Fool Me Once

I'm nervous, but I did extensive research.

Everything about this place sounds fantastic: the cleanliness, the professionality, the rave reviews. Page after page of satisfied customers, photos of gorgeous, healed piercings. I'm nervous, but I'm not getting pierced today; this is only a consultation. I don't have to commit to anything just yet.

"Joanne?" I smile and accept his outstretched hand to shake. His grip is firm but gentle. "So nice to meet you."

"Likewise, but please, call me Jo." I bite my tongue to keep from dusting off the old chestnut: Joanne is my mother's name.

"Jo? I like that." His smile is easy and warm.

"Thank you. You must be Eric." I recognize him from photos on the site. He laughs a little.

"Yep! Let's go to the back. Would you like some tea?" He turns and gestures for me to follow him. "We have a fantastic herbal blend: it won't put you to sleep but it won't make you wired."

I smile. "That sounds wonderful, thank you."

We head towards the back, enter another room. This one is warmer and more inviting than the sterile white walls of the reception area. Light purple flowers grace the shelves lining the deep red painted walls.

You'd think it would be sinister, but the red is more berry than blood. The lighting is dimmer, almost intimate. He pats the seat of a comfy looking velvet chair, forest green and gently worn. I sit.

He goes to a little counter and starts pressing buttons on an electric kettle. Interestingly, he opens a handful of sachets and starts mixing together what look like herbs.

"Oh," I laugh. "That's so cool, I've never seen someone blend their own tea." He looks at me over his shoulder and smiles, eyebrows rising.

"You're in for a treat." He finishes setting everything up, then comes to sit in the mustard yellow chair across from me. "So, you're looking into getting pierced."

"Right. I've never been pierced before. I mean, besides the Claire's piercings..." I trail off, and he looks at me questioningly. "Well, they messed them up, and somewhat recently I just let them close up."

For some reason I feel an immense amount of shame and annoyance about this; I had been the one who begged my parents for the stupid earrings at fourteen. I shake my head quickly, a habit I'd picked up to shoo away negative, anxious thoughts. Sometimes it helps. When I look back at him he is frowning, not unkindly. He lets me sit with my discomfort for a bit, then the silence is broken by a shrill beeping.

"Oh, shit!"

"It's just the kettle," he laughs. I laugh, too, nervous.

"Right, of course." He gets up, returns with a steaming tea cup. Also interesting, as everyone I know uses mugs. It's a dainty little thing, a lovely pea green, with a matching saucer. He holds it just out of my reach. "Wait, are you allergic to anything?" He looks very serious.

"Only cats." I smile.

"Well then it's a very good thing I didn't put any cats in this." He smiles back. It's silly, this little back and forth, but I appreciate it. I can already feel my nervousness abating. I accept the cup and take a sip. It's delicious, something earthy yet somehow bright, with a peppery kick.

"Mmm. What's in this?"

"Oh, come on, don't make me give away all my secrets." He grimaces comically.

"Okay, okay, I'll back off."

Bringing the conversation back around, he asks: "Why this particular piercing, then?" I appreciate the nuance of this question.

"Well, I don't really like jewelry." I hesitate, toying with the simple stainless steel chain around my neck. "I mean, as soon as I get home, I take it all off." I laugh. "I guess... I don't know. I just think there's something so sexy, somewhat permanent, about nipple piercings."

"Ah, so if you did do this, we're thinking something simple. Titanium bar bells?" I must look confused. "Here, take a look." He grabs a tablet, flips it open and starts looking for something. "Something like that." He angles the device towards me.

I expect to see pierced tits right away, but the image is very safe for work. Just a thin metal bar, a little ball at each end. I nod, smiling.

"Yeah, I mean, that looks great." I take another sip. "I just... Okay, sorry, very not appropriate in this setting, but I watch porn, right? Like, practically everyone does!" I am unsure why I'm trying to justify myself to this person who is basically a stranger. I laugh, shake my head quickly. "I just love the look of them, I guess. The piercings."

Despite my self doubt, he doesn't look judgemental. He looks interested, invested. I sip compulsively, stalling.

When it's clear I'm not continuing, he nods and smiles reassuringly. "Nothing to be ashamed of. We all take our inspiration from different sources."

A tension at the base of my neck, one I hadn't even noticed, immediately relaxes. I sink a little into the chair with my relief. "That's... that's a very open minded way to look at it."

He smiles wryly. "I run a piercing parlor, I have to be open minded."

I giggle a little awkwardly. "Oh, right, duh."

He frowns a bit. "You shouldn't do that, it's not like you could have known what I was going to say."

I frown back, confused. "Huh? I don't..."

He smiles again. He puts out his hand, his fingertips rest on the bare skin of my knee. Something about this, him touching me, feels wrong. I can't quite put my finger on why. Then he suddenly takes back his hand, leaving a lingering warmth.

