Car Show Slut Ch. 05

The more I thought about it over the next few days, the naughtier I felt. This could be fun – plain Jane on the outside, naughty Angie on the inside, and only I would know! It reminded me of a meeting we had with a client, a very conservative-looking woman in her mid 30s about a year ago. There was nothing sexual in her dress or actions, she was straight business all the way down the line – and damned good at her job. But I remember noticing one time when she got out of her chair and her suit coat rode up a little bit, there was a little devil tattoo on her lower back. It struck me as very incongruous at the time – I felt that maybe she had had a wild time in her younger days and since then she had grown up, as it were.

Maybe I could go even wilder and get a raunchy tattoo? No, they're permanent. I bet Mrs Conservative regretted hers now. Then I thought of Kelly. Her clit ring. Actually, I had been thinking about that quite a bit, though mostly in the context of being with her sexually. It was somehow fascinating. And it was just so dammed sexy – so naughty! To have a ring through your hood like that!

I sat at my desk idly wondering how it would look. How it would feel. I pondered over the dream I had in which I suddenly realized that I myself had a clit ring – a huge one. Well, if I really had one, it wouldn't be like that. It would be much more petite, like Kelly's clit ring.

Well, it wasn't something that need be permanent like a tattoo – you could take it off when ever you wanted. I wondered... Could I really do something like that? Walking round the office in my dowdy clothes, but with a little ring pierced through my clitoris that no one knew about, that no one in their wildest dreams would have expected – the thought of it gave me a delicious thrill.

But if one was to do such a thing, where does one get it done? I did not think the local beauty parlors would offer such a service. More like a tattoo and piercing parlor – that's where you would get it done. But you would have to expose yourself totally in front of someone – and it would probably be a guy. And then they would pierce you, pierce you THERE... Well, I thought, it's not as though exposing myself would be something new to me. If I was to get one, I was sure I could handle any embarrassment I might feel. But would it hurt? Yes, it would have to hurt. But then Kelly got hers, and by my reckoning whatever pain she could endure wouldn't be a problem for me.

But who would perform such a 'service'? I thought of the tattoo stand at the car show. Someone like them would surely offer body piercings. What was their name? Ah yes, I remember, congratulating myself at my excellent memory. It always pays to be across the detail in my job, I thought to myself. Maybe I could ring them up and see if they do clitoris rings? I looked them up. I was right, there they were in the phone book. Should I ring them? Well, it's only a phone call; it's just an anonymous enquiry. It doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I'll call.

I heard the number ringing and then a man answered.

"Hello, how can I help?" His voice was rough, gravelly, with a slight southern twang.

"Um, I'm just wondering whether you do body piercings?"

"Yeah darlin', what sort are you after?" He sounded just like the biker guy that had given Kelly and I our fake tats at the car show. Probably was him.

"Um, clitoris."

"Yeah, no problem. Y'don't need to make an appointment, just drop in when ever it suits. We open every day. Close at nine."

"OK, thank you for that."

He hung up.

Well, if I was to do it, at least I now knew where to go. I thought of what Sarah would think of seeing me with a clit ring. She'd probably love it. I thought about ringing her to get her opinion – after all, I hadn't actually spoken to her since Rick's brother's bachelor party. Actually, she'd dare me to do it, that's what she'd say. Why don't I just dare myself? I'll never know how it feels if I don't give it a go. And it isn't a permanent thing – if I didn't like it, I could just take it off and throw it away.

I was still pondering over all this as I left work that afternoon. Gunning the BMW down the freeway, I noticed the next exit coming up. The exit that would take me down to the suburb where the tattoo parlor was. I switched my indicator and changed lanes, making for the exit. But I hadn't decided to do it. Maybe I could just check the place out a bit first? See what kind of designs of rings they had. No, that would be embarrassing. But more embarrassing than actually doing it?

Soon I located the shop. It was in a downbeat part of town. By now it was close to sundown, and this wasn't the kind of place to make a girl feel safe after dark. I parked my car around the corner and sat there. Should I do this? I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest. Could I really do this? Did I want to do this? None of the questions I could meet with a definitive answer. You could be here all night like this sitting in the car, I thought to myself. OK, just go in there and have a look.

