Chapter 5: Sunday

As soon as Heather appeared to post bail, Kelsey headed straight back to the tattoo parlor.

“Thanks for fetching me,” she said. “But if I don’t get there soon, I won’t be able to get everything finished today ... and I need it. I really do.”

“Wait!” Heather tried to call after her, but as Kelsey left, she shrugged. She wasn’t going to turn down the ability to go straight back to bed and continue testing her new purchases.

Heather had practically cleared out the adult store - she’d used all of her prize money and more, collecting the largest toys she could find. She hadn’t been able to wait until she took them home, opening one in the store and asking to use the bathroom.

“I guess...” the pierced girl behind the counter had said doubtfully, obviously unable to believe that someone as respectable-looking as Heather would ever take their largest dildo to the bathroom and test it out.

She’d been so turned on at the sight of it - nine inches long, with a six-inch circumference. It didn’t even make sense that a girl Heather’s size would be able to use such a monster, but she’d managed to insert it with only the smallest amount of pain.

As it began to enter her, it was like a flood had been released - it had been almost twelve hours since she’d last cum, a number so high that felt like an impossible nightmare. The dam was broken, and she began to scream out in pleasure, cumming over and over again, until after almost fifteen minutes of pure pleasure, she noticed that the shop-girl was rapping at the restroom door.

“Miss?” she was asking, “are you alright??”

“I’m fiiiine,” Heather had replied with a long sigh. “Oh, I’m so good.”

There was a pause.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, sweetie,” Heather responded, her eyes rolling back in her head with pleasure. “Oh, hon - just one question. Where did you get your piercings done?”

Brittany staggered out of the hotel bedroom, her legs bow-legged and every inch of her covered in cum. She’d pleasured each of the company men at the stall, and word had started to get around. The idea of limiting her stress relief to her direct colleagues seemed cruel, somehow, and so she’d offered a deal - anyone who did business with her company would get a chance to enjoy her unique skills.

The demand had been overwhelming, and soon she’d had to start taking two men at a time in the tiny room. The day had passed in a blur, and when the conference began to close, Brittany had discovered there was a long list of new clients who hadn’t gotten a chance to enjoy the new benefits of the deal they’d struck.

And so she’d rented a hotel room - the company had offered to pay, but she knew what dire straits they were in, and covered the costs herself. To ensure that there was enough room for everyone who wanted a turn, she’d taken the penthouse suite - her Halloween money was just enough to cover it.

All night, Brittany had been taking clients, three at a time. And when she was too sore to be penetrated, she started jerking them off, taking load after load on her face, her back, her tits - anywhere that they wanted to aim, she was happy to take a load.

Finally, around 5am, she’d collapsed, exhausted, and let the men know that they could fuck her in her sleep if they wanted. She’d woken up alone, coated in cum, and more sore than she could ever remember being.

What have I done? she thought in shock, feeling slightly ill. What ... why would I do that? As she took a shower, more and more images from the previous night flashed into her head. At one point, she’d let her boss cum in her ass, and then sucked his dick clean. At another point, she could have sworn there’d been a video camera ... or two, or three.

What would she find when she googled her name? How had she allow herself to become so degenerate, such a slut?

As she got out of the shower and toweled herself off, Brittany realized that she didn’t have any clothes she could wear. The outfit she’d arrived in was so matted with cum that she thought it would probably be easier to burn it than clean it off, and so she was left with the heavy bath robe that the hotel provided.

Brittany got in the elevator, her head spinning with what she’d done. It was Sunday, and she had to go to church - but before she could, she’d have to change. She couldn’t show up to church in a bath robe.

Kelsey sat in the tattoo artist’s chair, wondering if she could get away with touching herself as they tattooed her. The idea of a line of cocks pointing to her pussy, clarifying that it was the “funhouse” - she couldn’t think of anything that could possibly turn her on more. Surely the artist was able to smell her wetness, surely the stench of her arousal was filling the small parlor ... Her back was about to play host to a collection of naked fortune-tellers, one trying to insert an entire crystal ball into herself. She was adding “SLUT” and “FUCK” to her knuckle tattoos, and altering “BORN” to read “PORN” - for the rest of her life, Kelsey’s hands would advertise her as a “PORN SLUT” and “FREE FUCK”.

The previous day, with her credit cards maxed out, Kelsey had resorted to shoplifting all of the new clothes that she wanted. And while once upon a time, Kelsey had been inconspicuous, the girl with a million tattoos was not - she’d managed to smuggle quite a collection of clothes out before she’d felt the security guard’s hand come down on her shoulder, and though she’d struggled and fought, he’d managed to hold her without effort until the police came.

A small part of Kelsey was beginning to doubt what she was doing. Did she really want these grotesque images adorning her skin for the rest of her life? Did she really want her entire self to be defined by the tattoos?

The only thing that distracted her from the self-doubt was the persistent arousal that she felt from seeing her tattoos, watching the new ones be added. They were somehow soothing, and even the fact that she was starting to realize just how wrong they were was somehow a turn-on in itself.