The Tattooist

All day at work you're feeling nervous, because today is the day. As soon as you clock off you're heading down to see Roman, your incredibly talented Russian tattooist to put the finishing touches to the masterpiece taking shape on your back. It's a huge Chinese dragon coiled and intricate, covering the best part of your back. You'd spent a couple of hours with Roman discussing the design before deciding to go ahead, and this is the last of six sessions to get the work done. The outline is already done, plus half of the fill. It's going to be a long and painful session finishing it off, and Roman has kindly agreed to stay open late tonight at the shop to get it done.

It's dark by the time you get there. Roman's Harley is parked out front as usual, and another one right beside it. Probably one of his Russian friends. The closed sign is already up on the door, but you know that you're allowed in, so you push your way into the shop, rolled up dragon design clenched in your fist. The bell tinkles as you enter.

The place seems empty and you call out "Roman. You there?" No answer, but you hear some movement in the back room. You're wearing a loose-fitting tracksuit so you can get comfortable during the long session. Well as comfortable as possible while you're under the needles. Like Roman says, you haven't felt pain until you've been tattooed. But it's strangely exhilarating, and completely mentally cleansing. Better than therapy, you tell yourself and laugh.

You hear Roman coming through into the front of the shop. "Ok let's get this bitch finished, Rom... oh" Except it isn't Roman. It's someone else you've never seen before. This guy is huge, a real beast. He's wearing a blue bandana, jeans and a white T-shirt and his muscles are bulging through his clothing. Tattoos completely cover his arms and neck. Long hair flowing down his back. "Where's Roman?" you ask.

"Roman sends apology, he have urgent business to attend," says the immense man, talking in a thick Russian accent. "Maybe few days, maybe week."

"But he's supposed to be finishing off my dragon!" you howl, distraught. Fuck! He can't abandon me now!

"Let me see," says the Russian, holding out his hand. You unroll the dragon design and show it to him. "Nice work," he says. "I can finish for you."

"You?" you ask incredulous, eyeing his monstrous form in disbelief. "Roman's my guy," you say. "He's a real artist."

The Russian chuckles. "I taught Roman everything he knows," he says. "One day he will be an artist." He rolls the dragon back up and hands it back to you. "I sold business to Roman after I taught him the ink. Look here," he said pointing to a photo on the wall of himself working alongside Roman on a huge and beautiful back tat. "We won award for this one. You want, I finish off your tattoo," he says.

You hesitate. Most of the work is already done, and if he's really that good it won't harm. And then it's finished. I can go on holiday in two weeks and start showing it off on the beach, you tell yourself. And by then the decision is made.

"Ok," you say. "Ok" again, as if to assure yourself. "So what's your name?"

"Ivan," says the Russian man-beast.

"Ok Ivan, you better make this fucking perfect. Where do you want me?" Ivan signals to the tattooists table. "I set up, " he says. You watch him as he sets up the table, creating a sloping surface for you to lean forward onto and a seat at just the right height to position your back towards him. "Ok," he says, signalling. You turn your back to him as you remove your tracksuit top and bra. You can sense his gaze on you. Suddenly you are vulnerable, undressed in front of this stranger, this hulk. You sit down on the seat and lean forward, the cool surface of the padded table giving you goosebumps, making your nipples harden. Its set up just like Roman does it, and you start to feel more relaxed.

Ivan looks at the ink work. "Roman getting better," he says,"but still room to improve." He moves to the sink to wash his hands and then he sets up the tattoo machinery. He sprays your back with antiseptic and wipes your skin with a towel. You wince a little at the tender soreness in your skin.

Ivan pulls a stool up behind you and sits down, maneuvering himself up close to you, huge legs opening so that you're positioned between his knees, feeling like a tiny doll compared to this brute. He breathes heavily over you and you smell the vodka on hs breath. It makes the hairs rise across your back. His body envelopes you as he inches closer.

The tattoo machine starts to buzz and Ivan leans forwards, placing a hand on your back. His skin feels warm but rough, not like Roman's gentle touch. An instant later you feel the needles and you sink into that familiar world of white-hot pain. Your brain reels for a moment before you find your mental balance, transforming the pain into some other feeling in your mind so you can cope. After all of these sessions you're getting quite good at this now.

10 minutes of steady work, and you begin to notice through the pain that Ivan is breathing more heavily. He feels closer that ever, like he's pushing himself against your ass. It's a suspicion at first but soon it's clear. You can feel Ivan becoming aroused behind you, deep sounds rumbling in his chest. Your heart starts to race a little. This is strangely exhilarating, yet scary. The pain of the needle and the arousal of the huge man behind you, the pressure and hardness on your ass. You can feel your juices beginning to flood. Yet you dare not move.

Eventually you have to break the moment. "Ah, I don't think you should ah..." is all that comes out before Ivan suddenly puts down the tattoo machine. He grips both of your arms and wraps them under the tattoo table, firmly and insistently. He holds both of your wrists together with one hand and begins wrapping some sort of fabric around your wrists, and knotting it firmly as you struggle. You can feel his long hair fall against your back. Must have used the bandana, you think. You can feel panic rising. "What the fuck... do.. you think.. you're doing!" You say as you twist at the bindings. Heart racing, blood from your fresh tattoo dribbling down your back.

