You stood outside the shop and swallowed to steel your nerves. Metal blared from inside, and though you didn’t mind, it didn’t help the rabbit-fast beating of your heart. Pushing out a shaky breath, you pulled open the door and were greeted by the sound of chimes. The interior was dark with warm spot lighting over the stalls and reception desk. The little wait area had short leather sofas and a cooler of iced chai. The whole place smelled lovely, sandalwood and myrrh curled pleasantly in your nostrils. It was rather relaxing. In a specially built alcove, a white reclining Ganesh statue faced the entrance, its sandstone trunk tilted left. A little bowl of star apple and cut jackfruit sat in front of it. A Jamaican flag adorned one of the walls.

“You gonna keep lookin’ around like you lost, or what?”

The deep, rich voice startled you. You whipped your head around to find a rather large butch giving you an unimpressed stare from behind the counter. Her dark hair was a tousled bob with an undercut, and she had a silver labret between her strong chin and full, dark lips. Her nose was adorned with a silver hoop in one nostril and a jeweled stud in the other. Her tattooed, hairy, brown, muscled arm rested on the mahogany of the table. A sleek prosthetic one rested on her hip. She looked completely in her element, eyes covered in dark eyeshadow, tight ass ripped black jeans, and a muscle tank with no bra that barely left anything to the imagination. 

“Yeah,” you coughed. “I’m here for the 3:00 pm with Sevika?”

The mysterious woman grabbed a clipboard and scrutinized it before scratching off a name.

“Back’s set up for you. Move it or lose it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, then followed as her heavy boots thudded in the empty space. The back was decorated similarly to the front: warm overhead lights, incense burners wafting through the space, and a sterile chair with paper draped over it.

You weren’t afraid of piercings; in fact, you’d spent a rather concerning amount of your paycheck on body mods. Eyebrows, lips, ears, and even nipples. With how used to them you’d gotten, you let your stupid lil’ friends convince you this one would be no different. 

“Pants off whenever you’re ready. Don’t take too long, though. Got a 3:45 right after you.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“Thought you’d get a VCH with ‘em on?” she quipped, turning around and crossing her flesh arm over her prosthetic. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Yeah, that’s what you were here for, but you didn’t think this woman was your piercer.

“You Sevika?” you asked, somewhat incredulously. The piercer raised a perfect brow, answering your question wordlessly.

Your stud bro said it would make topping ten times better, and your fem bestie constantly raved about how great head felt with hers. Their recommendations rang in your ears as Sevika got set up, her back turned to you. Ouu, y’all were gonna have a talk later for sure.

“You alright?” That same deep and heavenly voice brought you out of your head. “Cancellation fee for this one’s pretty low. There’s no pressure, kid.”

You shook your head. You were doing this, dammit. You weren’t scary.

“You mind?” you started, fiddling with the button of your pants. Sevika gave you a crooked smirk, one that made butterflies crash around your gut, before turning around.

Relieved, you eased down your pants, then your ethikas, the cool air of the shop hitting your bush like a shock. You’d trimmed just enough to keep any hair from around the piercing site. You folded them and placed them on a spare bench. Sighing shakily, you climbed up onto the chair, legs spread wide with the mindset of “fuck it, I’m here now”. 

“You can turn around now,” you said, face hot as you pointedly looked away from your fine ass piercer. Sevika, to her credit, said nothing as she sat on the stool next to the medical chair and rolled her side table closer.

“You definitely got the anatomy for it, I’ll give you that,” she praised, her gloved fingers gently checking the hood above your clit by tugging on it and sliding a sanitized Q-tip between the flesh. 

“Thanks, man,” you shuddered, trying to keep from bucking into her touch. You couldn’t ignore how nice the latex felt, nor the pleasant tickle of the cotton. The good lord wasn’t taking this easy on you at all. “This not gon’ hurt too bad… right?”

Sevika laughed as she removed the q-tip and placed it in the bio-waste bin. It didn’t sound mean, just sounded like someone who’d heard that question countless times before. It sounded real pretty, rough with age and probably smoke, but sweet and a little feminine.

