My Best Friend My Nemesis Pt. 22

Again, completely out of character, my bravado remained intact.

"I thought you would have used hot pink ink for the tattoo," I said fearlessly.

Adrian responded, "You know me well Chrissy. I was going to do it in pink, but John, the tattoo guy, informed me that yellow or turquoise inks are the very hardest to remove. Even if you went to have this removed tomorrow, it would take eight to ten laser sessions, and you have to wait eight weeks between each session. You are going to be announcing to the world, that you are my bitch, for the next eighteen months at minimum."

As soon as Adrian mentioned that the tattoo artist's name was John, I recognized him. I had gone into his studio one evening, as moral support for a friend who was getting his first tattoo. I hadn't been involved much in their conversation. I had spent most of my time in there laughing at his "wall of shame". This was a collection of misspelled tattoos, mostly involving translation errors, that he had copied from the internet. Either way, that wall was hilarious.

However, I did overhear John telling my friend about a new City of San Clemente ordinance on facial tattoos. In an attempt to suppress gang activity, the City had applied for, and been granted, an injunction against the local gang. The injunction gave the City wide powers against the gang members, that included prohibiting gang signs or overt signs of membership, such as certain colored bandannas, whilst in public.

The City had gone one step further, and passed a City ordinance requiring tattoo artists to ask for identification, prior to administering any tattoos on the face, hands, or front and sides of the neck. The tattoo artist was required to file this information online, and was given an automatic approval, if the person receiving the tattoo was not a known gang member.

I surmised that this was the reason for John's reluctance to put the tattoo on my forehead. He was required to submit my personal information, and a photo of my license, to the City of San Clemente before inking my forehead. John finally moved towards me and fired up the tattoo gun. I felt the needle touch my skin, and couldn't wait any longer to speak.

"Will this one end up on your wall of shame, John?" I asked the tattoo artist.

John reflexively pulled the tattoo gun away from my head, and turned to Adrian.

"I can't do this without the proper paperwork," he said firmly. "When I agreed to do this, it was four back of the neck tattoos. I have a buddy in Riverside who will do it. You can keep my design for free. I just can't do a face tattoo in San Clemente, without the approval of the City. How about I give Chris a tramp stamp? I can make this sketch larger, so it takes up most of his lower back and ass. Maybe put a black cock only arrow up into his asshole, like I did to Sara and Svetlana? Adrian, you mentioned tattooing Bareback Bitch across his ass. I could do that in hot pink. Or would you like me to call my buddy in Riverside?"

Adrian smiled at my reaction to that humiliating "Bareback Bitch" option, and nodded his head understandingly. I knew Adrian didn't have time to drive to Riverside, as he had a flight to catch this afternoon. He knew if he sent me to get my driver's license, I wouldn't come back. So, in a spur of the moment decision, he spoke up.

"Fuck it! Everyone knows he is my bitch anyway. Proceed with the original plan and incorporate the Adrian's Bitch script, right beneath it."

John started to sketch the new design, and Adrian looked on approvingly. Once the sketch was done, Adrian told me to kneel before John, on my sucky pillow.

"Oh, thanks Adrian," John said with a laugh, "Chrissy already sucked me off twice, that won't be necessary," to another round of laughs from the Russians.

John grabbed a razor blade and a small can of shaving gel. He moved around behind me, and told me to lower my head. He shaved the back of my neck, and then shaved a small area in the middle of the back of my head. A few moments later, as Adrian looked on and dictated the placement of the tattoos, I felt the wax paper on my neck and head. Shortly after that, I heard the tattoo gun and braced for the pain.

Tattoos aren't really that painful. However, the indignity of getting branded without consent, and not even knowing the design you will be wearing for the rest of your life, was more painful than the needle. I remembered back to the day I first saw Svetlana's involuntary tattoos, and the vow I had made, to fight like hell if Adrian ever tried to tattoo me. I think I had said he would have to render me unconscious first. I felt like a total bitch, as I knelt there on my sucky pillow for several minutes, fully conscious and complying peacefully, as John applied my tattoo.

Adrian watched intently the whole time, obviously enjoying my branding immensely.

"Don't you trust me, Adrian?" John asked at one point. "Do you think I am going to tattoo John's bitch on Chrissy's neck?"

"Well, while it would be an accurate assessment of her, I trust you to mark her as mine," Adrian replied smugly.

