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muttered
under her breath, but Chad heard her as she repositioned his arm. She had the
area prepped in seconds.
    He ignored Troy, put a serene smile on his face and looked
at the mural painted on the domed area above their heads. An Italianate
rendition of Diana. It seemed out of place for a dungeon, and he was pretty
sure that was the correct terminology for where they were. He looked away,
watching Becca protect her delicate hands with a pair of black latex gloves
before opening her ink. Her fingers touched his skin, stroked the area she
intended to place the design. The gesture seemed to calm her because her
fingers were no longer shaking. She placed the transfer down and patted it
firmly into place.
    Chad, on the other hand, was wondering if she could see the
blood pumping through the vein in his neck. He was growing tired of having
Herzog look at him as if he might be a tasty treat, and Troy the Asshole glaring
at him from a shadowy area to the right. Maybe the dude had done something to
displease his Master and wasn’t allowed up there with the rest of them. Chad
would ask him that if the need to incite the guy’s anger was required.
    “I’m using a white ink that, when done properly, won’t leave
even the faintest of marks,” Becca said. “Inferior ink as well as an
inexperienced artist is the combination for noticeable failure. Troy said you
have quite the light display. That will only help accentuate the finished product.”
    “I’ve been assured it’s the best system on the East Coast.
Rivals the clubs on South Beach and in the Village.” Chad heard the pride
reflected in Herzog’s voice.
    “Then light it up,” Becca said.
    The room was thrust into darkness and Chad felt the gentle
brush of Becca’s hand against his, but only for a moment. An eerie glow
reminiscent of the black-light poster area of the head shops from his college
days filled the room and Chad blinked against the harshness.
    “That’s not going to work,” Becca said quickly. “I’ll use
mine. Go ahead and kill those and put the regular lights back on.” Chad watched
her pull an extendable light head out of the second drawer of her case. She
clipped it onto the edge of the drawer, screwed in a bulb and spun the knob behind
the metal shade that helped focus the light in one place. She moved her leg and
the tattoo gun began to hum.
    “Have you been together long?” Herzog asked.
    “Long enough,” they answered in unison, but neither smiled.
Or yelled “jinx” like they usually did.
    “Reeeeeally?” Herzog drew the word out, his skepticism
evident.
    A fight-or-flight sensation washed over Chad. Becca hadn’t
even started and all he wanted was for them to get the hell out of there. Send
that text. Let it be known they were all right. But she was focusing. Ready to
start.
    “I really can’t wait to see the level of connection I’m
assuming you two have. Tattooing, I’m told, is very similar to a D/s session.
Does she sense your pain before you actually react to it? I’ll bet she does and
then automatically backs off. But she doesn’t quite give complete relief, does
she?”
    Chad remained stone-faced. What the man had described was
exactly how his previous tattoo had gone down. The outline had been painful, he
knew that going in. But he wasn’t a pussy. He would have never asked for a
break. But he hadn’t needed to. Becca had been as in tune as Herzog suggested.
    “It’s amazing she can do that, considering you’ve mastered,
no pun intended, your external reactions. It so much easier when the face
contorts or the body flinches. Of course, I’m well versed at discerning signs.
I believe you’d give any good Dom a run for their money.”
    Chad wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. Either
way, it creeped him the fuck out.
    “But you,” Herzog continued, turning toward Becca. “Ah, my
dear, the things I could teach you. Perhaps you’d prefer part of your fee in
cash and the rest in the form of