Chapter 9: Marked for Life

Jake left me alone for a few days to recuperate. Finally, he texted me again on Saturday evening. ‘Meet me at the corner.’ My stomach knotted—excitement and dread twisting together. The bruises had faded under my long-sleeve shirt and jeans, hidden from Mom’s scrutinizing eyes at breakfast. She’d asked about my ‘study sessions,’ and I’d mumbled excuses, heart racing as I avoided her judgemental gaze. How long could I keep this up? The marks of the previous gangbangs were fading slowly, but new ones loomed.

I slipped out, finding Jake leaning against his beat-up truck, smirking. ‘Ready for your next upgrade, slut?’ He didn’t wait for my nod, just grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the passenger seat. The sun was setting as we drove through industrial streets, ending at a dingy strip mall. A row of Harley Davidson motorcycles were parked outside. The tattoo shop squatted between a pawn shop and a bail bonds office, its neon sign flickering ‘Ink Eternal’ in faded red. Inside, the air reeked of ink, stale smoke, and antiseptic, walls plastered with flash sheets of skulls, roses, and naked women. Buzzing machines hummed from partitioned booths, heavy metal thumping low.

The tattoo artist, a burly guy named Rex with a shaved head and sleeves of swirling demons and a Hell’s Angel tattoo on his chest, eyed me like fresh meat. Jake slapped cash on the counter. ‘She’s getting the full set. Lewd as fuck. Make it permanent.’ Rex grinned, teeth yellowed, and led us to a back room with a padded table under harsh fluorescents. No privacy curtain—just mirrors on every wall, forcing me to watch my own undoing.