Part 6
by soleil (c) (sonsoleil@hotmail.com)
Sarah stared at S in horror, her lips forming a perfect, round O of shock and
disbelief. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, surely he was joking? He
was going to get her tattooed?
"But...but... Sir," she stammered, "What do you mean? Surely you can't be
serious?"
"Oh, I'm serious. In fact, I haven't been this serious for a while. Apart from
when I told you not to speak unless spoken to, of course. I was serious then, as
well."
Sarah recognised the harsh edge in Sir's voice and knew he meant what he said.
She fell back in the seat, her stomach turning and her heart pounding. She hated
needles; she had never been able to stand them. How would she cope with a
tattoo? Shivering, she looked at the parlor with apprehension mixed with fear.
Opening her mouth to speak, she caught the warning look in S' ice blue eyes and
thought better of it.
"Out," he snapped, disengaging the central locking.
Sarah opened the door and climbed out of the car. Her legs were trembling and
she felt lightheaded. Looking around, she thought briefly of making a dash for
freedom but S was at her side before she knew it, catching her elbow with a
tight grip.
"Don't even think about it," he warned, quietly.
A bell on the shop door rang as S lead her into the parlor. Despite herself,
Sarah looked around in fascination. Always of the opinion that tattoos had no
place on a female body, she'd never been near a tattoo shop, let alone been
inside one.
The parlor was just one big room, and the walls were covered from floor to
ceiling with designs and drawings. More designs and drawings were contained in
large, freestanding flip folders. A little corner of the back of the room was
curtained off, and Sarah could see table legs, similar to those of tables found
in doctors' surgeries. But the thing that caught Sarah's attention was the four
workstations set up in the center if the room. Three of them were in use -
people were being tattooed right there in front of anyone who cared to look!
Sarah watched as one of the tattooists worked carefully on the bared upper arm
of a bearded, beefy man. The design was intricate - some sort of dragon, Sarah
thought. At the second station, a woman with long hair was sitting bent forward
on a gurney, her head buried in her hands as the tattooist worked on a rose on
her hip. Another man was seated at the third station, poring over an album
filled with yet more drawings. He and the tattooist were discussing what he
should have inked on his chest.
Three more people were sitting in a little waiting area that was directly
opposite the workstations. Sarah reddened as one of the waiting men looked her
up and down appreciatively. He grinned at her through broken teeth and tattooed
lips. Shuddering in revulsion and feeling very self-conscious, Sarah jerked her
tiny skirt down in a futile effort to cover herself up a little more. She was
aware of her breasts rubbing full and heavy beneath the sparkly red material and
wished she was wearing something that wasn't so slutty. The man nudged his
friend, and both of them leered.
"Hey, how's it going!"
Sarah saw a tall, thin, tattooed man walking towards she and S.
"This the chick you told me about?"
Sarah cringed behind S as both men turned to look at her. Evidently, this man
and S knew each other.
"Yep, sure is," said S. "You can fit us in, right?"
"Oh, I think so," he replied. "It's just a small one, so it shouldn't be a
problem. Twenty minutes max, and she's done."
"Good stuff," said S, hauling Sarah out from behind him.
Sarah shook with fear as he gripped her jaw with his hand and forced her to look
up at him.
"Go with Wes. Do as you're told. I'll be watching you. Do not disappoint me. Are
we clear?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispered, her face pale.
Wes walked over to the fourth work station. Pushing a gurney out of the way, he
pulled over a backless chair and positioned it in front of his chair. He looked
at Sarah and patted the backless seat.
"Just here, thanks. Hey, you got that design you wanted on you?"
S pushed Sarah over to the chair, and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of
his jeans.
"This is it, I want it right in the small of her back."
Wes took the paper and studied it.
"Okay, I can do that no problems. I'll just go make up the template, then I'll
stick it on her back and you can take a look before I start."
As Wes walked off, Sarah sat on the seat, then looked up at S.
"Please don't make me do this," she begged, her voice quavering. "Please, Sir,
I'm terrified of needles, it's going to hurt!" Tears formed in her eyes as she
spoke.
"It'll only take a minute, you'll get over it."
"But what are you getting done to me?" wailed Sarah, a note of hysteria in her
voice.
"Stop whining, I don't want to hear your fucking voice! You know what you agreed
to do when I took you with me, remember? What did I tell you are?"
"A slut, Sir."
"Correct. Whose slut?"
"Yours, Sir."
"Right again. Mine. And I'll do what I want with you, yes?"
"Yes, Sir," Sarah whimpered.
"We understand each other, then. But one more word from you, and it's a one way
trip back to the island!"
Sarah hunched miserably on the chair, shaking and shivering. She was truly
scared, she thought she was going to be ill. She noticed the waiting men waiting
were watching and listening to the exchange with interest and she looked away,
unwilling to meet their eyes.
Wes returned, and came around behind her.
"Right, you need to stand up for me, nice and straight, while I position this on
your back, okay? I'll need to adjust your clothes, too."
Sarah looked over to Sir, who nodded encouragingly. Sarah did as she was told,
her legs trembling as she tried valiantly to control herself.
Wes raised her top half way up her back and then pulled her skirt down low on
her hips, exposing her lower back.
"Nice and straight, now," he said, sticking something in the small of her back,
just above her ass crack. Moving it around a little, he fiddled for a moment,
then stepped back to view his efforts.
