Wicked Wednesday 315 -Trademarked by Sir

Sir and I had discussed this for weeks. It would be a very permanent decision and we wanted to make sure it was something we could both live with, especially if things happened to sour between us (not that either of us see that happening.) I’d read up on procedures and he had studied designs and placements and we shared our knowledge together over supper, laughing and joking about how things would go. I was his little pain slut so who knew how I’d handle that part. He assured me I’d be fine; I was convinced I’d embarrass myself.

Finally after all the talking and figuring out and deciding was done the appointment was booked. Now it was just a waiting game. And that was the worst part. Finally, the day of I made sure I was well hydrated and had eaten and all was in order. We drove to the shop together and in we went. The procedure started out just like any tattoo session did as the design was checked and copied. I was growing more and more nervous. It was a tiny piece though, shouldn’t take long.

The artist disappeared into the back to set up and when they were ready I headed back, bared my left hip, and the design was placed. Sir approved the location and asked the artist not to use any lidocaine. There was a look from the artist to me and I nodded in agreement. “I want to know what this feels like.”

I settled on my side and got as comfortable as I could waiting for things to begin. Sir chatted briefly with the artist and stood watching where he could see my face and watch my reactions. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time they were ready to begin and pulled on a pair of gloves, picked up their instrument and made the first cut. It took a moment before I registered any pain, the scalpel was so sharp and the cut so shallow. Soon I was lying there quietly just absorbing the pain into me, relaxing into it. Even the artist commented and I merely smiled. Sir laughed softly, “Ohhh, she’ll be fine, won’t you my little pain slut?” I blushed at this and nodded. “Yes Sir, I will be. I might enjoy it a bit too much so you’ll have to forgive me…,” I trailed off embarrassing myself. The artist smiled and nodded. “You’ll be fine. I’ve seen things before during other types of work.”

Slowly the outline of a beautiful lily was done and I could look down and see it. At some point my pussy had gone from a little damp to soaked and I was in desperate need of an orgasm. “Now for the fun part. I’ll be making tiny cuts and peeling away tiny amounts of skin to expose the layer beneath. It will hurt more that the outline did. Do you want me to numb it?” I looked to Sir for an answer but he just smiled at me. “Your choice, babygirl. Think you can take it?” “I’ll try.” I nodded my head and laid back. My artist grinned. “Tough cookie. I’ve seen men twice your size cry at tattoos and they couldn’t even handle the thought of this.”

Now the hard work began and the strangeness of my skin being literally peeled away from my body was at once a strange feeling, enough that it drove me wild. Soon I was panting softly and the artist glanced at me, nodded once and then looked at Sir, who was watching me closely. “Babygirl, let it out and then we can continue.” I took one long inhale and my entire body shuddered for a long moment. I never made a sound though and exhaled slowly my eyes closing blissfully. “Thank you Sir.” “Can you be good and still now?” “Yes Sir.” “Shall I numb it now? The process will go faster if I do.” He nodded to the artist, “I think so. Babygirl got what she came for.” And I blushed like there was no tomorrow. After my skin was numb to the sensation I was able to finally relax and I half dozed through the rest of the procedure while Sir simply watched as the artist was too focused on my skin to be terribly chatty.

Finally, when all was said and done I had a beautiful lily carved into my hip with strict instructions on how to care for it if I wanted the scars to keloid and stand out against my pale skin. I had officially, permanently, and irrevocably been marked as His. The collar I wore could be removed. This could not.

 

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