I got out of the car. This was a bad neighborhood. I was still in two minds. I really felt like going for a walk around the block to further settle my nerves but I didn't feel safe walking around here. I approached the front of the store. I went inside. There were tattoos all over the walls of the premises. There was no one in the shop except the two guys behind the counter. One was doing something at the cash register; the other was off in the corner stacking boxes. I approached the counter.

"Hi, can I help you?" God, it was the tattoo guy from the car show! I panicked that he might have recognized me. But then so what? And in any case, how would he ever recognize me – that day was I done up in skimpy gear with a hat and those rose sun glasses on. Now, in my work gear and hair tied up, I could hardly look more different. Nevertheless I felt a sense of trepidation, over and above the actual reason I had gone in there in the first place. I stiffened myself.

"Um, you do piercings?"

"Yeah, what sort are you looking for?" It was definitely that guy from the car show. The same toothy grin, rough biker's beard. He was even dressed the same. He eyed me up and down.

I froze. I couldn't say it. Not with that other guy in the shop. But somehow I couldn't just turn and run like a scared little girl – even though that was my first instinct. It was strange, but there seemed no way I could utter the word 'clitoris' in front of this crusty old biker dude, let alone his work mate who no doubt would have been listening in. I felt the embarrassment and apprehension well up inside.

"Nipple?" he asked.

I paused for a moment. I felt paralyzed. All I could do was offer a meek nod.

"Ok, come this way," he said, leading me into the back of the shop.

God, what had just done? He thinks I want my nipple pierced! I felt almost in a daze, as if tranquilized, as he pulled out a small case with different nipple ring designs.

"Which would you like?"

I looked at them. It felt like I'd entered a strange alternate jewelry universe, where instead of looking over lovely bracelets and ear rings, I was choosing a ring that would be inserted into a small hole through the side of my nipple. My nipple! But I wasn't here for that!

"Sit back in this chair," he said. "How 'bout this one? It's pretty popular."

It wasn't a ring but rather a small pin. I felt like someone other than myself was directing me; I seemed incapable of making decisions. I looked at the pin, and I nodded.

"OK, take off your top."

This was it – I was getting a nipple ring! I slipped off my shirt and undid my bra, so that was naked from the waist up. It felt like I was having a doctor's examination. I sat back in the chair as he reached for the piercing tool. It was not unlike ones I'd seen used for ear rings.

"Will it be both nipples?"

Both? Oh God, not both! I shook my head.

"Left or right?"

Left or right? I had no clue. I hadn't even thought of it. Because 10 minutes ago getting a nipple ring was the farthest thing from my mind!

"Left," I said, resigned to the fate into which I somehow had allowed myself to fall. I sat back into the chair as he hovered above me.

"Darlin', I've got to get the nipple hard to do this. This OK?" he said as his thumb and forefinger squeezed around my left nipple.

I felt embarrassed, a failure. I'm letting him pierce my nipple because I didn't have the courage to say the word clitoris! Ooh, but his fingers squeezing my nipple felt good... He kept up at it for about 30 seconds and stopped. His face was close up to my breast now. Oh God, I saw him snake his tongue out of his mouth and felt it flick my nipple! I almost couldn't believe it.

"Y'don't mind, do ya? It's not erect enough yet."

"OK." I almost whispered.

"Good," he said as his mouth wrapped around my nipple. I could feel he rough beard around the soft flesh of my breast. I sank further back into the chair, submitting to his attentions – which went on for the best part of a minute. All the while I felt the blood rushing to my loins, my nipple stiffening under his surprisingly expert ministrations. God, for such a crusty old guy he knew what to do with his mouth and tongue. I felt my breath quicken as I surrendered to the feelings, pushing the shame and humiliation I felt out of my mind. God, instinctively I wanted to reach down and touch myself. The old guy was making me horny! How humiliating! I couldn't stop myself from giving out a stifled moan, at which point he glanced up at me, his mouth still wrapped around my nipple. He was smiling.

"Mmmm, darlin', I think you're about ready," he said. "This'll hurt some, but it will be over in a few seconds. Suggest you hang on tight the sides of the chair."

I couldn't watch the procedure. But I felt the cold implement pressing against my nipple, and then I felt it tighten, like it was gripped in a tiny vice.

"OK, here we go," he said. "Be done in one second."

Then I felt a sharp sting as the steel cut through my flesh. God, that hurt! I felt the implement being removed and a cloth placed on my nipple. Then he inserted the pin.

