Page 2 of Room Eighteen: My Pain, Their Pleasure

The way they’ve treated me like an asexual little sister from the moment I started working here burns in my gut. It’s one of the main reasons I don’t want my secret exposed. I have no idea what they are going to do with the information other than tease me about it until I quit or die.

I swallow hard and remember that I need to get this over with. If my parents knew I was getting another tattoo they would yell at me and tell me how much of a disgrace I am. It’s the reason I left my little Podunk town in farm country and moved to Chicago. I needed…more. So much more.

I’ve only let one person in on my secret, but that was years ago. He was my first boyfriend and I thought, hoped, he would be willing to explore it with me. He wasn’t.

He sneered at me and told me, “You’re disgusting, Jessa. That isn’t normal.”

I turned 18 a few months later and I walked away. That was eight years ago and while I speak to my parents occasionally, I haven’t visited. I doubt I ever will.

It was never my home.

It’s better here, but I’ve still been scared to let all of my secret desires out. With every guy I’ve dated since then, I keep sex very vanilla and follow his lead. I’ve tucked the darkness, the deviant, into the back of my mind.

It’s better that way.

Except right now it’s clawing at my throat and begging to be let out.

“Jessa,” Cameron’s voice isn’t loud, but it’s like a whip against my body and I flinch as goosebumps cover my skin.

Aiden notices because he might be a goof, but he’s observant as fuck. His eyes turn curious, but he doesn’t ask about my body’s reaction. Instead of continuing to stand in the awkwardness surrounding us, I slip past him and head over to Cameron’s station. With every step, I’m glad I pulled the blinds down and we’re, technically, closed.

Cameron’s voice is like gravel, “Ready?”

I nod and stand in front of him, lifting my shirt up and off. My tits jiggle, but I already put pasties on so I’m not flashing my nipples for the entire world to see. They’re glittery purple crosses because if I’m going to be wearing pasties, they should be fun.

Cameron is tattooing a beautiful sternum piece on me which is all flowers, girly lace, and dangling charms. He’s the perfect person to do this for a few reasons. He doesn’t talk, which works for me, and detail work with a soft hand is a specialty of his, even though it’s about the only thing soft about him.

When I approached him a month ago to see if he could sketch something up for me, all he did was raise an eyebrow and give a curt nod. I’ve never been wetter in my life.

Well, other than right now. Because I know Cameron’s hands are going to be all over me. Because I know Aiden and Brooks are going to be watching. Hell, they’re already watching, and it takes all my willpower not to shudder at the attention.

I feel the heat of Aiden’s eyes on my tits and my nipples are rock hard underneath the pasties. I desperately wish he’d come over, peel one of them off and then suck my nipple into his mouth. Would Brooks do the same with the other one? Would they bite down?

A mental image of the two of them fighting over my body, teeth bared as their fingers dig into my flesh to hold me still flashes in my head and my knees feel weak. I have to force myself not to crumple to the ground before offering myself up to them in whatever way they see fit.

Cameron’s blue eyes pierce through me when I look at him. Can he see my darkest secrets? Can he see how close I am to losing my cool, practiced control while letting out everything about me I’ve tried so damn hard to hide away? If they thought of me as a freak it would break my heart.

I don’t want to have to find another job and I know they would think I’m sick if they knew just what all this attention and this tattoo are going to do to me. It’s why I started getting them in the first place.

The pain.

It’s like a drug and because I can’t satisfy the darkness which curls around my soul another way, I found an outlet. Normally, I find an artist whose work I admire and make an appointment. I chase the high, but I’m always one and done. I never go back.

This time I’ve been watching these men put their art on other people. I’ve been watching them pierce flesh over and over and over again. The art they make is beautiful and I want a piece of it on my body.

So I’m breaking my own rule. I only hope I’ll be able to look them in the eye tomorrow and that my secret, my need for pain, the way it excites me and obliterates my mind, won’t be revealed to them.

Cameron slides toward me on his stool with the stencil in his hands and I force myself to not take a step back. I take a deep breath and hold it in before letting it out slowly, trying to keep my excitement and nervousness in check.

He looks up at me and as I stare into his icy blue eyes, everything else fades away for a moment. He doesn’t say a fucking word, but I can hear him clear as day. As much as I want to continue to hold his gaze, I give a nod.

Only then does his eyes drop down and he focuses on placing the stencil. I can hear murmured words behind me and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Brooks and Aiden are never usually this quiet. It makes me feel on edge, but this whole experience has an edge to it.

When Cameron is done, I walk to the mirror on wobbly legs, the anticipation of what I’m going to feel, the oblivion the pain will bring me, is making my heart race. I study the stencil for a moment too long considering it’s perfect, but I need to get myself under control.

When I hop on the chair and get situated, I allow myself to look at Aiden and Brooks, knowing that looking at Cameron would be a mistake. I need to focus on the pain, since it is what brings me the pleasure, and not the man inflicting it. I can’t get caught in his web or I’ll never be able to walk away and the truth of what this really is will spill from my lips.

Brooks smirks, “You look nervous, Jessa.”

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