Page 112 of Show Me How
“I’ve got the proper needle in already, and the settings are chosen. The only thing I need you to focus on is feeling how deep you’re pressing into me. You need to go deep enough that the ink will stay, but not too deep that you damage the skin.”
She nods once, staring at the blue replica of the studio’s logo on my sternum. Flanked by colour and designs I haven’t thought about since I got them years ago, hers is front and centre, taking the spot I wasn’t sure why was so goddamn special to me. Keeping it blank was habit as I waited for something of importance to find its way there.
Today, Millie is going to fill it with something that will never only represent this studio.
Putting the gloves on, she adjusts her position on my lap. “Will you tell me if I’m doing it wrong?”
“Yeah, Millie. I’ll tell you,” I promise.
When she lifts the tattoo machine, I tense beneath her. She hesitates, eyes flashing to check on me.
“What?”
I almost laugh. “Grab it. I’m fine.”
“Why the tension, then?”
She takes the machine in her grip, and I tug the metal cart right up beside us.
“I’ll tell you once you’ve started.”
Her eyes roll, but there’s no real annoyance there. “Fine.”
“When you turn it on, you’ll put the needle into the ink and wait for the cap to fill before starting. Try and always keep it full.”
“Okay.”
“Pull my skin taut, and slowly let the needle press into the skin as you follow the stencil. Don’t jab it in right away. I’ll tell you when you’re deep enough,” I explain, tightening my grip on her waist. “There’s paper towel on the cart. You’ll use it to wipe away the ink every time you stop. Just like I did when I put that crown on you.”
“This is way more complicated than a crown.”
“Do you trust me, Millie?”
The question looks like it rocks her. Her lashes flutter as she blinks quickly before answering, “Yes.”
“You can handle this. But if you decide to stop once you start, I’ll go over to the mirror and finish it myself, okay?”
She lets some of her fear go, relaxing her hold on the machine. “Don’t judge me for this.”
“I’d never fucking judge you for anything. Especially not this.”
It’s enough for her. I feel her move, reaching to where the ink is before a familiar buzz fills the room. It’s impossible to look away from the determination tightening her expression, transforming her into the confident badass that I knew has been inside of her all this time.
I fill my other hand with the curve of her ass, keeping her locked onto my lap. She faces me now, my tattoo machine in her hand. It spits ink as she leans into my chest and stretches my skin. My groin tightens in preparation for the first jab of the needle, and I hiss a breath when it comes.
“Deeper.”
She nods, pressing slightly harder. The initial drag of the needle hurts as she figures out the right angle, and once she does, the pain becomes what it always is. A nuisance more than something that could make me howl from its bite.
“That’s it,” I praise, dragging my thumb over her stomach. “Go slow. Stop when you need to wipe the ink.”
“Does it hurt?” she asks, pulling the needle away to clean the lines she’s made.
“No.”
Her lips twist. “Are you lying?”
I reach beneath her skirt to squeeze her bare ass. There are no panties to be found until I extend my fingers and find the thong tucked beneath her cheeks. My cock stiffens against my groin, growing too fucking hard.
