Chapter Text
The symbol of her family crest burned at Minthara’s skin every waking moment. There was little she could do when she looked in the mirror and saw it on her tawny skin. The silver necklaces she often wore around her neck seldom distracted her long from the gaudy ink that had stained her existence.
There was little to do other than cover it up.
Minthara didn’t dare bother wasting her time with surgical removal, or laser therapy - she was fond of the disgust and fear that laced the face of men when their eyes fell upon her marking.
A spider seemed a fitting replacement, as it did inspire nearly as much fear as her family crest.
The tattoo shop she selected was open later than most, welcoming walk-ins until well into the night. Minthara wasn’t keen to suffer a bustling shop, betwixt fools moaning about the pain inflicted by a needle they had voluntarily asked to have jammed into their neck repeatedly.
“The Last Line Ink” Hung above the door, white peeling letters glowing a faint yellow in the street lights that had just kicked on. Opening the creaking door, Minthara smelled the odious aroma of mildew and mold. The shop was old, in poor shape from its curling posters barely clinging to the wall with designs so outdated, Minthara doubted they were even popular when her mother was of tattooing age.
A bored looking woman sat at a front counter, covered in obscene stickers and various creams for sale. She obscured her face with a magazine boasting “Fifty new blind items for October!” on its cover. When the aged door fell shut in a hearty slam behind Minthara, the woman lowered the magazine, unbothered by the crash.
Dark makeup and silver and black striped bangs curtained a pleasant face, marred by the ilk she’d plastered over it. Without the dense makeup, Minthara supposed the slight woman would be beautiful in a way. She certainly held captivating eyes, hiding behind clunky bangs.
“We close in 5. Unless it's a piercing, best you come another day.” The woman droned, flittering an unimpressed gaze over Minthara.
“Nonsense, I’ve come before you close. Your window to accept business is open for five more minutes.” Minthara challenged.
“It's alright, Shadowheart.” A voice called from further in the shop, a harbinger to the appearance of another woman slipping through a thick beaded curtain that separated the waiting room from the rest of the shop. “I’ll stay late, and lock up on my own. No need to stick around.” The woman offered, with an easy smile finding her lips, painted in a soft lavender color. It complimented her fair features, and pale skin.
With a dreary sigh, the woman at the desk reached beneath the hulking front counter, slipping a slinging pack affixed with buttons denoting bands Minthara had never heard of, over her shoulder. “Your funeral. Remember; if she robs and kills you and takes us for all we’re worth, old Withers will find a way to bring you back to the land of the living just to lecture you.” The woman, Shadowheart apparently, relented to the other woman, before brushing past Minthara, out of the aged shop.
“Withers?” Minthara asked the other woman, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
“The shop owner. Crotchety fellow at times. Mostly he’s cool as a sea cucumber though.” She added with an awkward laugh. Gazing down at Minthara, the other woman was slightly taller, with unrestrained pale hair, silken like a spider’s webbing.
“Hmm.” Minthara answered, looking around, rather unimpressed with what she saw, from the shop, to the lone tattooist.
“Anyway, I’m Tav.” The woman offered, with a hand held out to Minthara. Looking down to the outstretched hand, Minthara noted that nearly every bit of exposed skin was covered in some sort of ink. From symbols, to empty words, there wasn’t a bit of flesh left unmarred.
“So you all have odd names.” Minthara said with unhidden ire, briefly shaking the artist’s ink-stained hand.
“Well let’s hear it then.” Tav said with an easy laugh, the kind that reached her soft scarlet eyes.
“Minthara.” She answered, crossing her arms in a defensive gesture, preparing for the upcoming verbal barrage.
“Pretty. I like it.” Tav responded, taking Minthara off-guard. “What’re you thinking of getting, Minthara? I see you have some - oh.” Tav said, catching Minthara’s tattoo in its full glory for the first time. There was a hint of recognition in Tav’s eyes that made Minthara sure she was about to throw her out of the shop. “Baenre, then?” She asked lightly, before gesturing to Minthara to follow her back through the beaded curtains.
Surprised at the compliance of the other woman, Minthara followed, until she was in a private room that held the name ‘Tav’ over its doorway, written in the script of Minthara’s maiden tongue.
“You’re from Menzoberranzan.” Minthara declared, rather than asked.
“As are you.” Tav replied with a gentle smile, patting the chair in the middle of the small room.
The chair was held together with silver tape, and carefully placed brand stickers, a contrast to the rest of the booth. Unlike the rest of the shop, the small private booth was clean, from crisp white walls, only affixed with a neat mirror, and a rack of various inks to choose from. It was out of place amid the chaotic mess that made up the rest of the shop.
“A spider. Over this sigil.” Minthara relayed, sitting upon the creaking chair. She wore a tight, professional suit that made her the picture of power in the corporate firm she presided over. However, in this environment, it proved a hindrance as it hid the soft flesh of her neck that was minutes away from being changed forever. “Nothing frivolous.” Minthara added, throwing a glare the way of the artist.