That definitely didn’t help.

“Okay, I’m gonna mark it up for you. You got enough length to fit a curved fourteen-gauge here.”

Sevika explained the general procedure to you, her voice reassuring as she sanitized her tools with alcohol wipes and your pussy with surgical wash. You tried not to jump at how the cold air of the studio chilled against you, making you incredibly sensitive. The soft press of the body-safe felt marker against your damp hood was magnified, the tiny fibers sending jolts up your spine. You were so focused on not getting horny that you didn’t notice the question Sevika had asked. You blinked when she called your name again.

“Gold or silver? Price is the same here.”

“Oh, uh, white gold.”

“Good choice,” she chuckled, receiving tube in one gloved hand and fourteen-gauge needle in the other. You couldn’t believe your ears, and your face burned as you lost the battle against the warmth in your hips.

Sevika, to her credit, remained completely professional, not commenting on how your clit twitched. You chanced a glance down and realized what a mistake that was the minute you saw Sevika’s face mere inches away from your lower lips, her strong brows knit in concentration. Mortified, but helpless against your thing for older and alternative women, you felt a small bead of arousal drip along your folds. Humiliation had you short of breath, clutching the armrest for dear life with one hand and biting into your other fist.

“Loosen up, kid, it’s completely normal,” chuckled your piercer, a kind smile curling her lips. You nodded and relaxed a bit, shuddering as you did. “Good job.”

It was so over. You whimpered at the praise and prayed to God she didn’t hear it, or at least mistook it for nerves instead of lust.

“You can be brave for me, right? Deep breaths.”

You sucked in air as the tip of the needle pricked the underside of your hood, your heart rate outpacing the thrashing drums of the metal song in the speakers. In a split second, blinding pain flooded your body.

“Oh, fuck!” you scream, leg kicking out. Sevika dodged it and rubbed at your thigh soothingly as tears ran down your cheek.

“Shh, you did so good. You’re much stronger than you think, kid.”

The immediate praise shot straight to your clit, which twitched proudly against the receiving tube and needle. Sevika worked fast, sliding in your chosen curved barbell immediately and screwing the bottom ball shut. She ran a body-safe wipe over the fresh wound, stopping the blood flow, and you finally slipped up. A moan that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than lust left your lips. It was short, but there was no way Sevika hadn’t heard it.

“Oh?”

You could die.

“I- fuck, man, I ain’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?” Sevika grinned, gap teeth and smiley on display, and this time it was definitely mean. She continued to wipe away the beading blood, but her steely gray eyes never left yours. Her tone practically cornered you as you squirmed, breathless from the pain and how much wetter it made you. “Go on.”

“I didn’t,” you sniffle, eyes still wobbly as more tears came, and your jaw clenched in humiliation. God, your friends were gonna roast your ass for weeks. “Didn’t mean it sexually. Oh my god.”

Sevika stood up, disposing of her gloves and pushing the chair down. Smirking, she bracketed you in with her insanely strong right arm and metal left. Had you not been on the verge of tears (or busting a nut), you would’ve asked for her routine. Your breath caught, and you stared up at her, eyes wide and wet. Here you were, pants-less, panting, and vulnerable, all while your evilly hot piercer leered above you like you were a piece of meat. You liked to believe you had top energy, but right now? You felt like her bitch.

“You sure about that?” the older woman chuckled, shifting her weight onto her prosthetic as she grabbed your face with her flesh hand. “‘Cus that’s perfectly normal too.”

Of course, Sevika knew she was fine. And of course, she just had to make it your problem too. Then, just as suddenly as Sevika had invaded your space (not at all unwelcomingly), she pulled back and grabbed a pamphlet from the cabinets along a wall. She handed it to you as you moved to sit up, dazed.

“Aftercare instructions,” she grunted, that same professional and gruff tone returning. 

