Marked for Submission (6 page)

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 sh
e 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 p
ossessively. “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 increas
ed 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 ha
ve 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.

“Good girl, you didn’t cry.
Very proud of you. You did well, so, maybe a little reward for you now.”

He was up and moving behind her somewhere. She felt a bump as the table jerked a little, then the entire leather surface under her head and neck suddenly lowered. He was adjusting the table … for some reason. She felt her neck and head descend to an angle below the plane the rest of her body occupied. She looked out at the now upside-down view behind the table and saw Mark, standing close.
His crotch. Right there. The outline of his erection inches from her face. She wriggled a little, testing to see if her arms and ankles were still immobile. They were. Her pussy clenched again, awareness of the new piercing making her even more wet.

Then she heard the sound of a zipper and felt Mark’s black-gloved hands grab roughly at the sides of her head. She saw his cock
– hard, thick, up close – and about to press into her face.

“Open up, Janna. Suck,” he growled. “I’m going to fuck your face and come in your mouth.”

She opened and felt his length push into her mouth. Her heart pounded. So many sensations all at once: the painful heat all over her arm, the throbbing in her clit, Mark’s cock moving in and out of her mouth now, slowly and insistently.

“Jesus Christ, girl, that’s it,” he moaned. “
Fuck
yes!”

She felt gloved fingers pinch at a nipple sending a new shiver of pleasure through her body. Then he took both hands and held her head again, thrusting in and out of her mouth, using her. She loved the feelings swirling in her, overwhelming her in pleasure … mixed with pain … an endorphin rush but also a sexual neediness. All working to bring her close to orgasm
– and he wasn’t even touching her pussy.

His cock rammed in and out of her throat making her nearly gag a few times. She held on … what choice did she have? The wet sounds of near-gagging only made Mar
k more insistent, more aroused.

“I love hearing you take me like this, swallowing me. God damn this hole feels so fucking
good, I’m gonna come … you just stay the fuck open!”

He pulled out and shot hot white come over her upside-down face, just a couple inches away from her lips, her nose,
her eyes. He groaned as spurts landed all over her face, some going into her open mouth. Then he squeezed the last bit from the tip and backed away. She heard the zipper, and then felt a gloved finger invade her pussy again, pushing in deep, then out, then back in deep, several times.

Oh YES, thank God, I need to come.
So badly. Please. Please.

“Nope, I don’t think so, Janna. Not yet. I think we’re all done for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow night at ten
– after we close up for the night – we can finish you off then.” She heard a low laugh and then felt his finger pop out of her wet cunt with a loud slurping noise.

She might just cry after all.

Chapter 9

Janna drove home in the darkness, in pain, and in need. And the thoughts just wouldn’t stop. At home she drifted in and out of sleep most of the night; her arm hurt badly the first hour or two, a bad sunburned feeling, just as Mark had said it would. She took ibuprofen, and after a while it settled into an almost-toler
able dull, but insistent, burn.

Great.
Sleeping with a goddamned sunburn. Just what I need. Jesus … what the hell am I doing? Who IS this guy? What is wrong with me that I let him do all that to me tonight? And I’m going back tomorrow night.

But she knew what it was. She needed to be controlled. She needed a man to use her, take what he wanted,
make her fully
his
. Her pussy got wet just thinking about what Mark had done earlier. The control, the insistence, non-negotiable acts. For some reason, she craved that. She realized she always had. Since she was a teenager, at least, she’d fantasized like all young girls do, but her fantasies always had a … twist. While her friends giggled about the handsome knight picking them up, carrying them to the bed chamber, and making passionate love to them, Janna’s “knight” was always a rogue, a ne’er-do-well, a villain … a guy who picked her up and slammed her against a wall and took her in the ass while calling her a “harlot.” His harlot. Or he would chain her up in a tower and torture her and fuck her whenever he felt like it, which was every few minutes, usually, because, well, teenager-brain and all. Rogues in the Middle Ages could get hard repeatedly within seconds of coming each time. Of course.