The Rose Tattoo

               By Katherine English

 

Quietly I slipped behind the thin Chinese screen, the one slim concession to modesty offered by the proprietor of "The Needle's Point", an innocuous tattoo parlor on the south side of town.

 

Once more I asked myself what in the world I was doing there, why had I come to this particular place in the shadiest part of the city, but I already knew the answer.  I wanted a tattoo.  No, I needed a tattoo.  

 

For the first time in my life I had an invitation to spend spring break on the beach in Daytona, and I couldn't possibly show my suspiciously phallic-shaped birthmark to the world.  It would be too humiliating…far too humiliating, but I didn't want anyone to recognize me creeping into a tattoo parlor.  So, I'd crept away in the wee hours of the night to this place…and here I was determined to stay until the deed was done.

 

And so I stood, slipping my panties off behind the faded vestige of a Chinese Mandarin while a far-from-Chinese proprietor prepared the inks and needles for my rose tattoo.

 

I'd chosen the rose tattoo for it's delicate intricacy, it's gentle blush, but I knew it's fragile warmth would run a dim second to the muted crimson already on my face.  I'd never shown my derriere to anyone before, particularly to a stranger.  But I was in college now, wasn't I?  It was time to let go of the apron strings and live a little.  If I wanted to wear a thong on the beach next month, then it was now or never, I told myself.  I'd made up my mind!

 

Once more I peeked at the large, rough looking proprietor from behind the screen.  This would be like going to a doctor, wouldn't it?  I mean, he sees women baring themselves every day.  It's part of his job.  My pale flesh would be simply a canvas upon which to create, wouldn't it?

 

I quivered, chastising myself for my cowardice.  "Come on, girl…get on with it" I whispered to myself.  "The sooner you step out from behind this screen, the sooner he can begin, and the sooner it'll all be over."

 

Heaving a sigh of trepidation, I tucked my panties in my purse and slipped it modestly under my coat on the seat before me.  The feel of my short, silky skirt, swishing against my bare flesh felt decadent, almost sinfully evil, and I hesitated once more.  Then I heard his voice.

 

"Are you coming?" he rumbled.  "Everything's ready.  You're the last one tonight, and I want to go home soon," he warned.  "Let's go, okay?"

 

Quickly I made my way from behind the screen, fearful that I might provoke this massive Monet of body art and cause him to act heavy-handedly when I came under his needle.  But the look in his eyes told me that I need not have worried.  The deep brown of his gaze was gentle, seductive in a way that set my mind at rest.  He was a professional. After all…wasn't he?

 

My attention was immediately drawn to the fact that my practitioner had drawn the shades on the storefront while I had been undressing behind the ancient screen.  This was obviously out of respect for my privacy, I assured myself…nothing more.  And the sign, which had read "open" when I arrived, now faced the interior of the shop, its alter ego, "closed", now facing the abandoned street from which I'd come.  This too was both reasonable and logical, I told myself.  It was late, and the shopkeeper was bound for home soon.  I was to be his last customer of the night.  Why shouldn't he close the parlor?

 

Bolstering my faltering resolve, I stepped before the massive craftsman and asked the next question on my mind, the one that would set our progress in motion.

 

"What should I do now?" I asked, trying to paste a brave front over my quivering façade.  "Do I lay on this table?"

 

The tattoo artist smiled, a disarmingly warm grin and shook his head.  "No," he said.  "I'm afraid you'll move too much on the table.  You wouldn't want to spoil your body art now, would you?" he asked.

 

I felt a tiny twinge in the pit of my stomach.  Not on the table…well where then?  I raised my eyes once more and noted that my practitioner was nodding in the direction of a large, overstuffed, leather chair stationed far off to the left and toward the back of the shop.  "Over there," he said, his voice deepening.  "I have everything waiting for us."

 

I swallowed noisily, an unladylike sound, and wiped my sweaty palms on the sides of my clinging skirt.  Over there?  Was I to sit in a chair while this mini giant plied his trade?  That couldn't be, I thought as I moved slowly across the floor.  How would he…

 

And then I knew.

