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By Rasputtin Szczepanski
Chapter 5
The address to which I was to arrive at wasn’t far from my house. It was a duplex down Congress St. as it headed up Munjoy Hill. The address was for the bottom floor apartment. I showed up about 15 minutes early. The sky was clear and a bitter cold was numbing my exposed skin. I knocked on the door. It opened and my new tattoo artist stood at the door. She had a white tank top on, with no bra and as I had correctly guessed, various tattoos ran up and down her arms.
She held the screen door open and said, “You’re early. If I say 6 o’clock, I mean 6 o’clock, not five fifty.”
Her chastising tone surprised me. She beckoned for me to come in. I stammered, “I’m sorry, I guess I misjudged the distance.”
She closed the door and grabbed my jacket before I even started to take it off. I let her pull it off and she hung it next to the door. She smiled, “it’s warm in here so you might as well take off as much as you can, including the boots.”
I left the boots at the door and remained in jeans and a t-shirt. I followed her into a kitchen. She spun around and said, “Want a glass of wine before we start?”
Of course I did. I wanted anything that would calm me down. I was suddenly having second thoughts about the whole process and I was jittery. I nodded and she poured me a glass of red wine. She also poured herself one. She raised it as if toasting and said “to calm your nerves.”
She sipped her wine and watched me as I drank mine. I was uncomfortable with the silence. “Do you do a lot of tattoos here?”
“Not really,” she said and brought her glass to her lips, taking more in.
The wine was good, not that I was a good judge. The only other wine I had was the stuff I snuck in my own house.
Once I was finished, she took my glass, put it down on the table and grabbed my hand. The intimate touch shocked me again and I blushed. I wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. She pulled me to a back room. There was a padded chair which back was pushed so that you could lay down on it at an incline. Next to it was a small table with the tools for tattooing, the picture of the dragon symbol taped to a board and a high chair. She let go of my hand and stroked the back of my head. “You ready Liz, or do you want to relax a bit before we start?”
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure. How about…I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”
“You can call me Miss Ambrosia,” she said.
“Miss Ambrosia, this is my first tattoo, so I’m not quite sure how it works.”
“It’s easy.” She squeezed my shoulder and led me to the chair. “Sit down there.” I sat down and she stood next to me. “I’m going to have you take off your shirt and then lay down. Then I’ll trace the symbol on your chest, then tattoo it in. It will hurt a little but that’s not a bad place to get it. It won’t be too bad. It will take about two to three hours I think.” She leaned over and pressed play on an iPod player. Soothing new age music filled the room.
“O.k. Do I take off my shirt now?” I asked.
“Yes.” She watched me and stood uncomfortably close. I pulled the t-shirt over my head. She grabbed it and placed it on a dresser. I started to lay back and she said, “That bra will get in the way, take that off too.”
I felt embarrassed but I knew what she was saying was true. I told myself that this was like going to the doctor, nothing to be embarrassed about. I unhooked my bra and she placed it on top of my shirt. I crossed my arms over my nipples, covering them. She laughed, “No need to cover those. Those are some fantastic tits. Go ahead and lay down.”
I lay back on the padded chair. She grabbed my arm and gently pulled them down to my side. I glanced at her face and she seemed like she was devouring me with her eyes. I thought, “Oh God, she’s a lesbian.” I don’t think I ever met a lesbian before, although there were rumors of those at school that floated around. Some thought I was a lesbian so I didn’t put a lot of weight into those stories. She is just different, I told myself. She laid her hand on my shoulder. “Now, you will have to lie perfectly still. If you want, I can strap you into the chair to keep you from moving, just let me know if you need it.” She was watching my reaction. She smiled and patted my cheek, “Ready?”
“I guess so,” my nervously was shining through. She sat down and started prepping her tools.
“Now, you can’t tell anyone where you got this. I will deny everything. Understand?” I nodded. She took a cloth and cleaned off the area where she was going to tattoo. The smell of rubbing alcohol drifted up to my nose. She put the picture on my belly and began to draw the outline out on me, using an ink pen just above my breast. As she focused on drawing she started to draw me into conversation. “What made you decide to get a tattoo?”
I sighed, “It’s something my Mom used to wear. She’s disappeared…I thought it was symbolic.”
Miss Ambrosia looked up at me, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. I just thought this would be a way to remember her.”
“It’s a good tattoo. Even without the meaning, it’s a beautiful design. It’s nice that you are getting this. Do you have any other tattoos?”
“No, this is my first.”
“Oh? Mmmm, I’m honored to give you your first. What will your boyfriend say?”
“I don’t have one.”
“A pretty thing like you, come on.”
I blushed and she continued to ask idle questions until she was done with the outline. Then she prepped the tattoo gun and held it, “Are you ready?”she asked.
I nodded. I heard it buzz and when she touched it to my skin I jumped. She raised the gun. “If you jump around, I’m going to have to strap you in. Do you want that? It could make it easier.”
Butterflies danced around in my stomach and my nipples swelled until they were stiff corks on top of my breast. I could see her eyeing them and her headlights became more pronounced through her thin white shirt. She smiled and slowly put the tattoo gun down to the skin. I closed my eyes and didn’t move this time. It stung, a slow, constant pain but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. She would stop every now and then and stroke my arm or my hair gently.
