Author's Note: I don’t have any tattoos, so if you’re a tattoo fan please forgive me if I butcher some of the terminology, and feel free to offer corrections in the comment section. I’m sure the tattoo-less readership will appreciate your input it as well. - OHW


Martha was four years old when she fell in love with the angel tattoo on her mother’s shoulder. The eagle tattooed on her dad’s back was her second favorite. As she grew, little Martha went out of her way to view tattoos. She often walked up to tattooed strangers and asked them to share the stories behind their skin decorations.

As a teen, Martha’s love of tattoos deepened. She created books full of designs, hoping her best creation would find a home on her body once she came of age. Her parents regretted the permanent alterations made to their skin and made Martha promise that she’d wait till her 21st birthday before making such a life-changing decision.

Martha kept that promise, and when her 21st birthday arrived, everything had fallen into place. She was a college girl at State U. She had chosen the design. She knew where she wanted the tattoo artist to ink it. And she had the money to pay for the procedure – sort of.

Everyone agreed that Max's Tattoo Paradise on Main Street was the best place to go for quality body art. They did excellent work, but they also charged excellent prices.

Stu's Tattoos on Broadhurst Avenue charged half as much. After interviewing clients of both shops, Martha was surprised to learn that Stu’s tats were every bit as good as Max’s, and in many cases Stu’s work was better. Stu had other issues, however, which none of his clients would specify.

It was her 21st birthday. Martha could afford Stu. His work was top notch. It wasn’t a difficult decision.

"Hello," Stu said when Martha walked through the front door of his shop. "What can I do you for?"

Martha appraised the thin, bespectacled, not all that bad looking, dark haired guy and replied, "I don't want to be done. I'd like to get my first tattoo."

"Where do you want it?" Stu asked.

"I’d like it placed near my tail bone. Most of my girlfriends here at State have tattoos there."

"It pays to go along with the crowd," Stu said.

Martha squinted her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“A tail bone tattoo would look better than one on your forehead.” Stu shrugged. “I’ve done forehead tattoos and my customers usually regret those.”

Martha scanned Stu’s arms, neck and face. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“Naah. I’m the artist, not the canvas. It’s a personal choice.” Stu reached for a large scrapbook labeled ‘SAMPLES’ and set it on the counter. "Do you have a design in mind?"

Martha pulled one of her own scrapbooks from her bag and set it atop Stu’s. She opened to a page near the middle and pointed. "Can you draw this snake?"

Stu studied the drawing for a moment. "Sure." He pulled a stack of papers out from under the counter and set it next to the books. “Sign this paperwork and I’ll take you back to the studio.”

“What am I signing?” Martha asked, rifling through the sheets.

Stu waved his hand over the stack as if he were dispersing smoke. “Liability waivers, insurance stuff, blah, blah, blah.”

Martha rapidly flipped the pages and signed every line that had an ‘X’ near it. “Done.”

“Thanks.” Stu filed the paperwork under the counter. He picked up her scrapbook and walked toward the back of the shop. "Follow me." Martha did. Stu pointed to a leather couch. "Take a seat." Martha sat. "Have you ever talked to anyone who has a tattoo?" Stu asked.

"Sure. I’ve talked to millions of people over the years. I’ve loved tattoos since I was a baby."

"Did you ever talk about the process?"

"No, I ask about the stories behind the pictures."

Stu nodded his head. "Tattoos are a lot like having a baby, I suppose. Once you’ve got that little person in your arms, that’s all you want to talk about. You instantly forget the hell you went through to push that little sucker out into the real world.”

Martha frowned. “You’ve had a baby?”

“No.” Stu shook his head and laughed. “I like you, Martha. You’re sharp.”

“I get it.” Martha crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re telling me this is going to hurt.”

“Yes, it is.”

"How bad?"

“It varies with every person. We all have a different tolerance for pain.” Stu held a needle up to Martha's arm. “I'm going to give you a little poke to see how well you tolerate pain. Is that okay?"

