgasms in the shop and although he quickly rekindled my arousal I didn’t want to come anywhere near as much as I wanted to be filled, to feel his flesh fill that gap, to feel his body fit against mine. So basic, so simple, but there it was.
But there was no hurrying Chino. Making needy cries only encouraged him to tease me more, and begging, which I eventually broke down to do, only got me his fingers and more Daddy-stalling questions that led to more begging.
And the more I begged, the deeper into subspace I went, and the deeper into subspace I went, the more the begging itself turned me on.
“Please, Daddy, just an inch? Put just an inch into me?”
“Do you want me to suck you? You know I give the best blowjob you’ve ever had. Let me get you ready to fuck me.”
“I need you so much I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“Please, Daddy, before I go insane.”
But he didn’t give in. He fingered me an
d licked me and coaxed me to the edge of orgasm a few times, until I said, “I’ll truly do anything.”
“I know you will, sweets, because you try so hard to be a good girl.”
“I’ll even take the blindfold. Blindfold me but fuck me, please.”
He looked up my body to meet my eyes. “You’re serious.”
“Very.” I felt my heart pounding in my ears, but every word I said was true. Even as my blood pressure rose, though, I felt calm, secured by my submission, knowing I was completely in his care. It was like I could no longer worry, no longer fear, because I had already broken past that fear to become so wholly his in the first place.
“Turn around, sweets. On your knees.”
I got to my knees on the bed and turned my back to him. A few moments later I felt his hands smoothing my hair, pulling it into a ponytail.
And then a cloth came over my eyes—awash in the delicious scent of his skin and his cologne. He had made his shirt into a blindfold. He tied it tight and then hugged me from behind, his erection against my spine, his hand over my heart, feeling it race.
“Come back onto me, sweets,” he said. “Just to get it good and wet. Then I’ll put a condom on.”
“All right.” I would never have done this—unprotected penetration—with any other man. But with Chino I didn’t hesitate. As in the tattoo shop I felt the risk was small and, like the contact, was the ultimate in intimacy. I wiggled my ass back against him and he guided me with his hands until I felt the head of his cock centered between my lips.
His fingers were hooked on my hips and he thrust suddenly, filling me with a burst of pleasure-pain.
“Good girl,” he purred. His fingers crept up my ribs, swirled over my breasts, latched on to my nipples. “Now fuck.”
I wanted to move back and forth but my range was limited by the fact he was pinching my nipples, creating pure torture as I rocked on his cock.
So good.
Then he let me free and his hands fell onto my bare ass instead. Each time I drove myself back against him he met me with a double spank. Five, six, seven, eight—
He jerked free suddenly, his hands gripping my ass like iron. “I’m getting that condom now.”