You blinked, then laughed a little, tears drying as you accepted the folded paper and finally moved off the chair. You definitely didn’t look at the tiny wet spot you left on the paper. Luckily, Sevika left you to dress in private, and when you finished wincing and hissing your way through pulling up your boxers and buttoning your pants, you waddled awkwardly to the front and slipped out your phone for the tap-to-pay.

“Thanks,” you muttered, too ashamed to meet the grey eyes that pinned you to that chair. You felt yourself yearning to say more, but what? “We straight?”

“Sure thing. Come see me again in 4-8 weeks to check on it, and call if you run into any issues, y’hear?”

“Yeah, jus’ lemme write down the shop number,” you affirmed, and moved to open your phone to type it in your notes when Sevika stopped you with a snort.

“Not that one, kid,” she smirked, jerking her head to the pamphlet in your other hand. You unfolded it and found a different number scrawled inside in Sharpie, and a stupid-ass smile spread across your face.

“Will do.”

You left that shop with pain in your pussy, but your head in the clouds.

Those four weeks passed by slow. Week one hurt like a bitch. You had to be ginger with it; the drag of the washcloth in your shower was your number one enemy. Sometimes, sitting down too hard had you shooting up like someone kicked you right between the legs. Week two was considerably better. You could walk without looking goofy, and patting it dry was a less horrible ordeal. You texted Sevika the less icky details, somehow still embarrassed despite this woman clearly having seen (and touched) your entire business. That, of course, didn’t fly, and she made sure you told her about every detail, only to confirm you were in fact healing properly.

By week three, you barely remembered it was there, and by week four, the site was clear of all crusting or soreness. Being able to touch yourself again felt like an accomplishment worth celebrating. So you ordered yourself some DoorDash, hunkered down over the food with a movie, and washed your hands thoroughly before retiring to your bedroom.

Tucked under the covers, you grabbed your favorite vibe and turned it on before you kicked off your boxers and spread your legs, breath hitching at how wet you already were. You shut your eyes and immediately thought up your favorite scenarios. But unfortunately for you, disembodied faces and voices blended into one person you couldn’t get out of your mind the entire time you healed.

Short dark hair with an undercut. Warm brown skin with a spidery scar crawling up the left side of her body. Beautifully curved nose. Full lips that took no nonsense, praised generously, and teased so well. Powerful corded muscle built over many, many years. And finally… steely grey eyes that saw right through you. 

Sevika had made a permanent home behind your eyelids, rent-free, and invaded your fantasies. And as you brought the vibe to your clit you thought you heard her call your name. Instantly, your hips shot off the bed, and you whined, actually whined, into the dark of your room. You imagined her running long, thick, skilled fingers over your body, praising the muscles you maintained for yourself. You imagined her smiley pressed against your neck as she grinned against it before biting down. You didn’t see it when you visited, but you were sure that if she licked you, a silver ball would graze your flesh. You imagined her powerful form forcing your legs apart and bullying her way between them. Would she be ravenous, eating you until she had her fill and then some? Or would she be slow and methodical, having you on the verge of tears as she denied you the finish line?

You imagined her slutting you out countless ways until you came with a cry, slick running down your thighs. This orgasm felt different than what you were used to, sneaking up on you in half the usual time and forcing actual noises out of you. You lay under your cover boneless for a while before you slapped around on your nightstand for your phone. 

Clicking open Instagram, you shot off a few DMs to your friends telling them how right they were and how eager you were to try it out on some fine shit at the next party you went to. They were up at this hour, of course (gays never sleep), sending you some congratulations and flirting back. You exited the app and almost curled up to mindlessly browse your other socials for hours before you had a change of heart, sighed, and opened your notes app instead. At the top sat a number.

Her number.

You totally weren’t gonna call. Not at this time of night. Didn’t older women typically pass out by nine PM or something? 

But she did say to call once you were healed up. And as your piercer, she should know of any changes immediately… right?

Your thumb hit the number for you anyway, and you swore as it dialed before a rough, sleep-laden voice answered you.

