Intimate Ink Novels & Stories

he blurted out and I squinted my eyes at him "Wait a minute, I can't understand your words? then if you don't love reading how did you know the exact words written in her master and his submissive?" I queried, crossing my arms against my check and he scoffed, glancing up at me once more. "I'm author Dark Ink, I wrote the book you are so immensed in reading" he confessed and I covered my mouth in shock. "What! then how come they aren't any pictures of you on the internet?, I checked all social media sites. I can't believe I'm so lucky to have such a talented author in my presence" I squeaked in excitement.

Always naked now. They found her in the hallway, still sleepy-eyed. Reid stepped forward first, temporary tattoo pen in hand—black ink, fine tip. He knelt, pressed her back against the wall, and lifted one of her thighs over his shoulder. The pen moved in elegant, looping script just above her mound: Ours. The letters were small, precise, curling like calligraphy. When he finished he blew softly across the ink to set it, then pressed a kiss to the center of the word.

I want this design to sink into you so deep you will feel me every time you sit down or bend over. The session stretched on, the buzz of the needle becoming a constant companion to the growing ache inside her. Maven worked methodically, his free hand occasionally smoothing over her skin to wipe away excess ink, each caress sending jolts straight to her clit. He talked her through it the whole time, his words a filthy stream that kept her on edge. You are such a pretty little canvas, he murmured at one point. Taking my ink like a champ. Bet that pussy is dripping all over my chair by now, soaking through your panties because you love being pinned down and worked on.

I stared at the ceiling and made a decision. The next evening I drove to a small, discreet studio on the edge of the city. The sign read "Black Thorn Ink" in sharp, elegant script. Late appointment—private. I'd chosen the design carefully: a delicate line of script just above my mound. One word. *Unleashed.* Something to remind me I wasn't average. Something to make me feel wanted. The bell above the door chimed softly. The space was dim—low amber lights, black walls, the faint metallic tang of ink and antiseptic cutting through the air. Shelves of needles, bottles of color, flash sheets pinned like dark art. And then him.

I needed something more permanent to claim him as mine, something that he would see and remind him of me every single day. Suddenly, a crazy thought came to me as I sat up looking at him. I decided to put a tattoo on him. Not some painful branding with fire, but a sensual marking. Something I could put on his skin myself, slowly and intimate, while keeping him hard and leaking for me. I had a special semi permanent tattoo ink in the drawer which was perfect. It was dark, waterproof, and designed to last for weeks, maybe months if he didn’t scrub it hard and that’s long enough to remind him constantly who he belonged to.

Tank opened a condom and rolled it on. Ink released her breast and lubed up her ass. Then he guided her down onto the other man’s cock. Several times, she tried to sit up, but they kept her with her back to Tank’s chest. “This is beautiful.” Ink told them. “You’ll have to return the favor.” Tank said against Evie’s neck as he toyed with her nipple rings. “Would you like that, luv?” She moaned a yes and then cried out as Ink’s mouth began to assault her clit.

“I’m gonna look at this every single time you spread these pretty thighs and remember exactly who put it there. Who made you leak like a desperate little slut while I inked my name into your skin. This pussy is going to throb every time you catch a glimpse of it in the mirror.” The needle kept moving, forming the bold curve of the R and then the straight line of the I, each pass sending fresh heat blooming under my skin and straight into my aching core. I bit my lip hard but another loud whimper slipped out anyway. My nipples were so tight they hurt, pushing against my top, and my pussy throbbed in perfect time with the buzzing gun. I could smell how turned on I was in the thick air between

Every thrust shoved her against the bench, her nipples dragging across it, pleasure bordering on pain. He pulled out suddenly, spun her again, lifted her onto the bench so she was sitting on the edge. Then he dropped back to his knees, shoved three fingers into her dripping pussy, and sucked her clit hard while his other hand reached for a bottle of black tattoo ink on the counter. Ashley watched, dazed and trembling, as he uncapped it with his teeth, poured a thin line across her lower abdomen, just above where his fingers disappeared inside her. The ink was cold; the contrast made her hiss.

I prefer silent conversations. Ones where body speaks and heart listens. -L.E. Bowman. |A L E E Z A| My heart raced as Kirill walked me back to my apartment, the air thick with an unspoken tension that seemed to envelop us. Every step felt like a dance, our hands brushing in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. As we entered my apartment, the atmosphere shifted, charged with an electricity that drew us closer, an undeniable force that I couldn't resist. My fingers traced the intricate design on my arm, only to look up and find him revealing his own ink. "Our thoughts etched in the same ink," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

She had drawn red concentric circles around her ass like a target. It was obvious what the center of the target was even if there wasn't a tube of lubricant laying on the bed. It was an interesting first attempt for both of us. Not without a little effort we both came. We cleaned up afterward in the shower together and then headed for the bedroom for more sex. She was walking ahead of me and I started laughing. She asked, "What's so funny?" I answered, "What did you use to draw the target on your butt?" She replied, "The red ink pen in the office."