Amy was a freshman in college. She had grown up in a conservative family, and she was sexually inexperienced. But she was also very curious and was beginning to discover she had an adventurous side. Surfing the internet had fed her curiosity. She was surprised that many of the things she found excited her. Pictures of good looking men with big cocks. Pictures of men fucking women. These excited her. Although her parents would have disinherited her if they had heard her using such language, she found she liked nasty words like "cock" and "fucking" and "cunt." Now that she was away from home, she was finally beginning to explore her own desires and sexual needs.
Some of the things Amy saw on the internet shocked her: pictures and stories of girls being fucked in the ass; girls bound in ropes or with their hands cuffed behind their backs; girls with gags in their mouths; girls with clamps on their nipples or needles in their breasts; girls being spanked and whipped; girls being raped. She had never even imagined many of these things before. She knew they weren't supposed to be exciting, that she ought to find them disturbing and upsetting. And she did, only not in the way she thought she should. She found to her surprise that although they were disturbing to her, they also excited her. She found herself dreaming strange dreams each night, of large, strong men coming into her dorm room, offering her their cocks. She dreamed of sucking off these strangers' huge dicks. It made her feel so excited, so naughty. And she dreamed of these men wanting more, of them forcing her to do things that a nice girl would never agree to do.
When she woke up in the mornings, Amy felt strange. She was undeniably aroused. Her pussy was wet and her nipples hard. She almost invariably had to finger her pussy, to find a release for her sexual tension, before she could get up and get on with her day. And always when she came home to her dorm room at night, she would turn to the computer, searching out more of the images and stories that excited and disturbed her. And as she browsed, she found herself growing hornier and hornier, and she would slide her hand into her jeans or under her skirt and push first one and then another finger into her wet cunt. And inevitably she would have her most powerful orgasms while reading stories about girls being abused, being hurt, being tied up and gang raped.
A few weeks into the semester, Amy began to date an upperclassman. He was a football star and a frat boy. She had always imagined herself being drawn to the more intellectual types, and she still like them better as friends, but she found that Jim fed the strange fire that had begun to burn in her. She liked how strong he was, she was aroused by his animal energy, she was even turned on by his crudeness. Yet something held her back, and after dating him for three weeks, she still hadn't even given him a blowjob. The truth was, she was afraid. But she wasn't sure what really frightened her. Was it Jim's roughness? Was she afraid he'd hurt her? That was partly it, yet she also wanted these things. She wanted him to take her and she wanted him to do it roughly, to make it hurt. In the end she decided that this was what really frightened her: not Jim's brutishness, but her own desire for it.
Amy knew she couldn't go on like this. She couldn't keep teasing Jim and herself. She was going to have to confront her own desires and either accept or reject them. But it seemed to her too late to reject them: it seemed at last as though she were discovering her inner self, her true nature. She couldn't just shut that down again. She was going to have to act on her desires.
When Jim told her that his birthday was in a few days, Amy realized what she was going to do. She was going to give herself to him on his birthday. And she wasn't going to do it half-heartedly. She was going to go all the way. She was going to give him a birthday he (and she) would never forget. As she planned it out, she found herself becoming more and more excited. She thought about what she would wear and what she would say. She imagined Jim's face, and dreamed of what his cock would look like and how it would feel. But she felt that something was still missing. Something special that would mark for her as much as for Jim the huge step she was taking.
Then one night she found it. She had been browsing the internet as usual when she came upon a site that showed pictures of girls with tattoos. They had tattoos on their backs, on their bellies, on their butts, on their breasts, even on their pussies. Some were pictures, some were the names of boyfriends, and some were obscene words and crude suggestions. When Amy saw these pictures, she felt a rush of excitement as strong as any she had ever experienced, and she knew this was it. She would get a tattoo, and not just any tattoo, but one that would sum up her new sense of herself, one that would force her to confront her most secret desires, one that would tell Jim and anyone else who ever saw it just what she believed in her deepest heart she really was.
This was how Amy found herself walking into a tattoo parlor in a seedy part of town. She had decided not to do it near campus, because she didn't want to run into anyone she knew or have any of her friends to find out what she was doing. So she went far from campus to a neighborhood she would never have gone to for any other reason. The shop was small and dingy, and the walls were covered with pictures of people with tattoos, including women with tattoos on their breasts. Amy knew she had found the right place.