“A very serious spider, you’ve got it, Ms.Baenre.” Tav replied with a short salute, before adorning gloves, and fetching her tattoo machine. “So what do you do for a living?” Tav asked, jovially, readying her supplies before pulling up a stool beside Minthara.
Facing an icy glare, Tav nervously cleared her throat before powering on the machine. “Would you like me to put on any music? Oldies maybe? Also can you unbutton the first two buttons for me? I don’t want to stain your nice shirt.” The younger woman offered, to which Minthara scoffed, unbuttoning the top buttons of her dress shirt to provide easy access to the artist. When she was done, she caught the younger woman staring, before scurrying her glance away to her materials.
“No. Do your job, quickly, and quietly. I’ll compensate you more than adequately for your discretion.” Minthara instructed, staring at the drop tile ceiling above, counting the water stains as the needle met her throat.
The pain was trivial compared to the torments that symbol on her neck had brought her, almost cleansing in a way as it erased her mother’s name from her body, replacing it with an icon of her own choosing. She hadn’t chosen to be a Baenre - but she’d chosen this.
After almost an hour, Tav sat up. Minthara knew she wasn’t finished, but the quizzical look on her face, and her poking tongue told Minthara she was working through a problem.
“What is it?” Minthara asked expectantly.
“I can’t quite reach the right angle. And the chair is broken. I’m trying to figure out…” Tav trailed off, looking around the small booth.
“You may sit on my lap if it hurries this process along.” Minthara replied, glaring at the other woman. Tav blushed and let out a gentle laugh.
“I couldn’t do that.” She said with a giggle. “You’re a customer! I have to maintain…” Tav continued, gaze falling on Minthara’s as she stammered to finish her sentence, “Professionalism.”
“I’m giving you explicit permission. I have no desire to be here any longer than I need to be.” Minthara snapped, flashing a venomous look to the other woman, who met it with wide eyes.
“If Withers finds out about this…” She grumbled, before reluctantly climbing onto Minthara’s lap, swinging a leg over either side of the older woman’s hips. The sight of the other woman hovering above her ruined Minthara’s view of the ceiling tiles above, which were clearly riddled with some sort of mold. Long, silken white hair curtained over the women, dancing against Minthara’s exposed flesh and filling her senses with the aroma of whatever lavender shampoo the other woman wore.
Tav’s thighs clamped around Minthara’s hips, while a gentle hand pressed against Minthara’s collar bone for balance. She couldn’t help but notice the gentle calluses that clung to Tav’s skilled fingers, or the smudge of ink left behind on her skin Tav’s fingers had been.
The closeness sent a warmth through Minthara that she hadn’t felt in far too long. The blood that rushed to her sex was invigorating, blending in a beautiful juxtaposition to the pain that seared through her flesh. Still, she wouldn’t fall to her baser instincts; she would remain stone faced as she stared up at the other woman.
Tav was fairing much, much worse. With a reddened face, she seemed to be struggling to get through the remainder of the tattoo, as her gaze fell repeatedly to Minthara.
“Almost done-” Tav began, pulling the machine from Minthara’s neck. She tried to adjust herself, maybe to put distance between them that was much needed, yet, the lithe woman lost her balance and began to fall from the aged chair.
Minthara swiftly, and assuredly, caught her, holding the girl in place. Though, a moment later, she realized her hands had found themselves atop Tav’s ass, covered only by the thin material of leggings.
It felt perfect in her hands. Soft, supple, as though it was carved just for her hands. After a moment too long, Minthara made sure the tattoo artist was steady, before removing her hands swiftly. Without a trace of bashfulness, Minthara looked at Tav's expression, frozen in a flush of embarrassment and blatant wanting.
“How much longer?” Minthara asked firmly, forcing Tav’s pale eyes to meet hers.
“Just have to clean you up and get it wrapped-” Tav began, which was all the encouragement Minthara needed to guide the tattoo machine from her hand to clatter on the silver table beside the chair, and weave her fingers through that silken hair of Tav’s until she could pull the other woman into a deep kiss, meeting their lips together passionately.
In mere moments, the woman atop Minthara was opening herself to her, her lips parting for entry while her body leaned as close as it could to Minthara’s. It was often the effect she had on lovers, though admittedly, it had been quite some time. It was satisfying in and of its own right to know she still possessed this power over those she chose to share her body with.
Tav moaned into her mouth, a succulent sound, while Minthara’s hands fell to Tav’s hips, pulling her impossibly close until Minthara could feel her arousal grind against Tav’s.
“I want to take your body as mine.” Minthara said, a whisper against Tav’s lavender tinted lips.
“Take it.” Tav replied, leaning forward for another hungry kiss, tangling her own hands into Minthara’s restrained hair, testing the boundaries of her tightly bound bun.
