Saffron’s Birthday Gift: The tattoo

Saffron’s upcoming trip to New York falls close to her birthday so we, me and her girlfriend Jessica, plan on making this an extra special visit. In the years Saffron has been under my tutelage s/he has grown immensely. We have laid a foundation of trust and openness that has fostered her desire to explore her gender bending and fetish appetite more deeply. Her needs are very unique, more extreme than most.
 
This upcoming visit, unbeknownst to Saffron, will be a great gift, fulfilling one of her most powerful desires: to be permanently marked. Until now I have given Saffron henna tattoos that lasted a bit over a week, a temporary nipple piercing, a scalpel scar that lasted about 6 months, and a Prince Albert piercing. This piercing, a milestone for Saffron, could still be removed. She wanted permanent, no way to hide it, to ever deny she was owned. It took a lot of time before I was convinced a permanent mark would be appropriate. I had to know it would not be regretted, that it would not be something that negatively impacted Mark in his day to day life.
Saffron is ready and I am ready for the responsibly that comes with it.
Saffron always dreamed about being owned so completely that she is branded by her Mistresses. A scarification, a tattoo, a fire brand, it did not matter as long as it was forever. She has often talked about her hopes and dreams of the ceremony . She would have big breasts, she would be in her high heels, she would be inescapably bound, she would be in an altered state, she would be in a place of complete surrender. These images and needs run deep in her core and she desperately wants them fulfilled.
Knowing it was Saffron’s birthday, I felt a permanent mark, a tattoo, would be the most meaningful gift she could get. I discussed it at length with Jessica and she agreed. The decision was made. Now, two more key elements had to be addressed. First was finding a tattoo artist; this was not going to be easy. The artist had to not only be skilled and available on very short notice (Saffron was arriving in 7 days), but they also had to be OK with and understanding to the particulars of the environment. They had to be willing to come to my studio and tattoo a woMAN helplessly tied, who is in chastity and wearing high heels. I knew I was asking a lot. Thank goodness all my years of collecting tattoos and becoming close with the body modification community allowed me a vast pool of resources. After many phone calls and texts, I was able to secure a kink friendly artist willing to adjust his schedule (offering more than generous short notice gratuity). He also happened to be exceptionally talented, working out of a tattoo parlour known for inking many famous bodies.
With the artist confirmed, next came the design, size, and placement. Jessica and I go back and forth throwing around ideas, trying to find something both simple yet meaningful; a representation of our unique relationship. Finally my idea and her design came together to make a collar shaped like the letter “s”, Slut Slave Saffron collared for her Mistresses. It was perfect.
The crux of the visit was set, now it was time to plan the rest; when will we start, how will I start, what is the timing and flow leading up to Gerald’s (the tattoo artist) arrival, what supplies will I need, what assignments will Saffron have in the days prior, what will Jessica and I wear, what will Saffron wear, what alternates can be in place in case things don’t come together? I get to thinking, ensuring all is sketched out of over the next several days.
-Her Arrival-
Saffron has been locked in her chastity for three days. The cage is steel and her Prince Albert piercing ring is replaced with the cage lock. Saffron must go through airport security locked in metal prepared to explain her situation. The only key is secured in a small combination safe that Jessica and I have the code to. Once the chastity goes on and the piercing lock is closed the key gets locked away and Saffron cannot access it. Undeniably owned.
Her flight is due to arrive at 8 AM. When she lands an email will be waiting in her inbox with very specific instructions. Saffron must check into the hotel, drop off her bags and head to her storage unit to retrieve her black patent leather high-heeled pumps, white cable knit dress, triple F breast forms and bra (a custom fitted bra for her natural breasts), makeup, purse, and her other custom made steel wrist cuff. She always wears one, ever since Jessica clasped it onto her wrist a year ago and it’s never come off. I like to think of it as the BDSM version of the Cartier love bracelet, with a comparable price tag. These two cuffs are custom made with hidden D-rings that can be popped out of the cuff, turning them from ordinary looking bracelets to a pair of shackles. She is also to retrieve her collar that matches the cuffs with the same hidden ring that turns “necklace” to collar. This custom bondage jewelry is designed with semi-permanent locks. Once on they can only be removed with a special pin key. Saffron can not remove them on her own, Jessica and I are the key holders; we are her only way out. They make permanent lock versions but Saffron, or should I say Mark, is not ready for that.