Martha instinctively backed away as the needle approached. "Are you really going to poke me with that thing?”

“The tattooing process involves injecting pigment directly into your skin.”

“So that’s a ‘Yes’?”

Stu chuckled, then tapped Martha's arm with the needle.

Martha passed out.

After Martha woke, it took her only three seconds to realize that she’d been strapped face down to a beefy padded four-legged leather table, like one horse mounted on top of another. It took an additional three seconds for her to realize that she was completely naked.

Martha’s wrists were encased in leather cuffs that were attached via ropes to pulleys connected to the front legs of the table while her ankles were similarly attached to pulleys connected to the rear legs. The four ropes were wound about a central vertical post beneath her.

“What happened?” Martha asked.

“You passed out,” Stu said. “Don’t feel bad. It happens all the time.”

"What have you done to me?" Martha asked. She tugged on her restraints.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Stu ran his hand over Martha's firm bare bottom. "I took off your clothes and turned you into a table cloth." He got on one knee before her. “It looks to me like my tablecloth isn’t at its optimal tightness, though. I think you can handle another notch or two.” Stu turned a wheel at the base of the table; the central rod turned; Martha’s limbs were pulled further downward along the table legs.

CLICK!

“How’s that?” Stu rested his hand on the nude girl’s back. “Think you can handle one more notch?”

Martha lifted her head. “Would I be correct in assuming ‘the tighter, the better’?”

“Yes, you would be correct. Pain pansies like yourself tend to shift around a lot when they’re getting inked.”

"Okay, I get your logic," Martha said. "Now, back to my earlier question. Why am I strapped to this table without a stitch of clothing on?"

“You fit the profile.”

“Let me guess. You strapped me to this table,” Martha sighed, “because I’m hypersensitive to pain and you want to restrict my range of motion.”

“That, and you’ve got an awesome body.” Stu ran his finger along Martha’s side. “Fantastic ripe tits.” He smacked her posterior. “A solid butt.” He ran his hand along her thighs. “Legs that don’t quit.” He inserted his finger into her vagina. “And a beautiful pussy. Girls like you come around once in a lifetime.”

"I see." Martha lifted her head, then set it back onto the table’s leather surface. She extended her lower lip and blew a strand of hair away from her nose.

“Here, I’ll get that.” Stu brushed Martha’s stray hairs back behind her ears.

“Thanks. Now I’m not a dumb girl, so let me see if I can figure this out. You restrain your clients to keep them from screwing up their tattoos.” Stu nodded. “And you strip them to keep their clothes from getting stained.”

Stu rested his hand on Martha's shoulder. "You got it. A client once sued me for damaging her dress. I ended up paying for a new dress plus I had to comp the tattoo. You don't stay in business long doing that."

“Okay.” Martha paused. “And you’re not worried about me having you arrested for this because I gave you permission when I signed your contracts.”

“Yes, and I get full custody of any children that result from actions taken during the application of your tattoo.”

“WHAT THE HELL?” Martha yelled. “YOU’RE GOING TO FUCK ME? You can’t get away with that!” She smacked the table legs. “You’d probably beat the rap on the bondage. Considering the location of my tattoo, you’d probably slide on stripping me, too. BUT YOU CAN’T FUCK ME! THAT’S RAPE!”

“Hear me out,” Stu said. He knelt down at the head of the table and looked into his client’s eyes.

“Go on,” the nude girl replied, tilting her head. “I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

“You want me to do the best job I possibly can on this tattoo, right?”

“I didn’t come here TO GET FUCKED!”

“One word.” Stu lifted his index finger to Martha’s eyes. “Anesthesia.” He tapped her nose with the finger. "I'm not licensed to knock you out. This isn’t an operation or a root canal. But there’s no law that says I can’t fuck you if I have your consent."

Martha considered Stu’s words for a minute. “Are you serious?”

“Look. I could gag you and do my best with the needle but you’ll alternate between passing out and getting jolted awake, plus you’d be screaming your lungs out half the time. If you’re otherwise occupied, you’ll barely notice I’m back there.”