“Ahu di pussyclaat ah call at dis hour?”

Well, that explained the flag in the waiting room. You cleared your throat and offered your name. Her tone changed. She was still a little pissed, but she sounded more awake and asked how you were healing up.

“I think it’s done?” you offer. “There’s no pain, and it’s been clean of anything for like a week. I know you said you wanted me to come by the shop to get it checked, just in case?”

“Swing by tomorrow,” she grunts.

“Great, see you then.”

“But not by the shop.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard me, kid. I’ll send the address, but the choice is yours.”

And with that, Sevika hung up and left you sitting in bed, clutching your phone like she hadn’t just given you the in you were waiting for.

You had some errands the next day, but it was a weekend, and by the afternoon, you sat in your car, in the parking lot of the complex she’d sent you. It looked similar to others in the area, same old faux wood siding, identical balconies, and brown concrete stairs. You shot her a text announcing your arrival, and she sent you the actual apartment number. Sighing, you looked at your backpack, which sat mockingly in the back seat. You reached back and shrugged it onto your shoulders before leaving the car and making your way up the stairs. It didn’t take long to find her door; it was the only one blasting Hot Wuk at full volume.

It only took one knock before that towering woman answered the door and her grey eyes locked onto yours, shimmering with playfulness. Words failed you because if you thought Sevika was hot in the shop, she was fine as fuck here. Her hair fell in her unmade-up eyes, less styled than the last time you’d seen it and damp. Her lips weren’t covered in dark lipstick, her natural, darker brown tint adorning her smirk. She wore a cutoff Slipknot tee that was probably an extra large but still clung to her built frame, and grey sweats that slung low on her hips, giving you a look at her happy trail and the peak of her bush. Her prosthetic was absent, and her flesh hand rested on the door frame, coated in beautifully swirling henna patterns.

Sevika noticed your eyes climbing all over her, drifting to glance at her hand, and smirked. You tried not to squeeze your thighs together at her visible crow’s feet.

“Niece’s mehendi was last week,” she offered, and you nodded dumbly. She chuckled. Raspy, sinful, and dangerous. “Come on in. Let’s get a look at that thing.”

She stepped aside and gestured to her living room, and you crossed the threshold. Instantly, the scent of sandalwood hit your nose, calming and warm. You sighed audibly and removed your shoes before proceeding further inside. In one of the hallways stood a shelf, this time with a brass Sri Ganesha with a small bowl of flowers at its feet and three lit sticks of incense. Sevika led you to what would’ve been the guest room, except it was converted to a small studio, tattoo sketches pinned to the walls, and body mod equipment in organized drawers. A smaller chair, still sterile, sat in the middle, and Sevika jerked her chin towards it before turning around to pull out some gloves and surgical wash.

“Still need me to turn around, shy guy?” she teased.

“Oh, you think you’re funny,” you laughed, setting down your backpack and hooking your thumbs into the pockets of your basketball shorts. Self-consciousness paralyzed you for a but a moment, and you pulled them down, followed by your boxers. Sevika hummed in approval, raising an eyebrow at your newfound confidence.

Sevika’s home wasn’t as cold as the shop, and you thank god as you eased up onto the plastic chair. Your bush stayed neatly trimmed away from your clit, both to show it off and to make healing easier. You weren’t as sensitive as you were in week one, but you still twitched at the smallest stimuli.

“How’s the pain?” Sevika asked, dragging a stool under her and snapping on the glove. “Any additional swelling, pinching, or signs of rejection?”

“Nah,” you answered honestly, inhaling sharply while her long fingers curled around your thigh, pushing for a better look. “Been pain-free for like a week.”

“Any leaking or smells?” she prodded, coating her glove in wash, before dragging one thick index finger up your inner lips and stroking the underside of your clit.

“A-all good in that department,” you grunted, eyes fluttering at the sensation. You silently screamed at yourself to get a grip because that woman barely touched you. “Quit crusting over by week three.”