"This okay?" he asked S. "Turn around and show him."
Sarah turned around slowly and presented her back to the room.
"Yep, that's great," he smirked.
"Go bigger, sweetheart!" called one of the watching men and Sarah cringed. She
didn't want a tattoo at all, especially not a big one!
"Alrighty," said Wes. "Have a seat. I need you to bend from the waist, and lean
forward. Here, put these in your lap and rest your arms on them, you'll be more
comfortable."
He handed Sarah a couple of folded towels.
Sarah folded her arms across her chest and buried her head in the towels on her
lap. Then she heard the buzzing of Wes' instrument and adrenaline coursed into
her bloodstream as blind panic swamped her. She sat up, certain she couldn't go
through with it.
"May I see it?" she asked, twisting around to see what Wes was holding.
S stepped toward her, and Sarah caught his movement out of the corner of her
eye.
"Please, Sir," she begged. "I just need to see it, and I'll be okay. Please?"
S thought for a moment, then nodded.
Sarah turned back to Wes, and looked closely at the stainless steel implement
whirring in his hand.
"See?" he said, showing her. "Nothing to it."
"Will it hurt?" she asked, lip trembling. "How long will it take?"
"It might hurt a bit, but lots of people get it done, so it can't be that bad.
Have you ever had children?"
Sarah shook her head.
"I was going to say the pain isn't as bad as childbirth! Okay, have you ever had
a bad sunburn?"
Sarah nodded.
"Well, it's a bit like that. It stings a bit, and might burn a little. But it's
not so bad, the outline is the worst part and we'll get that over and done with
as quick as we can. All right?"
Sarah nodded doubtfully, her lip still trembling.
"Down you go, then, and you have to try not to move. If you do, I'll mess it up
and you'll be stuck with it. And you Lord and Master won't be pleased.
Understand?"
Sarah nodded again, and bent over the towels once more. She felt beads of sweat
popping on her forehead as the sound of the tool, buzzing like an angry hornet,
filled her ears. Closing her eyes tightly, she felt every muscle in her body
tense as she waited for what seemed like an age for Wes to begin.
"Okay, hold still, and try to relax," the tattooist said, going to work.
Sarah gritted her teeth as she felt the needle dance over her skin. Tears
squeezed from the corners of her eyes as he began to etch the outline on her
back. Willing herself to stay seated and as still as possible, Sarah moaned as
the stinging, burning sensations coursed through her. Sweat poured down her face
as Wes worked on her and she silently urged him on, willing him to finish as
soon as possible.
"Ow, ow, ow, OW" she cried, as the needle inked over her spine. She clenched her
jaw and succumbed to the pain, stars dancing behind her closed lids as she did
so. Remembering she wasn't supposed to move, she bit into the towels in her lap.
Sarah heard S' voice, as if from a great distance.
"S'okay, baby," he murmured, "You're doing well, he's nearly done with the
outline."
Sarah opened her eyes and saw S' shoes and jeans clad legs. She felt strangely
comforted, and relaxed a little.
"There," said Wes, straightening up.
"That's the outline done, now I just have to fill it in. Hold it for a sec."
Sarah remained where she was, but snaked a hesitant hand out and reached blindly
for S. He caught her small, clammy hand in his large, warm one and she gripped
it tightly. The buzzing began again, and the tattooist bent over her again,
filling in the design.
It seemed to Sarah to take forever, but she wasn't so scared now that she could
hold S' hand, and the pain wasn't as bad as before. Still, she'd just about
reached the end of her tether when finally, the buzzing stopped, and Wes put his
tattoo gun down with a clatter.
"All done, you can sit up. But slowly, you might be a little dizzy."
Sarah let go S' hand and straightened up cautiously. She wanted to rub her back,
but resisted the urge. Looking up, she saw S' watching her intently, his eyes
fixed on her face. She smiled a ghost of a smile as their eyes met.
"Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.
"No Sir, thank you, Sir."
"What for?"
"Um, for holding my hand, Sir," she said, softly.
"You did well, I'm proud of you."
Sarah felt her heart leap at his words, though she didn't know why she felt like
that. Giddy euphoria overcame her as she realised she'd actually done it! She'd
gone through with the tattoo, and what's more, S was proud of her! Suddenly, it
all seemed worth it.
"Stand up, let's see what it looks like."
Sarah stood slowly, and rolled her shoulders to ease some of the stiffness.
Turning, she showed her back to S, who whistled softly as he looked at her.
"You did a good job, looks great!" he said to Wes.
"Sir? May I see it? Please?"
S took her by the hand and led her over to a full-length mirror.
"Take a look," he said, watching her reaction.
Sarah looked at her reflection in the mirror, twisting around to get a clear
view.
"Oh!" she gasped, seeing her tattoo for the first time.
Two small Chinese characters were engraved in black in the center of the small
of her back, just above her plump bottom.
"What are they? Do they mean anything?"
"Figurative translation means 'woman under a Master's hand'. 'Slave' is the
literal translation."
"Oh," she said again, understanding dawning on her. He had marked her for life
with the word 'slave'. For the rest of her days, wherever she was, whatever she
did, who ever she did it with, she would bear his mark.
"It's what you are, isn't it? A slave? My slave?"
"Yes, Sir," replied Sarah, looking at her tattoo again.
"Yes, Sir, I am a slave. Your slave."
