Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
The tattoo studio smelled of antiseptic and the faint, sweet musk of high quality ink. When I walked in the front door, Aaron was sitting at the front desk but he didn’t look up from his sketchpad. “Amber,” he murmured, as if we had met before (but we hadn’t). “This nautical piece is going to be stunning. Like the crushing depths of the Atlantic itself!”
He flipped the sketchbook around to show me his vision. It was everything I wanted, but the price tag he’d quoted me in an email had been staggering. I really should have cancelled my consultation appointment, but I couldn’t imagine not having an “Aaron Black” tattoo. He was THE best tattoo artist in the country, after all!
The Tattoo Shop Debt
“It’s perfect,” I whispered, while gently tracing the edge of the paper with my index finger. “But there’s a bit of a problem, Aaron. I’m so honored to be here because I’ve always wanted you to tattoo me, but…I don’t have the cash.”
He looked directly into my eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Then you’re wasting my time, Amber,” he said, sharply. The thing is, I didn’t come all the way here just to walk away. I came here to get a tattoo. And I wasn’t going to leave without one.
I leaned in and rested my palms against his desk. “What if I can offer you something that isn’t money?” I whispered, hoping for the best. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening…” he said, curiously. “Okay, Aaron. What if every inch of my body belongs to you until the debt is settled?”
The silence that punctuated my question was agonizing, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. It felt like forever, but then he stood up and circled the desk until he was standing directly behind me. His hands drifted to my shoulders and traced the line of my collarbone, as if I were an object he was admiring. They were calloused and stained with the ink of a dozen stories.
“That’s a rather risky trade, Amber,” he stated directly into my ear. His breath felt warm against my neck. “Have you considered the consequences?” He pulled me flush against him and I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Tattoos are permanent,” he muttered, as his thumb traced the swell of my lower lip and forced it open. “And so is your debt. Once I start, I don’t let go.”
“Then don’t,” I said, like a challenge. He leaned down and his lips brushed against mine in a promise of ruin. “Get on your knees, bitch. Now.”
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
https://phonesexcandy.com/amber