Tortured Soul Tattoo Novels & Stories

Sachem Nadura said and gazed at the cloud of strength that was clearly visible to all directions of these Eternal Prisons. His eyes concentrated and punctured through the camouflage of power upon the vortex of its origins. At the center was a boy. A marred being coupled with his list of sickness. His broken body may have been spectacularly pitiful but what called Sachem Nadura’s attention most was the tattooed symbols on the forehead of the boy. It was the mark of the Cursed. Someone who has done an unforgivable sin in his past life. And not just one but a whole lifetime of evil and immorality.

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

It was a sight that tore at her soul—his flesh marred by numerous bullet wounds, each one a painful reminder of the battles he had endured. But amidst the chaos of his injuries, something caught her attention. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed a familiar symbol, etched behind the ear of his wolf and mirrored as a tattoo on his chest—the mark of his mate's treacherous betrayal, the very wound that had pierced his heart.

Until I was pasted against the wall with my hands tied on my back. “Ouch… you are hurting me. Leave me.” I protested. “The world already has an impression of me. I don’t give a heck about it anymore. However, you need to be aware that I don’t like to hear excuses, yet you are lucky to be granted this opportunity twice.” His hot breath fell into my ears, as if someone from hell was downcasted and he was surely one. A devil. An inferno with a tattoo of a weird and unrecognizable symbol on the side of his neck, which I noticed when he flipped me around.

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

I screamed aloud. The time has come for my torture. The day has come for my pains. The demons, one by one, began to make marks on my body. I felt extreme pains while they did so. It wasn't something I could be quiet about. I screamed my lungs out. The one with the knife like fingers cut deep into my flesh and removed it. I knew right there that they were feeding on me while I gave birth. The other demons had made marks on my body but this one seemed to have followed the marks and served them my flesh.

The water hits my back at just the right temperature and I move my hand over my back but then I move my hand to my wrist. I look at it with a sad smile on my face when I see the tattoo I'd gotten. It is an infinity tatoo , in the infinity are two butterflies on either side each one representing the each family member I lost . And the only one I had well that was until my uncle and aunt lived with me in ghe mansion and treated me like their own.

Yet here he was, drawn like a moth to the one flame that could burn his whole world down. Inside the cell, inmate Zion King lay sprawled across the narrow bunk in nothing but a pair of threadbare gray prison-issue boxers that rode low on his hips. One long, muscular leg dangled lazily off the edge, the other bent at the knee, foot planted flat against the thin mattress. The harsh light carved deep shadows across his body, highlighting the intricate tapestry of tattoos that covered his chest, arms, and torso like a map of every sin he’d ever committed. A coiled serpent wound its way up his left ribs, fangs bared. A crown of thorns encircled his thick neck like a promise of pain and power. And

Now he understood that no one sees it but words leave an imprint on the soul, like his words left on Sage's. " Slut on your sister's forehead." Elliot says, crushing his heart. Sofia thrashed violently at this, crying profusely as Hades put the dirty tattoo on her forehead. " Bravo!" Elliot says, proudly. " Now, since these two got what they are. I think Sean deserves a rapist sign on his forehead." Shawn says, to which Elliot nods. " But Shawn, I feel like tattoo isn't painful for Sean the mighty. Look how many tattoos he has." Elliot says with pout.

Like a mind reader, Tore picks up the iron bar and this elicits even greater fear in the young man. “No! NO! PLEASE NOOOO!” He is branded again, this time across his chest where a tattoo of a skull with a worm crawling out of its empty socket resides. He screams and reflexively draws himself toward the scorched spot, howling from the stinging pain even as his skin evaporates under the extreme temperature of the bar. I tsk. Never did like the tattoo on the guy’s chest anyway, whoever did it did a horrible job. Groaning, the young man spits a bloodied enamel onto the floor. The little rat must have clenched and ground his jaws a wee bit too hard during the branding.