The Symbol pt 3~fini

part 2 here

she’d survived the outlining quite well, really. A few whimpers, a moan or two, but the piece was coming to life on the small of her back.

He’d tasted of her during the break. Tasted her sweet honey. He surely did love girl-honey. Nice of her Master to allow a taste-testing of the girl. He looked up at the camera in the corner, knowing that Himself was watching the process, every part of it.

The little feast he’d enjoyed had only served to whet his appetite for the main course. He wondered if she fully understood her Master’s gift. Smiling, he doubted it. But she would. She would.

He went back to work.


She tried not to flinch. The fill was painful, but not debilitating. And she was a pain slut, after all. Still, this was a very different pain from the thuddy feeling of the hairbrush, or the sharp snap of the cane.  She wondered about Mal, and his liking of pussy. She’d never met a guy who wanted to eat out a girl so much, nor had she had it happen all that often.

Her clit throbbed in sync with her heartbeat, in sync with the needle plying its pot of color on her back.  A rhythm developed…brrrrrr, brrrrrr, brrrr…wipe.

“Am i bleeding a lot?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“nope, don’t worry your head, slut. Everyone bleeds. Part of the job. We’re nearly there. Let me know if you need a break, okay?”

She murmured her assent, then shut up and let him work uninterrupted. It seemed like hours, but was likely only a little time before silence fell. His hand wiped, wiped again, then caressed her ass.

“Just lay here a bit and get your bearings. Got a few more things for you, yet.”

She wondered what he meant by that. She heard him move off, the hiss of water, the splashing of someone washing up. Her fucking pussy was throbbing as much as her new tat was.  She could feel the moisture trickling from her, and was pretty amazed at how wet she was.

She really, really was a pain slut.

“pretty wet back here”

Malique’s voice, from right behind her, between her spread thighs, startled her.

She heard the zip, and was surprised. He wouldn’t would he? Master had told her to be a good girl. The probing head of a very large dick slipped along her wet crevice.

She moaned. He moaned.

“You’re one hot, wet fuck, you know that?” And the thick press of his cockhead began insisting on entry. It felt like a fucking plum trying to enter her, and she moaned.

“It’s too big.”

“No such thing as too big for a lil whore like you.” He grunted as he pressed hard. She yelped as the head broached her lower lips, spearing into her well-lubed hole.

“Gawed!” he exclaimed, “that’s one fucking tight pussy!” He was glad he’d decided to fuck this hole. It was almost steamy with her hot juice, and tight as a clenched fist.

She could not move, stretched and  filled with his huge cock, and yet he pressed more deeply into her, thrusting his hips to gain more access. Her mouth opened in a soundless cry as he pumped, thrust, pumped, filling her.

She gained breath and gasped with the stretching pain of his cock. A moment of relief as he pulled back was short-lived, as he rammed his cock hard into her.

She yelped, tried to move, but his hands held her hips, pressing her down into the table. Her ankles, still bound, refused to close, and she whimpered as the engorged head of his cock tapped at her cervix.

Hands grasped her hair lifting her head. She opened her mouth to yelp again as a second cock slid between her lips. This monster was huge too. Her lips spread, her eyes watered. She could see nothing but a long, long shaft and a hairy belly miles away from her mouth.

“You work that sweet mouth good on my brothers cock, now, girl.”

Mal’s voice was strained as he continued to fuck her pussy hard from behind. She tried to relax her throat, knowing that this ‘brother’ was going to shove that entire dick into it.

There was no finesse to the motions, and so much attention was focused on catching a breath between the long deep thrusts in her mouth. Thrust, gag, thrust, pull back, gasp, repeat.

The tingle between her thighs was a surprise that became overwhelming and she cried out “cummmmming Sir” between gasps.

He slapped her hip, sharp.

“C’mon then, whore, cum all over my big black cock! Gimme every drop of your sweet honey.”

He thrust and pumped, through the first orgasm, through a second. She thought she would faint, she was so sensitive, so tender, but he kept thrusting into her pussy, even as the cock in her mouth began to twitch.

The silent ‘brother’ grunted as he came in her mouth, shooting thick wads of cum into her throat before pulling out and cumming on her face, her hair.

“Dirty fuckin’ whore,” he said as he wiped his cock on her cheek.

Her throat was raw, and Mal was still fucking her cunt. She grunted, moaned as yet another orgasm rippled through her pussy.

She felt hands on her head again, slipping over her cum-soaked, mussed hair.

She opened her eyes.

“Master?” she asked, her voice husky and raw.

“Master made those dark dreams come true for His good little whore.  Happy Birthday, slut,” He murmured, tickling her nose with his finger, as Mal grunted, and she felt the spurting of his penis deep inside.


She rolled over in bed, moaning a little at soreness in her pussy, her throat, and the dull throbbing in her ba…OMG! She leapt from the bed, ran to the bathroom. Turning her back to the full-length mirror, she examined the symbol at the top of her ass. A smile illuminated her as she felt fully complete at last. Her sore holes were  sore in service, fulfilling her, fulfilling Him. They were bound together in need, in lust, and love. She pirouetted, grinning at the reflection in the mirror. This,  this meant everything to her. She was finally, in her head, and in her body, complete.

Completely His.