Free Marked for Submission by Sheri Savill

for a brief moment and into her eyes.
    “Stroke me with just your fingers, Janna. When I get this done I’m gonna fuck you hard,” he rasped. “Haven’t quite decided how, exactly, yet.” He sounded almost absent-minded – he was still the artist at work, making plans with one side of his brain while creating his art with the other.
    Her face heated and she closed her eyes and licked her lips, trying again to ignore the stinging needle rushing along her skin sending waves of hot new pain up through her arm. She was able to move her fingers very slightly along the thick bulge under the material of his jeans. Blind groping. He was making her grope.
    “Good girl, you can do it. Keep stroking me, feeling me, while I tattoo you. Careful … don’t move this arm.” He swiped at her roughly, wiping away blood and ink, and kept moving the tattoo gun along the lines of the design. “Just use the tips of your fingers. That’s it. What a slut you are, Janna , trying to stroke my cock while I tattoo you.”
    The accusation embarrassed her, demeaned her, reduced her to a hand acting under his instructions, doing his bidding, but her pussy responded to the words instantly, clenching and unclenching. The wetness between her legs felt like it must be obscenely visible now. She imagined it pooling on the black leather under her thighs, her ass. When she eventually was allowed to stand up, she was sure there’d be puddles of her juices smeared everywher e and Mark would comment on it.
    What the fuck is wrong with me that this gets me so hot? Him taking control, making me feel so nasty and horny? Damn him. He just knows what I want him to say. He knows what I need.
    His voice was low and close under the hot lamp, but she couldn’t see him. The effect added to the weird disembodied vibe of the evening. Being under his control … and with him always close but somehow distant. She hadn’t been able to touch him at all. It was him doing things to HER. Things that built need in her, made her crazy with lust, and then held her at bay. Sheer hot torment, in every way.
    Her chest heaved as new pain surged from her arm. Her cunt clenched as new moisture seeped between the folds, threatening to drip down onto the leather table and embarrass her further. She felt the clit hood piercing move as she clenched – an amazing feeling of pressure – and the urge to move even more became overpowering. She’d been hyper-aware of the piercings as she strained and writhed a little under the limited play of the straps that still bound her ankles and her left wrist. She wanted so badly to touch her clit, to make herself come. She’d been edged to the precipice so many times. She’d never needed release so badly in her life.
    If he so much as breathes on m y clit I’m going to come. Fuck.
    Her fingers kept pressing into the fabric over his cock in rhythmic small movements, her palm closing and opening but unable to fully grasp or stroke his hard length. The awareness of it only added to her frustration. She wanted him in her, fully inside her, fucking her.

 
    Chapter 13
     
    It was well after midnight, and Janna’s arm tattoo – a full black and grey sleeve covering her entire right arm from shoulder to wrist – was finished at last. Mark wiped away the last of the blood and ink that had smeared on her arm as he worked, and then held her arm out, moving her hand away from his hard cock.
    She felt a sense of … loss at that, but also relief at the tattooing finally being finished. Her extended arm hurt, a dull pain now – heat, but not nearly as bad as it had been. She noticed swelling starting up around the thin skin near her inner elbow. There was some dark bruising up higher, inside her upper arm, possibly from the night before. The trauma of a tattoo on soft flesh became real for her and she thought of how many hours she had endured the pain. Hours of burning torment, and the whole time she’d not been allowed to move but her cunt was