She opened the door and went in. A bell on the door jingled, and a large man came out of the back. He stopped short when he saw Amy.
"And what can I do for you, sweet thing?" he asked.
"I...I've come for a tattoo," Amy stuttered.
"Really?" She clearly had aroused the large man's interest.
"Yes, I really want one." Amy found herself blushing.
"Well come on into the back room and we'll see what we can do, pretty girl."
Amy followed the man into a small back room in the center of which was a reclining chair. Needles and bottles of ink were scattered over the surface of a workbench, and a small bookcase was filled with binders holding pictures of tattoos.
"Have a seat," the man said. "What sort of a tattoo do you want?"
"I'm not exactly sure." Amy blushed again.
"Well, I have some books you can look at to give you ideas. Do you know where you want it?"
Amy didn't say anything.
"It's ok. I've heard it all before. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you know where you want it?"
Amy nodded. The man smiled. Amy blushed and then said, very quietly, "Between my legs."
At first the tattoo artist looked as though he didn't believe her. Then he smiled again, "You mean on the inside of your thigh?"
Amy shook her head. The man watched her silently. Amy hesitated. Then she said, "On my pussy."
The man's eye's widened in pleasure, but all he said was, "Sure thing. No problem. I don't get many requests for that, but some girls are into. I have a few photos."
He pulled a binder off the shelf and handed to Amy. She began shyly flipping through it. There were all kinds of tattoos. Some were pictures, some were words. She stopped when she came to one page and pointed. "There, that's the one," she said. It was a simple tattoo, just two words in angular script, one on each side of the girl's pussy, that read, "Sex Toy." Amy felt a warmth in her crotch. She felt incredibly excited, incredibly dirty.
The man smiled and nodded. "Nice choice," he said.
"It's for my boyfriend," Amy said in a rush of embarrassment. "It's his birthday."
"He's a lucky man." The man paused. "So, are you ready?"
Amy nodded, but didn't move.
"Well, take off your pants and we'll get started."
Amy was wearing jeans. She slowly unzipped them and eased them down her hips. She couldn't look at the large man, but she knew he was watching her. She felt as though she were doing a striptease for him, and it made her feel flushed and hot. The man was clearly enjoying the show and made no effort to hurry her.
When her jeans were around her ankles, Amy stepped out of them and stood in front of the man in her panties and halter top. The man stood watching her. When she didn't move, he said, "Now your panties." Slowly, Amy put her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and eased them down her legs. She could see the lust in the man's eyes as he watched her pussy being exposed. She had shaved it specially for the occasion, knowing it would need to be bare for the tattooing. The man nodded approvingly and said, "Nice slit. I'm going to enjoy working on that." Amy blushed.
Amy started to climb into the chair, but the man stopped her. "Better take off your top, too." When Amy looked at him with a puzzled expression, he quickly said, "I don't want to spill any ink on your nice shirt." Amy didn't quite believe him, but she felt in a kind of daze of mixed embarrassment and horniness, and so she only hesitated for a moment before lifting her halter over her head. Her breasts were small but round and firm, and her nipples were very hard.
Then while the man watched, she climbed into the chair. "Are you sure you're going to be able to hold still?" the man asked. "This is going to hurt, you know."
"I...I'm not sure," Amy stuttered, suddenly feeling scared.
"Well, we better not take any chances." The man opened a drawer and fished around, pulling out a couple of leather wrist bands. "Here, put these on." He handed the wrist bands to Amy, and she fumbled with them, trying to figure out how the straps and buckles worked. The man saw her uncertainty and said, "Here, let me do that for you." Quickly and surely, he buckled the two leather bands around Amy's wrists and locked them in place.
"Now put your hands behind your back."
"Why?" Amy asked.
"Those things aren't going to do you any good unless they're locked together. We've got to make sure you can't move or you might accidentally hit my hand while I'm working and that would hurt. Not to mention spoil a nice tattoo." The man smiled meaningfully and Amy blushed again. But she put her hands behind her back and waited while the man clipped the two wrist cuffs together.
"There you go. Now you can lean back."