"Ivan is feeling horny now," he says, breathing heavily and sitting back down behind you, hands rubbing your thighs. You can feel the wetness in your own panties as works his huge hands on your body. You need to clear your head, think about escape, but you can feel Ivan's erection pressing into the softness of your ass and you're caught between fear and arousal.

Suddenly the beast arises. He pulls at the back of your tracksuit pants, exposing the mounds of your ass and pushes his hand down between your buttocks, fingers curling underneath your backside, across your anus and straight to your wet opening. You moan involuntarily as he massages your clit, juices flowing fast now. Ivan buries two thick fingers into your pussy and you cry out as he digs them in knuckle deep. Suddenly he removes his hand and begins to walk around the table. As he comes into your field of vision he is licking your juice from his wet hand. "Taste sweet," he says and walks around to face you. You can see the huge bulge in his jeans, just level with your face, which is poking over the edge of the tattooists table.

Slowly he begins to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans, bending over to pull them off over his muscular legs. When he stands back up you can clearly see the thick, club-like outline of his almighty member through his black trunks. Jesus, you think. He's going to split me in half.

He lifts his trunks from his throbbing cock, which swings outward from his body until it juts horizontally in front of him. Your eyes widen in combined fear and lust. The thing must be 9 or 10 inches long. Gripping his shaft in one hand, he pulls back his foreskin to reveal the deep puple head, glistening with pre cum.

He steps towards you, pushing his other hand through your hair and gripping you roughly. He pulls your head upwards as he move the last few inches to your face. He begins to trace the head of his cock across your forehead, cheek, chin, nose. You can feel the glistening trail he is leaving all over your face.

"Open your mouth," he says, gripping your hair more firmly, making you wince in pain. You comply. There's nothing you want more at this moment than to take that monster in your mouth, "Good..." he says. "Tongue now." You stick out your tongue and Ivan slaps his engorged prick onto it. You can feel your juices trickling inside your sopping pants. He pushes himself slowly into your mouth, further and further, to the back of your throat. When you gag he withdraws momentarily and then returns, pushing in further until you gag once more. He keeps going until miraculously you have taken his entire length into your throat. You can feel your neck bulging from the pressure. Ivan then begins to move in you, pulling out and pushing in, literally fucking you in the throat. He's moaning deeply and it feels like the windows are shaking. His pace quickens with his arousal until he is thrusting himself fully into you. You're feeling faint from lack of oxygen, and this heightens your arousal. Finally Ivan unleashes his load, hot and voluminous into your mouth, pulling out and shooting his last few jets onto your face as you swallow down his cream. Exhausted your head flops down and the world dims around you as you pass out.

You come to some time later. Could be a few minutes or a few hours. You're still tied to the table and your arms are stiff. Your face has been cleaned, and so has the tattoo equipment, which is laid out neatly beside you. You also notice that you are now completely naked, Tracksuit pants and panties gone. Ivan returns from the next room, and he too is completely naked. His muscle mass is incredible. Like he's been bred to pull wagons. His considerable cock, no longer hard swings pendulous between his legs. He notices you looking around. "Good," he says. "I finish you now."

You don't know quite what that means, but your brain isn't focused yet. Ivan brings over some water and lets you drink. He then takes up position behind you, pressed against you once more. This time skin on skin. Crazily you feel safe now, protected by this muscled mountain. He takes up the tattoo machine and turns to his work. The pain flashes across your brain and body, but it feels more distant now. As Ivan works you drift into an ocean of pure energy, created by the needles piercing your flesh 50 times per second. You have no idea how long this continues, but you notice Ivan beginning to grow stiff once more as his organ rubs against you.

This time you're not scared, only aroused and your juices flow again. You push back against his fearsome rod and he groans deeply. Putting down the tattoo machine, he reaches beneath you to feel your wetness, rubbing you firmly. The words come out of you quietly at first. "Fuck me, please, fuck me." Ivan lifts your ass slightly from your seat and positions the massive dome of his penis in your slick entrance. And then pushes himself into you, his girth drawing a scream from your throat. It's like a python making its way into a hole. You're panting like a dog with his hugeness embedded in your cunt, and Ivan once more picks up the tattoo machine and continues his work. As the needles scream out their agony in your flesh he slowly thrusts himself into you. You're wailing as he pushes you relentlessly to the edge of oblivion. Eventually the pain of the needles stops and all that remains is Ivan, pounding at you like a piston.

Ivan grunts as he approaches climax. The swell of your orgasm finally breaks and the waves of pleasure crash through you, leaving you sobbing as Ivan's load fills you again. He slows gradually and eventually stops like a huge machine running out of power, coming to a rest, breathing heavily, sweat dripping onto your back. Some minutes later, he withdraws his softening member. "You're done," he says.

You look at him quizzically. "Your tattoo," he says. "It's finished."

When you finally get home that night and take a look at Ivan's work in the mirror, you find a work of exquisite beauty, dragon vibrant and alive on your back. You collapse onto your bed and fall into an unconscious sleep.