Chapter #11You loved it by: milida   You nearly swooned as the lady finished and blew upon your sweat lathered skin. You moaned and nodded. It looked incredible. Fantastic. Your lovely body was a work of art and you knew that it both should and would always be on display now. You then blushed in embarrassment, horrified by how pleased you were about the effect. It aroused you greatly that everyone would be drawn to look at you, to explore your body to discover how the tattoo interacted with your breasts, rump, loins,belly, navel, flanks, sex, back and shoulders. "Your work is lovely Mistress and... thank you." you breathed in genuine gratitude.
"You will never wear clothes again," the Lady Tattooist smirked. "They will want you on display to everyone."
You shook your head in silent denial at her declaration, but alas it sounded very true to your ears. The thought of being naked and on display for the remainder of your life was ...to say the least somewhat confusing. On one hand it was a complete anathema to your former life and your male thinking. On the other it made currently made you rather moist with
arousal, giddy with excitement... It was music to your slave girl ears. You tried to clear those horrid thoughts and told yourself you are not a slave girl nor do you want to be, even if your body was reacting like one.
You bit your lip coyly as you reluctantly admired the tattoo that adorned your nether regions. Your male mind had to concede that it's execution was masterful and it served to accentuate your current feminine sex. The thought of displaying such erotic art made your poor heart hammer in your chest.
"Naked?" you finally whispered out.
A that moment Mary returned in your body grinning widely. "You look fantastic. Come. I must show you off."
Your lovely large breasted body did look incredible and you were uncomfortably proud that your master appreciated it. He was so handsome, your thought dreamily, you pondered him taking you, you yearned to know how it felt.
Once more in horror you shook your head to fight of the surge of desire and subservient affection. This was the bastard who had emasculated and enslaved you and just had you rather painfully tattooed.
Clearly Mary was a true woman. Obviously, Mary should be the Slave not the master. Grabbing your leash in a mockery of your thoughts, he marched you out to a nearby fountain square. Chaining your leash to a sculpture, he wandered over to a nearby stall and sat, drinking tea, leaving you perched at the crossroads, without a stitch on you, the tattoo brazen
and colorful, inviting all to look.
Shamefully you knew exactly what the blighter was doing. He was simply demeaning you and reminding you that your poor body needed sex. The situation made your arousal rather intense. Your incredibly erect nipples and dripping sex
made it all the more degrading. Your body was clearly ripe with need and there was no way to hide it. You tried to cover your nipples but found touching them made it worse. There was nothing you could do to conceal your aching sex. Your brightly inked and tender sex was boldly highlighted. It was clear however that you were also a new slave. Freshly marked. An uncertain and bewildered thrall.
You tried to escape your chain in desperation, but there were two problems with tugging on your chain; the first was the
weight of the chain and futility of your efforts, which soon tired your spindly arms, and the second was the noise, which drew a crowd.
It was rather humiliating how weak you now were in this female body.
When you lifted your gaze to look at where Mary had been, you were shocked to see he had gone. Another group had taken his table. That was most disconcerting - that your master was no longer about. Slaves were property and property left unattended had a habit of being claimed by others. You looked about nervously. You clearly didn't want to be stolen, but the blighter had left you alone and naked beside the fountain.
The thought played upon your new bodies drug induced sexuality. A kidnapped slave... your sex clenched at the thought. Helpless... your nipples grew hard as diamonds and your heart hammered. Forever lost...you bit your lip desperately trying to curb your thoughts. Trying to strongly deny that part of you wanted to be a nameless masters sex slave. The thought made you clench your legs together. Shamed you stared at the ground and ignored your audience.
A fat trader however sniggered and leered, licking his lips. A couple of dark-haired horse guards also pointed and stared. A beggar without teeth cackled and touched himself. "Who-wee boys, we've got a show to watch!"
It was difficult to ignore, especially the beggar pleasuring himself loudly in the front. They all stand over your now petite form, even the beggar had more status. You tried to reassure yourself that at least in a town square theft seems less likely and for some reason the attention pleased you. You were a sight. Desirable. Beautiful. Your nudity brazenly on display.
"Look at that tattoo!" you heard someone else call out, then momentarily felt shame at your lowly status as proclaimed by your fresh tattoo but also... in turn a degree of pride. You found your hands moving to allow the crowd to look and admire the Tattooists masterful work.
The tattoo interpolated with your bodies contours perfectly, the dragon coiling sensually about you. You then brazenly widened your legs to show them it's head and tongue, its claws which seemed to press your thighs apart. A slaves vanity you guessed. When all you had was your body, and even that was owned by your master, it was good to be noticed.
"What a slut!" a noble woman mocked and you naturally colored and nodded. It was true of course you were a hopeless slut, even if still a virgin slut. It was true. You couldn't deny it. At that moment you wanted to embrace it.
"Hey, she used to be a free woman and yet such a whore now!" It was true. It was almost as shameful if they'd said you used to be a man. You were clearly a slave now, no matter what you had been. That you had been otherwise before made your current thralldom all the more acute.
"Whore!" Not yet you thought but soon perhaps. You were clearly a painted little strumpet. The accusation alas felt very true. At that moment you accepted you were guilty of the charge. You nodded and bit your lip.
The tattoo burned on your skin, in the attention of all their gazes. You grew incredibly wet between your legs with the thought of each or all of them approaching you and taking you...and almost in accordance to your wishes, a shadow loomed over you and a hand reached for you.
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