“Impressive,” she hummed, eyes practically glued to every inch of your pussy. With her thumb and index, she rolled the bud between them. “Have you been intimate since?”

You simultaneously wanted to hump her hand and get swallowed up by a hole in the earth. Why on earth did she have to ask you that?

“No,” you admit, exhaling through your nose. At that, Sevika looked back up, finally remembering you had eyes to make contact with. And she smiled, not like the almost threatening grin she gave you back in the shop, or her lazy smirks, but a real goofy, and seriously endearing smile.

“Good job,” she affirmed, and you shiver. What was it with you and positive feedback from older women? Sevika noticed, of course, because not much got past her, and she barked out a laugh. “You like that? What, you want me to pull you into my lap next and tell you how good you’ve been for me for four weeks?”

You squirmed at the thought, but you weren’t in a rush to leave, so you didn’t deny it. Instead, you rolled your hips against her touch experimentally, biting your lip to suppress the weak-ass whimper that caused.

“What a slut,” the older butch chortled, delighted at how fast you unraveled for her. “Unfortunately for you, closed mouths don’t get fed.”

She pulled her hand away, and you wanted to cuss her stupid in that moment. Sevika guessed as much from the dirty-ass look you shot her, and her countenance changed in a split second, the mean edge back on her face and in her voice.

“You wanna be a brat, go ahead. But that shit won’t get you nowhere with me. I asked you a question. So answer me, do you want me to tell you you’ve been good?”

She didn’t even sound pissed, just firm. She wasn’t spewing venom at you, just a quiet and plain threat that she was almost daring you to let her make good on. The same feeling you experienced in Sevika’s chair nearly a month ago washed over you. Vulnerable and cowed, the humiliation made your face hot and your gut twist. It was almost perverse how easily the condescending order made you wet.

“I do!” you blurted out. “Fuck, I do, I really do, Sevika, I promise.”

“Good job,” she smirked. “Now get up here.”

Sevika patted her lap, and you threw your pride in the trash, practically scrambling onto her thick-ass right thigh and wrapping your arms around her, crashing your lips onto hers. You pushed your tongue past her lips and were met with not one, but two surprises. She gripped you by the back of your neck and laughed into the kiss at how easy you became as her split tongue wrapped around yours. Way better than the silver piercing you imagined last night. You groaned as she sucked your tongue with hers, crushing you against her large titties while you tangled both hands in her hair.

Sevika tasted just like you imagined, but better. Coffee, smoke, and a hint of spice danced on your tongue as it tangled with hers. You couldn’t help yourself, and you rutted your hips against the soft fabric of her sweats and the hard muscle of her thigh, whining into the kiss. The piercing almost had you doubled over in pleasure, causing you to cry louder as it pressed against your fattening clit. Mindlessly, you dragged your hips faster, chasing that sensation over and over. Her grip on your neck tightened, and she pulled you away, lips separating with a wet pop.

“Really?” she groused, feigning disgust. “Humping my leg and leaking on me like some kind of mutt?”

You froze, mortified. You opened your mouth to stammer out an excuse, face hot with shame when Sevika brought her hand to collect your wetness, then pulled it back between the two of you.

“Since you can’t help yourself, get off.”

You felt tears well up at that, but stood up, legs shaky as you awaited your next command from the grey-eyed menace in front of you. She sized you up, eyes roaming all over your body. 

“Shirt. Off.”

Immediately, you whipped that shit over your head and tossed it in some forgotten corner of the “studio”. You only had your sports bra now.

“You comfortable without the bra?” Sevika asked, her mean eyes softening in concern. It reminded you what this was: a game to be enjoyed by the two of you. No matter the stern tone of Sevika’s orders, if you didn’t want it, she wouldn’t push. It also meant she saw you and knew better than to assume what women like you and her wanted in sex.

“No,” you admitted, and she nodded in understanding. “Appreciate the check-in, though.”

Sevika smiled in affirmation, regarding you with some tenderness for just a moment before resuming the act. “Down.”

