Friday, January 9, 2009

Ink-Stained Parrot Slave of the Dragon Lady

by Anonymous

Carlotta's pointed pink tongue ran back and forth over her lips and teeth as she shaded the Indian design between my tits, wiping away the blood, applying the various colors of ink. I opened my eyes from time to time to check out her dark features and raven-black hair. We smiled at each other.

I lay stripped to the waist, my skin tight leather pants riding up into my crotch. She had climbed halfway up on the tattoo chair. Her knee invaded the space of my groin as she shifted around for better purchase.

Suddenly, she brushed my lips with hers, forced my mouth open with that wicked tongue I longed to feel all over my body, and we welded together in a clench that brought sweat out all over my body.

"Roll over, bitch," she said in an even, no nonsense tone of voice.

She unbuckled my smooth leather jeans and stripped them down to the knees. Then she started outlining something from my shoulder, across my back, and down to my hip.

I cried out.

"Shut up, woman. You belong to me. I don't care what you want tattooed on you. I will decide what and where. You got it?"

Outside, some rowdy boys began to tap on the window. Their faces leered in the neon glow on the sidewalk. Carlotta stalked over and let the venetian blinds down with a flourish, locked the door and twisted the key in the burglar alarm to test it. When it blared out its siren call, they ran away.

She shut off the outside lights, stalking back to me, then took up the tattoo gun again as she unbuckled her jeans with her other hand.

I glanced over my shoulder at the barber shop mirrors on the opposite wall. I could see from the bright light at her table that she was tracing in the outline of a huge parrot that would extend from my shoulder to my hip, perched on a tree limb that would extend across the small of my back.

I was flooded with a passion I had never felt before. I fingered the collar she had placed around my neck earlier in the bar.

"That's right, honey. I collared you. You're mine, now." We kissed, writhed with our knees grinding into each others' pussies. When she was finished, she made me parade naked up and down the shop, posing before her. We talked about what color we would fill in, what shades the parrot would be. Then she stripped and let the image of the dragon that dominated her torso, its tail wrapped around one of her legs and grazing her waxed pussy shine forth in the subdued light.

She took me on the couch, handcuffing my hands behind my back and tying my ankles to them. She licked my clit until I screamed for relief. Then she fucked me, fucked me with a long, wicked and curving strap-on.

When she released me, she rubbed me down with alcohol and body lotion, then put me on my knees on a pillow before her and made me go down on her while she asked me questions about what I would do for her?

Would I let her rent me to another dyke?

Would I bathe her and groom her body?

Would I take care of her clothes?

Would I be her bitch?

I solemnly answered yes to each question.

That was the way it started. How I love it.

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