Martha giggled. “Are you really small or something?”

“No dummy! You’ll notice me that way! What I’m saying is you won’t notice me injecting ink into your skin!”

“Will that really work?”

“Do you want the best tattoo I can deliver?”

“Will you use a condom?”

“I’ll do better work without it.”

“I’m on the pill.” Martha bit her lip. “Can I see your equipment? And I don’t mean your tattoo equipment.”

Stu loosened his belt and dropped his pants and boxers.

“Wow,” Martha said. “That’s a nice tool you’ve got there.”

“Thanks.”

Stu reached to Martha’s side and pinched her left breast - “OWWW! Mnnnggggfffff!” – then stuffed a red ball gag deep into his client’s mouth. Martha protested – the best she could - as Stu tightened the strap behind her neck.

“Then we’re good?” he said.

Martha groaned into her gag with bulging eyes, before her visage softened. She nodded her agreement.

Stu walked toward the rear of the table. After cleaning his client’s back with alcohol, Stu picked up his inking pen. He slowly inched toward Martha’s back as he pushed his impressive cock deep into her vagina.

“Owwwmmmgggffff!,” Martha gasped with wide eyes as the tattoo artist got to work.

Stu did an awesome job of multitasking. Drawing on Martha’s back while pumping her down below was a breeze. In fact, as he fucked her, he found himself entering “the zone”. Endorphins kicked in; he was alert and alive; the pleasure sensations radiating from his cock felt terrific and stimulated his creativity. Staying hard as a rock proved to be no problem as the intense focus he poured into his work allowed him to control the timing of his ejaculations with perfect precision.

Martha’s role, though equally important, didn’t require much work. She got fucked like she’d never been fucked before, climaxing multiple times as Stu worked on her. In fact, his client got so engrossed in the sex that she eventually forgot that she was getting tattooed.

After an hour of creative effort, Stu said, “I think that does it. AHHHHHH!!!” He powerfully spurted a final load into his well-restrained client.

Martha came powerfully as well. She was so spent from the process, she passed out immediately afterward.

When Martha woke, she found herself lying on the leather couch in the back of the store, fully dressed, feeling warm and content. Her lower back and pussy both felt like they’d had a work out. She shook her head clear and walked toward a nearby mirror. After dropping her pants and lifting her blouse, Martha took a deep breath and looked at her reflection.

Five minutes later, she walked toward the front of the store teary-eyed.

Stu was behind the counter, leafing through her scrapbook. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping out into the main room.

Martha ran toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Stu held her tight about the waist. “It’s beautiful!” she said, crying into his shirt. “I can’t believe how perfect it is! You took my idea and turned it into a masterpiece!”

“What can I say?” Stu quipped. “You’ve got a great ass.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.” Martha released Stu and reached into her pocket for her checkbook. “How much do I owe you for this?”

“I have a confession to make,” Stu said. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever fucked while inking her tattoo.”

“No way,” Martha replied. “The other ones you did were guys? Ewww. That’s gross!”

Stu laughed. “Oh shut up!”

“I kinda, sorta figured that was the case,” Martha said. A small smile graced her lips. “But I didn’t mind.”

Stu leaned back against the counter and rested his hand on her book. “I’m impressed by your passion for tattoos and your designs show promise. I think we’d make a good team.”

“I guess we do have a certain chemistry,” Martha replied. “Are you offering me a job?”

“It’s a lot more fun being on this side of the needle,” Stu said.

Martha considered the offer before taking Stu’s tattoo-free hand. “You’re a pain pansy too, aren’t you?”

“Busted!”

Martha pocketed her checkbook. “I’m famished. Let’s talk about this over dinner. Your treat.”

“You’re on.”

And that’s how “Stu’s Tattoos” became “Stu and Martha’s Tattoo Emporium.” Eventually children did result from actions performed at the tattoo shop, and Stu was fine sharing the custody of their offspring with his wife.