Does She Need To?

Margosha felt strangely on edge through the next work day. And the one after that.

Robby for some reason had kept trying to hide away the tattoo gun that strangely inspired and invigorated Margosha whenever she used it.

In many ways she wondered just what was going on in his head, as he more often then normal declined to do work on the many women who came in. Not that Margosha minded. They often talked about how some girls at Spenser’s Topics had recommended the place. For ink, or for piercings.

One girl came in with her mother, her tits straining in a mesh shirt. Barbel piercings beckoning at least a glance to the visible nipples. Tammy as she introduced herself was inspired by her daughter’s own piercings. Robby passed them off to Margosha after piercing only one nipple, their veiled innuendo heavy talk adding to the already large desire to suckle from one of the tits.

Tammy’s eyes seeming to invite such action as Margosha feigned innocently blowing on the nipple after she pierced it.

Her tongue irresistibly lapping at it.

As time went on it felt like they were busier, each new client giving off a different enticing energy.

Some were like a sunny day, making Margosha want to just linger in their presence until the warm innocent light began to dim like the enticing beauty of a sunset.

Others like the fiery red headed girl who returned with a sister looking to get a navel pierced seemed to exude an black hole like gravity that pulled on Margosha. Her body unable to resist pressing against them, her mind racing with excitement and debate about how deliberate some reciprocal touching might have been.

Robby seemed to be growing nervous and insecure. It had been three days and Margosha was itching to be able to call Gia in. Hungering to see what work she might want, desiring to offer kraken like tentacles and a beak reaching out from the pussy that had been pulling Margosha in in her dreams.

Or spider webs centered on Gia’s nipples, representing the hold they had on peoples minds.

“You okay Rob? You seem kind of worn out.” Margosha asked her mind hooking on the idea suggested on not wearing a bra, of kneeling down next to the old sofa, spreading Robby’s legs and pressing her meager chest against them as she undid his belt.

Little did she know about the dreams and visions plaguing Robby. The corruption and spell invoked upon him by that first runic tattoo. Empowered further by Jaunie and Gia’s actions.

Of the glimpses of things to mark people with, and the actions they could invoke. Unlike Margosha he had resisted the call of Devotion. He had repeatedly tried to hide it away, in drawers, boxes, anywhere shy of bringing the tattoo gun home.

His fear especially strong of the dreams where he finally applied ink to his wife keeping the gun firmly located at the store.

Yet it seemed to always get back out. Margosha losing less and less time finding it as it was hidden away. Today when she had gone for it she swore she could feel it beckon her, like a cell phone calling out to be found, yet without so tangible a signal.

Her sleeve held numerous runes in its work now. Each one linking her to the gun, and to the Idol as she was used to innocuously spread its influence. Each use forging one more link, and strengthening the chain to her soul.

As Rob headed home for the night Margosha felt a strange relief and enthusiasm suddenly. The burdensome weight of Robby’s presence raising a question of how long should she wait as she continued to colour the end of a chain of fate from Bleach on her client’s chest.

He was no older than early 30s. Seriously toned from no doubt hours at the gym. But that wasn’t all that had Margosha’s attention.

“Excuse me a moment. I’m just going to take a small break, and see if the bleeding slows before we continue.” Margosha politely excused herself, feeling a tug of excitement as she heard his voice simply reply “No problem”.

Walking to the mirrored wall Margosha saw her client quickly lose himself in his cell phone. Stretching her wrists she gazed at herself in the mirror. As she picked up her phone. Margosha felt something strange stir within her, the last couple days with Gia’s visits had an intensity and passion she found lacking everywhere else.

Even when she went home she found her stoner boyfriend lackluster and even exhausted by the suddenly and rampantly increased sex drive Margosha was experiencing. Putting the phone down Margosha grinned at herself.

She didn’t need to message Gia. Gia was already on her way. Margosha didn’t know how she knew, some deep confident instinct rooted within her just knew. Gazing at herself in the mirror she frowned.

Gia had been wanting Margosha to show more of herself… And Margosha couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of exciting her client. The eager idea of seducing him, and fucking him playing out in the otherwise timid woman’s head as Margosha made up her mind.

Leaving to the washroom Margosha gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror. She wore a sleeveless fishnet crop top over a black sports bra.

