Phoenyx: Flesh & Fire

by Morgana Blackrose

  “I’m just in love with the whole idea,” I explained. “And just imagine the reaction when I unveil that lot on stage at the Klub for the first time.”

  “Where do you want this tattoo anyway?”

  “Across my back. Shoulders, neck, down my spine.”

  “Holy shit. You do realize that’s going to hurt like hell.”

  “Pain’s temporary. If it’s something I really want – I’ll put up with anything. I remember how I felt the first time I tried to walk in stilettos. My feet felt like they’d been put through a mangle afterwards. But I stuck at it, because I knew it’d be worth it one day.”

  “And look where it got you. All the way to the Kitty Klub, and by extension, all the way to Tokyo, with a fucked-up freak like me. Funny the meandering journeys that life takes at times, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t put yourself down,” I scoffed. “It’s only Petra who’s scared of you. She’s intimidated, that’s all. Being a tight little Catholic and all that.”

  “Hm, well. She’s says ‘fuck’ a lot, but I don’t think she gets too much of it. Maybe she just needs a good hard one in the ass to straighten her out. How would that go down with Bruno, now that he’s got his XXX license?”

  “I don’t know if he was planning on extending our repertoire,” I smiled. “I think he was only trying to keep your ass out of the gutter, and his out of court. But maybe we can ask him when we get back.”

  “I do kind of like that idea, y’know. I think me and you could make an amazing show. Probably the best in town.”

  “I know we could. But let’s sleep on that one, too – I’m not sure if I want to share you in public yet.” I stood up and swung my bag over my shoulder. “Shall we go find Johnny?”

  She led me by the hand through the streets back into the little alley with its shiny white shop front at the end, which now looked so welcoming and enticing. This was it, I thought; this was the place where something exciting and magical would happen for me very soon. I felt the same way I did when I first entered the Kitty Klub all those years ago – I couldn’t define it, I just knew that I wanted to be there, and that was because I also needed to be there. It simply had to be done.

  A couple of sharp-dressed men in black suits and sunglasses came out and pushed past us as we approached, causing Honey to look back at them as they turned off onto the main thoroughfare.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Yakuza,” she said cryptically.

  “Huh?”

  “Crime syndicate boys. They like their ritual tattoos. Don’t mess with them.”

  I laughed, convinced that she was just bullshitting me. “I don’t mess with anyone I don’t know, Honey. Not unless they’re offering me something hot and tasty, anyway.”

  She grabbed a handful of my ass cheek and pinched me, kindling memories of Mrs. Groenenberg’s crop.

  “Yeah I know. Good job I’m keeping my eye on you or God knows who or what you might end up with. And I don’t just mean a bad dose of the clap either.”

  I managed a crumpled smile, still unsure how seriously I should take her sarcastic commentary on my life. I knew it was nothing personal, like Mrs. Groenenberg’s abuse, and in a way, perhaps, I rather enjoyed it.

  We entered the empty shop to find Johnny sitting behind the desk, sketching on a pad, moving gently to an old Scorpions song.

  “What’s up, Johnny?” Honey sang, “Been falling behind on your protection money again?”

  He glanced up, his look of concentration melting at the sight of us.

  “Oh, the suits? They were just passing through. They were looking for someone I inked a while back, that was all – someone who’s in some very deep shit.” He pushed his pad out of sight and stood up as I approached. “So, you want something else pierced today?”

  “No, I want a tattoo.”

  “Ah. Still wanting the firebird?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, it’s a complex one. All that shading - it’ll take a while. More than one session. You’ll need to come back, perhaps two times.”

  I shrugged. “As long as it looks great by the end of it.”

  “No, it will look really great.”

  Honey slapped me on the shoulder. “You have fun, babe. I’m going to go shop for some nice things.”

  “Aw, you don’t need to…” I started, but she was already back out the door.

  Johnny led me through into the back shop.

