39. Inked
Chapter thirty-nine
Inked
(Dante)
It’s been three days since I broke open for Alessio, spilled decades of pain into the Bali night.
The second time I told the story, the words came easier, crying into Danica’s chest as she stroked my hair, wetting my cheek with her own tears.
With bleeding hands, I handed her the sharpest shard lodged in my heart, and she just folded her hands over it, wrapping it in her warmth.
Afterward, she didn’t look at me like I was broken, like I feared she would. No, she looked at me like she always did, like I carved every stone of the pyramids single-handedly, like I mattered.
The vulnerability still sits raw beneath my skin—shame and relief tangled together like the roses inked over my scars.
For years, I thought sharing those memories would break me. Instead, something shifted. Loosened. Like a bone finally set right after years of healing wrong.
Alessio jetted off back to his Vegas empire yesterday, unable to stay—as always. But we made good use of our time.
Our last days together were different. Softer. The weight of secrets no longer standing between us.
Alessio knew how to hold the silence, knew when to press closer and when to give space. And Danica—my Queen who always sees through my armor—she wrapped us both in her strength, let us heal in our own way.
Now, with Alessio gone and these memories finally aired, I feel stripped bare.
Exposed. But also...free. Like I've finally put down a burden I'd carried so long I forgot it wasn't part of me.
My father's voice is quieter in my head.
And my mother's memory hurts differently—clean pain instead of festering guilt.
Maybe that's why I'm here now. Ready for a different kind of pain, a different kind of transformation. Not hiding scars this time but choosing something new. Something that belongs entirely to me and the family I've chosen.
“You ready, baby?” Danica asks again, and I nod curtly, my jaw locked in tension. I’m glad she’s here to hold my hand. This may or may not be a terrible idea, I’m about to find out.
The artist positions his clamps around the tip of my cock, and I know I will hurt. I try to brace myself. My father thought pain would make me stronger. He wasn't entirely wrong—he just never imagined I'd learn to wear it so well.
That needle looks so thick. Jesus. Does it have to be that thick?
I don’t say anything, just grit my teeth as the most excruciating pain imaginable stabs through my flesh.
“Puttana!” I curse loudly as I focus all my attention on keeping still despite the blinding pain.
It hurts more than anything has ever hurt in my life.
In the shaded hut no bigger than a night shop, Danica holds my hand firmly, but I worry I might crush it as I squeeze with all my might, trying to bear the unbearable pain.
“Almost there,” the piercing artist tells me in flawless English as I huff and puff through my teeth, trying to keep my consciousness through the blinding pain.
It’s too late to turn around now, the needle is already sticking through my dick like some ancient torture device.
“You’re going to look so beautiful, my love.
Almost there. So brave,” Danica coos, stroking my sweaty hair from my face.
The air conditioning is working overtime but doing little to relieve the heat from the small room.
Even in the most luxurious piercing studio, the heat follows us, sticking to my body like another layer.
“Jesus,” I pant, trying to steady my breath as the blinding pain radiates from my dick into my body.
This seemed like a great idea before, when Danica and I lay in bed post-orgasm, discussing how we wanted to spend the rest of our remaining days on the island.
She wanted to finally get a tattoo to decorate the scar on her back—a great idea. Casually, I mentioned my lifelong fascination with dick piercings, how I always wondered what it would feel like.
I didn’t expect to lie here on the little black table of a stranger we’ve met only once before, during the consultation yesterday, my dick out with a needle through it. He hasn’t even put the piercing bar through yet. Fuck!
“Deep breath. Exhale on my command,” the little man with the thick-framed glasses informs me, getting ready to finish the job. I can’t look; I’m seconds from passing out. That little drop of blood on my dick head is enough to thicken the bile in my throat, threatening to force itself up.
I scream louder than I’ve ever wanted to scream in public when he pushes the shiny metal bar through my glans, impaling my cock horizontally.
The piercing has some fancy name that Danica has written on a piece of paper to try and remember its name, an Ampallang.
But all I know is that it hurts like a motherfucker!
“So beautiful,” Danica moves her phone closer to get a close-up for the recording she insists on making. We’ll watch it together later, but right now I can’t watch anything. My dick is on fire, and not in a good way. This was a terrible idea!
“All done,” the little man tells us, cleaning the jewelry ever so lightly, but every movement sends blinding pain through my entire body.
It’s impossible to imagine ever feeling okay again.
“Be sure to look after it well. All the info is in here.” He hands Danica a brochure and then pushes his glasses back on his nose, eyeing her seriously.
“No hanky-panky for a couple of at least two months.” He shakes his right index finger to punctuate his point.
