The Piercing 4

I was reading a book when I heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

Keys jingled. As soon as the lock disengaged, Ms. Rouge barged into the apartment.

Behind her stood a tall, skinny man wearing glasses. Tattoos covered his arms. I recognized a mermaid, a ship's wheel, a pirate, and an anchor. In his left hand, he held a small briefcase.

"Hello, Mistress."

I wasn't sure whether or not to address the man, so I didn't.

He seemed unfazed by the naked woman standing in front of him, as if this were any other Tuesday for him. He just stood there and looked me in the eyes.

I bowed my head and stared at the floor as I walked towards Ms. Rouge. On my hands and knees, I kissed her feet.

"Now kiss his too," said Ms. Rouge.

Even the top of his boots were dirty.

I hesitated.

Ms. Rouge wound up and spanked my ass.

"Don't be rude to our guest. Kiss his boots."

With my lips an inch away from his feet, he stepped back.

"That won't be necessary," said the man.

Thank God.

"If it was up to me, you'd be licking them clean," said Ms. Rouge. "But Frederick has decided to give you mercy."

Frederick's mercy had a limit, though. He had no qualms about tracking mud all over the floor. He paced around the room, studying the layout of the apartment.

"We'll do it on the kitchen table," said Frederick, pulling the table away from the wall. He pushed it into the center of the room.

"Lay down on the table, face up," said Ms. Rouge.

I compiled.

Frederick started walking towards me.

"But... but... I'm not on birth control."

"You dumb, sex obsessed whore," said Ms. Rouge. "He's not here to fuck you. He's here to pierce your belly button."

I honestly would've preferred the former.

My face felt flushed. My heart was pounding, and the room started to spin. Beads of sweat ran down my cheeks, and my back stuck to the table.

"Are you afraid of needles," asked Frederick. "That's ok. We'll make this quick, then."

When he wiped my navel with an alcohol swab, I noticed he was wearing black latex gloves. Off to the side, Frederick cracked the seal on the needle.

He grabbed the skin near my belly button with a forceps, and that's when I stopped watching.

"Just look at the ceiling. Don't look at the needle." heeded Ms. Rouge. It sounded more like a mother's warning than an order.

I felt a sharp pain as the needle penetrated my skin.

"You did it," said Ms. Rouge, which was the last thing I heard before everything went dark.

I woke up wondering where I was and what happened.

Oh yeah, the piercing.

As soon as I could, I raised my head to see Frederick's work.

Everything was still blurry, but I could tell there was a metal bar sticking through each of my nipples. On top of my navel laid a shiny purple gemstone, which matched another smaller gemstone above my pussy.

"She's awake," said Ms. Rouge.

"How many fingers am I holding up," asked Frederick.

"Three," I said.

"Good."

"Don't get off the table yet" said Frederick. "You might pass out again."

"Ok, I lied to you," said Ms. Rouge. "You weren't just getting your belly button pierced. But we decided when you passed out, to get the other ones out of the way."

I felt weirdly turned on by the thought of Ms. Rouge ordering Frederick to penetrate me -- his sweet sweat mixing with mine as his expert hands touched the most intimate parts of my body.

Had he fondled my breasts or stuck his finger inside of me while I was out?

If only I were awake, I could've let him. Or rather, begged.

Ugh.

To be honest I was growing impatient with Ms. Rouge. She knew how to build tension, but refused to resolve it. All day she would tease me, and without even a kiss goodnight, would send me to bed, wet and aching for her.

I hadn't cum in months.

My Rouge had forbidden me from touching myself, a promise I'd kept -- for the most part.

They say men can't find the clit.

But at least they bothered to look.

Ms. Rouge knew exactly which spots to avoid.

Instead she preferred to choke, burn, spank, kick, and spit on me.

That was how she got off. At least with me. She'd hinted she had other lovers, both male and female. Perhaps Frederick was one.

I was to be faithful to her, but she could make no such promise to me. In fact, she told me I should expect the opposite.

"You should thank Frederick," said Ms. Rouge, interrupting my mini existentialist crisis. "He's given you quite the upgrade."

"Thank you," I murmured.

"No need to thank me," he said. "It was my pleasure."

Ms. Rouge ran her fingers lightly over my freshly pierced skin, tracing the curves of my breasts and stomach. Her touch sent shivers through my body.

"You passed out so fast," she mused, her nails scraping softly against my belly. "Such a delicate little thing. But you did well."

I've always kinda wanted a belly button piercing. But in college when all my friends went to get theirs done, I chickened out at the last minute. Plus, they were a little too slutty for my liking.

