Page 11 of Canvas

Do I sound completely castrated?

“Nice name, but I like Sugar Tits better. I think she will too,” Bull leans back and links his fingers behind his head, his huge barrel chest spreading out and blocking half the client chair behind him. The boy is massive. “When’s she coming over to meet the rest of us?”

“She’s not. Ever. So forget it,” I grind out.

Somehow the fact that all the techs are male has gotten some recreational perks. Very interesting recreational perks. It began with one particular female client who was coming in on a regular basis getting some work done starting with a small piece on her back shoulder. Snake was working on her. On her third visit she got her nipples pierced, after which Snake banged her in the private room. By her sixth visit, she let it be known she wanted all of us. Together. First it was a cock in her pussy, one in her mouth, and one in each hand. The next time, she wanted one in the front and one in the back while she sucked one of us off. She took the fourth cock in whichever orifice was finished in first. We got some referrals from that sweet little piece, and not just for our ink. Even some of the housewives who’ve initially come in for more piercings in their ears, or to get their kid’s name tattooed on their ankle, come to the dark side to live out one of their fantasies of multiple men using the fuck out of that body she’s worked to keep up after having kids. Those have been some of the dirtiest women I have ever put my dick in.

It doesn’t happen often, but often enough the guys have come to expect it. Unless we call hands off, and only then for a good reason.

I didn’t even know Summer’s name until now. What reason do I have to keep her from being fair game? Because I’ve been fantasizing about her for almost a year? Because she’s innocent? Because I don’t want them to filthy her up?

Who am I kidding, I’m just as filthy as the rest of them. At least they’re open about their kinks, I keep mine hidden, a secret.

Not because I’m ashamed of it. No, to me it requires a certain attraction, a closeness, it requires intimacy. It’s very personal. It’s art and when art is created, the soul is bared. You become raw and exposed, you are at your most vulnerable. It’s more than your clothes that’s shed. Your inhibitions and secret desires are laid open. That requires trust. And honesty. For the masterpiece to be real, nothing can be held back.

After filling her mind with some of the things I want to do to her, and what I told her was only a taste, she didn’t seem repulsed, not even the slightest bit shocked. No, she seemed intrigued, curious, and very aroused. I know I’d successfully planted a seed of erotic images she is not going to forget. I’m going to make sure she doesn’t. I’ll be in her face, working her, burying myself deeper inside her mind, until it seeps into every part of her body, she’ll come crawling to me to give her what she’s craving, demanding what I offered. I’ll be there every day reminding her, feeding her fantasies, breaking down her walls and stripping her of her inhibitions.

I do want her. More than just her body. I want all of her, naked, spread open, bare, everything inside her, her fears, her secret desires, those things she’s run away from, her demons, and what it is she thinks will set her free.

“You can’t stop me, can’t stop us, Rock. You don’t have the right, do you?” Bull is setting me up. He’s pushing me to say she’s off limits.

I know what that means.

We always get a feel for the women who want to use us, get her comfortable, reply to her suggestion tactfully. We are professionals even though we may be tattooed and pierced tough looking guys. We play with her if she expressed an interest, they always let you know with either a look, or a touch, she might even verbalize it. Then with a stroke of a finger on exposed skin, just enough to make her tingle, but not enough for sexual harassment, we get her fires stoked before we call a second one of us in to gauge her reaction to make sure it’s still what she wants. We can see it in her eyes, in the flush of her skin, ready, eager, needy, and hungry.

Sometimes a woman will tell us she wants us to fuck her, and make it hard and dirty.

She wants to be called a dirty slut. And dirty she’ll be.

A woman hungry for you, needy for you, is the biggest fucking aphrodisiac. And getting her off like she’s never gotten off before in her life? THAT is the blue fucking ribbon, the brass ring, the goddamn holy grail, and it feels so damn good each and every time. That feeling is enough to get a man addicted.

But Summer is different. There’s something about her, I have no doubt she’s not naïve, she’s too strong, but she’s guarded. She was a fortress against that little douche Steve, strong and impenetrable. With me she was still guarded, but she cracked open that door and let me peek inside, hinting that she might let me in.

I just have to earn it.

Now I’ve been forced to make a move on her before these vultures close in and set her up for a gang bang. Today was the first of the games that need to be played between she and I. With each one she’s going to let down another guard, open another lock, break down another barrier to that sacred place inside her. That’s where I want to go. Her secret garden, that place no one else has ever been. I don’t want anything else but that, my nirvana. My heaven. Even though I’m going to burn in hell, today, tomorrow, someday soon I will see Summer’s heaven.

I’m not going to get there if I take these guys along.

“Would you just forget about her, Bull? She’s off limits.” I walk over to get the coffees on the table I brought in. “Here,” I hand them out, “take your coffee and shut-up.” I give Bull his, then Snake and Gringo.

Bull pulls the top off and throws it in the trash, then takes one long slug off the hot beverage. Fucking Neanderthal. Snake and Gringo pull the tab up and drink theirs a little more civilized.

“Off limits, huh?” Snake questions between sips, staring at me over the top of his paper cup.

“Yes, she’s wound, uptight, guarded,” at least I’m being somewhat truthful.

“Uhuh,” he murmurs and takes another slow sip.

“What?” I snap.

“We don’t think that’s the reason, Rock,” Gringo states, smirking at me.

“Why don’t you fill me in on the reason you think it is then?” Leaning a shoulder against the wall, I try to turn things around and put it back on them.

“Look, dude,” Gringo was never one to pull punches. He lays it out black and white, tells it just like he sees it. He’s going to call my shit. “You like the girl, and that’s cool. Just say it. But we think she’s pretty damn hot. And,” he shrugs his shoulder in that smooth and confident fuck it way of his, “if what you’re offering her is not reciprocated, or if her interests should happen to be elsewhere,” he grins a slick evil grin, “then we should, by all means, fulfill her interests. Don’t you gentlemen agree?”

“Absolutely,” Snake smirks, flashing his laser whitened smile. It fucking dazzles against his skin and white hair.

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