Fuck Yes!

The pain of the needle inking your skin felt delicious and you had to keep yourself from squirming and touching her dripping wet slit as Christa traced lines and figures that would form into lascivious and slutty tattoos once they were completed. The mixture of the ink was a distilled solution of the black ooze that formed the base of the EvilGlam line of makeup, though in a far greater proportion than Curtiss had suggested, his shortsightedness a source of disappointment when he tried to argue against your and the demoness' instructions. But, like all men eventually would, he had given in. This base was mixed with an extract from Christa's pheromone glands, a sample of blood of the demoness responsible for GothPunk as well as chemicals whose names you blanked on as you tried and failed to keep back an orgasm. Your foul language drawing approval from Christa. That fucking whore was egging you on and you loved the bitch for it.

The revelation that the EvilGlam was created from distilled extracts from Succubus and other female demons' fluids. Milk. Cum. Saliva. The aforementioned pheromones and blood. And more. Explained much of the strange chemical structures, atomic bonds you'd dismissed as impossible if not for the clear evidence before your eyes as you worked with the substances. Your devious mind eager to continue the work, further refining the process and creating new blends. Of course, first you'd have to bring the department head, Curtiss, under your heel. Perhaps you'd crush his testicles to keep him from getting any ideas, though it'd mean losing out on his cock and it was the only part of him growing more relevant as everything else about him faded in importance in your mind.

"Done yet? My pussy is aching and if I have to stay here even a second longer, I'm going to pin you to the floor and make you eat me out until I'm satisfied." You spat, the frustration growing despite how much you were eager to get the tattoos the demoness had suggested. The impulsivity was something recent, not that you minded in the least. The old Wendy was a spineless bore who couldn't wait to nod and do the work others demanded of her. Probably why she had been hired here in the first place. A tool to be exploited. You began to hate that you even share a name with that woman.

"Patience, Wendy, perfection takes time." Christa coos and with a flashing of gritted, fanged teeth you bit back an invective filled response. Perfection, that was why you were enduring this. You had already seen some of her work, carefully holding hand mirrors so you could see a demonic version of yourself dominating the fleshy canvas your back had become. Her wings spread over your shoulder blades as she displays herself for all onlookers, compelling their attention with her wantonness. The crown of horns, demanding their servitude. How could you not add more?

"Just ge- Fuuuuck~" Another orgasms hits you and Christa is **** to remove the needle as your body spasm from the mind blowing pleasure.

"Another one finished. A glyph of Lust." A seemingly distant and sultry voice teased. Lying on the lab table, too spent to do anything else, you spat a gout of saliva on the floor. Fucking whore. Could've at least warned you.

"Shall we continue?" With a glance toward the lab's clock ticking away the seconds, minutes and hours, you saw it was getting late. You had spent a lot of time first researching then mixing the substances together and Christa had taken a perverse enjoyment in dragging the inking out, so you weren't all that surprised at the advanced time. You considered clocking out a little early and leave Curtiss to clean up, or perhaps staying a while longer and get it all done in one go. Or as much as you could endure, you dryly amended.