29. Asher
twenty-nine
Asher
I flipped the clips of my briefcase, and the lid snapped open, revealing all my tools. I ran my fingertips over the familiar objects, and my heart beat quickly with excitement. They were familiar to me, the one thing I could hold on to from my human days, the one thing he couldn't take from me.
"You promise you'll be gentle?" Maya's voice was a mix of excitement and nervousness.
I look over at Maya, sitting on the bed next to the case. She eyes the objects with a glint. Seeing her eyes land on the large needles, I can hear her thoughts second-guessing themselves.
"I promise, my dear," I reach for a handout, and she takes it gently.
"Remind me where you want your tattoo, princess." She lifted her skirt and pointed to her hip bone on the left side, and I smiled deviously.
"That's such a compromising spot, my dear. You don't want to show your tattoo off to everyone?" I begin slowly grabbing the tools, turning them over in my hands, and Maya watches me closely.
"It's for you to see. No one else," she says, blushing. She looks away and bites her lip, and I damn near lose my mind.
"That can be arranged." I begin setting up my tools, pulling a small table over and pulling out the ink caps. I wrap gauze around the handle of my tattoo gun and plug it in nearby. Maya watches my movements closely. "Do me a favor and remove your skirt, will you?"
Maya immediately obeys and slides out of her skirt, leaving her in just pastel pink panties and her shirt. After only a moment, she slides her shirt off and tugs on one of my shirts from my bag.
"I imagine I'll have to buy some new shirts," I smile to myself and continue preparing my equipment.
"I'm not stealing them. I'm just borrowing them for a little bit." She walks to the mirror and admires herself in my shirt, and I stop for a moment to watch her.
"Well," I stand up and pick her up in my arms, carrying her over to a small table. The table is small, with only two small chairs fitting underneath it. I slide the chairs away and lay her down on her back. "Considering that the fire destroyed my shirt from last night, that means that you're in debt to me." I smile wickedly at her as my mind races with ideas of what I could do to her.
"I'll get you another one," she says shyly.
"No, my dear. I'm honored to have you destroy my shirts if that's what you want to do." I drag over the table with all of my supplies and begin double-checking everything.
"A small goat's head, yeah?" I looked at her, and she nodded her head anxiously. She bites her lip and fidgets with her thumbs.
"It's okay, baby," I promised her. I grabbed a small tipped pen and drew a small figure of a goat's head no taller than an inch on her hip bone. I drew intricate and delicate flowers swirling around it that represented her in my mind. I finished drawing the stencil, and Maya looked and immediately lit up.
"I love it," she whispers. I smile at her and run my finger over her hip bone and inside her thigh.
"I need you to stay still while I do this." She shivers at my touch. "Can you do that for me, princess?"
She nods her head excitedly, and I chuckle. Over the hundreds of years I've walked this earth, I have tattooed many people of all kinds, yet I can't remember ever being this excited.
"Lay back," I commanded her.
She does as I say without question, and I grab my tools and turn the tattoo gun on. It hums to life, and suddenly, the familiarity feels like a well-known dance in my hand. It has been months since I had done any tattoos, and I didn't realize until now how much they breathed life into me.
I looked up, and she had her eyes shut tightly, preparing for the pain.
I brought the tattoo gun against her skin, and her body jumped with surprise. I pull the gun away immediately and look at her as if asking if she's okay. She looks at me with a soft nod, giving me permission to continue, and then she lies back down. I place a hand over her pelvis, holding her in place, and continue with the intricate lines. As Maya lay there, soft whimpers of pain escaped her lips every few moments. Finally, I pulled the gun away, giving her a break.
"We're halfway there, baby girl. You're doing so well. All I have left is the head, and then we're all done." I rub my thumb over her leg to comfort her.
Maya smiles at me and lays back down. I reposition myself between her legs, spreading them wide in front of me so I can continue the goat's head. I continue drawing into her skin, and I can't help but notice her pussy right next to my face. I kiss her core gently, and she suddenly jolts.
"Does it hurt, my dear?" I ask her.
She nods her head.
"Do you want Daddy to fix it for you?"
She nodded her head once again and shifted uncomfortably on her back. I slide her panties to the side. I bring the tattoo gun back to life, and as I draw the lines down the head, I lap my tongue against her slick folds, and her body immediately relaxes.
I find myself plunging my tongue deeper into her as I trace the outline of the left horn on the goat. I flick my tongue over her sensitive clit, and she moans again, reaching a hand up and touching her breast over my shirt. I hum into her, not taking my eyes off her hip. I was coming up on the part of the goat that would hurt her the most: a section right over the bone. As I inch my needle closer, I suck her ever-sensitive clit harder. Just as I finish the tattoo, I pull my mouth away and replace her panties.
Maya sits up and looks at me, confused and a little annoyed.
"We're done, my dear." I smile at her, trying to look innocent.
"Already?" She looks sad and down to her hip, and her face immediately flushes red. She reaches her hand down as if to touch it, and I grab her wrist quickly.
"Lay back down," I commanded gently. I wipe the tattoo off gently before placing a protective film over it. "Don't take this off. I'll help you clean it in a few days."
She nods at me happily and jumps off the table, running over to the mirror and gazing at it. Seeing the goat's head on her hip sent a jolt of energy to my cock.
I suddenly placed my hand on the table, revving up my tattoo gun, and began tattooing the inside of my left wrist. Maya spun around quickly, shocked, and rushed back over.
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously. Maya watches as a trace swirls and intricate lines into my wrist. It was the one spot on both arms that I refused to tattoo. Maya's face became infatuated as I pulled away and wiped away the ink.
"It's beautiful," she says.
"It's you. Of course, it's beautiful." I responded to her.
I placed the protective film over the fresh tattoo, and Maya threw herself in my arms and hugged me tightly. I held her close, my face between the crook of her neck, and I inhaled the intoxicating vanilla smell that I had grown to crave.