  “She’s such a bird,” he said, “always fluttering off without notice. I never thought she would ever come back to see me again, all that distance; and yet, she did. And brought me a wonderful surprise, too.” He smiled right at me, and I smiled back, feeling warm and flattered again.

  He sat down on the chair and started doing things with little pots of ink and the big shiny needle gun. I perched on the edge of the couch and inhaled the smell of antiseptic. I tried not to think of school-time accidents and visits to the hospital.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “The ink is ready. Now I just need the skin.”

  I turned around and pulled my top up over my head, and dropped it back on the couch. He did a good job of looking me in the eye as my tits hung out to dry, but then it wasn’t the first time he’d seen them. The needle gun buzzed on and off again in his hands.

  “How are the rings behaving? Treating them well?”

  “Very well,” I said, and only then did he look down, perhaps to check that they hadn’t gotten infected and fallen off already. “Honey’s been helping, too.”

  “Do you take your clothes off in public a lot?” he asked as I stretched out.

  I fluttered a bit at that. “You can tell?”

  “Yes. The ease and confidence was obvious. Most people, women especially, are shy and careful about doing this in front of a stranger.”

  “I’ve made my living from taking all my clothes off in front of strangers,” I said as I settled down, face-down on the couch. It was black and soft and felt like a doctor’s examination couch, which is what it probably was. The room filled with that light buzzing sound again as he tested the ink flow a few times.

  The initial contact with the needle made me flinch. It felt like a mild burn, but after a short while I’d become used to it. The radio was playing more hits by the Scorpions, and then I realized it was actually a cassette player.

  “You like this music then?” I asked.

  “I love rock music. I saw these guys live in the Budokan. Best show I ever saw.”

  As it went on, the needle started to play across my spine, jabbing little sensations of strange pleasure into my brain. I couldn’t resist a furtive feel of my new piercings, and the shudder that ran through my nerves almost made me twitch. I chewed on a finger while I tweaked the ring with my other hand, out of sight, I hoped.

  But there was something undeniably erotic about having my naked skin poked and jabbed by a true artist, leaving his mark forever upon me. I couldn’t help the release of a soft groan as I thought about the finished product, spread across my back as I turned to show it to my next audience for the first time. They would be amazed.

  “The ink I use is magical,” he said suddenly.

  “Magical?” I repeated, sure he had mis-translated something.

  “It binds body and soul. Artist and wearer. It is like holy togetherness, when all become one. Communion. The design you are having is a very potent symbol. A fairy bird of rebirth.”

  I nodded. “Yes, it means a lot to me. That’s why I chose it.”

  “It will be even more magical when it’s done. I promise you that.”

  I couldn’t be bothered asking him to explain his quasi-mystical magical nonsense. If it worked for him and made him do a better job, then great.

  I had actually started to doze off when I felt something on my lower back, not the needle, for that was still higher up, somewhere under my shoulder blades. This was caressing my spine, and running soft points of pressure into the muscles at the top of my ass.<
br />
  The feeling was intense and beautiful, and with my eyes still shut, I started touching that ring again. I loved how it made me tingle, made my nipples harden bigger and more erect than they’d ever been before. This was really an experience worth paying for, I thought, when I felt what was definitely a hand sliding over my ass, very slowly and gently, tracing the rounded contour down to the top of my thigh and then back again.

  “Don’t tell me you do massage as well,” I said dreamily.

  “I can do many things. I’m sure Honey will tell you about most of the really interesting ones.”

  “Like bondage,” I tried.

  The buzzing continued, and the hand worked my bottom harder. Something told me I wanted more of this exquisite attention I was receiving. I parted my legs a little and pushed my ass up into the air. His fingers crept underneath the waistband of my skirt and gently pulled it down, exposing my bare flesh. He tugged the skirt further away, all the way down to my knees, leaving me naked and vulnerable. With burning excitement running through me like electricity, I drew one leg up, the knee up to my chin, and whipped the skirt aside.