“There is such beauty in passion, freely given, and readily received.” Minthara spoke catching a glimpse of their entwined forms in the mirror. With precision, Minthara slid the thick sweater the younger woman wore over her shoulders, revealing a torso covered in various tattoos, all in various states of completion; she was an unfinished tapestry, begging for Minthara to take a turn weaving her silks. It was a pleasant surprise to find the artist’s breasts bare, a bra nowhere to be found, with twin bars through each nipple.
Minthara’s lips were upon the pierced nipple in moments, earning a moan from the tattooist, who increased her grip on Minthara’s hair.
“Silence.” Minthara barked, pulling away from the breast, “Sit there, and take my affections with quiet obedience and you’ll be rewarded aptly.” Minthara commanded, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes at the taken aback expression of the other woman.
“I’m not some-” Tav began, only to be stopped by a firm hand around her jaw, locking her expression on Minthara.
“Silence, Tav. This will be much more pleasant for both of us if you know your place.” Minthara bit, before pressing her lips back to Tav’s nipple, while her finger and thumb rolled the other one between them, leading to a sharp inhale of breath, then silence. The display of obedience made Minthara all the wetter, while she felt the same from Tav as she ground their aroused sexes together.
The business professional slacks Minthara wore prevented her from feeling the full extent of pleasure that Tav was experiencing, but it was worth it to watch the younger woman squirm in her lap. Minthara rapidly brought Tav to the brink of climax; Tav's lips pressed against Minthara’s ear, releasing shallow breaths that fully communicated her arousal, despite a lack of physical contact to her blossoming flower.
“You’re eager. Has it been long since another touched you?” Minthara asked, reveling in the wide-eyed stare Tav gave her, patiently waiting for permission to speak. Minthara nodded, a sly smile on her lips. Tav had quite easy strings to pull, and webs to weave; a pleasurable evening was surely laid out before them.
“No.” Tav admitted, a shameful look on her face, “It’s just…It’s nothing like this.” She said in a choked tone, face flushed with arousal.
“Perform well, and know your place and you may experience it again. However, just in case…” Minthara leaned close to Tav’s lips again, and spoke in a sultry tone that sent a shiver through Tav’s lithe frame, “...Savor it.”
If words could bring about total ecstasy, they surely would have, yet, the hand that slipped under Tav’s leggings did offer the promise of such a climax. Back to her quiet obedience, Tav bit her lip as Minthara slid her leggings down her thighs, then off of her body completely, to be discarded in the hallway outside of the small room.
Fingers soon coiled into Tav’s sex, one, and then two, finally a soft thumb on her clitoris to rub gentle circles while Tav rode Minthara’s fingers. Minthara smiled a dark smile as she watched Tav’s breasts sway as she rode her, coming tantalizingly close to orgasm.
“You are perfection.” Minthara praised, with her own sex soaked with arousal as she watched the other woman come undone in her lap.
Tav looked down on her, desperate for approval, desperate for Minthara’s attention, a remedy she was more than willing to provide.
“You’re doing well, do not disappoint now. Release yourself for me.” Minthara commanded, pressing her lips to Tav’s nipple again, sucking softly. The contact was enough to send the other woman over the edge, as she increased the pace of her cunt, riding upon Minthara’s fingers, and bit her lip until it bled, trying to stay quiet for Minthara.
When the movements of the younger woman slowed, and she relaxed against Minthara, the older woman withdrew her fingers from Tav’s well-used cunt. Tav watched carefully as Minthara deposited the fingers in her mouth, sucking Tav’s wetness off each one like a prized dessert.
Moments later, their lips were on each other again, the taste of sex on both of their lips, while Tav trembled under Minthara’s touch. When Tav slid a hand forward, eager to grope Minthara’s breast, Minthara pushed it away, breaking the kiss between them.
“You haven’t earned that yet.” Minthara declared, eyes flicking to Tav’s discarded clothes. “Get dressed, and finish your work.”
Tav looked as though she’d been stricken, but she acquiesced, awkwardly collecting her garments, and her supplies.
Minutes later, Tav was finishing her work, and wordlessly leading Minthara out of the shop. Minthara noticed she passed the register and stopped abruptly.
“I haven’t paid you.” She answered affirmatively.
“I don’t want your money.” Tav muttered, looking everywhere but at Minthara.
“Nonsense.” Minthara replied, reaching into her pocket to pull out a wallet of such fine make, Tav’s eyes went wide upon seeing it. When several large bills were put in her hand, Tav looked back up to Minthara with disbelief.
“This is way too much.” She said, shoving the money back to Minthara, who scowled.
“Do not challenge me. I said I’d pay extra if you followed my rules. I am only as good as my word.” She bit, causing the other woman to back down, and shove the money haphazardly into her waistband.
“Well, I’ll see you around then, Minthara.” Tav said with an uneasy laugh.
“You’ll see me tomorrow, at this same time. Do not stay late for a client,” She said, leaning closer, “...And don’t you dare tell a soul.”