Cowgirl Ch. 06

In the morning she was gone, which was a good thing; you try explaining to your three year old why Mommy's special friend spent the night sleeping in her bed with Daddy. She did, however, leave me a present, of a sort.

"What's that," Michael asked when I finally managed to roll out of bed and stagger to the shower. I'm not a morning person.

"What's what?" I mumbled.

"On your ass," he pointed out and helpfully dropped a hand mirror down so I could catch the image that had been drawn onto my skin.

I tried focusing on the drawing, but I couldn't get my eyes to focus and catch my balance at the same time. "What is it?" I asked him.

He laughed and shook his head. "Well, I guess she wanted you to keep it on a while. It looks like it was drawn in permanent Sharpie."

Do you like the tattoo I gave you, she IMed me the moment I sat down at my desk.

NO! I immediately fired back.

I could almost hear her giggle in the next comment. It looked cute on your ass. You should think about getting it permanently done.

Put my husband's initials on my ass, like he owns me?

Yeah, why not, it would be like a brand. You are a cow, aren't you?

What she had drawn on my butt was a stylized version of my husband's initials, set up to look like an old style western ranch brand. I never saw myself as the type of person who got tattoos done, but then again I never expected to hop into bed with my husband and another woman or to be nursing both of them for their and my sexual needs. And besides, Michael said I needed something on the other side of my rump to balance out my cow tattoo.

Yes, I hesitantly agreed. Maybe I should get his initials branded on my butt.

Which is how I wound up back at Marie's tattoo parlor once again, my skirt on the floor and my bare butt exposed to the discriminating eye of Ian the tattoo artist. Marie was nowhere to be seen—at least by me. A few days previous she had finished the final few feathers on her angel wing back tattoo and upon entering the parlor had immediately stripped down to her tiny g-string so she could prance around the place showing off the final finished work to any and all who would look. Personally I was pretty sure she just wanted to be all but naked and show off her body to friends and near-strangers.

I was face down on the green leather table trying to relax, telling myself it would be a nice little surprise for Michael to admire when I got home. It seemed to me that Ian was being slow, the prep time was taking too long after he had transferred the design to my right cheek. I mean how long does it take to get a tattoo gun ready? He had already run a razor over what I was certain was an already hairless ass and then chilled me with a series of alcohol wipes. I could feel the room getting hotter while I waited, which was nice since I was half naked and I figured he must have turned on the heat.

"Ready?" Ian finally asked me.

"Uh-huh," I mumbled; I was in a half-doze from the room's warmth and my general laziness.

"You'll feel a sharp stinging," he warned.

Right, I thought, it didn't hurt that much last time.

Then a white hot burning hit my ass and I screamed and jumped up. I was certain Ian had set my ass on fire or had taken a knife and plunged it as deeply as he could into my flesh. "Calm down," Ian said, trying to relax me, but I was in too much pain to hear him.

Moments later Marie appeared in the small room. "What's going on?" she was still near-naked. Her nipples were adorned with charms dangling from her piercings. She wore only her panties and shoes. Just the sight of her was enough to calm me down.

"He tried to kill me!" I accused him, pointing a finger at Ian.

He looked genuinely puzzled. "I was just doing the brand," he innocently insisted to her.

Marie looked down at his tools, clamped her hands over her mouth, and tried not to laugh.

"What?" I demanded.

She got control of herself and managed to get out, "No, she didn't want a brand! She wanted her tattoo to look like a brand."

And so went the great brand tattoo confusion debacle. One of the many services the parlor offered besides piercings, tattoo and other assorted body modifications was branding. Ian had placed a white hot piece of wire on my skin to create a second-degree burn which would turn into a scar. I wanted a tattoo of a brand, not an actual brand.

"What do you want to do?" Ian asked me.

I twisted around, looked at the raised red line on my butt, gave it some thought and said, "I'm a cow. Might as well finish it."

I laid back down on the table. "It's going to hurt, isn't it?" I asked her.

"Yup," she agreed.

"They don't give anything for the pain here, do they?"

"Nope."

"Help me out then." I opened my shirt, pulled down my bra to expose my nipples. "Suckle on me."

To her great credit Marie didn't hesitate; she didn't care what Ian thought. Her suckling let my milk down and when Ian pressed the next hot wire to my skin, somehow the pain seemed so much less. Marie nursed on me through the entire process; something I can never fully thank her for.

It felt like my ass was on fire when he was done. I could barely drive home. The entire way I kept asking myself why I thought it was a good idea.

Somehow, when I got home, showed Michael what had happened, opened my shirt for him and lay down in bed together, it all seemed worth it. I was a cow, I had my brand to prove it. Best of all, I wasn't the least bit ashamed by it.

End.