Dio mio, what have I done? Two months without coming? I struggle to survive two days.
There is something addictive about the pain as well, though, the rush of dopamine that floods my brain as my body tries to soothe the throbbing in my cock.
Danica smiles. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he heels up nicely. And when he’s done…” She licks her lips at the mere thought.
Last night, we stayed up late reading first-hand experiences on Reddit of what it feels like—both for the wearer and their partner. It sounded arousing.
But it isn’t just about giving pleasure or even the pain in this moment, this self-torment that feels as bad as it feels good…
no, it was so much more. It was beautifully taboo, but nobody was going to tell me what to do with my body, nobody but Danica, and she wanted my body to experience all the sensations it craved.
My father would have lost his shit if he knew I got a piercing, regardless of where on my body. Tattoos were fine in his eyes, they showed you’re strong, but piercings were for girls. He always had such dated ideas about gender roles, about everything really; so conservative.
This is my rebellion, my defiance of all things traditional, the final mark of ownership for my Queen, the pain I deserve for all the bad things I’ve done, my absolution. All of the above.
I don’t know how we make it back to our villa. The boat ride isn’t far, but every damn bump in the water feels like the end of the world, my cock swollen in my pants.
We really should’ve waited until we got back home to the city. How will I survive the trip back? Including layover, it was more than a day of flying. But what’s done is done.
“I will look after you so well,” Danica says when we finally reach our destination, seating me on the patio and bringing us some drinks. Probably not a good idea with the new piercing, but I need something to take the edge off.
I’m glad she went first with the tattoo, and I didn’t have to sit around with my burning cock while watching them stick a little needle into her for four hours. The end result is breathtaking, though.
Danica takes off her shirt, and I can’t help but stare at the beautiful lotus flowers elegantly snaking around her lower back, soft pink and greens weaving in between the tough scar tissue, creating art instead of painful memories. She deserves healing too.
Though physically, I know my own healing is still a long road ahead.
“You sure I can’t give you some painkillers?” Danica asks for the third time, and I force myself not to stare at her exposed breasts, petrified of getting an ill-timed erection.
I shake my head. “I’m not putting those things in my body. I’ll be fine.” I’ve never been one for painkillers. Pain is there for a reason. It needs to be endured, not watered down.
She tilts her head sideways. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“More than a gunshot wound.” It sure feels that way.
Danica bites her bottom lip, staring at me. “God, that makes me so horny. I wish I could touch it.”
I protectively hover my hands over my crotch. “Don’t you dare!” The mere thought of a hard-on is painful.
“In that case, I’ll just have to find something else, or someone else, to entertain me during our last few days.”
I exhale loudly. “Please. Enjoy yourself.”
“The chef is quite fit.” Danica winks at me mischievously. “I like her eyes.”
“Normally, I’d love to watch, but this time, please keep far away from me.” I groan, downing the whiskey in one gulp, the warmth burning its way to my stomach in a familiar glow that takes the edge off without doing anything to the pulsating pain.
“We’ll see.” Danica blows me a kiss and disappears to refill our glasses, just in time for yet another glorious sunset over the ocean.
It was nice not having to worry about my dick anymore, at least not in a sexual way. Now it’s all about healing and cleaning a wound, the member reduced to a mere object. There was something peaceful about that thought. I didn’t have to perform or live up to any expectations.
If only life could stay like this—so simply, undemanding.
Just thinking about of having to go back home and pick up the reigns again is beyond exhausting.
I want to be Danica’s 24/7 sub, like here.
To just paint, maybe do some baking, to just be tied up at home like a good house husband, cooking and cleaning and serving my Queen.
When I told Danica that, she smiled sweetly, promising to make my dreams come true one day.
For now, my biggest concern is Danica seductively spreading her legs before me, playing with her clit.
“Stop that. You’ll make me hard!” I protest, petrified of sending blood to an open wound, especially one in such a delicate area.
“Then don’t look.” Famous last words. How can I look away?
I should’ve tried harder.
My erection isn’t even complete, but it’s enough to disturb my new jewelry.
Oh god, the pain!
Some lessons you learn the hard way, and some lessons you never learn.
It is going to be a long two months, there is no doubt about it.
But I have a feeling my dick will be the least of my worries.
Bali has been fun, a welcome distraction from the reality that awaits when we return home.
Two days—that’s all we have left in paradise.
I wish we could remain wrapped in this bubble of peace where my only decisions involve what to order for breakfast and which beach to visit.
But we have a business to set up, a war to keep at bay. Convincing the families and the authorities will be one hell of a job.
This is not going to be easy.
But there is nobody I have more confidence in than Danica—my wife, my Queen, my Madame.
If anyone can do this, she can.