Shoulder Blade Tattoo Pain Novels & Stories

His hand reached under my right breast to caress me there. “When did you do this?” He asked in reference to the tattoo. “When he was supposed to turn one.” I placed my hand on his “I couldn't understand the fact that he wasn't with me, so getting a tattoo helped me heal and accept his destiny. Not to understand, but to accept.” “And did it hurt?” “Oh yeah, a lot.” I laughed at his expression of terror “The tattoo artist said it was common to feel pain in that area, since there are the ribs.”

It's the closest I can get to her these days. But just as I open my car door, a searing, unbearable pain shoots through my left shoulder blade, cutting through me like a bolt of lightning. The pain is so intense that I freeze, unable to move or even turn my head. Darkness crowds at the edges of my vision, and I find myself gasping for breath.

As I splashed water on my skin, a sharp pain hit my shoulder. I hissed and turned. There, on my skin, was a fresh scratch. It was blue. And it formed a symbol I had never seen before. I stared at it, my breath shaking. “What… is this?” I whispered. I stared at the mark for a long time. The pain that came with it had already stopped. One moment it burned so badly I almost cried out, and the next moment it was gone, like it was never there. Only the blue mark remained on my shoulder.

Silence. I scream as loud and high-pitched as I can. His punishment is swift as a hard slap from his hand lands on my already sore ass. It cuts off the scream instantly because I'm fighting through the pain just to breathe. Damn that one hurt like hell. I get about thirty seconds of silence before the hum of the tattoo gun starts up. I can't help it and tighten my entire body in dread. This can't be happening to me. How wrong I am.

“But it’s more painful to work over the spine. The shoulder would be more comfortable.” I chew on my lip, considering it. I mean, I’ve just spent two weeks being broken, drowned, electrocuted and poisoned. Surely, I can’t balk at a tattoo? “Can you draw it out in the size you think would look best, with the runes worked in, and then we can, see?” I ask. “Absolutely. Give me about ten minutes.”

I bit my lip hard as I stared at him. He turned his back to me, using his hands to comb his hair backward. His back... fuck. His back was even hotter. My eyes caught the ink on his shoulder blade, a dragon, bold and coiled like it belonged there. Its wings stretched slightly down his spine, detailed with sharp lines and dark shading. It was a tattoo that looked alive, like it was watching me through him. Just below it, a long scar trailed down his lower back and curved slightly toward his waist. It was faded but deep. I wondered what caused such a huge scar.

Or are they scared? No matter how hard I try, I cannot look up because my shoulder blades hurt like hell. I have no idea why and why it feels as if I am carrying something heavy on my back. Everyone seems to be getting their eyes from my direction as if looking at me hurts them. It does not make sense.

And every single nerve in my body wanted him to follow through on that threat. The tattoo took another forty minutes to finish. Every second felt like torture. My body was on fire, my panties completely soaked, and Marcus kept making these low, rough sounds every time the needle hit a sensitive spot. By the time I wiped the last traces of ink and set the machine down, my hands were shaking badly. “Done,” I whispered. Marcus sat up slowly, turning to look at the fresh ink on his ribs. The shattered hourglass and ravens looked even better than I’d imagined on his skin. He ran his fingers lightly around the edges, then looked at me with dark, predatory eyes.

Every breath pulled against them wrong, sharp and shallow, like my body refused to expand fully without reminding me of the damage. One rib was broken or at least one and maybe more. I didn’t check. I could feel it. My tattoo sat just above the bandages, the wolf paw inked over my chest, the initials beneath it completely hidden by bruising.. My left arm was wrapped too, the fabric tight from shoulder to forearm. I flexed it slightly, testing the movement, and immediately regretted it when a dull ache shot up through the muscle. My right arm was fine. Of course it was.

A good decision she made on her path, avoiding a banter she is most likely to lose. I leaned my head back against the tree, letting my eyes close for what I promised myself would be a short nap. Not much time passed when a sharp burning sting shot through my shoulder, jolting me up. It felt like my skin had been set on fire. My brows creased as I pulled off my jacket and raised one of my sleeves. It was the spot my mark rested. It glowed faintly, pulsing as though something beneath it wanted to break free. “What the hell…” I trailed off, wincing as a fresh surge of pain ripped through my body, heat developing from my shoulder to my neck.