You obliged without delay, sinking to your knees. Sevika stood up, enjoying the way your eyes fluttered at how she loomed over you. Her hand wrapped around your entire face, and you whimpered softly as she squeezed your cheeks. Then Sevika relinquished her hold on you and slid down her sweats to her ankles. 

Her own bush, though impressive, remained on her outer lips, mound, and thighs, neatly trimmed to frame the beauty of her own pussy. Her clit was massive, the same size as some of your other flings on T. It strained against a horizontal bar spearing through her hood, with cone ends rather than spheres. Drifting down, you noticed her inner lips were longer than the outer ones, and were pierced through with several rings on either side. And she was dripping. Not as wet as you, but just soaked enough that you were surprised it didn’t show up on the grey fabric at all.

Your mouth fell open in awe, drool already pooling at the corners. But you didn’t dare move. Not yet.

“Come.”

You shuffled on your knees until you were between her thighs, her musk wafting down to your face. She smelled so good here, unadulterated sandalwood, and her natural arousal, flooding your senses. You were this close to going stupid in the pussy, and glanced up at Sevika, eyes pleading for a taste.

“Beg.”

“Please, let me eat you out, man. I’m begging you. I need this.”

“Good job,” Sevika praised, and you felt yourself throb, the barbell nudging your jerking clit delightfully. “Knock yourself out.”

Instantly, you brought your hands up her thighs and around her ass. You noticed it walking behind her in the shop, but you finally got to squeeze the pillow soft flesh between your fingers. Confirmation that it was, indeed, fat. You pulled her onto your waiting tongue, licking from hole to clit in one smooth motion. You barely noticed how she bucked in your grasp as you continued to lap at her pussy, parting her lips on your way back up to the fat, nearly three-inch bud crowning it.

Making eye contact, you wrapped your plush lips around it and sucked like it was a Jolly Rancher. Sevika groaned at that, letting out a light laugh at your enthusiasm. She gripped the back of your head, pushing you further into her. Any brain function that didn’t contribute to the sole goal of getting this woman to bust all over your face went out the window. You moved on autopilot, tongue swirling around her clit and dipping into her hole that squeezed around you every time. A mix of her own arousal and your spit drenched her bush and your face. You grunted greedily, as if you tried hard enough, you could suck Sevika dry. Your own hips rocked uselessly onto nothing, and Sevika, bless her heart, took pity on you.

Keeping your head pressed to her pussy, she sat down on the stool again. You followed obediently, not wanting to be separated from your meal for a second. 

And then you felt it. Her calf. Nudging into your clit.

Stars exploded behind your eyes, and you weren’t about to look a gift butch in the mouth. Your hips moved on their own, while you continued to eat, grinding against the unshaven expanse of leg and pressing into the barbell with reckless abandon.

“God, you’re pathetic,” Sevika laughed, as you whined into her pussy, eyes heavily lidded. “You lucky you eat me out so well. Probably the only thing you’re good for, huh?”

You meweled at that, hands now braced on Sevika’s thighs as you continued to make a mess between them. You sucked each ring piercing her lips and watched carefully as she swore into the air. You groaned into her pussy, observing how she shook above you, the grip on your head tightening. And finally, to top it off, you sucked that big old clit right back in your mouth, tongue lolling around it and lips sealing it in.

That broke Sevika, and she came against your face with a shout, humping it as her clit popped from your mouth and bumped your nose. Her lips dragged against yours, smearing your jaw further with her cum. And when she finally settled, having marked your mouth, throat, and nose, she looked down at you, her expression something close to positively impressed. When she stopped shuddering and pulled your face away, she noticed you hadn’t stopped rubbing your pussy on her leg. The wet patch on it only grew and began to puddle on the floor.

“Good job,” Sevika sighed, leaning down to kiss your face. She licked up the mess she’d made of you, independently moving both ends of her tongue, and you moaned back into her mouth, whining as your hips sped up. You were getting close. “Heel.”

