Tattoo Daydream Becomes a Reality, Kinky Canvas – Part 2
I felt my pussy tighten, and for the first time noticed how wet I really was as my nerves burned where his tattoo came to life on my leg.
My breath caught as the needles made contact with my skin. It hurt, and when we’d been in the shop the pain was all I could think about. But now, here in his private studio, as one hand rested under my skirt, I could feel my underlying arousal. His hands were so close to my pussy, and every time his tattoo machine came closer to my mound I could feel the pain intensifying, but also felt the way it made my pussy clench.
I really was moaning, I realized, as I lay on the leather of his table. He was right. His left hand sometimes moved up the inside of my thigh, brushing my pussy lips ever so gently. My arousal became maddening. Each jab of the needle into my skin added more tension, my muscles and pussy clenching harder.
I could feel the wetness of my pussy now. Time had no meaning Wyatt’s table. There was only pain and a powerful craving.
Sometime later Wyatt’s machine turned off. It took a couple of minutes for me to realize that the machine had stopped buzzing. After hours of needles diving into my skin, I was covered in sweat. As I lay there with my eyes closed I almost forgot where I was, and then I felt his hand on my crotch. And this time it wasn’t an accident. I opened my eyes and found myself looking straight into his.
“Well now, isn’t that a gorgeous sight,” he said, wiping my thigh to clear off the ink, plasma, and blood, while looking directly at my pussy. I wondered if he could see it throb. “I’m glad you paid in advance for our time,” he said. “I’d love to add this to my portfolio, do you mind?”
I blinked, doing my best to remind myself Wyatt was just a tattoo artist. This was his job. But I realized as he brought his camera up that his smile was genuine.
I took a gulp and nodded, barely able to form a coherent thought.
The camera flashed as I realized that anyone who looked at this picture would see my pussy. As I looked down to my thigh I saw the carefully constructed skull, each of Wyatts lines firm, and the gorgeous dragon poking out. I also saw a small puddle on the leather table between my thighs.
“Don’t worry,” he snickered as he set the camera down, “I’m going to crop it for my portfolio.”
I let out a small sigh.
“But the original is staying with me.” He was smiling, but his smile looked hungry.
I stared at him, as my mind slowly processed what he said.
Wyatt walked closer until he was right in front of me. I felt goosebumps rise on my skin, as my pussy ached, begging to be touched. He lifted a hand up, and brought it right next to my cheek, but didn’t touch me.
I leaned into his hand.
“You’ve been checking me out since before we’ve met, haven’t you?”
Air filled my lungs while I tried to think of an excuse. “No, uh, I really didn’t… I mean…”
“Don’t try to deny it. I saw the way you looked at me while you were waiting, while Francine and I were talking.”
I try to think of something to say, to excuse myself, but I come up blank. What was I supposed to say? Yes, hello, I’ve been thinking about how it might feel to have you inside me, but also really dig your art? And somehow my silence and my face tell him exactly that.
He laughs a slow, calculated, laugh, as he takes off his gloves, before pulling on a fresh black pair. “Now, I’d be happy to help with some of that tension, but there’s a couple of things I need from you first.”
My freshly tattooed thigh ached as my nerves started functioning normally again. As I looked up at him I wondered if this was really happening, or if the pain from the tattoo had been too much and this was just a dream. “What do you need?”
Wyatt’s eyes slid over my body. I felt the urge to close my legs as he looked under my skirt.
“For one thing, you, my beautiful canvas, are to call me Master.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“And you are to do exactly what I say, when I say, how I say. Understand?” Wyatt lifted his glove-covered hand and stroked my cheek. The contact of the latex on my face set off another wave of goosebumps. I could feel his thumb wrap around the underside of my chin to grip my face. “I said, do you understand?”
He squeezed my face as he brought his other hand to my thigh, just below the tattoo he created as he laughed. “That wasn’t what I needed to hear.”
“Good. On your knees slut.”
I hopped off the table and kneeled, thankful for the rug under my thighs. From this angle, I could see his bulge. Reaching forward I went to unzip his pants, but suddenly I was thrown to the side. My cheek stung and I realized he had slapped me.
“Did I tell you to unzip this?” A hand moved to the front of his jeans. “Sit up straight little canvas.”
Watery eyes looked up at him, while I wondered if Wyatt had left a handprint on my face.
“I’m sorry master. Please, I just… You’re hard, and I, um…” Looking at him I could see a twinkle in his eyes.
“Good little art slut,” he said while taking off his shirt before he pulled down his zipper, which unleashed his hulking cock. “Now,” he said as he looked down at me. “Open that mouth and suck my cock.”
The wetness of my pussy dripped between my thighs as I opened my mouth. I started to set my hands on my thighs and winced as I pressed against my new tattoo.
Wyatt snickered, then moaned as his cock slipped between my lips. Finally, I could taste him. And fuck he tasted good. I made sure to keep my lips well over my teeth. My face still stung where he’d slapped me and I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to slap me again.
I bobbed my head up and down on his cock, feeling it hit the back of my throat.
“Deeper little canvas,” he said as he ran his fingers through my hair before grabbing two handfuls and forcing his cock farther down my throat.
I gagged as I realized I should have taken a breath in when I could have. He slid down my esophagus while I tried not to gag. I could feel spit dripping down my face as I choked on his cock. And then he pulled my head back. I coughed as air rushed into my lungs, but I knew it wasn’t going to last. Gulping, I forced as much air as I could back into my lungs until he shoved my head back down the length of his cock, sliding balls deep into my mouth. I did my best to work the underside of his cock with my tongue as he fucked my face. It wasn’t long until I was struggling once again, gasping for air, and choking on his cock.
He pulled my face back and forced me to look up at him. “I want you to play with that pussy of yours with your hand’s little canvas.” His cock twitched in front of my face.
The pulsating of my pussy was overwhelming. As I brought my hands under my skirt I rubbed my clit with one hand, sliding my index finger across my slit. My wetness spread as my hands moved.
“That’s right,” Wyatt said. “Fuck yourself down there in front of me. But don’t you dare cum until I tell you too.”
Deep inside I could feel a wave of pleasure building, begging to be set free. I whined.
“I know,” he snickered, “Life’s no fair for greedy little art sluts, is it?” And with that he grabbed another fistful of hair and then began vigorously pumping his cock down my throat. “Now keep fucking touching yourself.”
My fingers danced under my skirt as I rubbed my clit and sunk two fingers deep in my pussy. The rug pressed against my shins, providing only minimal protection from the hard floor beneath.
We stayed like this, him fucking my mouth, and me fucking myself down in front of him. “Look at me,” he growled.
I did as I was told, spit and snot running down my face, my hands still working desperately, slick from my juices. His eyes were savage and primal.
Looking into his eyes I could see his need echoed my own, before he uttered a single word: “Cum.”
He was all I could see as the orgasm ripped through my body, as I felt his cock explode down my throat, coating my tongue with his salty seed. I swallowed every last drop of it as I sat there, while his hands helped hold me and my head in place.
His smile was the first thing I noticed once my brain started to work again. As I sat there, in front of him, he grinned at me before saying, “You know what, your next session’s on me.”