 

It was not I who was to sit in the massive leather support.  For as I watched, my eyes widening, the shopkeeper himself settled his heavily muscled body before me and motioned toward his lap.

 

"Just lay across my knees," he smiled.  "I won't hurt you.  It'll be over much sooner this way, and you'll have a better time of it."

 

A "better time of it?" I wondered.  What did that mean, and why was the knot in my stomach tightening so uncomfortably now?

 

Timorously, I placed my palm flat against my stomach, the rush of butterflies overwhelming now, and approached the object of my trepidation.

 

"Right here," he directed, patting his massive thighs as though he'd done this a hundred times.  "Just relax.  I'll take care of everything."

 

I glanced furtively toward the door.  This couldn't be right!  I should give up this folly and leave, but somehow I knew I couldn't.  His eyes, the same warm, brown orbs that had so assured me from the start now welcomed me into his lap…cajoled me to spread myself atop his knees and let him do what he would.  And so, placing my reservations on hold I bent low and positioned myself in such a way as to make myself available to his ministrations.

 

He began to spread his knees almost immediately, a wider berth upon which to rest my quivering torso, and I felt my trembling toes leave the floor.

 

"Relax, girl, relax.  I'm not going to eat you," he chuckled.  "Why don't you call me Ben," he added.  "And what should I call you?"

 

My lips fused together in embarrassment.  Did I want to know this man in such a way, I wondered?  But, to avoid answering…wouldn't that be worse?

 

"Virginia…Ginny," stuttered, trying to sound more mature than I felt.  "Is this how you want me?"

 

Now it was his time to pause, his hand resting heavily atop the thin, silken barrier that lay yet between us.

 

"Ahhh…yeah.  This is fine," he murmured.  "I just have to lift this out of the way."  And with that he slipped his hand beneath my skirt and curled it up beyond my waist until my quivering flesh lay before him and my rounded orbs fell beneath his palm.

 

"Yeah.  That'll do it, alright," he breathed.  "Now I just have to make sure your skin is perfectly clean before I start."

 

Thus saying, he began to rub his dampened hands over my flesh, warming it until I felt a curious moisture begin to seep from between my thighs.  What was happening, I wondered in shock?  I wasn't supposed to react this way!  What would Ben think of me?

 

Quickly I raised my eyes to gauge his reaction, but found the same smile still warming his features. Perhaps he hadn't noticed, I prayed as I felt the trickle increase.  Perhaps he…

 

But then I felt his fingers begin to search between my thighs, sliding…stroking…probing the source of my embarrassment.  "You're very relaxed now, aren't you?" he questioned intimately.  "Just enjoy, little Virginia.  I can take care of all your needs tonight," he smiled.

 

I should have pulled away…should have gotten up and headed home without the adornment I'd come so far to get, but somehow my willpower failed me.  Ben would take care of my needs, I thought.  Ben would take care of me.

 

Suddenly I became aware of a buzzing sound, a low hum as my maestro's magic needle came to life.  Then, sliding the fingers of his right deeply between my thighs he anchored me, using his left to apply the crimson point to my exposed buttock.

 

Pain!

 

I tried at once to squirm, but his right hand held me firm, curling deep within the unruly auburn thatch that crowned my untried womanhood.

 

Again I felt the warm gush of my juices against his hand and flushed in humiliation.  Ben must think me wanton, I cringed, a plum ripe for the plucking.  But yet I stayed, the warmth of his fingers eliciting sensations both new and exciting to my inexperienced flesh.

 

Once more the needle descended, but this time another touch overruled its sharp bite.  Ben's fingers, once caressing so randomly, now focussed on the small patch of flesh that heralded my inexperience.

 

"You've never been…'kissed', little Ginny, have you?" he questioned, exploring the barrier between my thighs.  "Your 'flower' is safe with me, Little One.  Don't worry.  There are other pleasures that I can share with you tonight, ones that will leave this gift unopened until you give it to the man of your dreams."

