Permanent Ink

The room smelled of sex, sweat, and leather. Rafaela watched Luana and Isabela trembling before her, their skin marked by whippings, bites, and the red knots of ropes. The permanent ink pen glistened in the lamplight as Rafaela picked it up.

"Do you want to be mine forever?" Rafaela asked, running the cold tip of the pen over Luana's hardened nipple.

"Yes, ma'am," they answered in unison, their voices hoarse from screaming.

Rafaela smiled and began to write. The pen first traced Luana's sweaty skin, writing "RAFAELA" in Gothic letters above her left breast. Luana arched her back, a moan escaping her lips as the ink penetrated her skin like a fiery kiss.

Isabela watched, her eyes burning with envy, until Rafaela pulled her by the hair.

"Your turn," Rafaela whispered, writing her name on Isabela's right thigh, right where the whip mark still throbbed. The lawyer cried out as the pen pierced the sensitive skin, her fingers writhing in the sheets.

"Beautiful," Rafaela admired her work before throwing the pen to the floor. "Now, prove you're mine."

They needed no further orders. Luana threw herself onto Rafaela's still-rigid penis, swallowing it to the base while Isabela climbed her body from behind, thrusting three fingers into her partner's wet vagina.

Rafaela pulled Luana's hair back, forcing her to look up as Isabela penetrated her from behind.

"Repeat," Rafaela ordered, quickening the pace with brutal thrusts into Luana's throat.

"WE ARE YOURS!", they screamed together, their voices breaking as Rafaela brought them to simultaneous orgasm – Luana **** on semen, Isabela rubbing her clitoris against her partner's back.

When Rafaela finally released them, their marks glowed like embers, indelible forever.

The dining table was set with candles and porcelain plates. But the real feast was Luana and Isabela, stretched out on the polished wood like two living desserts. Rafaela walked around, running her fingers over their marked bodies while the guests watched in silence.

"Who will be the first course?" asked Rafaela, dripping hot chocolate onto Isabela's hardened nipples.

Marcos, seated at the head of the table, didn't hesitate.

"Me, ma'am," he replied, his eyes fixed on Luana's wet vagina.

Rafaela smiled and tossed a cherry into his lap.

"Then try it."

Marcos didn't need to be ordered twice. He stood up and buried his face between Luana's legs, licking the chocolate and the juice that dripped from her. Isabela, beside them, moaned as Rafaela shoved a strawberry into her vagina and ordered her to push it out with her muscles.

Dinner lasted for hours. When it was over, Luana and Isabela were covered in teeth marks, crushed fruit, and permanent ink—every inch of their bodies marked, eaten, and possessed.

And Rafaela?

She just smiled, running her tongue along the rim of her wine as she watched her two human meals trembling with satisfaction on the floor.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, "we'll serve you as the main course."

And they trembled—not with fear, but with desire.