But the second my glorious backside materializes on the other side, all bets are off. I discovered this wasn't about art at all. Before I can even get a hello out, the artist’s hands are all over me. Spanking? Squeezing? Okay, a little unexpected, but then… oh god. Rimming. Licking. Tasting. It was… intense. And surprisingly… not entirely unpleasant at first, I'll admit. The tattoo artist definitely had enthusiasm.
Then the fingers started probing? My asshole. That's when the "testing the portal" vibe completely evaporated. I started to struggle, trying to pull away, but the connection was locked. Trapped. Fantastic.
Next thing I know, there's a strap-on involved. Worshiping my ass? Stretching it? This was escalating way beyond a simple tattoo. I tried to fight it, I really did. But well, let's just say the sensations were… distracting. And yeah, okay, maybe there was something happening and growing down in front that I wasn't entirely in control of.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of being thoroughly used, I was unceremoniously sent back through the portal, my rear end getting one last, rather firm, smack for good measure.
After the shock wears off, I realize I didn’t even get my tattoo!
Honestly? The whole experience was just flat out bizarre. But… and don't you dare quote me on this… there was a weird kind of thrill to it too. Just don't expect me to sign up for any more "tattoo portal" tests anytime soon. My ass needs a vacation.
