Invisible Lines (Part 9)

Invisible Lines

(9)                  {start with Part 1}

The circling, buzzing path of the needle felt like Paul was drilling a giant hole in her leg. The spiral pattern passed the same spots again and again, coiling ever tighter. It was maddening, excruciating, and made her entire body sing. Her cunt twitched each time the arc of the needle swept up towards it, and made her want to arch her back. And this was only the first of the spirals.

Sima hardly ever asked for a break. Unsually it was because most of the tattoos never came that close to her pain threshold, but sometimes it was because she didn’t want to give the artist a chance to end the session out of pity or disgust. This, however, was everything Paul had warned her about and more. She did want to make him stop, just for a moment. Just to catch her breath, from both the sharp bite of the needle, and what her body was doing to her in reaction. It was almost overwhelming.

‘But I hope you won’t.’ He was telling her something she needed to understand. And then he took away her ability to think cogently as he went to work. It was almost cruel of him. A challenge. And a revelation.

“You,” she gasped, not used to trying to talk under the needle, “You like that it hurts me.”

The sweeping curve didn’t slow. Only a few tiny beads of blood welled in the needle’s wake.

“Yes. Yes I do. Does that matter?”

The coiling line was almost at the center now, feeling like he was nearing bone, though she could still see it just sweeping her skin.

“I… don’t… know.”

She was on the brink, breathless, as he finished and lifted his hand. He carefully cleaned and wiped the area.

“I think, Sima,” he said, “ It matters to me.”

He brought the needle to the center-point and began the second spiral, this one lower on her thigh, but more inside. Sima moaned loud, the fading almost-peak screaming back into that wonderful agony that only that infernal machine could bring. Sima knew she couldn’t move her leg, knew she shouldn’t clench her muscles. She channeled everything into a wail as the outermost turn of the spiral finished.

Paul didn’t stop, and as the needle bit its way into the next coil in, and then the next, Sima came. The climax was dizzying disorienting, riding the needle tighter and tighter into her flesh, piercing as deep as any cock ever had, and more. It went on and on, winding tighter and flooding loose all at once, until Paul finally lifted his hand, the second spiral done.

Sima hadn’t seem him complete it; her eyes had been open but staring blind. She’d broken out in sweat, and her eyes had teared. She wiped the blur away with a shaky hand.

Paul was looking at her, one hand holding the cleaning swab. But before he wiped her raw skin with it, he bent forward and kissed her, right in the center of the spiral he’d just completed. His lips, soft and hot, touched and smeared the small beads of blood, and stung her in a way entirely unlike the needle when they pressed against her. A shudder shook her, and she sighed as he lifted his head and carefully, thoroughly cleaned her, wiping his lips on the back of the folded pad after he was done. She stared at him the whole time.

“Are you ready for the last part?” He asked. His voice was different, professional detachment missing.

Sima nodded.

“I didn’t think I would like this, Sima. But I do. I do very much.”

He lowered the needle.

“You take pleasure in what gives me pleasure. I never knew. But it’s beautiful.“

He began the third spiral, highest, farthest inside her thigh, the most sensitive part. It was by far the worst pain of the night. It may or may not have been the most pain from a needle, but this needle, in Paul’s hand, was suddenly laden with much more. It wasn’t just metal sticking her skin, she realized. It was Paul. On top of the excruciation, and even without the ink, Sima felt it now – really felt – being marked. She lay limp as a ragdoll, and screamed. And came. And couldn’t stop. Didn’t care to stop as Paul seemed to tear a hole right through her…

Lips on her skin. Colors swam back into her vision and she felt burning lips in the center of the last torturous spiral. Paul was kissing her again, and though she felt fluid, flooded, drained, something melted in her. She reached, gripped his short hair as best she could in a trembling hand and pulled at his head. She wanted that kiss on her lips.

Paul obliged, letting her guide his mouth to hers. The tattoo machine clanked on its tray, latex snapped as he tore his gloves off. Then his warm hands slid up and down her sides. His lips tasted coppery with the smear of her blood, but his tongue, when she licked at it, was just Paul.

He was a good kisser, which was a good thing, because she didn’t have the energy to do much work. Endorphins, or whatever they were, permeated her. It was all so lovely. Paul’s hands moved lower, to her waist, her legs (carefully on the outside of the tattoo), sliding her skirt higher. Yes, she thought, kissing her permission.

Sima had worn bathing suit bottoms, for a semblance of modesty, but at this point they couldn’t have been more damp if she’d actually been swimming. She’d anticipated having to deal with a just-tattooed leg and had the foresight to wear her string bottoms.

His hands found the bows. And pulled. She exhaled into his mouth as they came loose, and let go every last bit of tension left in her.

{Continued in part 10}

Latest Comments

  1. paul1510 says:

    Raz,
    I didn’t think it possible, but this gets better.
    Paul.

  2. christine says:

    I look forward to bits of the story everyday in my email box! thank you!!

  3. mamacrow says:

    LOVING this! more more more! soon! please!

  4. Wordwytch says:

    A very interesting dynamic. Pain, pleasure, and erotic. :)

  5. Deliza says:

    Your killing me.

  6. Squeaky says:

    Raz, this story is just spectacular. It’s a literary firework display. Jewel-bright like freshly oiled ink, and as vivid. Please don’t stop.

  7. Julia says:

    When I read this story the first time, I didn’t get this far. Not sure why. I decided to read this through a second time because I just got a tattoo myself…with ink. Feeling the first one, I already know I’m going to get more. I could really relate to the description of Sima’s experience of the pain. Thanks for all you write, I’ve been reading for years and I keep coming back for the vivid visions you give me.

    (Edited to remove mail info)

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