"Of course, Adrian," John said cheerfully, "although I may add a little detail of my own, if that's okay. A memento of today, if you will."

"No problem, bro," Adrian replied magnanimously.

When John was finished, he wiped up the blood spots, and held up a mirror so that I could see his handiwork. On the middle of my head, about three inches above my neck was a "queen of spades" tattoo, in black ink. This was a common tattoo, symbolizing a sexual preference for black men, in general. Right beneath it, at the top of my neck, "Adrian's Bitch" was in flowing yellow script. This would presumably indicate, to any interested black men, that I was already taken.

John had added a small pair of glossed women's lips to the original design. They were open slightly, and had semen dripping from them. The word "Chrissy" was emblazoned beneath them in hot pink ink

Adrian loved it, and took a photo of it, before John covered it in antibacterial ointment and put a bandage on it. I heard my phone ding, and realized Adrian had already sent me the picture. I remained kneeling as Adrian went to pay John. To my surprise, Svetlana spoke up.

"Adrian, you said you were going to punish us all in equal measure, and yet you have singled out Chrissy for punishment. That's not fair. I will accept my tattoo also."

Svetlana stood up, walked towards me, and defiantly knelt on her sucky pillow. John looked at Adrian for direction and Adrian, uncharacteristically, looked lost for words. Before he could answer, Sara stood up, joined us, and knelt on her pillow.

"Me too," she said quietly, with less conviction than Svetlana.

I was looking at Stacey. She was clearly conflicted. An hour ago, she had been weeping at the thought of being identified as a black cock only woman. Now, in solidarity with her friends, particularly as she had formed such a deep, intimate sexual connection with Sara, she was seemingly about to volunteer to be tattooed.

"Fuck it. Me too," Stacey said, as she knelt next to her fellow platinum blondes.

As they knelt together, they held hands in an act of solidarity. I could tell that pissed Adrian off, because he was gritting his teeth. However, he couldn't show any weakness in his own house, particularly in front of the Russians.

Adrian looked at the three girls kneeling in solidarity and said, "Fuck it. Mark my bitches, John. Stacey first."

I know he chose Stacey because she was the least committed. She was the one who was there solely for the money, available to the highest bidder, as she put it. To her credit, Stacey knelt impassively, as John marked her with the black cock only symbol, and her Adrian's Bitch designation. Svetlana was next, as Adrian wanted to give Sara the chance to change her mind. Right before the tattoo artist told Svetlana to lower her head, we made eye contact again, and she mouthed the words, "I love you."

At that moment in time, I wanted Svetlana more than anything else on the planet. It just felt like despite all the torture she had put me through, we belonged together. I really loved that girl.

Once Svetlana was done, Sara arranged her long, platinum hair so that it fell over her shoulder, and exposed her neck. Then she lowered her head, and allowed John to tattoo her also. I couldn't help thinking how crazy must Adrian be, to tattoo "Adrian's bitch" on his fiancée's neck, ten days before the wedding, just so that he didn't look weak in front of the Russians.

Once we were all tattooed, and identified as his bitches, Adrian gave me the security footage, a signed non-disclosure agreement, a check for one hundred thousand dollars, and the deed to my house, which he had paid off in full.

I let out a sigh of relief. I was free. My months' long nightmare was over. I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of that room, and get on with the rest of my life. Of course, with Adrian pulling the strings, it wasn't going to be that simple.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Adrian began, with a broad smile. "It has come to my attention that Sara and Chris exchanged an illicit email a while back. I am not going to go into the specifics, but needless to say it warrants punishment. I am going to exact that punishment before I cut you loose, Chris. In fact, you get to decide whether I punish you or Sara," he continued, obviously enjoying this final kick in the nuts for me.

I knew immediately that he was referring to his gift of a stake in his company. Sara had emailed me the document that he required her to sign, to get my opinion of whether or not it was beneficial to her, and legally binding. Adrian had obviously intercepted our correspondence, and was going to punish us for the infraction.

"Do you want to know how I intend to punish you, before you decide who will be the unlucky recipient?" he asked.

I nodded my affirmation, and Adrian told me and Sara to kneel on our respective sucky pillows. Once we were in his desired position, Adrian retrieved an ominous looking rattan cane from his office desk drawer. I took one look at it, and immediately recognized the amount of pain that this instrument of torture could inflict, if wielded correctly. I wanted no part of a farewell beating from that sadistic fucker, and decided on the spur of the moment that Adrian could punish Sara.