 

Again the prick of the needle assailed my senses, but this time Ben began to massage the tiny nub I so often caressed in the dead of night, when I felt the unrequited yearnings of my sex.  But this was different…so different.

 

The needle continued it's tortuous hum, pricking my flesh, but now I had lost all touch with its passage.  My maestro's fingers had caused me to tremble, to flow copiously between his thighs as he continued to abrade my sensitive clit.  My legs quivered, my nipples hardening, ignored as they hung heavily over his lap.  Oh. How I longed to feel the full, hard length of him, now pressing so prominently against my tender belly.  How I yearned to feel him deep in my wet and yearning body!

 

Suddenly, his thumb, wet and dripping with my juices, pressed my maidenhead aside and probed deeply into my hungering depths.  Oh the joy!  I squirmed against him, urging him deeper…and deeper yet.  I was in ecstasy!  I prayed that it would never end!

 

And the needle droned on, bringing with it tiny droplets of my blood…a small price to pay for such an experience.

 

The master of the art continued to fondle the rigid hub of my desire, but now his thumb, so wet, began to moisten the furrow between my buttocks.  What was this, I wondered?  To what heights was my guide now taking me?  But yet he paused, his needle continuing its muted progression as my passions rose with his silken torment.

 

Finally, I could stand it no longer, and my diminutive frame began to shake, my voice rising in wanton abandon as I gushed profusely into his palm.  It was then I felt it…yet another pain…one which both tore and enticed my body in its determination.  His thumb, so inviting before, now pressed insistently against the portal of my narrower passage, the tight ring of muscle that guarded my anal aperture.  I squirmed, shaking my head. "No," I murmured…or did I? 

 

I began to wriggle my hips, to shy away from my tormentor, but it was to no avail.  Again he pressed, forcing wide the opening with his thick, course thumb, plunging deeply into the darkness beyond.

 

Tears, at rest until now, began to foul my cheeks.  Surely this man couldn't want…

 

But he did, and again his thumb thrust deeper, beyond my tender sphincter, probing and plundering as he held me fast.  I felt torn, abused, but then once again his fingers began their titillating torment of my clit, warming me, consoling me.

 

"Relax, Little Ginny," Ben whispered.  "If you relax it won't hurt so much.  You can enjoy it then."

 

Won't hurt so much?  Won't hurt so much!  How could this sort of treatment not feel as though the devil himself was taking his due?  And yet, as his fingers caressed my clit once more, and the warm liquid once again began to flow between my trembling thighs, I did relax and the tight muscular barrier that guarded my nether passage began to relax as well.  Finally, the massive invasion to which Ben had subjected me began to warm beneath his thrusts and I accepted his digit with an almost a heated welcome.  This wasn't so bad, I reconsidered…it was becoming enjoyable, in fact.

 

The needle began its hum once more, and the sharp bite of his tool began to sting with renewed intensity.  Once more Ben began to slather my furrow with the hot, wet effluent of my sex.  Wantonly, I parted my thighs even wider to give my artist greater access.  I knew what was coming, or did I?

 

This time, I felt not only his thumb, but his forefinger as well penetrate my delicate anus.  I screamed!  Surely I was being torn asunder with each thrust!  And yet he continued to hold me fast, pinioning my hips as he pumped mercilessly into my pain wracked flesh.

 

"Relax, Little One…relax.  I'm going to make you feel wonderful.  Just let it happen, Ginny.  Open up to me, girl…open up."

 

And then something totally unexpected happened.  He stopped, and lifting me in his arms he carried me behind the chair and draped my heaving frame over the back in such a way that my toes swung free, and my buttocks were at his mercy.

 

I struggled.  This wasn't happening, I told myself.  It couldn't be…and then I heard the soft snicker of his zipper, and the muted thud of his pants as they fell to the floor and pooled around his ankles.

 

I opened my mouth to protest, but found his hand, hard and massive, covering my lips.