Peeling off the shirt, Margosha exposed her B cup breasts, sitting pert and high upon her chest. Discarding the sports bra she put the fishnet top back on, and admired the look of her breasts beneath it.

How the weave of the mesh pulled tight against her body making it clear just how exposed she was beneath while teasingly obstructing a clear view of the hardened nipples atop her puffy areolas begging for attention.

Walking back out into the parlour, Margosha felt a strange exhilaration, confidence, and desire for attention as she approached her client.

His attempts to avert his glances not going unnoticed.

The work continued, without any real words, or admission of the now discarded bra as being anything unnatural. Margosha leaned more into her client, eyeing the details closer as she worked, basking in the feel of the warm flesh against her exposed skin through the fishnet top.

Dragging her hard, aching for attention nipples gently across her tapestry as Margosha sat up and took one last look at the image she was to reproduce.

The chain of fate binds the soul to the body in Bleach, breaking upon ****. If a soul is bound to the Earthly realm by something it slowly erodes, link by link, until a void forms at its base. The person's soul becoming consumed with negative energy transforming them into a hungering hollow soul.

Her client considered himself a free spirit, the third link meant to be drawn broken, representing his freedom from being bound to Earthly needs, wants, desires.

Margosha felt her gaze drifting more and more to the bulge of his pants. Questioning if she should palm it for size, firmness, her own curiosity.

Switching the gun to her left hand as she worked on the final chain link she found her left irresistibly drawn to stroke across his toned chest, abs… Margosha couldn’t help but gasp pleasurably as she squeezed the bulge and pulled the gun back a moment instinctively keeping the work from being ruined as her client squirmed.

“What are you doing?” He asked coyly, his questioning eyes meeting with Margosha’s for only and instant as she averted giving him a desirous gaze while biting her lip.

“Almost done.” Margosha hushed through bitten lips, her left hand moving more under guidance of the corrupted tattooing device than Margosha’s conscious effort.

The last link wasn’t drawn as broken, its loop emblazoned with runes not present in the corrupted artwork binders, their meaning immediately clear to Margosha as she gazed away from the bulge in the man’s pants she was massaging.

Bound.

The archaic symbols were the same as used in the first binding ceremonies. As they were completed the tattoo manifested into ethereal shape, the chain snaking from the man’s chest, over his arms, and down around the table. Stretching longer, while snaking tighter and restricting the struggling man as he found the chain soon gagging his justifiably panicked reaction.

Margosha’s mouth hung slack in surprise, eyes wide in astonishment as her mind reeled at the revelation of just what power she had.

A rune suddenly glowed red, elevating itself from where it had been hidden amidst the details of Margosha’s artful arm. Gasping in suddenly pleasure Margosha spasmed as her body was paralyzed with sudden pleasure, understanding seeping into the tattoo artist's mind. The tattoo gun had guided her hand that first day, and she had just begun to unlock the inscriptions upon her body.

As Margosha’s eyes glowed with the red of the Idol she gained insight into just what was going on as the archaic symbol was invoked by Margosha for the first time.

Grant had wanted a chain upon his soul, and through the magic of the gun Margosha had invoked one for him. Without the final link broken he was bound spiritually, his mind reeling as its darker perverse arousal at what was transpiring overrode his own rational sense.

Slowly more hidden runes in her sleeve came alive, glowing an assortment of bright neon and punk colours as Margosha empowered and unknowingly invoked them.

Margosha’s breath panted slow and passionately, her body alive with desire and burning in the hot pleasure of her slightest touch upon her bound subject as she regained control.

Slowly dragging her exposed hardened nipples in her mesh shirt across the seemingly increasingly defined chest, Margosha kissed her way along the contours of his body, crawling up on top of him, enjoying the passive head tilt yielding the nape of his neck to the advancing lips.

“You want this as much as I do.” Margosha’s voice exhaled, in a husky and alluring in tone. “Don’t you?” She whispered into his ear as she pressed her body against the guy who easily towered a foot over her standing.

Giggling at the staggered breaths, and passionate groans, Margosha marveled at the wondrous magic that bound this man, yet didn’t obstruct a single inch of him from her touch.

Growing more aware of her sudden and rampant powers, Margosha instinctively moved to ask a question. Even as the inherent knowledge was yet to fully unfurl within her knowledge.