  His rubber gloved hand on my left buttock with a gentle smack.

  “Hmm, do that again,” I purred. He did, again and again.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. One hand tugging on my nipple ring, I slid the other underneath and started to touch myself, stroking my labia and feeling my warmth.

  Then I felt other fingers there beside my own, and the buzzing stopped. I twisted my head around to look. He placed the tattoo gun aside and peeled off his gloves.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t apologies,” I said. I sat up on the side of the couch and spread my legs, hands on my thighs and licking my lips as I waited for what he’d do next.

  He walked back to the door and went through. I was just beginning to feel disappointed when I heard the music volume increase – The Zoo with its deep thumping beat, and then he was back through, and locking the door behind him.

  “You can’t lie on your back yet,” he told me. “The ink...”

  I nodded, chewing my lip as I stroked my clitoris and tugged on that ring. He hit a light switch and the room turned to red from cold white.

  “Do you do private things like this in your job back home?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not a hooker. I’m a stripper. I only do this for love, not money.”

  That made him smile. I was beginning to love that smile. I turned around and leant over the couch, pushing my ass up at him. The couch was a perfect height to bend over. I spread my legs and buried my face deep in the vinyl cushions, inhaling the smell of my own sweat and sexual juices.

  I heard a zip open and then I felt him, his cock head teasing the outer lips. Then the needle gun started up again, and as he slid gently inside me, inch by inch, I felt almost ready to gush. The needle pricked me in the back and I squealed.

  “How...” I gasped, “How will you...”

  “I can stay inside you for hours. I can ink at the same time. It’s such small movements; it won’t matter if we go gently.”

  “Oh my fucking God,” I moaned. “For...hours?”

  “I did say it would take a while.”

  “I’m almost ready to cum,” I whined.

  “Good. Then you should be dry by the time I’m finished. And we can have wine, and start over again.”

  This went on for God knows how long, the slowest, most gentle fuck ever. He felt like a machine, never varying his rhythm, keeping me perpetually on the edge.

  Then I heard a clink behind me. I looked up, startled, and there stood Honey in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a huge grin pasted on her face.

  “Uh?” I gasped. “How did you…”

  She lowered her shades in that self-consciously sexy way of hers, peering at me from over the black lenses. “Johnny gave me the key to this place last time,” she said. “I have an open invitation.” She ran her eyes over us both. “And this looks very much like a party worth crashing, if you don’t mind.”

  She locked the door behind her and strolled over to the bench, stretching her Lycra miniskirt as she moved. I could already see the hard bulge forming under it, long before she pulled the hemline up and that now very familiar girl-cock slapped out of her G-string and onto the bench in front of me.

  “Shall we?” Johnny asked, urging my ass back into action with a slap to both cheeks. I gripped Honey’s rapidly extending prick in my hands and looked up into her eyes.

  “We shall,” I grinned, and pressed that cock to my lips as Johnny began to squeeze into me again, inch by inch, pushing me further onto Honey as he did so.

  “I put the sign in the door to read closed,” Honey said while I swallowed her extending length. “I don’t think you’ll be doing any more work tonight, Johnny.”

  “How could I, when I have my best and sexiest customers?”

  “Better not cum too hard, Phoenyx,” she told me, “or you’ll end up with a zigzag dotted over your back.”

  “Give me some credit,” Johnny argued. “I’m a professional.”

  She leaned in tight against Johnny and rubbed her hand over his neck. “Told you you’d love her, didn’t I?” she said, with a grin in my direction.

  “I know you well,” he said. “You have perfect taste.”

  Honey smacked her lips. “Oh yeah. And she tastes perfect, believe me.” She dumped a couple of shopping bags up on the workbench. “I found some things for tonight,” she explained. “You’re not doing anything, are you, Johnny?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing that wouldn’t involve the pair of you. Maybe we could hit the Club Electric.”