"There, done. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Um, it's OK," I mumbled, the pain of the piercing having woken me out of my daze. I looked down at my still exposed breast. There it was. I pin sticking out either side of my left nipple! I had a pierced nipple! It looked almost monstrous. It still hurt, but the dull ache somehow seemed to resonate with the throb of my pussy.

"Looks good," he said as I got up to get dressed.

"Thanks," I said, for want of anything else to say.

He watched me as I put my bra back on. Somehow I didn't feel self conscious. Well, how could I, after what he'd just done to me?

"Hey darlin'," he said. "Y'all didn't come here 'specially for the nipple pin, did ya?"

"Um, er, what do you mean?"

"Your voice, I reckonized it – you rang before about a clit ring, didn't ya?"

I felt the shame well inside me. I didn't know what to say. I just looked at the floor. To admit that I had been the caller would expose my ridiculousness. I couldn't say it.

"Well, why don't you just get it done now?" he said. "I mean, that's why you've come, isn't it?"

I couldn't look at him. My stupidity had been exposed. I felt like running out the door, but that would be even more childish. And he'd be off after me if I did that, because I still hadn't paid for the nipple ring.

"Come on," he said, pulling a sheet of a strange looking piece of furniture that was half table, half chair, "it will hardly take any longer than the nipple ring. Just take your skirt and panties off and climb into this chair. It'll be done in no time."

I stood there looking at the floor as I did up the last button on my blouse. A clit ring was indeed the reason I had come here. And he knew it, even if I walked out of here right now. Just get it over with, have it done, I said to myself.

I reached down and unfastened my skirt, letting it fall and grabbing it as I stepped out of it. Oh, God, I had forgotten I was wearing the SEX panties... He didn't say anything but he was looking at me, looking at my crotch. I noticed him raise an eyebrow, seemingly in approval of my unexpected underwear. Then I peeled off the g-string, standing there in my modest heels, my blouse, but exposed from the waist down. How strange that it felt almost more embarrassing that this old guy saw me in the SEX g-string than completely naked.

"Ok, just slide up here," he said. The chair was flat, with a slightly raised back section. It was wide, but with a v-shaped cut out at one end. Where my legs were.

"Comfy?" he asked. "OK darlin', just spread your legs there for me."

I was almost beyond the point of shame. Again, the situation had an element to it of a doctor's surgery, but a very bizarre one at that. Now he was standing between my outstretched legs. There was a leather strap he was fiddling with on the side of the chair. I saw him wrap it around my left thigh. I panicked.

"What are you doing!"

"Relax sweetheart. It's just to restrain you while I do the piercing. It will hurt a bit, and I need you to keep still, otherwise you might get pierced in the wrong spot, if you know what I mean. Just relax," he said as he pulled the strap right against my skin, just above my knee. Then he turned and restrained my other leg in the same way.

"Should I strap your arms as well?" he asked.

My arms? Er no. Why should you strap my arms?"

"Oh, no reason, just some girls prefer it that way," he said with a sly chuckle.

My arms remained free, but even like this I felt like a butterfly pinned on a board, as if on exhibit in a museum.

He grabbed a chair and moved to between my legs. God, this was like a nightmare gynecologist appointment. He was sitting between my spread legs, peering straight at my opened pussy which, shamefully as I tried not to concede to myself, but knew it to be true, was wet. I felt his hand cradle my pussy. It felt warm. So too did his hot breath on my inner thighs. Now he was rubbing me, rubbing my clit. I thought I heard him mutter the word 'nice'. I could feel myself getting wetter. I knew that my wetness would be on his fingers. He would know!

"Darlin' gotta get you ready for this," he said, as I felt his hot breath against my wet opening. "You don't mind, do you?" he said. Then I felt his tongue slide up my slit, the stubble of his beard brushing along my outer lips. Did I mind? I couldn't move. It wasn't as though I could stop him. The odl guy was licking me! Oohh, and it felt good...

When I failed to give an answer - for I feared what that answer would be - he took it as a green light to continue. I felt his tongue gently running along both outer lips, occasionally lapping up and down my slit. As ugly and detestable as he was, he knew what he was doing; he knew his way around a woman. I moaned as the sensations of his touch swept across my body. I couldn't help myself, even thought it humiliated me so that such a rough old biker guy was licking me, and doing it so that he could pierce my clitoris, and doing it with my full consent, and making me hot at the same time. He was licking me and I was loving it, my legs were spread for him and I was wet like some cheap biker's whore.