As I knelt on my sucky pillow next to Sara, I knew what the right thing to do was. There was no question about it, as a man, I should have protected my wife. However, a wave of fear descended over me, and I started to justify why I should ask Adrian to punish Sara instead of me. I knew he would go easy on her, especially as they were soon to be married. I also knew that he would take the opportunity to severely whip my hide, if this was to be my final punishment.

Also, with several witnesses in the room, it would be emasculating for me to be crying out like a pussy. I had demonstrated my low pain threshold already, having squealed like a pig when Svetlana fucked my ass with the strap-on, and yelped like a little girl when Adrian beat my ass with his belt. I was very conflicted and Adrian seized upon it.

"This is exactly why your wife left you, you fucking pussy," he taunted. "Man up and take your thrashing."

I don't know if he worded it that way to scare me, but if that was the case, it achieved his desired result. I had heard enough and wanted no part of the cane. The words left my mouth reflexively.

"Sara," I said, unable to look up from the floor.

There were a few audible gasps in the room. Adrian's nurse, probably due to a lifetime of working in an environment where people's pain thresholds were routinely exposed, covered her mouth with her hand, at my act of cowardice. I heard one of the Russians call me a pussy, under his breath.

Adrian, of course, remained composed but wanted clarification.

"Sara to punish, or Sara to save?" he asked with amusement.

I could barely say it. There was a long uncomfortable silence in which everyone understood not to speak until I had answered Adrian.

"Punish Sara, not me," I said quietly, my shame overwhelming me.

"Chris, please," Sara begged me. "I am still legally your wife."

I knew this moment would be a pivotal point in my life, one that I would look back on with regret and shame, but fear of Adrian overwhelmed my sense of duty, and all I could do was repeat my cowardly words.

"Punish Sara, not me."

"Then it is decided," Adrian said with a flourish. "Sara prepare yourself for the cane. Kneel by my desk."

Sara rose from her sucky pillow and stood next to me for a few seconds, presumably to see if I had a change of heart. I couldn't look at her, and was a million miles from changing my mind.

"Gentlemen, please excuse us for a few moments," Adrian said firmly.

The burly Russians and the tattoo artist moved towards the door, and I started to get up from my knees to follow them.

"Not you, Chrissy," Adrian growled. "You are going to watch this."

My heart sank at this latest revelation. The last thing I wanted to see was Adrian administering corporal punishment to my wife. Once the men had departed the room, Adrian told Sara to get naked. His tone was such that it didn't invite conversation, and she stripped in silence. Once she was naked, she knelt again without any prompting from Adrian.

The rattan cane looked sinister, as it laid on the desk. The punishment tool looked like it could really inflict some serious pain, in the right hands. The bottom six inches or so was bound in leather to facilitate grip. Adrian picked it up from the desk, and made a few practice thrashes in the air, the swooshing sound reverberating around the office, thoroughly intimidating the four of us.

He approached Sara slowly, the cane looking menacing as he held it in his right hand. I could see the fear of the unknown in Sara's eyes, as she processed whether or not this was actually going to hurt. Adrian walked behind Sara and held the tip of the cane just above her shoulder. After a few seconds, in which I could see her tense nervously, he lowered the cane onto her shoulder, causing her to jump involuntarily as it made contact with her skin.

Adrian continued his slow circling motion of Sara, as she knelt naked in silence. When he emerged from behind her, he dragged the tip of the cane from her shoulder, towards her nipple. On contact, her nipple hardened immediately and Sara gasped, presumably at the humiliation of being toyed with, in front of the three of us, by her soon to be husband. I empathized with her. It wasn't appropriate that she was about to be punished while naked, in front of Svetlana, Stacey and I. However, it was completely incongruous for Adrian to be sexually stimulating his future wife in such a way, given the makeup of the audience.

Adrian cruelly flicked the tip of the cane across Sara's nipple, and she let out a cry of pain. He let the cane rest on her abdomen for a few seconds, and I watched as her taut stomach flexed, as her fear caused her to struggle to control her breathing. He owned this woman, and everyone in the room, including me, her current husband, knew it.

In one fluid motion, Adrian withdrew the cane about six inches from her stomach, and then, with a flick of his wrist, hit Sara sharply with it. The loud crack made me jump, and Sara let out a squeal as if she was in distress. Adrian let the cane hang to the ground, and a red welt appeared immediately on Sara's stomach. He had her attention now, and she looked very worried.

