4
Chase: Good. Slide two fingers in and feel how open you still are. Don’t come. Just remind yourself who stretched this cunt open tonight.
She did it. She was still slick, still slightly swollen, the memory of his cock and the fresh ink throbbing in time with her pulse. She texted him a photo of her wet fingers without being asked.
Chase: Perfect. Twelve days. I’m going to work that next piece while you’re dripping for me, and when the machine stops I’m going to fill you again. Deeper. Until it’s running down your thighs while the ink is still burning. Sleep with your hand between your legs tonight. Think about it.
Jody set the phone down, left her hand exactly where he’d told her, and fell asleep aching and full of him.
The twelve days stretched like a held breath.
Day 2 Chase’s text arrived at 11:47 p.m. Two fingers. Slow. Circle your clit until you’re shaking. Stop before you come. Send me a photo of how wet you are.
Jody lay on her back in the dark, legs open, the healing hip piece still tender under its bandage.
She slid two fingers through her folds and found herself already slick.
The wet sound was loud in the quiet room.
She rubbed tight circles over her swollen clit until her thighs trembled and her breath turned ragged, then forced her hand away.
A clear string of arousal connected her fingertips to her pussy when she lifted them for the photo. She sent it.
Good girl, he replied. Sleep like that. Empty and aching.
Day 5 Another order, this time in the middle of the afternoon. Bathroom. Right now. One foot on the toilet lid. Finger yourself open and think about how I’m going to stretch this cunt under the next piece. Don’t you dare come.
She locked the door at work, braced one foot up, and pushed two fingers deep.
She was soaked—slick coating her knuckles, the scent of her own arousal sharp in the small space.
She fucked herself in slow, deliberate strokes, imagining the needle buzzing high on her inner thigh while his cock replaced his fingers.
When the coil in her belly drew tight she stopped, panting, and wiped her wet fingers on a paper towel.
The rest of the shift she walked around with her pussy throbbing and empty.
Day 8 – late night The text came at 1:13 a.m. Shop’s empty. Door’s unlocked. Come here.
Jody arrived in under twenty minutes, heart hammering.
Chase met her just inside, locked the door behind her, and walked her straight to the front counter.
He didn’t undress her fully—just shoved her leggings down to her knees, bent her forward over the cool glass, and freed his cock.
He dragged the thick head through her dripping folds once, twice, then pushed in to the hilt in one smooth thrust.
The stretch punched a broken sound out of her.
He fucked her in short, deep strokes, one hand braced on the small of her back, the other reaching under to rub her clit in firm, wet circles.
The counter creaked. Her breath fogged the glass.
He didn’t let either of them finish. After a few minutes of hard, silent thrusting he pulled out, spun her around, and came across the soft skin of her lower belly in thick, hot ropes.
He smeared it in with two fingers, pushed some of it between her legs, and told her to pull her leggings back up.
“Go home with me on your skin,” he said against her mouth. “Next time I see you, I want you still thinking about how full you almost got.”
Morning of Day 12 Jody woke already wet. The sheets stuck to her inner thighs. She showered but left herself untouched, exactly as ordered. By the time she reached the shop that evening her leggings were damp at the crotch and every step reminded her how empty she felt.
Chase locked the door the second she stepped inside.
“Clothes off. On your back. Legs open and up.”
She stripped and climbed onto the chair.
He positioned her with her knees bent and spread wide, feet hooked on the raised edges of the armrests so her hips tilted up and her pussy was completely exposed—flushed, glistening, the inner lips already parted.
The scent of her arousal filled the space between them.
Chase snapped on gloves, wiped her inner thighs with green soap, and shaved two precise strips high up on both sides where the new piece would sit—right at the junction where thigh met the soft outer edge of her pussy.
The razor was cool. His free hand rested on her mound, gloved thumb occasionally brushing her clit just enough to make her hips twitch.
The machine hummed to life.
The first lines on her left inner thigh were sharp and intimate.
Every vibration traveled straight into her empty cunt.
Chase worked steadily, but his free hand never left her for long.
Two fingers slid into her while the needle moved—slow, deep, curling against the front wall, then withdrawing to spread her open so he could watch her clench around nothing.
He kept her right on the edge for the entire session.
Whenever her breath hitched and her thighs started to shake he pulled his fingers free and returned to the tattoo, leaving her dripping and desperate.
By the time he finished the right side, Jody was trembling.
Her pussy was swollen and shiny, a steady trickle of slick running down to the chair.
The new ink framed the softest, most private part of her—dark, bold lines that stopped just short of her outer lips, the skin raised and hot under the thin layer of ointment.
Chase set the machine down, peeled off the gloves, and looked at the mess between her legs.
“You stayed so fucking wet for me,” he said, voice rough. “This pretty cunt open and aching the whole time I was marking the place I’m about to fill.”
He shoved his jeans down. His cock was thick and hard, the head already slick. He stepped between her spread thighs, hooked his hands under her knees, and dragged her to the edge of the chair. The blunt head notched against her entrance.
“Tell me.”
“Please—fuck me, Chase—fill me—”
He pushed in slowly, watching every inch disappear.
Her pussy stretched around him in a wet, perfect slide until he was buried to the base.
The new ink on her inner thighs flexed with the stretch.
He held still for a second, breathing hard, then started to move—deep, deliberate strokes that dragged almost all the way out before sinking back in to the hilt.
The wet sound of her cunt taking him was filthy and loud.
“Look at that,” he muttered, eyes locked on the fresh marks. “Brand new ink and you’re already stretched full of me. This is what the closer pieces are for. So I can watch my work while I pump this cunt full.”
He fucked her harder, angling so the head rubbed the sensitive front wall on every thrust.
