Authors Note: Angela is a real woman. This is a continuation of her fantasy, to be a whore. The tattoo WILL become reality. This story was inspired by klitorisring, who wants to see her inked.
***
Angela and James had been to several tattoo shops in the area. Every one had their section on Queen of Spades tattoos, they were pretty common to be seen, although few actually went through and got one. The design was pretty standard. They were not looking so much for a particular design, as the right artist to ink her skin. She needed an artist with the right personality to make the tattoo special.
She had only had one tattoo, inked almost a decade ago when she divorced her husband. It was almost an 'up yours' moment as he said he would divorce her if she ever got a tattoo. By the time she got it, they were long done with their relationship, and the dragonfly on her right butt cheek was something he would never see anyway. Only someone so privileged to see her naked would enjoy that view.
Angela had a new boyfriend now, and their unique relationship called for a unique tattoo. Not too many men out there would allow their significant other to have sex with other men while he remained faithful and not having sex with other women. Probably even fewer would allow that to happen with a well-endowed black man, simply because they usually followed with feelings of inadequacy, as what 'normal' white man can compare with a hung black man? Toss on top of that having the symbol of that lust for darker skin tattooed onto your body in a place where is it openly visible, it becomes an 'advertisement' to her availability for black cock, and also reflected on the man who accompanied her.
But James was no ordinary man. He worshipped her, encouraged her sexual activities, and relished in watching her enjoy a big black cock. Although no slouch with a 6 1/2" himself, he still understood that, sometimes, there was just no comparison to a man who had three inches or more above what he had to offer to satisfy her. He was secure enough in their relationship that he knew she would always return to him, that she was HIS Whore. She loved that.
She had no problem calling him the cuckold he was. She rarely humiliated him as that was not her nature, but did enjoy taking over the dominant role when in the company of a black man. She loved forcing James to suck the man off, keeping him hard so he was ready to fuck her, and she enjoyed watching a man take James' in the ass as much as James loved watching his beloved Whore get ass fucked as well. Even more so, there weren't too many men willing to suck another man's cum from her pussy once she was done being used. To Angela, he was the perfect man: Attentive to her physical, emotional and sexual needs. Why would she leave him for anther man when she could have that man AND James too?
So the question was to find the right artist to ink the symbol of her fucking other men - black men - into her skin. This is something that would be with her for the rest of her life, and it had to be perfect. They had talked to dozens of them: The hipster, the punk kid, the goth woman, the newbie wanting to get his name out there. They all had their good points, but they lacked something. She was not sure what, but she would know when she met him. She had already decided the artist needed to be a man, that is just the way it was going to be.
They walked into the sixth tattoo parlor and looked around. It had the same pleasant aroma as many of the others, with example offerings all over the walls, counters and display cases. Most of them were the creations of the artists that were employed there, the REAL resume of any artist. Angela quickly found the normal offering of Queen of Spades tattoos.
The proprietress came out and greeted them. She fell into the classic 'goth' look: Her face pale with makeup, black highlights everywhere, black hair and not an open inch of skin to support more inked art ... at least not showing on her arms, shoulders and chest exposed by her tight tank top and too-small push up bra to contain her massive mammaries. Angela hated to 'stereotype' people, but this woman was what you might expect of the tough-girl look, wearing faded jeans, thick leather belt with large buckle, and a heavy chain protecting her billfold in her back pocket. She was shaped more like the Harley man than his biker chick.
The woman talked to them about the parlor and what they offered as they looked over the various examples of art. She gave a knowing smile when Angela started pointing to and talking about the Queen of Spade tattoos, looking James up and down, wondering if he was actually one of 'those types of men who allowed their women to do that'. Angela looked at the photos of the various artists, and she talked to a couple of them. Nothing really struck her fancy.
Satisfied she was not going to find what she was looking for at that parlor, they headed for the exit. She opened the door and was almost run over by someone coming in. Before she was knocked to the floor, all she knew is that he was big, muscular and carried a heavy punch.
"I am so sorry," the man apologized with a slight accent reminiscent of Jamaican, "I did not see you little lady." He quickly deposited his fast food lunch on the counter and helped Angela off the floor. She took his hand and was almost whisked into the air as he pulled her up. All she could do was stare at his dark exposed deltoids as he got her situated on her feet. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"
"I'm fine," Angela stuttered, unable to get beyond the chiseled biceps to look him in the face. Other than his arms, he barely sported any tattoos of his own. Her heart fluttered. He was GORGEOUS: Dark with sexy homogenous skin, bald with a rugged square jaw, blindingly white teeth, and a clean face. He towered over her at six feet, and the muscles probably caused him to tip the scales around 240 pounds. He was big and solid, the type of guy you wanted on your side in a fight.
He introduced himself as Sean. He had only worked at the parlor for a month, which is why his picture was not up with the other artists yet. Now being curious, Angela and James were shown to his parlor room where he had examples of his work, which had also not been added to the front counter collection yet. As she looked at his artwork, she noticed the ONE Queen of Spade tattoo. It had the curves and style she liked.
"How many of these have you done?" she asked. She was almost embarrassed to ask but he was not shy to answer.
"Before I left Jamaica," he explained, "probably hundreds. I never counted. It seems many couples go to Jamaica on their vacation and it is the wife's dream to have a nice Jamaican boy, then get her trophy tattooed on her skin. Most of the husbands were reluctant as I told them the ink was permanent, but many other husbands supported their wives desires."
"Where do they normally have them tattooed?" Angela queried. "What part of the body is most popular?"
"All over," Sean answered, "many ladies like them in private areas ... breast, butt, over her pubic area, mostly as a reminder - for them and their man - but wanting to keep the memory private. Most would never do something like that again. Others like them in visible places, like their ankle or wrist. These are the ladies who want others to know what they like, mostly advertising. Some like them on the small of their back so it shows when wearing a bikini, or their shoulder blade. I get a few that like them on the nape of their neck, only visible when their hair is up."
"Do you get embarrassed when they have you put it on such a private area?" Angela asked, "Like right over her pussy?" She wondered how he would handle her using such frank terminology. He did not flinch.
"One of the first tattoos I did was a woman wanting WELCOME inked around the opening of her arsehole," he chuckled. "After that there is not much that phases you. I've seen and inked every inch of a woman ... men too. Some men even want their manhood with something on it."
"What's your favorite artwork to do?" Angela asked. He took a few moments to ponder.
"Personally, I love when a woman puts art around her breast," he replied, reaching for an album of his work. "I think it is the most sensual part of a woman's body that shows off the ink the best. I love floral patterns, things flowing, especially if they swirl around the nipple. Very pretty, very nice."
Angela stood in silence as she flipped through his binder of snapshots, taking in all the information. In the moment of silence Sean could see her thinking. He knew what her next question was going to be, she was just getting up the nerve to ask it. He gave a curious glance at James and smiled. He had seen men like him hundreds of times.
"I'm thinking of two," Angela finally confessed, "one on my wrist, small, maybe an inch tall, far up enough that it doesn't show when I'm wearing my work blazer. And if I want to - possibly - a subtle advertisement, but not showing off like a billboard."
"A wise choice," Sean replied, "this is forever, and not a decision to be made lightly. On the inside of your wrist, even when wearing short sleeve, it can only be seen if you decide to show it off."