Adrian touched the tip of the cane on Sara's pubic region, just above her vagina, and she jumped involuntarily, as if it were hot. He ran the cane up her body, in a tantalizingly slow manner, over her lower abdomen, across her belly button, over her upper abdomen, across one of her breasts, until the tip of it rested under her chin. Adrian tapped Sara lightly under the chin, and she raised her head to look up at him.

"Get up on my desk on all fours," he commanded.

Sara climbed up onto the massive leather topped desk, and got into the doggy-style position. She arched her back, positioned her platinum blonde hair so that it spilled down to her ass, and waited in silence for her upcoming punishment. Adrian moved slowly over to her, relishing the control he exerted over the room.

Mary, Adrian's nurse, moved over behind Sara to observe the punishment, presumably to make sure it posed no long-term danger to Sara's health. Adrian told Stacey, Svetlana and I to kneel in front of Sara, so that we had an unobstructed view of her face. I lowered my eyes to the floor, wondering if it was too late to change my mind, even though I had no intent of doing so.

Adrian walked around in front of Sara and spoke.

"Do you know why I am punishing you Sara?" he asked my wife.

"Yes, Adrian," she replied with a shaky voice. "Because my husband is too much of a pussy to take it."

Adrian laughed out loud at this, and shook his head.

"You are right about that Sara," he said looking at me with contempt. "His cowardice is on display today."

I knelt there in silence, feeling my shame wash over me, but still too fearful to offer to switch places with my wife.

Adrian walked back around behind Sara and went over the ground rules.

"Today's punishment will mirror Chrissy's of a few weeks ago. I will administer the cane to Sara's bare ass, until tears are visible in her eyes, and she has begged for it to stop. Sara, after each stroke I expect you to thank me, and count it off."

I could feel anger surging through me as he laid out his rules. This punishment was designed to humiliate Sara as much as to inflict pain. I knew he was going to take it easy on her, but asking her to thank him, for fuck's sake?

Adrian rested the cane across the back of Sara's upper thighs, just below her black cock only arrow, that pointed into her asshole. He held it there for several seconds, creating unnecessary stress in my wife. Then, in one fluid motion he raised his arm and brought the rattan cane down firmly on the back of her thighs.

The noise was unexpectedly loud, both the swish of the cane, the smack as it made contact with her skin, and the yelp that Sara let out. It was a high pitched cry of anguish, followed immediately by a palpable gasping for breath as she processed and dealt with the pain. I knew it wasn't pain like a broken bone or getting burned, but it was enough to induce fear in Sara, and to make her eyes well up.

"One," she said shakily. "Thank you Adrian."

Adrian positioned the cane in the exact same place, understanding that the most torment would be created by beating the same area of the body. Nurse Mary had a cursory look at the welt, and nodded her medical consent for Adrian to continue.

Sara's body language had completely changed after the first stroke of the cane. She looked fearful now, under stress, and her body was trembling as Adrian caressed her thighs with the cane. He removed the cane from the back of her thighs, and Sara tensed up. Her eyes were wide and I could see the first tears start to form. Adrian lifted his arm up and held the cane in the air, the anticipation torturing Sara almost as much as the actual pain. He held his arm aloft for several seconds, enjoying watching her squirm nervously.

Then his arm fell from the sky, and we all heard that ominous swish followed by the loud smack, as the rattan cane bore down on Sara's upper thighs. She let out a pitiful scream the second time, and you could see the pain and fear etched on her face. It took her a few seconds to recover from the shock before she could form the words he expected from her.

"Two. Thank you Adrian."

Tears were flowing now, and her breathing was ragged as she sobbed. Sara's body was slumping, not holding the perfect form that Adrian demanded from his bitches, when they were posed in the doggy-style position. He adjusted her position using the rattan cane, sliding it under Sara's huge breasts first, as they hung beneath her like a cow's udders. He flicked the tip of the cane across one of her erect nipples, drawing a moan of pleasure. Then, once he was sure he had her undivided attention, he placed the cane under her stomach and tapped lightly upwards, so that she lifted herself into his desired position. Once she was perfectly erect in the doggy-style pose, he removed the cane from under her torso. Using just the tip of the cane, Adrian forced her lower back down slightly, which had the joint desired effect of raising her ass, and arching her back.