  “Oh yeah,” Honey squeaked. “You’ll love that place, Phoenyx. And then, afterwards...” she looked over at Johnny and licked her lips. “What about it, babe?”

  He smiled broadly at that.

  “Yes,” he said. “Afterwards, indeed.”

  She patted her shopping bags and their secret contents. “And then we get to play with toys.”

  The first thought that crossed my mind was that Honey had gone shopping for Barbie dolls and model cars, but the leer across her face told me otherwise. Sometimes I felt very stupid for someone of my age, and often wondered how long I could go on blaming that on all my early life having been spent in the country.

  It was a good job I had a mouthful of Honey at the time; that stopped me from saying anything too dumb that might just have gotten me laughed at. Besides, between that, the needle in my spine and the cock in my pussy, I had much more important things to think about at that moment.

  After three solid hours of inking, sucking and fucking, I was left drained and sagged over the couch, a dry and empty skin.

  “Well sometimes I surprise even myself,” Johnny said. “I actually finished that firebird in a single session.” He summoned Honey to his side. “What do you reckon?”

  “Johnny babe, I think you’ve surpassed even your own astronomical standards. That’s a good couple of hundred bucks worth of anyone’s money, even mine.”

  “No charge, please,” he groaned. “What do you take me for? I do favors for favors.”

  Honey slapped my ass. “You can get up now. You want to see this thing. It’ll make your eyeballs burn.”

  I rolled on to my side on the couch, dripping and glistening in sweat. With a cock in me at each end and a needle gun all over my spine, I felt that I must have reached the pinnacle of sexual pleasure. I also felt more arid inside than the Gobi desert.

  “I need a drink,” I croaked.

  “Jeez, I’ve just finished pumping half a pint of cream down your throat,” Honey laughed. “What more do you want?”

  “I think the lady may appreciate some wine, or similar refreshment,” Johnny said as he brought mirrors over to the couch. He held one and Honey took the other one so I could see my own back in the reflection.

  And then I gasped.

  It looked even more magnificent on my skin than it had
on paper.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped. “I can’t believe how beautiful this is.”

  “I made a special effort,” Johnny said. “You’re worth it. Now take it back to Berlin and tell everyone that Johnny Iko in Tokyo did that with magical ink.”

  “Sure, pal. And they’ll all come flooding to your door,” Honey scoffed. “But yeah, at least you’ll have a walking, dancing advert for your skills on the other side of the world.”

  Johnny opened a cupboard door and pulled out a box of medical things. “I need to cover it up now, at least for tonight. Standard health and safety procedure.”

  He bound my back with surgical tape and dressings to soak up any residual blood, but I wasn’t just suffering a delayed reaction – I actually felt nothing. No pain, no discomfort. Perhaps, I thought, I might even ask him for another one, some day.

  Having cleaned ourselves up at Johnny’s little sink in the shop; we went on to the Club Electric for the promised drinks. It was incredible, just as Honey had suggested. There were people dressed as androids dancing mechanically in shimmering neon cages, suspended by industrial strength chains from the ceiling, and the whole interior looked like something out of a science fiction film – somewhere between Clockwork Orange and Blade Runner. It made the Kitty Klub look like a grandmother’s boudoir in comparison.

  The Club Electric was in another dimension altogether. I looked around at the thick brickwork, covered in glow-in-the-dark graffiti, the tubular steel and mesh walkways and supports, and it began to nourish ideas in my mind of suggestions I might make to Bruno when we got back. Not so much permanent renovations to the club, but stage design.

  Johnny returned with drinks as we settled into a corner table facing the stage, on which two men and two women were frolicking in some stylized, choreographed fashion. He pointed out the more muscular of the two males. “I know of this guy. He’s a mangaka for a big art studio, and a friend of mine once inked a dragon tattoo for him that he designed.”

  As if to confirm this, one of the women ripped open his shirt and revealed what was clearly a full-color Oriental dragon, flying across his chest.