Chapter 9: He Marked Me
1752 Words
(POV: Isabelle)
I grabbed some air and the scent of his cologne got me. It reminded me of SINFUL PLEASURE. He was dragging the needle gradually on my skin. I sensed every single puncture and my skin was turning red.
"How come you are doing this without getting paid dad?" I inquired, staring deeply into his eyes. "I did not say it was free." He retorted.
"Didn't you say you didn't want money?" "Money is simple, " he stated. "I only want you to remember." He said, turning off the machine. He used a dry cloth, which was quite rough, to clean the blood. He dipped the needle once more. The sound came again and I started thinking my mom. For her mind, she must be at home, waiting for him to finish work. I had watched them eat dinner last night and had called him Dad at the table.
After that, I went to my room and cried. I looked like a dirty person with my skin then, but right now it looks more like electricity to me as I am seeing his lustful hands on me.
"Does it hurt?" he inquired. I hiccupped "Little. Yikes!"
"You are joking. I can even hear your heartbeat from your back. "Just get it done."
He was back to his tools after that. He worked for an hour and the two of us remained silent. It was only the needle that was moving and I was just watching the clock on the wall. The time was passing very slowly and my back was burning. The pain migrated from my shoulder to my neck.
I hated him for coming here and I hated myself for even coming. I viewed him as someone who was supposed to protect me but instead, he destroyed me. It was like every single poke of the needle was a secret and every drop of ink was a sin for me.
Finally, he stopped the machine for the last time, sprayed my back with water and it was so cold that I almost shivered as he proceeded to wipe it dry.
"Stand up, " was his order while he got rid of his gloves.
Once I realized he was done, I stood up. My legs were so weak that I almost fell, but I managed to get to the big mirror on the wall. The bird was so dark that it looked almost black and the skin around it was red and puffy, somewhat resembling a fiery scene that I loved the most.
"It looks great, " I said as I admired the bird in the mirror. Dorian was standing right behind me and he was very close. I could sense the heat from his chest.
He didn't touch me but he only looked at the tattoo in the mirror.
"So now everyone will see it, " he said.
"No. I'll wear a shirt. Only I will know that it's there."
"And me, " he said.
He took a roll of plastic wrap, cut a piece of it and by pressing it over my raw skin he finished the job. He used airtight tape to fix it and it pulled firmly at my skin.
"Make sure that you keep it covered, " he said. "Don't let it get dirty."
"I know, Dad."
It sounded like a loud intake of breath when he grabbed my arm and pulled me to face him.
He looked so intensely at my mouth reflected in the mirror and his eyes were very dark.
For some reason, he was staring at my lips? So, when I called him, "Dad, are you okay?" it started to give me the chills.
"Don't call me that anymore, " he whispered.
"It's what you are after all. You're married to my mom, no?”
"I know exactly who my husband is and who the man was that I slept with."
Right after he said that, I was both sick and tingling with excitement. My eyes wandered on his shirt. I noticed a small ink blot on the pocket.
I really wanted him to cuddle me now but I was aware of In reality we shouldn't cross the line at this moment. But, WHO WOULDN'T WANT SUCH A HOT MAN TO BE A STEP DAD?!
"Go home, " was his order.
"Are you going to tell mom?"
He slightly leaned towards me and as his breath touched my hair, he said, "No. I'm not telling her, this will be our little secret. You are simply addicted to it."
He detached his hand from my arm and faced away from me. He started to clean his instruments. First, he threw the needle in the box, then he sprayed the chair, while I was picking up my shirt from the floor beside him and slowly putting it on me.
"How much do I owe you?"
"I told you. Nothing."
"Still, I don't feel good when I owe you, Dad."
Dorian turned and looked at me. With a gentle smile playing on his lips, he came to me slowly and pulled me to himself. Then, he said only one sentence: "You owe me already, little princess." He added: "Ever since that night" and released me from his embrace.
That was the last thing that I heard from him before I took my purse and went to the door, my heart beating wildly.
With my hand, I slowly opened the door. The bells on the door jingled and the air outside hit me slowly.
I was almost at my car and with each step I took, I was reminded of the tattoo.
It really hurt and it was the heaviest feeling ever.
After taking the driver's seat, I glanced at myself through the mirror.
Though I looked like the same person, deep down I was a different one. His ink was embedded in my skin. My stepdad had marked me. He was a part of me now.
I started the car and drove home. I would have to see him at dinner.
I kept one hand on the steering wheel and used the other hand to touch the bandage through my shirt.
My skin was seriously pulsing and it felt like a second heart to me already.
But Isabelle, I'm sure you will get over him?
Two days later, I went back to my stepdad’s studio, this time the third time.
His Ink has been on my skin for two days now.
I stood outside the studio. My hand hovered over the door handle. I told myself I was here for the ink and my skin has felt tight since he drew that mark on me.
But that was a lie…. Yes it was…. My mind knew the truth. I only wanted his mesmerising hands on me again.
I just wanted to feel the heat of his skin, wanted the danger and all that came with it.
I looked at my reflection in the glass, I obviously looked like a daughter but I knew within me I'm burning so lost in lust for my own stepdad. Weird right?
He was my mother’s husband and the man I'm forced to call Dad now. Ewwwwrk! My stomach turns.
This is absolutely wrong, I felt it was a sin to see the man I've felt his c**k, as now my STEP DAD.
When I got to the door, I pushed it anyways. The bell on the door made a sharp ping and I noticed Dorian was at his desk. He was drawing on a piece of white paper. He did not look up. I came closer and sat on the stool across from him. My stepdad had left a mark on me and part of me is now his.
I turned on the car and drove home. I was going to have to see him at the dinner table.
I placed one hand on the steering wheel and with the other hand I was touching the bandage through my shirt.
The nerves in my skin were throbbing intensely, for me it was like it had become a second heart.
But Isabelle, of course, you'll probably get over him?
Two days later, I arrived at my stepdad's studio again, this third time around.
The ink from him has been decorating my skin for two days.
I was standing outside the studio. My hand was ready to grab the door handle. I kept telling myself I was here only for the tattoo and my body had been feeling a bit off since that moment he marked me.
But it was a lie. Yes Really. My mind was fully aware of the truth. I just wanted his captivating hands on me once again.
I just missed the feeling of his warm skin, the thrill of danger and all that came with it.
Checking my reflection in the window I obviously looked like a daughter, but inside I was so lost in lust for my stepdad that it was barely a burn. Strange, isn't it?
He was my mother's husband and the man I'm to call "Dad" now. Ugh! It makes me feel so gross.
This really is so wrong, I felt like it was a sin to be with the man whose c**k I felt, now my STEP DAD.
Upon reaching the door, I still decided to open it. The door's bell rang with a high, clear sound and I saw that Dorian was sitting at his desk. He was sketching on a piece of paper and did not look up. I walked up and took the stool opposite his.The air was heavy with the smell of floor wax.
"So, you are here again, " he remarked.
"Yep daddy, the tattoo is really itchy.
That's why.
"That is the way it should be.
The tattoo is healing.
He put down his pencil, looked at me and I felt the warmth in my cheeks.
I was so nervous that I had to look at the floor.
My mother asks me where I was going when I was leaving.
I said I was going to the library.
Hell yes! I lied right to her face.
She smiled and told me to be home before six. Lasagna was in the oven, oops! My favourite, but I just went to Dorian's studio since I wanted to see him and we would be sitting together at the same table.
"Does it still hurt?” he asked.
"No.
Only sometimes it feels like a burn.
"Show me.”
- Writer