Then he stopped. I looked down my body at him. He was grinning up at me. His beard was wet. Wet with my juices. I was burning with shame.

"Darlin', think we're ready now."

He reached for the piercing tool. I couldn't see much from where I was, but I could see it was a different implement from the one he used on my nipples. But God, this old biker guy was about to pierce my clitoris! Strangely as the realization hit me that this was it, now it was going to happen, I didn't panic. Partly, I had to admit to my shame that I was too turned on, and partly it was the sense of helplessness I felt. I was strapped to the table. I could do nothing. And I had agreed to this. And now it was going to happen.

I knew my clit was engorged. Full of blood and ripe for picking, as it were. The word play even gave me cause to smile inside. But I wasn't laughing for long as I felt the cold steel touch against my delicate, sensitive skin. This was it.

"Baby, here we go. Brace yourself, darlin'."

Sharp pain shot through my body. It was a sensation more excruciating than anything I could ever remember. I cried out but managed to stifle it. There was a heavy throb in my lions, but soon the overpowering ache morphed into a kind of enormous itch. It was only then that I realized it – he had stuck his finger inside me! He was gently sliding the tip of his finger in and out of me, and I felt myself gripping it as the sensations began to build, so that the itch became more intense, searing, yet less painful. He quickened his pace and went deeper, deeper... Oohhh.... And then he stopped. I felt deflated. The pain began to return. I couldn't see what he was doing, but he was fumbling with something. I looked down and saw it. His cock. He had pulled down his jeans and was maneuvering himself so that his cock pointed at my wet pussy. Oh God, he's going to fuck me!

I saw him grab his cock and line the tip up against my slit. My wet opening. I felt it touch my skin, the head pushing against my lips. I felt my hips almost involuntarily shifting, straining down towards his cock, inviting it in. And yet I couldn't move my hips strapped to the table as I was. He was toying with his cock at my entrance, looking down at it, almost entranced by the sight. I watched in horror, my body betraying me as the need within me grew, as my pussy ached to be filled. No! Don't let this happen! Then he looked up at me.

"Darlin', this might help ease the pain. Do you want me to? Do you want me to fuck you? Have to get permission 'fore I do – company policy, y' understand," he said with an evil sounding chuckle.

Then he slid it in, maybe only a quarter of an inch, and stopped. His cock was thick. Even like that, I felt stretched as my lips opened willingly to accommodate the invader's width. Oh no, he was doing it! But ooh, it felt just right, the perfect counter to the pain in my clit and my nipple. My whole body seemed to throb but I could no longer tell whether it was pain or something else. Then with a sudden movement he pulled out of me. Oooh...

I felt my muscles sharply contract against thin air as his big cock was removed from my entrance. Oh God, I wanted it back inside me!

I was panting, almost writhing on the table; the blood in my head seemed almost as if it was boiling.

"Well, do ya want it?" he asked, waving his cock at me from between my legs.

I didn't want it. But I needed it. He was standing there looking at me, his cock glistening with moisture. My juices. It looked so vulgar, that big fat cock pointing up at me, ready to perform. I just had to say the word.

"Well?"

"Yes." There it was. I had said it. I had crossed the line. I had agreed to let this dirty old tattooed man have his pleasure with me. And I wanted it. I wanted him to take me, fuck me, degrade me, use me like a dirty whore.

"You want me to fuck you?"

His words struck deep into the sense of humiliation that pervaded my being. Yes you fucking bastard. Fuck me like a little slut!

"Fuck me. Fuck me please!"

"Good girl," he said as he slid down a little, maneuvering himself at entrance. I strained down so I could see it, visual confirmation of my shame as this man, this ugly old guy whose name I didn't even now, was about to shove his big cock inside my wet, craving pussy.

I stiffened as I felt him plunge inside me. Oohh, yes! He slid in all the way, then pulled back out and rammed straight back inside. Oooh! I clamped down on his thick shaft as it probed my inner being, and I felt his body slump across mine as he reached across to grab my shoulders, so as to anchor himself as he began to hammer away at me. He did not kiss me, but rested his head against my neck as he fucked me harder still. I could feel his rough beard rubbing against the skin of my neck. I could smell his foul body odor. He smelled of stale beer and cigarettes.