Oh my god I was excited. I couldn’t explain it, but I was proud of who I was and what I was and of what was happening to me.
“At this time, your body will be permanently marked with Lauren’s full name. It will be marked as a constant reminder of your eternal slavery to Lauren.”
I wondered what was going on. Suddenly, two women appeared from the side, one pulling a cart with a sort of contraption, a box and oh my god now I realized what that buzzing had been. It was a tattoo gun. A tattoo pen, tipped with lilac ink.
One woman pulled my right butt cheek farther right, while the other used her free hand to pull my left cheek left, spreading
me, exposing my asshole. With her other hand, the woman on the left applied the gun to the inside of my left ass cheek, way down in there. The buzzing began.
My god it hurt, especially at first. The shock ofnit ws a surprise, at least, though once I was used to it, it wasn’t so bad. I’d certainly suffered worse for Lauren. The tattoo artist worked on the L, then the a, and on and on, occasionally wiping my skin with a cloth, then eventually on to Lauren’s last name. I pressed down on Lauren’s foot in my mouth, being careful not to bite it. Finally, she finished the tattoo, then wiped and bamdaged my ass. I was marked.
It felt as if my heart was beating through my chest. This was all so much. I still had an enormous erection, which was embarrassing, but I felt so perfectly good, so completely at home.
The woman in charge again climbed the stairs. She announced us to the crowd.
“Miss Lauren M….. and her slave!”
Everyone stood. Everyone cheered. I heard a “whoooh Lauren!” from the crowd. Lauren left her foot in my mouth for just a moment longer, then slowly pulled it out. I felt strangely empty.
Back at the table, Lauren slipped the loop back over her ankle, and I resumed my methodial kisses. It was wonderful. It was peaceful, and an emotional rest after what had just happened. I heard the applause for each of the other new owners. Once, Lauren shouted out “Alright Elyse!!!” The occasion was joyous, and I could hardly believe it was true.
Much later, back in Lauren’s room, I gently kissed Lauren’s foot as she propped it on her bed. The loop was again around her right ankle.
“I don’t want to take it off yet. Just a few more minutes, slave.”
A few other women watched us. After a minute or two, Lauren had me stop.
“OK, I guess that’s enough.”
Jamie, one of the women watching, approached me from behind and very carefully cut the viney collar from my neck with a pair of garden shears. Cutting straight up the back, she created a seam, then spread it. Lauren slipped the loop off her ankle with a little pout. Walking around behind me, she spread the opening and pulled the collar off my neck.
Looking thoughtful for a moment, she walked to the wall and hung the whole contraption by a hook.
“Just for now. Slave, you need to get to the cell. They’ll be locking it soon.”
I reminded myself not to answer. No speaking until tomorrow.
I couldn’t sleep, of course. I lie awake, amazed, nervous for whatever this life might hold, but excited. Late the following afternoon I nearly dozed off in the back seat of Lauren’s car, riding shirtless and barefoot next to elyse’s.
I was ready for another week of trying. I was ready for another week, another year, a lifetime of memories as Lauren’s slave.