Needing More than Ink: The Tattooist’s Torture

For starters, a confession. I *love* any part of the plane of my chest being stroked, touched, licked… you get the picture. That and my shoulders have always been very sensitive to touch. Oh! and uunnfff… *the collar bones*. Mmm, Mmm, Mmm.

ANYWAYS, I’m getting side tracked.

So yesterday I was quite worked up most of the day, just one of those horny days where you wake up sensitive to the touch and needy, but there is simply just not enough time to indulge. I carried this lust with me throughout the working day – and having Reddit on my phone, did not help matters. Between saucy pics, the dirty flirty banter, sexy stories, and playful atmosphere there were some very nearly unbearable moments where it took *all* my will power to not slip my hand into my trousers, quickly gliding under the silk of my panties for some discreet relief… I never did though; I remained composed as was capable and kept at my professional visage. Then my tattoo artist sent me a text confirming his skin drawing consult and concepts appointment after work. I said “of course! Yeah, can’t wait!” Well I sat there and kept filtering through emails, and then I realized that Eff (his nickname) would be working on my collar bone, neck, shoulder, and chest areas. The thought alone made my twat clench with need and my body shiver. I had to come up with a plan.

*Maybe I could get out of work and then run home to change, but after working out an orgasm or 2 before going to the tattoo shop?*

Well… what is it they say ‘best laid plans and all’. I got home later than I hoped **and** also, got some unexpected company pop in so I didn’t manage any time to myself before the appointment. I had to press on.

By the time I got to the tattoo parlor I had been rolling on close to about 9 hours of steady desire– it was starting to border insatiable need and I felt my pulse quicken as I opened the door to the shop. I was worried that Eff would notice. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a sweet and cool guy, **but** he was also a raunchy guy who ran a tattoo/piercing establishment and has fathered a few children so I’m sure he knows exactly what a switched on woman looks like.

I did okay.

*For a while.*

At first he just made space lines for us to decide exactly the end measures of where I want the art placed. He used washable artist markers. Next, he began to rough sketch the piece. He was playing around with the overall placement and shaping, as well as how it will look on my body; he would take my wrist gently and lift it to move my arm. I lightly bit my lip as I watched him intensely stare at the inks slight turn. He would also lightly roll my shoulder in a circle to capture the collarbone areas shift. *Did he just lick his lips?! Why did he do that?* I roll my ankles nervously as I feel my cunt twinge again, trying to work out the tightening of my thigh muscles as they anticipated greedy, firm fingers.

When he said ‘sorry, gonna have to move this’ and took his digits to hook my bra strap and slide it over and down my shoulder I freshly flooded the delicate fabric between my legs. If he noticed the blush of my cheeks or the slight hitch in my breath, he didn’t react as such. Instead he continued to trail the markers along my flesh… now at my collar bone towards my neck. This brought him closer. I could smell his cologne but I couldn’t place it. Something earthy, something with lemon. I wanted to lick him along his shoulders and up his neck regardless. I wanted to sink my teeth into the black inked rose that labeled where those two met. Being closer and pressing/pulling my skin a little here and there, he was beginning to smear the marker on my skin. “Fuck, my bad – I’m getting it everywhere” I barely heard him. My mind clouded over with thoughts of sweaty, dirty, shameful sex in the very leather chair I was reclined in. I blushed anew and he asked if I was hot. ‘Oh… just a little, but it’s okay. No big.’ He says to just let him know and he can put a fan on or something.

*Then he did it.*

He drew a fresh swirl of blue against my clavicle.

Leaned close.

And then blew softly across the plane of my chest.

Goose flesh covered my skin, I took in a shaky breath, and whispered ‘fuck’. I squeezed my thighs together to squish my swollen labia, trying to send some sort of relief to my needy cunt. I shivered and felt my nipples harden. I cleared my throat trying to hide it. He stopped and looked up at me, ‘you alright?’ “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little ticklish there, caught me off guard.” He nodded and kept working, but only after studying my closely for a few minutes in which his eyes found my cleavage. I held my breath so he wouldn’t notice my rapidly growing pulse.

He must of dismissed whatever thoughts he held while ogling me, for he began his torture again. I was attempting to think of anything under the sun to remove this man from my scope of ‘fuck his brains out now’ vision. “Are you pretty sensitive in this area?” I tensed up… it almost sounded like a come on. *No, Ruth! That’s sex brain talking!* ‘I am, actually. Sun burns… massages… always been super sensitive in that area’. He chuckles. ‘Yeah, a lot of women are… just curious if I’m going to have to hold you down when I go to tattoo you.’ I swallow and laugh a small laugh. ‘nah, I can sit still’. He gives me eyes glinting with mischief and his tone held an extra hint of male dominance when he uttered “Good girl.”

*Oh now you are just fucking with me!*

He raises his brow as he resumes his artistry nonchalantly. I watch him suspiciously and sit still as I contemplate the number of ways I am going to get off when I get home. “Does pain turn you on?” My breath catches and I have to cough. “uh… I mean… I don’t know… sometimes?” I laugh and he cracks a smile and continues once I stop moving. ‘Just wondering… since you’re so sensitive I began wondering if maybe I needed to worry about the other side of the coin. If you enjoy it too much I may have to hold you down all the same.” I giggled and blushed when he let out a hearty laugh, but couldn’t answer. Not with what I was feeling at the moment. I could barely form a sentence without saying something dirty I was positive and then the damn would break.

The time seems to pass so slowly as he finished his hand of things. He asks me about color thoughts. When I’d like to come in to get the outs; I answer passively as he takes a wet rag and wipes off all of his work. The cold makes me breathe easier. We confirm the time and I say goodbye. I take a deep breath once I get into my car. I see him exit and lean up against the brick and mortar looking the direction of my car. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it with a devilish smile. I shiver and my twat reminds me of its need once again. I slowly slip my hand into my panties and rub along the slick folds and find my swollen clit. It only takes a matter of short minutes to cum. All the wall he seems to be watching me. I’m not sure he knew. Atleast not wholly. I simply know every female instinct inside of me told me he knew exactly what I was doing. I took a few deep breaths and started my drive home.

*See you in a week.*

His words echoed in my brain the entire way. My stomach tightened and my pussy clenched again.

*Yeah, I’ll be seeing you.*

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/9da3gk/needing_more_than_ink_the_tattooists_torture

One comment on “Needing More than Ink: The Tattooist’s Torture

  1. Great. Now I have to go do something. But I’ll have to check for updates. Just to see hoe the story goes, of course….

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