One hand stayed under her knee; the other rubbed tight, slick circles over her clit.
Jody came first—hard, sudden, her pussy clamping down in rhythmic waves that milked his cock.
Chase followed with a low groan, burying himself deep and flooding her in thick, hot pulses.
He kept thrusting through it, working every drop deeper, until cum began to leak out around his shaft and drip down onto the chair.
He stayed inside her, still pulsing, and looked at the fresh ink and the mess he’d made of her.
“Next piece goes even closer,” he said against her ear. “Right along the edge of this pretty cunt. You’re going to show up already full of me. Clear?”
Jody could only nod, still fluttering around him, the new tattoos throbbing in time with the warm spill of his cum inside her.
Chase was still hard inside her.
He pulled out only far enough to manhandle her—strong hands gripping her hips, turning her onto her hands and knees on the wide padded chair.
The new ink on her inner thighs stretched and flexed with the movement.
Cool air hit the wet, open mess of her pussy; a thick trickle of his first load ran down the inside of one thigh.
“Stay just like that,” he said, voice rough. “Arch your back. Let me see everything.”
Jody obeyed. She dropped to her forearms, ass high, knees spread.
The position left her completely exposed—flushed, swollen cunt still gaping slightly from the first round, cum and slick shining on her inner lips and dripping in slow strands.
The fresh black lines on both inner thighs framed the view perfectly.
Chase stepped in behind her, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock, and dragged the slick head through her folds.
He notched himself at her entrance and pushed back in with a single, slow thrust that buried him to the root.
The stretch drew a broken moan out of her.
He was thicker like this, the angle deeper; the head pressed against her cervix and stayed there while he rolled his hips in a tight circle, grinding against the sensitive front wall.
“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered. His hands spread her open so he could watch every inch of his cock disappear into her. “This cunt was made to take me. Fresh ink still burning and you’re already dripping my first load down your thighs.”
He started to move—long, deliberate strokes that dragged almost all the way out before sinking back in to the hilt.
The wet sound of her pussy taking him filled the quiet shop.
Every thrust made the new tattoos on her inner thighs flex and shift.
Chase watched them the entire time, eyes locked on the raised black lines and the way her cunt stretched around his shaft.
“I’m going to keep marking you,” he said, voice low and steady under the slap of skin.
“Closer and closer until every sensitive inch of this body has my work on it. And every time I add another piece, I’m going to fill you just like this. Pump you so full it leaks out while the ink is still hot.”
His grip on her hips tightened. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to breed this pretty cunt under every new mark.”
“Yes—” Jody’s voice cracked. “Please, Chase—fill me—”
He gave it to her slower, deeper, more possessive.
One hand slid around to rub firm, wet circles over her clit while the other stayed locked on her hip, controlling the angle so every stroke dragged over the spot that made her thighs shake.
The dual sensation built fast. Her pussy started to flutter and clench around him in rhythmic pulses.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Squeeze me. Milk every drop. I want you walking out of here—or staying right here—with my cum so deep it stays. Want this cunt swollen and full while you heal for me.”
Jody came with a broken cry, walls locking down hard around his cock.
The rhythmic contractions pulled him over the edge with her.
Chase buried himself to the base and flooded her a second time—thick, hot pulses that had nowhere to go but deeper.
He kept thrusting through it, short and grinding, working every spurt into her until she felt overfull and the excess began to leak out around his shaft in heavy drips that ran down her thighs and onto the chair.
He stayed inside her afterward, still twitching, one hand stroking the un-inked curve of her ass while he caught his breath.
“You’re not going home tonight,” he said against the back of her neck. “There’s a couch in the back. I’m going to keep you here, keep you full, and in the morning I’m going to check every piece of my work while you’re still dripping me. Clear?”
Jody could only nod, still pulsing weakly around him, the new inner-thigh ink throbbing in time with the warm, heavy spill of his second load inside her.
Chase finally pulled out. A thick rush of cum followed, spilling down her thighs in glossy strands. He watched it for a long second, then scooped some of it up with two fingers and pushed it back into her with a slow, deliberate stroke.
“Mine,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then he helped her off the chair on unsteady legs and led her toward the back room, one hand resting possessively on the fresh bandage at her hip.
The back room was small and dim, lit only by a single low lamp in the corner.
An old leather couch sat against the wall, the surface cracked and soft from years of use.
Chase guided Jody to it, still naked, still leaking a slow trickle of his cum down her inner thighs.
The new ink on both sides of her pussy throbbed in time with her heartbeat—hot, raised, sensitive.
He sat her down carefully, then knelt between her knees and started at the oldest piece.
His mouth found the dark flowers on her right upper arm first.
He kissed along every petal, tongue tracing the lines he had put there months ago.
The skin was smooth now, fully healed, but he treated it like it was still fresh.
He moved to the vine on her left ribs next, open-mouthed kisses that followed the delicate stems down toward the curve of her breast.
When he reached the piece that spilled across the upper swell of her left breast he lingered—sucking gently on the skin just outside the ink, then dragging his tongue over her nipple until it tightened against his mouth.
Jody’s breath stuttered. Her hands settled in his hair.
Chase kept going lower. He mapped the rib piece with slow, wet kisses, then the bold work across her hip.
Every time his mouth passed over a section of his own art he made a low, approving sound against her skin, like he was reclaiming it all over again.
By the time he reached the brand-new inner-thigh pieces he was breathing harder.
He spread her legs wider and licked along the outer edges of the fresh ink—careful not to drag his tongue directly over the raised lines, but close enough that the heat of his mouth made the tender skin pulse.
“Every mark,” he murmured against the soft junction of her thigh. “Mine. This whole body is starting to look like it belongs to me.”