The email instructions continue, telling her to go back to the hotel, have some breakfast and take a nap before heading to the nail salon to get long red nail extensions and a pedicure with the same color. After her nails are done she is to return to the hotel and meet the makeup artist. Once her makeup is done to perfection she is instructed to put on the dress with her huge breast forms, carry the clutch purse and wear the black pumps to meet Jessica for lunch at her favorite Soho restaurant. Jessica will pull out a padlock during lunch and make sure Saffron has to navigate eating with her wrists padlocked together. Saffron is in no way passable, even in dress, professional makeup, wig and artificial breasts. She is 6’4″ barefoot and built like a slightly out of shape linebacker. In her heels she is a towering 6’10”, with broad shoulders and an inability to hide her deep voice. Jessica and I have gotten Saffron to accept the fact that she will never pass, to be comfortable in herself, and to go out without her wig (which is part security blanket and part headache inducing inconvenience). After multiple outdoor excursions with either Jessica or I, and building levels of female attire, she is now comfortable enough to to saunter around town fully dressed and on her own; big breasts sawing and high heels clicking away. She is Saffron in these moments, no shame, no confusion, and no apologies. It has been true growth and the most liberating feeling. Saffron no longer needs (but of course enjoys) being hooked at the elbow by her Mistress as she walks the streets. I am so proud walking with her, she is confident, exudes happiness, and I think we make quite the couple. New York is her safe place. The city affords her that. The anonymity, the concrete jungle filled with so many exotic creatures no one ever takes time to notice.
The instructions continue telling Saffron to return after lunch in order to freshly shave her entire body- her arms, legs, back, and groin; everything except her chest. Saffron undergoes routine laser hair removal treatments and electrolysis but it is a long process. The email concludes, telling Saffron to arrive at my studio at 6pm.
The day goes exactly as planned, the flight was on, with no traffic issues, appointments all started on time, and no wait for lunch. It’s so nice when things go according to plan.
Jessica arrives to my studio shortly before Saffron and she tells me lunch went well. Saffron was dressed and dolled up and had followed all the instructions. She loved being locked at the wrist in public, for everyone to see. Proud to be owned, proud to be slave Saffron. Jessica and I change into matching low-cut lace bodysuits she bought for us. She knows Saffron loves the look of low cut apparel. We both compliment the outfit with knee high PVC boots, another favorite of Saffron’s. I have spent the afternoon preparing the studio, and now, everything is set.
The doorbell rings at 6 PM on the dot. Saffron had learned from past mistakes that arriving 1 minute before or 1 minute after was not acceptable. I hear her heels echoing through the empty hallway, up the stairs. She arrives to my door in full makeup, wearing the 6″ high black patent pumps, white knit dress, purse, red nails and toes, wrist cuffs, collar, and of course chastity, just as instructed.
We let Saffron sit; walking in heels like those is not comfortable for anyone. We give her a few moments to soak in the studio environment and her Mistresses outfits. She loves them and asks permission to take a photo so she can remember how we look with the dungeon backdrop. After posing for a few photos we sit and talk for a bit. I have not seen Saffron for over a month and I wanted to catch up. It’s also a great way to pick up on any particular mood (is she anxious, eager, stressed, etc.). I like to know my slave’s head space before we start. From our conversation I can tell she is happy, excited and eager. The ease of today’s timing has her feeling very relaxed.
I command her to get up and undress for her Mistresses slowly and sensually, putting on a bit of a show. She stands in her high heels and begins to give us a striptease. Grabbing the bottom of her white dress and slowly pulling it up and over her shaved thighs, then up to her waist exposing her chastity, then over her stomach and giving it an extra tug and shimmy to get the dress over her large breasts. She gives the dress a bit of a twirl before tossing it on the chair.
“Now the bra”
Saffron turns and faces her back toward us, she reaches behind and grabs her bra clasp. She shakes her hips from side to side as she unhooks her bra. She bends forward arching her back, sticking out her shaved ass, letting the straps slide off her shoulders and the bra with its heavy breast forms landing in the chair in front of her.
“Now shake your ass all the way to the bathroom and put in your contacts. When you are done knock on the door.”