You groaned in protest but cut it out, hips stilling. Your clit throbbed with denial, and you tried to give Sevika the most begging eyes you could manage.

It didn’t work.

“Quit whining like a damn dog and I’ll give you something even better, alright?”

You nodded. You could do that much.

“Up. Follow me,” Sevika ordered, rising on wobbly legs and stretching as she strode down the hall to her bedroom and opened the door for you. You followed close behind, eyes on the way her ass moved, unencumbered. Inside the room, a normal bed with a headboard and a single nightstand waited for you. Band and artist posters as well as pin-ups decorated the walls, and a dresser with a record player sat beneath a mirror. There were a couple of towels on top of a table at the foot of the bed, water, and rags with a pitcher of warm water next to it.

“Damn, girl,” you chuckled. “You pullin’ out all stops for me?”

Sevika shook her head and smiled. “I don’t play about aftercare, kid. When I take you apart, I put you back together.”

You were touched. Sure, you expected your partners to have a general level of care for you, but you weren’t as strict as you could be with the last few. 

“Thanks,” you whispered. And Sevika grunted in acknowledgement before pointing to the center of the bed with her thumb. You crawled onto the duvet and looked up at her for direction. She climbed on after you and pushed you on your back. The larger woman straddled you, her pussy just a few rolls of her hip away from yours. You looked back at her face, a fanged grin on display as she grabbed the hem of her tee and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion.

Once again, you found yourself struck for words, and you just nodded, mouth agape, because her breasts were all you could focus on. It was a pretty pair, hanging in your face teasingly. Her areolas were large and dark, and her nipples stood proud against the air. A pair of spike piercings ran through them, purple steel rather than silver. You could see stretch marks stripe the top curves, like tiger patterns. On her left tit, the tissue near what would’ve been her armpit was thick with the same scars that ran down her ribs and up her neck. Aside from the network of scarring, they looked soft, and you yearned to touch them. They looked heavy, and you were tempted to offer to hold them for her. In your mouth.

“Can I?” you asked, mouth already falling open as you struggled to maintain eye contact. Sevika laughed and practically shoved her tits in your face. Geekin’, you reached up and grabbed them, gently at first. They were soft. You gave them a squeeze, not too rough, but still firm. Sevika moaned, the same raspy, guttural ones she’d let out all afternoon, while you tweaked both nipples with your thumbs.

“Fuck, you’re good at this, kid,” the older butch sighed, pushing her chest into more of your touch. She groaned when you wrapped your lips around one dusky bud, teasing it between your teeth and laving over it with your tongue. “God, you really are a slut, I was right.”

You whimpered around a mouthful of tit, migrating to the left side. You experimentally laved over the scars and smiled as she whined at that. Your hips twitched underneath her, and Sevika groaned, remembering you still hadn’t gotten your nut, and regretfully pushed at your head. You popped off, drooling as you stared up at her, eyes blown. She suddenly rolled you on top of her. You yelped as Sevika then wrapped her forearm around your waist and dragged you up to sit on her collarbones.

“Oh, shit!” you exclaimed, arms shooting out to keep from smacking face-first into the headboard. “You can’t warn me next time?”

“Nope,” she grinned, popping the p, and brought you to her mouth before dragging her bifurcated tongue along your pussy.

You whined at the contact, left leg twitching uselessly in her grip as Sevika showed you how a real eater got down. She was equal parts measured and ravenous, insistently pressing the flats of her tongue into your most sensitive spots while drooling uncontrollably into you. When your eyes rolled back down, you noticed how gone she was, eyes closed and mouth basically vacuum-sealed to you while you rut against her face in her grip. She grunted into your pussy rhythmically, almost like she was possessed, but still somehow controlled. It wasn’t until her greedy mouth made its way up to your clit, both tips wrapped around it like a vice, and jerking up and down, that you realized how wild she really could get. One loud, keening cry from you was all it took as the old butch moaned around your clit, vibrating not just the flesh, but the barbell as well. She practically snarled, digging her fingers into the fat at your hips and ate you out like a woman starved.

