Loading...There was no doubting her good looks, perhaps early forties, trim and taut. She moved with a natural grace that was obviously deliberate. He tried not to look but found himself stealing glances in her direction. Once or twice he thought she might have noticed but if she did, she gave no sign of having done so. It was 10.30pm, the hotel bar was empty and he plucked up the courage to go over and start a conversation. She accepted the offer of a drink and they exchanged the usual social pleasantries. Her name was Helen, she did not have to work and spent much of her time travelling.
He on the other hand was obliged to work and while he liked the travel and salary that came with the IT consulting job, he would have preferred not to have to work. His name was Paul, nothing exceptional, a little better than average in most regards and very intelligent. He would be 38 on his next birthday.
They discovered that they had much in common, a fondness for opera, a liking for certain foods and the conversation moved into the flirtatious zone as each tried to discover more about the other. The waiter came over and mentioned that the bar would be closing in a few moments, they looked at each other, a little awkwardly since both were clearly enjoying the conversation. “Paul” she began “ordinarily I wouldn’t do this but I’d like to carry on the conversation, I have a suite on the 12th floor and we can call room service for food and drink — what do you think? Paul’s response was quick and definite and that was how he came to be sitting opposite her in a very well appointed suite. Room service took 20 minutes to arrive with their food and drink, some simple club sandwiches and a nicely chilled bottle of Veuve Cliquot. She nibbled on her sandwich and smiled in a slightly coy manner. “Do you mind if I remove my boots?” she asked “I have been on my feet for hours and feel the need to relax”. Paul saw nothing wrong with that. She reached under her long black skirt and unzipped her boots, removed them one at a time and then placed her feet on the foot stool. Paul looked at her feet, she was wearing black lacy stockings and there was something about them that Paul couldn’t quite identify but something was a little different. He looked at her face and realized that her skin was a little too perfect and wondered if she had had plastic surgery.
Paul’s gaze returned to her feet, the light in the room was better that that in the bar and he realized that her feet and all that he could see below the hem of her skirt appeared to have a different hue than might be expected. Then realizing that he was staring, he looked back at her face and she gave that same slightly odd smile that had first attracted his attention “Is there something about my feet that you find interesting?” she asked. Paul was slightly embarrassed “No … well yes … they seem to be — different” he stammered not wishing to cause any offence.
“And is ‘different’ a good thing?” she asked and when he nodded “would you like to see just how different they are?”
She rose to her feet and turned around, somehow she unclipped her stockings without revealing a glimpse of anything exciting and let the slip to the floor before stepping out of them and then placed her right foot on the table in front of him. He looked at and realized that it, and that portion of her leg that could see, were heavily tattooed, the work was exquisite and there was not one part of the skin that was uncovered. The designs seemed to have a Japanese influence and seemed to have a life of their own.
“Shocked?” she asked.
“Actually no — more fascinated” Paul replied “I was wondering why a woman like you would do anything like that. I was also wondering if you had more — the work is superb.”
“I have more, lots more” she said “do you want to know why?”
Paul sipped his drink and nodded.
“I wasn’t always rich” she started “I was born into a poor family in Northern Italy. The man who owned many of the local vineyards was good to me when I was a girl and paid for my education. When my parents died he took me in and treated me like a daughter. We travelled extensively and he taught me about art and music. He was 24 years my senior and though he had the opportunity, he never once behaved inappropriately. I had a few boyfriends, but I had come to need to someone who was cultured and intelligent and I never met a single boy who met those criteria. Eventually I started to wonder about Bruno, my benefactor. Was he gay? Why did he not have a woman? I dressed provocatively in his presence and took him with me when I bought clothes. While I could see the effect that I had on him, he still made no move towards me. Finally one night after dinner, I asked him outright if he found me attractive. He said ‘yes’. I asked him if he thought about going to bed with me, again he said “yes” then I asked why he had not asked me to come to his bed and he told me that it would not be fair. Fair? He had done everything for me and from my point of view this was a small thing that I could do for him in return. Although he was older, he was still an attractive man and I found him interesting. The he told me why he had never tried to seduce me. It seemed that he had a predilection for something in relationships with a woman, he wanted power. He needed to own and control a woman completely and he could think of nobody who would willingly submit to his whims. I was naive and I owed him so much. “How weird could his demands be” I asked myself and thought that I owed him something. He had picked me up from the gutter and kept me in luxury for 12 years. I told him that I would submit to anything that wouldn’t involve my death or dismemberment and that was how it started. He talked openly for the first time about how he wanted he wanted his woman to look. He wanted to create her as a work of art acknowledging that the transformation would slowly alienate her from the rest of the world as she became what many people would regard as a freak. In return she would have his undying love and respect as his wife.”
The wedding was a discrete but sumptuous affair, and nobody in the church could have known that my vagina had been depilated and tattooed. The design he chose was quite Japanese, a dragon’s head about 5 inches in size, with its mouth appropriately positioned. We travelled the world and at each place we stayed he would have me decorated and the ink started to fill my legs and move downwards towards my feet. I hadn’t realized early on, but he had commissioned an artist to design all the tattoos and then arranged to have the executed by the world’s best tattooists. In New York, my dragon’s head acquired a body, limbs and a tail. It swirled between my legs such that its anus coincided with my own. By the time we went to Paris, the colour extended from my waist to the soles of my feet in an unbroken sequence.