On the sink counter is a pair of black blind eye contacts. They will keep her from seeing anything at all. No light can penetrate, there can be no accidental peeping. Unlike a blindfold that can move or shift, or a hood that can get too hot or restrictive, the contacts ensure total darkness and comfort.
Moments later there is a knock on the bathroom door. Jessica and I open it taking Saffron by the arms and guide her to my gynecological table. Laying down on her back I lift her feet and guide her stilettos through the leg stirrups ensuring she will be spread eagle and exposed. Red leather belts secure her arms into place. The only hair left on her body is her chest. I left it purposefully; I wanted to shave that myself. I wanted her to feel my hands removing the hair, forcing the femininity as she is spread and helpless. I wanted her to hear the buzzers and know she is helpless, blind and bound. She has no control. I am making her more feminine, I am transforming her, I am owning her. When the clippers stop buzzing Saffron feels the warm shave cream and cold blade of my razor. I meticulously lather, then shave every hair on her chest.
She is now smooth from head to toe, as I want her, and as she should be. I insert noise canceling headphones into her ears and play a white noise loop that blocks out all sound. She is blind, deaf, shaved, wearing her heels, in painted nails, in chastity. Jessica and I momentarily untie her so I can guide her carefully off the table. I use finger taps on her arms to note what direction she needs to go and slight pulls forward and backward on her arms to let her know when to advance and stop until we reach the Hellcat bondage chair. The Hellcat is a transformable piece of bondage furniture imported from Germany. It is a fabulous piece, Saffron’s favorite. It has been set up with the gyno-table accessories. Her legs are once again spread, this time more comfortably with the entirety of her calves supported by cushioned leather stirrups. Her ankles are locked into place by the steel cuffs and padlocks that are attached to the end of the stirrups. Her chest is belted under, and over her breasts are seatbelt buckle straps. Her arms, at her sides, are also belted and locked with steel restraints at the wrists attached to the end of the arm rests. She is spread, locked, belted; securely in place, inescapably bound.
I pull over the IV stand that holds two hospital IV pumps and two 1000 mL bags of saline hanging and set through the pumps. I turn the machines on and adjust the setting ensuring a maximum infusion rate, then swab the crease of Saffron’s breasts with iodine before inserting the 2″ 22g catheter needle deep into her flesh. She can’t hear the beeps from the machine, the rustling of the equipment, she can’t see the needle or the big bags of saline, she has no idea what’s coming next or happening now. She can only surrender.
I press start, the pumps begin to push the fluid into Saffron’s breasts. It is uncomfortable and gets more and more intense as the pressure builds. The fast pace of the flow adds another level of discomfort not allowing the body to slowly adjust to the fluid. I want Saffron to know if she is implanted one day it will not be easy. I do occasionally stop the infusion to let the fluid migrate into the breast tissue, allowing some relief of the mounting pressure. I massage them to warn the cooler than body temperature fluid. Until now Saffron has been mostly silent. But when I stop the flow she blurts out, “It’s stopped, I think there is a kink in the line.” She does not understand I chose to give her a slight reprieve. She so desperately wants her big breasts that she does not want anything to interfere. Saffron rambles on a bit more even though she cannot hear me even if I was to speak. She just has to be in the moment. To distract Saffron from overthinking Jessica plays with her nipples pulling and tugging. Saffron’s nipples are very sensitive and it’s always erotic for her when they are touched. This quiets her and I go back to filling her breasts. Saffron murmurs, “I want to be implanted for you” over and over again.
Forty-five minutes later Saffron’s breasts are much larger, each one having been infused with 7500 ml of saline. Then the doorbell rings. It’s Gerald, the tattoo artist.
I open the door and thank him for participating. He is very professional and seems unphased by the 6’4″ Saffron naked, bound, strapped, hooked up to I.V. pumps, in stirrups, and locked into chastity. He lets us know it will take about 20 minutes to set up. Perfect, just as I expected. Her breast infusion will just be finished and she will have the huge breasts she wanted when she gets her mark. The noise cancelling headphones have ensured Saffron has no idea another person has arrived. She is still enduring the infusion, hoping to take every drop, giving her the biggest breasts possible. When she starts to really suffer, Jessica is there to distract her with more nipple manipulation.