Who was I to judge?

I, a splayed out slave, with a gemstone in her pussy and a metal rod through each tit -- on display for Mistress and whoever else she wanted to share my body with.

"Alright," said Ms. Rouge. "It's time to proceed to phase two."

"I don't think that's such a good idea. She's already passed out once."

"You're doing it now," she said. "I don't want you to have to come back another day."

Frederick deferred to Ms. Rouge. I was glad I wasn't the only one who couldn't tell her no.

"You're going to get a tattoo I've picked out for you," said Ms. Rouge. "What it is, is a surprise.

She stretched a blindfold over my eyes.

"You can only see it when it's done."

"I'm going to clean the site and put the stencil on now," said Frederick.

"Don't bother giving her the play by play," said Ms. Rouge. "It'll only make her more nervous."

Frederick squirted a cool gel slightly above my vagina and quickly wiped it away.

"She's so perfectly bare down there," he said, rubbing my skin with his gloved hand.

"I wouldn't have her any other way," said Ms Rouge.

Frederick applied the stencil. He pressed down, let the plastic sit for a minute, and then peeled it away.

"Does it look right to you?"

"Perfect," said Ms. Rouge.

"Ok, I'll get started then."

The low hum of the tattoo machine filled the room. I could feel every vibration in my bones. The blindfold amplified every sensation -- the cool air on my skin, the sticky table beneath me, even the faint antiseptic smell mingling with Frederick's earthy cologne.

My mind raced.

What had Ms. Rouge had chosen to permanently mark me with?

A word? A symbol? Her name, maybe, branding me as hers in a way that went beyond the piercings?

The first touch of the needle was a shock--a stinging bite just above where the gemstone sat. I sucked in a breath, my body tensing instinctively. Frederick's hand pressed against my hip, steadying me.

"Relax," he said, his voice calm but clipped, like he was used to people squirming under him. "It'll hurt less if you don't fight it."

Ms. Rouge chuckled from somewhere to my left. "Oh, she's good at taking pain. Aren't you, pet?"

I didn't respond--couldn't, really. My lips parted, but all that came out was a shaky exhale as the needle dragged across my skin, leaving fire in its wake.

The process seemed to stretch on forever. The pain was minor, compared to the piercings, but was constant -- a steady burn that made my legs twitch despite my efforts to stay still.

Frederick worked with quiet efficiency, pausing only to wipe away ink or adjust his grip. I wondered if he enjoyed this--turning people into canvases, leaving his mark on them.

Did he get off on the power, like Ms. Rouge? Or was this just a job to him, another body under his hands?

"Almost done," he said, after what felt like an eternity.

Finally the buzzing stopped, and I felt a damp cloth swipe over my tender skin.

Ms. Rouge ripped away the blindfold. She stood over me, her lips twisted in a smug grin. "Look at it," she commanded, tilting her head toward my lower abdomen.

I propped myself up on my elbows, wincing as the movement tugged at my pierced nipples.

There it was--a single word in elegant, flowing script tattooed just above the gemstone: Property. The black ink stood stark against my skin, each letter a deliberate claim. It wasn't just a mark--it was a declaration, a brand that screamed I belonged to her.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice thick with expectation.

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. "It's... bold," I said in a voice barely above a whisper. It was true--there was no subtlety to it, no room for misinterpretation.

Frederick snapped his briefcase shut.

"Keep it clean," he said, without making eye contact. "I've left a set of aftercare instructions with your Mistress."

"Alright," said Ms. Rouge. "It's time to pay the piper. Get down on your knees and thank the man for a job well done."

I rushed to Frederick, kneeling down in the mud in front of him.

He looked down at me, expressionless behind his glasses. His boots were still caked with dirt, and I could smell the leather and sweat mixed with the damp earth clinging to them.

I hesitated, glancing up at him for some kind of cue. He just waited, his hands resting on the briefcase at his side. Ms. Rouge, however, had no patience for my uncertainty.

"Go on," she purred, stepping closer. "Show him how grateful you are."

I unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his penis.

He was huge. And extremely hard.

Did he have a boner the entire time he'd been working on me?

I stroked Frederick a few times. He was enjoying himself almost as much as I was. I could tell.

But just as I was about to wrap my lips around him, Ms. Rouge slapped my face away.

I lost my balance and smashed my forehead onto the muddy floor.

"Alright, that's enough," said Ms. Rouge.

She passed Frederick a few hundred dollar bills. He left without even bothering to count the money.