“Ouu- fuck, right there,” you sobbed, wiggling your hips down onto her face sloppily, as this woman made out with your lower half. Like last time, your high snuck up on you and you let out a strangled cry before you seized up, teeth clenching and body convulsing as you growled your way through the aftershocks. You thought you’d get some peace after that, body drained from the strength of an orgasm like that, but she just… kept. Fucking. Going. “Sevika, wait!”

It was no use, and that destructive tongue bullied you into a second orgasm, your pussy leaking uncontrollably from the onslaught. You dug your left hand into her hair, unsure whether to drag her off or keep her there. Then she got a third out of you, only needing to push one thick finger in before you came around it, shaking like a leaf. When you squeezed down on her head with your thighs, begging her to finally give you some mercy, she eased you onto your back and continued to ruin you. You were pretty sure you could hear colors at this point, overstimulation buzzing in each of your limbs. You’d cum back to back before, your previous record being five in one night. But you couldn’t tell if it was the new piercing or Sevika’s unique tongue that had you feeling like jelly and your brain buzzing with static, because either way, just cumming once had you completely spent. You couldn’t remember how you’d ever gotten off before this.

It wasn’t much longer before her tongue slowed, more soothing than hungry, and she eventually came up for air, face soaked in her own drool and you. Through blurry eyes, you gazed down as she came back up, dipping her face down to yours. You closed your eyes, expecting a kiss, then opened them in shock as she growled:

“Tongue. Out.”

You obeyed without delay and flinched as she spat a glob of your own cum and her spit into your waiting mouth. Your face burned with more than exertion, that curdle of humiliation stinging the corners of your eyes again as you held it in your mouth.

“Swallow.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow the heady command and whined as it made its way down your throat, a thin whimper leaving your lips once it did. You stuck your tongue back out to show her how you followed her order, the need for praise burning in your blood.

“Good job.”

You groaned before hiding your face in your hands and rolling on your side. You were practically numb between the legs, soaked in sweat, and your mind so fogged with satisfaction you couldn’t speak. Sevika eased her weight on top of you, comforting and grounding as she wrapped her right arm around you. You didn’t know how long it was before you returned to yourself, but when you did, you huffed out a laugh.

“That was ode,” you chuckled, scrubbing your hands down your face. The older butch furrowed her eyebrows as she looked down at you. You rolled your eyes. “Insane. It was insane, Sevika.”

She smiled and lay down next to you, wrapping her arm around you. You couldn’t deny this had panned out much better than you thought. And though you were genuinely content to let your eyes close for a good night’s rest, you didn’t know how long or short this would continue. So you sat up, voice hoarse, legs stiff, and pussy still leaky.

“So is this like, a regular thing?” you asked, propping your elbow on your knee and wrapping the other around your calf. “‘Cuz I’m cool if it is or not, no hard feelings or ‘nun.”

“I don’t do riddles, kid,” she scoffed, unfazed by your backhanded question. “I like the way you scream for me, and you’re hot. If you wanna come back and get your guts rearranged, call me.”

You smiled. One thing about older women, they definitely didn’t play games. “I will.”

“But if you call at one in the fucking morning again, I’ll make it so you can’t sit right for a month.”

“Noted.”

When you felt like you could move a little more, she rubbed out your aches and cleaned off your face and thighs. Then she spooned you from behind and let you fall asleep for an hour before it got too dark. Sevika sent you out with a thermos of masala chai, more care instructions for the piercing, a container of dal bhat, and the command to call her when you got back safe.

When you got home to your own apartment around seven, you shot off a text to Sevika along with a selfie of you tucking into the rice and laughed when she reminded you to bring the tupper back on your next visit. You, of course, made a beeline for your group chat and divulged all the juicy details, much to your friends’ mortification and delight. And when you finally hit your own mattress for the night, you found yourself planning out your next mod. Maybe this time, it would be a tattoo.