Gerald sets up his equipment and shows us the stencil design. We both approve his rendering and the size. We indicate where it is to go, deciding that it needed to be small, two inches, and placed in the front of her upper thighs. Saffron as Mark has a lot of people in his life not ready to be exposed to this this part of himself; they may never understand nor does he want to hurt them by divulging this information. I would never want what we do with Saffron to negatively impact any other aspects of his life. This placement will keep it hidden from most of the world.
The pumps alarm, I look up and the bags are empty. I shut everything off and remove the catheters and bandage the underside of Saffron;s now substantial breasts with Tegaderm bandages. Her breasts are big but very firm. It takes a few hours for them to soften and look more natural. When I’ve finished with Saffron, Gerald is ready to start the tattoo. I want the tattoo gun to be the first thing Saffron hears. She has never had a tattoo nor been in a tattoo parlor. I don’t even know if she will recognize the sound that has become unmistakable to me.
I ask Jessica to take off the the headphones.
“Hello my sweets.” she says and gives Saffron a kiss. “We have something very special for you, for your birthday, something you’ve always wanted”
“Yes my pet you are about to be gifted something that will be with you forever”
The tattoo gun begins to buzz.
“Uh-oh”
“Do you know what that is?”
‘No”
“It’s a tattoo gun”
“Really?” Saffron asks, surprised.
“Yes. We are going to tattoo you.”
“Who? Natalie?”
“Well not exactly say hello to Gerald”
“Hello Gerald”
“Hello” Gerald replies.
“Saffron, you have earned this. You have been such a good slave that you are finally being permanently marked, tattooed. We are claiming you as Saffron slave forever. There is no turning back.”
A smile broke out over Saffron’s face. Her dreams are coming true; the connection, the feminization, the being owned, the servitude, all feeding that part of herself. Having large breasts and being tattooed for her mistresses. She has no words, only smiles.
The needle hits her flesh and the black ink is permanently pushed into her, penetrating the layers of skin. She is changed, altered, marked as slave forever.
“Does it hurt?” I ask
Saffron does not tolerate pain well. Pain and discomfort distract her and take her out of her submissive headspace. I have experimented with this and no longer incorporate corporal punishment as part of our play. She can, however, endure pain for the sake of getting the piercings, scars, marks and breasts she desires. She can endure medical procedures as they feed her need to be captive and helpless. But pain for the sake of pain or punishment just does not work. These are the types of intricacies most will never understand.
“No Mistress it does not hurt, it is what I need. It is good, I want it.”
Gerald is quick and in less than 5 minutes he is done.
“All done Saffron”
“Can I see?” Saffron asks excitedly.
“Soon”
The headphones go back in and Saffron is left bound, blind and deaf as Gerald packs up and gets ready to go. I thank him immensely and secretly hope to be able to have another slave worthy of such an experience in the future.
I was elated. I think I was almost more excited than Saffron. The impact and meaning of this – it was profound.
The headphones come out and I get the contact solution. With Saffron still locked up I add some lubricating eye drops and take the contacts out of her eyes myself so she sees me right away, hovering over her. The locks come off the shackles and they are opened. The belts are released and Saffron is guided to sit up. I make her just sit for a few moments despite her eagerness to see the tattoo. I want to let her blood pressure equalize and make sure she does not get a head rush after everything she has been through.
She stands with me holding her arm making sure she is stable in her heels. Breasts big and erect she steps closer to the mirror to see the tattoo and her breasts. More smiles. No words. All smiles.
“It’s big!”
I just laugh. To me it is minuscule. Perceptions are a funny thing.
“It’s not big. Do you like it?”
“I love it Mistress. Thank you, thank you.”
“Happy Birthday Saffron”
She smiles again and kisses Jessica deeply. Both stand with red lipstick smeared on their faces. It’s a beautiful sight.
Jessica and I get everything together, packing Saffron’s large breast forms in her purse. It has been a long day and both Saffron and Jessica are tired. I walk them back to their hotel room, the three of us arm in arm. Once settled I go back to my studio to clean and put things back in order; tired, content, and happy.
The next morning Jessica sends me a photo of Saffron with her breasts soft and natural overfilling her bra. Jessica is off to Baltimore and Saffron on a flight home. Till next time, Saffron is satiated for now. And me? I’m a happy Mistress.
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