A Rose

Like a bee sting. Except the sting dragged through her skin. The very, very sensitive skin on her pussy. Even through the alcoholic buzz, Lois Lane could feel the ink being driven beneath the skin of her pussy, one scratch at a time.

The tattooist, Blaze, simply hummed. Some wordless tune in a minor key, half-familiar to the reporter, like an ancient lullaby. Lois grimaced and tried to focus on what she was doing—because Blaze wasn't using a tattoo gun. It was an iron needle, dipped in small pots of ink. Pushing beneath the soft skin of the reporter's labia, sketching out the lines of petals...

The reporter hissed a little as gloved fingers tugged at her labia, so that Blaze could tattoo the underside. The pain wasn't diminishing, simply covering more area with each passing moment. Lois felt her gorge rise as she saw blood weep from some of the puncture-wounds, which Blaze would cheerfully wipe away with a stinging **** pad before continuing her work. After the outlines were done, the petals had to be colored.

Time seemed to lose its meaning. The work so detailed that it had to be hours that passed, but Lois couldn't keep track. All she felt was the scratch of the needle, the pulse as her wounded pussy throbbed, the little runnel of blood that ran down to her asshole, before Blaze wiped it away.

It was a red rose that came into being on Lois Lane's pudenda. A vivid red on the outer petals, lightening but subtle degrees to a bright pink in the middle; the very center of the rose was Lois Lane's clitoral hood, with the rest spreading out on her lower abdomen and inner thighs. The reporter swallowed hard as Blaze gently spread her thighs wider, to finish a few of the finer details.

"A good bit of work, if I do say so myself," Blaze said with satisfaction, as she set her needle down and peeled off her gloves. Parts of the reporter's crotch looked bloody and raw, but the detail and color were magnificent. "You'll want to use a sea-salt wash twice a day—keep it very clean, you don't want an infection—and it will scab at first, so don't scratch at it. Still, very nice. I'll bet you'll be quite a cock magnet."

The tattooist raised her head to stare Lois in the eye. In an instant, Lois felt terribly sober. There was something about that gaze that caught her eyes and held them.

"Or is it a pussy magnet?"