Handmaid's Tale Tattoo Novels & Stories

“It’ll come back when you’re ready.” “Maybe,” she said. Then, as if remembering something, her eyes widened a little. “Actually, there’s one thing.” He straightened instantly. “What is it?” Naomi frowned in concentration, her brows knitting. “A tattoo. I remember seeing it. On their hand, I think. Or their wrist.” Damon’s chest went tight. “A tattoo?” “Yes.” She bit her lip, trying to recall. “It was small… maybe a butterfly? Blue wings. The light hit it just before I fell.”

“Does she have a symmetrical tattoo on her lower abdomen? That’s a slave mark. The design looks like a uterus. You’re a man. I don’t need to explain what that implies.” Patricia tugged Orlando’s sleeve. “What’s a slave mark?” Orlando covered her ears. “Don’t ask.” Xandra had already pulled out her phone to search. “Wow. That’s… creative.” Asher’s fingers trembled as he scrolled through the photos Laura displayed. They were surveillance shots Anna had quietly gathered. Different men. Different locations. A car. A beach. Even a sightseeing elevator. In one photo inside a car, the woman sat on a man’s lap, head thrown back in pleasure. The tattoo on her lower abdomen was clearly visible.