He shrugs. “If you want to. I know you’re my future. The rings and paperwork have always seemed like more of a you thing, but I’ll do whatever will make you happy, Princess.”
I beam up at him. “Well, if you’re okay with it, I would like to wear the rings, but you’re right, that does seem like more my thing…” I trail off, considering if there might be something he’d like more that I’d know is his way of outwardly showing his commitment to our marriage. “Hmm. What’s more of a you thing? I know the whole BDSM aspect isn’t really a lifestyle for you, but I saw things about everyday collars when I was researching. Is that something you’re into?”
He shakes his head, smirking. “Nah, I get why some people like it, but I’ve never really seen the point when they can come off.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I look around the room, trying to think of something more significant to represent the permanence of our future. When I turn back to John, ready to tell him I’ll have to think about it, I zero in on the perfect idea. “Tattoos!” I nearly shout as I have the thought. “You can give me a tattoo! It’ll be perfect.”
John raises a brow in question, but the heat in his gaze is obvious as he quickly gives me a once-over, no doubt imagining what or where he could give me one. “You want me to give you a tattoo?”
“Absolutely! I want a permanent reminder of our commitment to each other,” I explain. “Growing up, I had assumed that would be what getting married meant, and it does mean that to me, but I know we went about the wedding in such a backward way. I’d love to do something intentional now that we’re both in the same place about our future.”
His smirk has grown into one of his rare smiles that I love so much. “Okay, I’d love to tattoo you. When do you want to do it?”
“Right now. Do you have everything you need?” I ask hopefully.
“Yeah, I’ll go grab it. Sit on the couch, and I’ll be right back.”
I hurry over and get settled, absolutely thrilled that John was as immediately into this idea as I am. He comes back with a bag, sets up his equipment on the coffee table after cleaning it, and sits in a chair he set up right next to me. “Do you want to pick what I do and where, or should I do that part?”
Oh my God, I love this so much. “The surprise, of course.”
The corner of his lip lifts. “I figured. Do you want a blindfold or can I start?”
“Hmm… You know I love a blindfold, but I want to start right away. Maybe we can do that after.”
“Sounds good,” he agrees with a chuckle. “I’m going to put it on your thigh. It’ll still be a surprise since I need you laying down on the couch.”
Eeek! It’s happening. I pull my pants off and shout, “Yay!” as he pushes my boxer briefs up my thigh. He puts black gloves on and shaves the area about halfway up before cleaning it again. My anticipation grows as he messes around with the gunfor a minute before dipping the tip of it in the tiny cup of black ink.
“Okay, I’m going to start now,” he warns. “It’ll hurt a bit, but it shouldn’t be too bad. Try not to move, okay?”
“Maybe you should have restrained me,” I tease.
“Next time,” he promises with a wink, and my stomach flips. He’s so sexy normally, but who knew that him threatening to tie me up to mark me with permanent ink forever would be such a turn on?
He steadies my leg with his left hand and brings the needle to my thigh. It’s a weird feeling. Definitely a new one. I don’t know why I expected it to be more intense, like a knife stabbing maybe, but it’s more of a dull sharpness, which I guess makes sense because the needle is a lot smaller than a knife. I actually kind of like it. In a weird way, it sort of reminds me of the pain with the nipple clamps, definitely there, but accompanied by some pleasure.
I didn’t expect for this to make me hard, but maybe I’m more into pain than I thought I would be. Especially if my hot tattoo-covered husband is the one inflicting it. Far too quickly it’s over, and he’s wiping my leg down again, admiring his work.
“Did you want to see it, or did you need some help there first?” he teases, nodding at the obvious bulge in my underwear.
“Ummm…” That’s a tough decision. But no. I need to focus and see what John tattooed. Then sex. “I want to see it,” I insist.
“Go ahead.” John helps me sit up so I can see the black ink, and I tilt my head to confirm I’m reading it properly.
John tattooed “Princess” on my thigh in his handwriting.
“Holy shit, it’s perfect!” I say, voice tight with emotion.
He leans in to kiss me, and we stay like that for a while. Enjoying the connection, the feel of each other’s lips moving in sync, communicating all the love and devotion I feel in this moment.
I’m so lucky. I love beinghisprincess. I’m obsessed withknowing I’m the most important, special, and spoiled person in his world. Seeing this will always bring me joy.
“My turn,” I declare when we finally part.
“Your turn?” he repeats as a question.
I nod. “Now I get to tattoo you. If you want. Can you show me how?”
