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“Mark me, my king,” I quietly purred, and whatever doubts he carried were washed away by my command.
“As you wish, Sweet Queen.”
At the touch of the sharp tip, the symphony of pain began.
I drew in a sharp breath, the burning scrutiny resembling the piercing movement of a knife gliding across your flesh while it was on fire. It took everything I had to not scream, the torment only spiking when he had to further press the pen into my flesh.
Blood seethed to the surface in protest, running along my flesh until it rolled down onto the canvas. When he finished whatever thick line he’d created -one fucking line -he placed the pen in a stand and reached for a golden brush.
He dipped the fine ends into a clear liquid with hints of glimmer that reminded me of an iridescent jewel and slowly glided that brush on the tattooed line, which made me moan in relief as a layer of cool breeze flowed along my flesh.
It moved the blood away from the newly drawn wound, like oil combatting water, and whatever properties this liquid held seemed to heal the area enough that it stopped bleeding. It was like being stabbed and then healed a few seconds after which was going to force me onto a seesaw of pleasure and pain.
Time ticked by too fucking slowly; the toss between crippling pain with the anticipation of the cooling pleasure that would reward me for my perseverance went on and on. Tears left my eyes, my cheeks were flushed, my exhales were quick, and my inhales were sharp.
My bottom lip was bruised by all the times I bit it, and my body was drenched in sweat and trembling uncontrollably. At one point I lay upon my back because it was all too much and I couldn’t keep watching the entire process.
Neo did the best he could to encourage me while he worked diligently on the process - kissing me lightly, whispering words of encouragement and praise, and taking longer breaks in between to help me recover.
At one point I couldn’t take it, my consciousness fading in and out while he continued. By the time I came out of it, I felt Neo’s lips lightly tracing down my body.
Opening my eyes, I realized he was holding me in his arms, his robe around me like a massive blanket.
“You did so well, Sweetness,” he praised me with admiration before he lightly kissed my lips.
“Ow,” I whimpered and felt a new set of tears begin to run down my cheeks.
“Shh,” he whispered, feeling the pain that still thrummed through my aching body as I began to further sob. “It’ll fade soon. I promise.”
“Don’t let go,” I pleaded, needing his warmth as I trembled in his hold.
“Never,” he assured me. “I’m right here, Willow.”
The first part of the ritual was complete.
Now it was time for the second.