 

"Shhh…Little Ginny," He groaned.  Give it a chance.  You were made for this. Darlin'.  Relax, and let me take care of you…"

 

Then, once again his hand searched between my dripping thighs for the wetness he desired.  Would he touch me again, I wondered, hoping to feel his talented fingers once more leading me to nirvana.  But, not this time…not this time.  This time I felt his cock, rock hard and immense, sliding against my hungering slit…tempting me…teasing me until it too was covered with my flowing stream.

 

Then, he retreated, and in one massive lunge, he thrust once more against my anal opening, forcing the head of his monstrous tool deep inside the chocolate rose between my buttocks.  I screamed, and screamed again, and again he pressed his hand over my mouth.

 

"Shhh…it's okay.  Trust me, Little Ginny.  Just relax and let it happen.  You're going to love this.  Just trust me."

 

He paused for a moment to allow me adjust to his brutal invasion, and then he began to move.  Slowly at first, my muscles contracting, trying to repel him with each thrust.

 

He grunted.

 

"Let me in, Girl.  Relax." He ordered, reaching between my thighs once more and stroking my clit.  "That feels good now, doesn't it?  That's it…relax."

 

His fingers, so persistent, now led me to drop my guard ever so slightly, allowing Ben to take immediate advantage, plunging yet deeper into my poor, tortured flesh.

 

I whimpered.

 

Again he continued to stroke and massage his fingers over my throbbing clit, and once more I felt my defenses fall.

 

Another thrust, and he impaled his thick, hard member halfway into my stretched and tortured body.  Oh, the pain, I wanted to scream, but only the muffled sound of my voice against the palm of his hand escaped into the silence of the room.  Had there ever been such torment, I asked myself…had there?

 

Still he continued his maddening ministrations between my thighs. Touching, cajoling until I felt my release once more at hand.  No, I thought…I couldn't allow myself that luxury.  What would he do if I…

 

And then the world began to shatter within me, and I felt my body abandon all control as I quaked, moaning beneath him.

 

Again he thrust, hilting his organ deep inside my poor inadequate flesh, but this time my screams were confused and ambiguous.  Was I screaming in pain…or joy?  I didn't know.

 

All tenderness fell away now as his passions overrode his hesitancy.  He became like a rutting beast, ramming the outrageous length of his thick, hard cock into my anus.  My nails dug into the fabric of the chair to anchor myself…so hard and fast did he pound his body against mine.  My breath came in ragged gasps.  How long would this continue, I wondered frantically?  How long…

 

And then he reached out and grasped my hips, his penetrating blows now threatening to tear me asunder.  He groaned, a bestial sound as I felt him pause for a second.  Then, with renewed vigor he assault escalated until every whimper became a shriek, and my very bones felt in danger of crumbling.

 

Suddenly he moaned, long and loud, and I felt his hot sperm flood my body, filling me, gushing from my anus in hot torrents and down my thighs as he slumped against me, limp and sated.

 

Silently I lay still beneath him, not sure whether I had been ravaged, or liberated.  His cock, still embedded within me, began to soften now, leaving behind a yawning emptiness that had once wrapped itself about him.  I felt a loss, an abandonment.  Surely he would guide me to the summit once more, I hoped.  But it was not to be.

 

"Your rose is finished, Little Ginny, and so am I, I'm afraid," he said.  You need to clean yourself up now, and get home.  It isn't safe out there at night anymore.  You could run into anyone," he said, caressing my cheek.

 

Slowly I nodded.  He was right.  I needed to get back to the dorm, and right away.  People would be looking for me, questions would be asked.  But tonight was something I wouldn't…couldn't share.  I'd take this night to my grave, a silent memory, a distant swirl of cataclysmic passion…but no one would ever know.

 

As I slipped stealthily into my dorm, and slid between the welcoming sheets of my bed, I felt once more the tender ache between my thighs.  Ben had opened my body to new experiences, my mind to my own sensuality.  He would be remembered long past the healing of my flesh.  He would be remembered each and every time I looked into the mirror at the bright crimson adornment on my left buttock. 

 

He would be remembered as the man who gave me my rose…