The Tattoo Experience: Pt. 2
Jungle came in and it was time to start again. It was time to start the shading of the tattoo. I got back into position and braced myself for part two. My tolerance at this point was definitely diminished. I didn't know how much more I could take. I begged him to talk to me, keep my mind occupied with thoughts of him, and Allyson. Somehow, out of sheer necessity, I began to call my husband Master. I knew that Jungle could hear me do that, but at that point in time, it didn't matter. He knew that we were in the scene.
At one point, I couldn't feel my toes and Jungle suggested I take off my leggings. This would mean I would be naked before him. I did take off my leggings; it was worth feeling my toes again. I asked Jungle to put down surgical paper on the chair, to protect my crotch from disease. He obliged me quite willingly. Sensing I needed a distraction, my hubbs described how we would have sex and how much I deserved a good orgasm for enduring so much for him. He talked of how cool my new tattoo would look and how proud he would be to show it off at parties. There were some moments where I just screamed out a loud moan.
I began to whine and Master told me that he would not hear of it. I could moan, but not to whine. At this point, I'm about ready to collapse and feeling queasy. I feel like I can't go any farther. I hear in the haze of pain, " Just a few minutes more and then we are done." The tears were so close to falling from my eyes and the sobs were caught in my throat. I felt the stinging, buzzing, pain on my right hip. Jungle was touching up my 1st tattoo with a little bit of pink in the rosebuds. Finally, it was done. Jungle sprayed my new tattoo with alcohol and then wiped it clean with a paper towel, that sent new spikes of pain to my brain.
I sat in the chair a few moments longer, trying to collect myself. I got up from my chair and stood there. I turned toward the mirror and got my first look at what I had suffered through for 3 long hours. It was beautiful. The skin was red and puffy, but the image was clear and as delicate as I hoped it would look. My tattoo was truly a work of art. Jungle bandaged my tattoo. I turned and asked Jungle a question. "Can I give you a hug?" His face lit up like a beacon and a smile spread from ear to ear, when he said yes. I moved toward him and gave him a big hug. I told him that I always hug the person that gave me pain. As terrible as the pain was, it was for a good cause, much like taking a spanking or a whipping.