Our sex life was amazing. He was experienced and taught me things I had only read about or heard in whispers and with each new piece of body art his lust for me increased, He was tender and held my hand when the Dragon’s nose was tattooed on my clitoris, it is a little larger than usual and the tattooist thought it a pity to waste the opportunity. In Monaco his attention turned to my breasts and they were transformed into blooms in a rich tropical forest, and vines and orchids competed for the white space beneath my breasts. In Rome, undergrowth and exotic animals made their way around my back and finally met at my spine and beautiful birds flew towards my shoulder blades. When we reached Toronto my torso and back were completely covered. Only my arms neck and face remained white. I could still wear a carefully styled evening dress and nobody else knew our secret — I think that appealed to Bruno.
We spent that summer in the villa in Tuscany. He had several artists flown in to work on me. My arms began to be decorated in the same style as my chest and back and finally I began to see the overall design emerging. My legs had a maritime theme which blended into land animals and birds as the design moved up my body. I had mixed feelings, after all I never knew where it was going to end but I wanted to see the finished work. We flew to Tahiti for the winter. It was here that I acquired my piercings, give in each labia, large horizontal rings through each nipple, a large ring through the septum of my nose (I remove it when I need to be formal) and several tongue piercings which drove Bruno wild. Later he had my tongue tattooed too. (She playfully poked her blue, studded tongue at Paul who wriggled in his seat with an uncomfortably large erection). He also had my ears pierced (she lifted her hair to show him five large rings in each ear). For some reason five was an important number to Bruno.
By January only my neck and face were unmarked. Bruno had discovered some plastic skin that I could spray on my hands which would conceal the tattoos for a few hours. It was expensive of course. I had never seen him so excited and while I regretted in part the ordeal I had willingly undergone, I loved the attention. We flew to Lake Lucerne and there Bruno took me to an exclusive clinic. It was here that every single hair on my body and head was painstakingly removed by laser. I was completely bald. Bruno, thoughtful as ever, had provided a selection of wigs which I could wear if I wished. The next tattoo was to the top of my head, the small humming birds and butterflies gave way to the moon and stars and joined the body of the work at the nape of my neck. Over the next few days the ink flowed around my neck up to my jaw line. Bruno was still not finished with me. It took 4 days to complete all the work on my face and ears, special attention was paid to my eyelids so that there would be no white skin to spoil the design. We waited for ten days to allow the skin to heal.
On the 11th day, I stood naked before him, and looked at my reflection in the mirror I was a mass of beautiful swirling colours and creatures. The rings in my nipples had been supplemented with a horizontal ring through my clitoris, it was painful and once it had settled down the increased sensitivity was truly astounding, visually it seemed that the dragon had a nose ring which was the counterpart6 of my own. When I looked at myself in the mirror it seemed that only my eyes were human.I can’t remember how many times we made love that night, Bruno fed the dragon, I took his penis into my mouth and stimulated it with my tongue studs and I think the highlight for him was fucking the dragon’s arse.
We had two more years where we had the best of everything, I was isolated from normal society but was getting everything I needed and besides my transition had been gradual. The things changed, Bruno’s heart gave out. There was a lot to sort out, I ordered in supplies of the plastic skin so that I could attend the funeral with normal people, and with the help of a makeup artist, who worked in film, I learned how disguise my hands and face. I never knew Bruno had so many friends and they never knew what sort of man he really was. And that’s how he left me, a very rich freak.”
She looked down at Paul “So are you suitably horrified?”
The truth was that Paul was anything but horrified, he had hidden his predilection for decorated ladies from everyone he knew. A large collection of specialist pornography bore testament to his tastes. “Actually, quite the reverse … I’d like to see the rest of your art work”.
Helen put her glass down on the table and undid the waist of her skirt letting it fall to the floor and revealing her shapely, decorated legs. Her blouse followed showing the art work on her shoulders and arms. She lifted her left hand in front of her face and pulled at the plastic skin and smiled as it came away, while there were other colours, this hand was predominantly blue with green and red. She removed the plastic from her right hand and it was the mirror image of the left. By this time, Paul’s erection was more than obvious but he did nothing other than to move his eyes over her body. She raised her hands above her head and reached to the nape of her neck, with a firm tug she removed her wig and placed it on the floor with her skirt and blouse. The sight was compelling, a bald pink head and neck atop of her tattooed body. She reached behind her head again and this time pulled away the plastic skin that allowed her to pass for normal. It took a few moments to clear it all away from her ears. When all the pink had been removed she reached into her bag and pulled out a large ring which she then threaded through the septum of her nose. The fastening was spring loaded so that a single bead hung just above her upper lip. The ring was around 6mm in thickness and perhaps 30mm in diameter. She stared down at him and slowly began to undo her basque, as the last hook parted her breasts tumbled forward to reveal a large ring through each nipple similar to that through her nose. Finally she slid down her panties and the dragon of which she had spoken seemed to spring to life. She stood on the coffee table and parted her legs so that he could have a better view.
“May I touch?” he asked and when she nodded he slowly moved his hand over the dragon’s head and playfully touched the ring through its nose.
The sex was the best that he had ever had. He watched his penis slide into the dragon’s mouth and almost wondered if it would bite him.
By morning he knew that he could not let her go. Over breakfast she put her hand under his chin and lifted his head up so that he had to make eye contact and the white silk robe made her tattoos seem more prominent. Only the whites of her eyes seemed human in the swirling patterns of ink.
“You want more of this?” she asked.
He nodded not trusting himself to speak.
“So do I.” She continued “but I am worried that you could leave me at a moment’s notice and drop back into mainstream society as though nothing had ever happened. I am looking for real commitment. So I am going to make you an offer, it’s a once in lifetime deal … if you accept then there is no going back. I’m offering you exactly what Bruno offered me all those years ago — only this time I will chose the designs and I have full control over you. In return you get me and an interesting and luxurious lifestyle. So are you in or out?”
Paul looked at the bald, tattooed head and face emerging from expensive white silk robe and answered without hesitation. “I’m in.”