She laid down the outline. When she started on the color, I jerked and whimpered. She put the tattoo gun down. “Ok, we need to keep you still.” She got up, went to a drawer and pulled out some leather cuffs. She put one on each of my wrist, tightened and then pulled my arms above my head where she connected the bracelets with some padeye on the top of the chair. I watched her silently. I could hear nothing but my heart pounding in my chest. She pulled out some long leather belts. The first one she wrapped around my waist and then around the back of the chair. Then the other one she put across my neck. She only tightened it enough so that I couldn’t move my head up. I was immobilized. She stroked my hair again and then started again on the color. The belt over my throat felt tight and made me a little dizzy. I forgot about it after the pain started again.
A half hour later, she was done. She dabbed away some blood and she put a mirror in front of me so I could see. “It will look better in a week.”
“It’s perfect,” I said and then waited for her to unstrap me.
“Make sure to cover it with a bandage for about a week. You can shower and all, just don’t want to pick at it.” She put a bandage over the tattoo and then smoothed it with her hand. Her hand continued and ran down my arm. “You are very pretty.” She spoke the words slowly, drawing them out.
I tried not to look into her eyes. Her hand brushed against the side of my breast. She laughed “You are so shy, I love it.” Normally I would have protested, claimed that I wasn’t into women, but the experience had left me supercharged with excitement. I was tied up with no control. I should have told her no but I couldn’t, I didn’t want to. She must have sensed it because she continued to let her hand, slowly run up to the top of my breast, where her fingers then circles my nipples. She watched my eyes, gauging my reaction. Her eyes were wet with desire. My mouth was hanging open, I must have looked like I was panting. She leaned in and kissed me long and soft on the lips. Her fingers moved in closer and circled the tips of my nipples. I made a soft whimpering sound, a short cry that must have sounded pathetic. Instead it seemed to drive and excite her. She kissed me harder. Her hand cupped my breast, mauling it and then pressed hard down against my stomach, running down until it reached my jeans. She unsnapped my pants and unzipped them. Then I tried to utter a protest but she kept her mouth pressed against mine.
Her hands slipped down under my panties and her finger slid right through my patch of public hair and into my slit. She found it slippery, warm and wet. Her finger held there and I moaned, spreading my legs, trying to push up with my hips. She began to slowly rub me. She looked into my eyes again, watching me as she pleasured my pussy with her finger. She leaned down and kissed my breast, then took a nipple in her mouth and sucked on it. Her mouth encasing it, her tongue slide around the nipple, lathering it. She sucked in on it, her finger working furiously now, up and down my slit, touching me in a way that I never imagined I could be touched.
I was on the verge of orgasm. I couldn’t believe it. I liked women. This meant I was a lesbian or at least bisexual. I shuddered and came. She wiggled and pushed her finger against me as I cried out, loud enough for the occupants upstairs to hear. She stopped sucking on my breast and watched me. She leaned in and whispered, “Good girl, there you go.”
As my orgasm passed, she slowly brought her hand up and ran it up my belly, then lifted the palm so that just her fingers circled my nipples, leaving a trail of my own juices. She continued up to my mouth where she slowly dipped her finger into my mouth. She whispered again, “suck it.” I did, tasting my own juices on her finger.
She removed it and suddenly I fell backwards. She had lowered the back of the chair so that I was inclined all the way back. It was at a slight angle where my head was facing down towards the floor. She smiled in a way that indicated her wicked intent and started to unsnap her pants. She slipped out of them, pulling down her panties with them. Her sex was bare and puffy. A tattoo of a rose vine with thorns climbed down to her pussy. She stepped over me so that she was straddling my chest. Her sex was close to my face. She pushed it forward so that she was squatting right next to my head. Her pussy was right over my mouth. “My turn. Lick me,” and she lowered herself so that her pussy rested on my lips.
I pushed out my tongue and it slipped into her. I tasted her warmth. She rubbed herself up and down my tongue. She would pause as my tongue pushed up against the top. My mind reeled from the how surreal my situation was. I was tied down and a woman was pleasuring herself on my face. I was getting excited again. Judging by her heat and wetness, she was excited by me. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and began to grind herself on me. I couldn’t lick anymore, I simply stuck out my tongue and she pushed herself up and down on it. Her speed and strength increased until she looked up at the ceiling and moaned. The wetness covered my face and my chin. I could feel the muscles in her cunt twitch on my tongue.
She slowly calmed down and stepped back over me. She leaned down, kissed me and then got up and got a camera. Before I could protest, she took a few photos of me. Then, putting the camera down, she undid the straps. I wanted to protest but something in her glare frightened me.
“Can you spend the night?” she asked.
“I…I need to call Aunt and let her know but it should be ok.”
Miss Ambrosia got a cell phone and handed it to me. After calling home and telling them I was spending the night at a friend’s house, Ambrosia grabbed me by the hand and took me to her bedroom. We kissed, licked and fingered each other under the sheets until I was sore and I fell asleep curled up against her.
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