It'd been a few days since you'd gotten your tattoo, but the mild pain in your lower back reminded you of its presence. The fellow who inked it onto your body was a spindly and a bit sleazy, but he had been quite skilled. Surprisingly the thin man took very little convincing to ink the words "PUBLIC WHORE" into your flesh, and didn't ask any questions about the location or word choice. Your Master had been quite exacting in where those words went, and both sat just above your backside. Each one was high enough that pants didn't cover it, but low enough that a tanktop would show it off.
And, in fact, that was just what you were doing. Both words were plainly visible to anyone looking as you headed toward your car. Neither your shoulderless purple tanktop nor hip-hugging jean miniskirt covered them in the slightest, and you were absolutely certain that everyone you passed got a good look of your new identity. The purple choker with a heart name tag, and the word "Slut" engraved upon it, stood in for your pretty little shock collar that had to remain at home during day trips. Of course, you'd been forbidden to wear panties by your owner since they simply got in his way when he was horny, and you obeyed that rule even on outings.
The heat emanating from your cheeks spoke volumes as to your embarrassment, and that heat grew each time your heels clicked against the pavement. Oddly that heat was accompanied by two other warm feelings. Your tattoo had been gradually warming up since this morning. What originally felt like a warm towel pressed against your back had grown into the stinging heat of a fresh scratch. The last heat was the tingling of faint arousal that had settled into your belly. Perhaps it was the rush of being tattooed, the love shown to your rear by your Master the night before, or maybe you simply enjoyed the risk of not bothering with panties on public outings. Regardless of the cause that tinge of arousal had become a constant companion since getting your tattoo.
However, today was different, and perhaps the kiss of your Master's paddle had shaken something loose. What was formerly a warmth had grown into a raging inferno as the day dragged on and your tattoo heated up. Every person that passed, every set of eyes that played across your skin, and every whisper seemed to excite you in a new and odd way. It's frankly amazing that no one noticed the plain smell of arousal coming from your uncovered pussy. It didn't take long for your attention to be focused almost exclusively on getting home, getting to your Master, stripping down, slipping on your collar, and being treated like the eager slut you were.
Of course, those thoughts intensified as you found your car. Unfortunately, you also found someone waiting at it. The tall fellow-a tourist based on the crumpled map in his hands and the lost look on his face-glances around the street looking for something. Perhaps his vehicle? Or maybe a taxi? Either way, his presence was mostly an annoyance. You reach for your keys while putting on a practiced face of indifference, and seem set to ignore him and get in your vehicle.
"Excuse me", he says in a harsher tone than one expects from a tourist, "miss. Can you help me? I'm looking for St. Finn Barre's Cathedral."
You shake your head and open your mouth to mutter an apology, but then your eyes meet his. You don't quite understand what happens next as a burning heat flushes through your lower body, and instead of apologizing you say something totally insane.
"Y-Ya. I'll help you, but only if you cum in my pussy."
