I’ve a new work in progress, a Sci-Fi based in the same world as my bestseller, Chosen by the Governor.
The prisoner this time is living with her captor, Galen, and he has ensured she can’t lie to him by inking her with special tattoos. Blindfolded, Zara has no clue as to what they do when he touches her. (Unedited preview)
He circled Zara, noting she was breathing rapidly. However her skin tone had not changed in colouration. His arrival was not sufficient an incentive to awaken what lay buried deep below the surface of Zara’s frail human shell. Hardly surprising. She’d been in his house for less than two days and was probably filled with trepidation as to his intentions toward her. Galen, his shadow falling over her diminutive form knew exactly what he desired. He intended to go the whole way. But not yet, not tonight. Patience, Galen!
He reached down and took her hand, threading his fingers between her trembling ones. Slowly he drew her up onto her feet and allowed her to steady herself before releasing his grasp.
She bit on her lower lip. What did she want to say?
“Zara, what is it?”
“I don’t think the tattoo worked. Sorry, sir.”
He laughed softly by her ear. “No, little girl. I’m sure it has worked fine.”
There, for a second, a fleeting glimpse of it across her bosom. Nothing more than a tease but there!
With the softest of caresses he drew a line around one of her nipples. A faint shadow followed his fingertip. She swayed slightly, rising up onto her toes then back on her heels as he repeated the circuit. This time the trail of mellow azure remained, bleeding into the skin of her breasts, revealing the tattoo he’d commissioned.
Yes, it was working. It thrilled him, knowing the chemistry of the ink was equally effective in humans as it was in Vendu. Of course his choice of inking was nothing to do with Astra. Such advanced technologies had not existed in her time. However, for his rendition of the ordeal he needed extra cues or how else would he know Zara was his? If he was to construct the right blend of punishments and pleasure, he had to understand her to the best of his ability, and that meant revealing everything she might chose to keep from him.
She’d clasped her hands tightly together over her navel, right in the line of his sight. Try as she might to block his view, it was pointless hiding anything from him now.
He continued his experiment and rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb. The nib was the size of a small pebble he might find on a beach. He flicked it with his finger. She winced. A little pain, but the taunt hadn’t altered the hue of the colour that surrounded the nipple. Cupping the breast in his palm, he gently squeezed. The azure deepened into indigo. Her jaw lowered and she released a sharp exhale. Bringing up his other hand, he played with both breasts—a slow, measured toying, which alternated between caresses and the occasional pinch of her nipples.
Her breasts weren’t the only part of her that was altering in colour tone. Dropping his hands, he moved to stand behind her. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the spectacle of the emerging tattoo that covered her back.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
He stepped forward, grasped her upper arms, and drew her closer to his chest until her shoulder blades rested on his pectorals. His heartbeats pounded beneath his breastbone and his blood flowed hotter, thickening his shaft into an erection. All because of what he was witnessing.
She stiffened as he reached around and resumed his exploration. Tucked into the apex of her thighs, her knotted fingers guarded her entrance. Stroking her upper belly with the palm of his hand, he felt the warmth and firmness of her stomach. When he kissed her bare shoulder, trailing kisses along it to her neck, she gasped. The concentric circles around her breasts darkened—she couldn’t stop it from happening.
“Move your hands, Zara.”
She hesitated. He heard her swallow hard, then she dropped her arms to her sides. He pushed his hand lower and between her thighs, sliding them upward to where she’d bolted her legs tight together in the hope of dissuading him. It didn’t matter for now, he’d no intention of penetrating her tonight. However, regardless of his resolution, her inner thoughts had betrayed her. The pattern on each of her thighs boldly pointed to his destination. As he approached her mound and the exposed nub of her clitoris, she leaned backward and brushed her bottom against his rigid cock, which remained tucked painfully inside his pants.
Immediately, every line, swirl and dot of the tattoos inked on her body turned near black. The blueness of near frigidity was gone. The arrival of purples and indigos indicated her heightened sensitivity. If he were to probe inside her untested pussy while her tattoos stay steadfastly dark, he would find it slick and wet, ready for use.
He lifted her off his chest and spun her around. Lowering his lips on to her upturned face, he pressed his mouth onto hers. She exhaled into his mouth and he held her there, giving him the opportunity to explore with his lips and tongue. She began to wriggle and pushed. When he snatched her wrists and pinned them behind her back, the tattoos held their depth and intensity. No hint of paleness or fading.
The harder he kissed, allowing her only the briefest intervals to breathe, the more convinced he was that the ink wasn’t lying to him. She couldn’t hide it—she was his. She’d bent to him and even if she appeared to resist with her mind, her body was already lost to him.
He broke free and licked his lips, tasting her sweet flavour on them.
She was breathing heavily, rocking again on her toes.
It was time to reveal the true purpose of the ink.
He removed the blindfold.