"Just relax. I only mean that you shouldn't say things like that. 'Duh' implies you should have known something, but you couldn't have known. You have to cut yourself some slack, Jo."

I blink at him. His words are making me feel so warm, so comforted. I feel vaguely that this should alarm me, that he's saying what I want to hear. It feels very far away, it feels like I shouldn't worry about it. I blink again.

"I feel weird."

He frowns. "Why don't you drink some more tea, see if that helps." I take another drink, longer than the first two. It tastes even better somehow. "So, Jo," and it's weird, the way he keeps saying my name. "You were telling me about how sexy you think nipple piercings are..."

I feel my face turn red, blood hot under my skin. I said that? What comes out, instead, is: "I like the look of them, they're so obvious under a shirt. I see other people with breasts, I can see their piercings under their shirts... I love it."

"It makes you jealous."

"Yes."

"You wish other people would look at you the way you look at those people."

"Yes." I blink, wide eyed. I take another sip. This confession surprises me, because I've always considered myself a rather private person. Never very flashy, or showy, or loud. I'd rather be a wallflower. But... "I want them to look at my tits. I mean, I want them to look at me."

He nods slowly. "No, it's OK, you should be honest. You want them to look at your tits."

"Mhm, yes." I frown, vision swimming for a moment. "Eric... I feel really weird."

"Take another sip, Jo." There's something... something about his eyes, that makes me feel uneasy. I take another sip.

"Maybe I should..." I go to stand, but his hand lands again on my knee. I stare at it, mesmerized. His hand feels so warm against my skin. A lazy smile spreads across my face. When I look up, he's gazing directly into my eyes. There's nothing sinister there at all, I think. I must have been seeing things. I must have been imagining that predatory flash.

"Jo, stand up." I laugh. I stand up. His hand falls off my knee, I miss it.

"Wait, what?" I hadn't meant to stand up. He smiles up at me, stands. I can feel myself swaying a little, and he puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me. Everywhere he touches lights up my skin wildly. I'm dimly aware of him picking up the tablet and typing something. He puts it down, looks at me, and smiles again.

"Jo," he says firmly. "Jo, you're going to have a good time."

This makes something deep, deep down inside of me spark with fear. In that deep, dark place, something screams out that this is not okay. But that place is so, so far down and far away. Still, I try. I try to will my muscles to engage, to get myself to leave this warm little room. I fail.

There's a noise, a door opening, the sound of something wheeling across the floor. I gather enough strength to turn my head. Another man, he's pushing another chair into the room. This isn't a chair, though; it is more like a doctor's examination table. Only I've never seen one with this many straps. Again, a very quiet sort of panic. All I can manage is a lazy smile.

On the chair is a tripod, lying on its side, and a digital camera. I swing my head back around to look at Eric.

"Mark, meet Jo. Jo, meet Mark. Wave at Mark, Jo." I raise my hand automatically to wave at Mark. He smiles, but it's more like a smirk, and waves back.

"Hello, Jo." I manage to turn my head back to him, and watch as he locks the chair into place. I watch as he sets up the camera.

"Jo," Eric's voice is gentle. "Put your arms above your head." I put my arms above my head and he pulls off my dress in one smooth motion. That small piece of rebellion within me scolds me for wearing something so easy to remove, but I had wanted to be comfortable.

"Whoa," I hear from Mark. "Think those are real?"

"Jo, are these tits real?" I can feel myself blush, but feel disconnected from the shame. I nod. I'd never had the money for implants, never wanted them even when they were smaller. A recent weight gain had bumped them from a B to a DD cup. I still didn't really register them as being large.

That deep down part of me is glad I'd chosen to wear a bra for once. The relief is quickly defeated as Eric reaches behind me and deftly undoes the clasp. "Arms down, Jo." The straps slide down my shoulders, and I watch numbly as the bra falls to the floor, exposing my breasts.

Eric's hands come up to gently hold them, sliding his fingers over my skin. It feels so good, I moan despite myself. Deep inside I am screaming for it to stop, but superficially, everywhere he touches me feels amazing. He smiles, he looks pleased.

"Jo, does that feel good?" I groan, wrestling with my thoughts, the immediate desire and muted horror.

"Yes, please..."

"Please what, Jo?"

"Please don't stop touching me." I cringe inwardly, but nothing of it shows on the outside. He takes hold of my chin and turns my head to face Mark again.

"Smile pretty for the camera, Jo." I'm confused, but I smile. The little camera light glares at me menacingly, but I barely register it. "It feels good when you obey, doesn't it?"

"Yeah... yes."

"Why don't you call me 'Sir'," he suggests. I nod clumsily.

"Yes... Sir."

"Good girl, Jo." This makes a horrible warmth bloom in my chest.

He seems to recognize this, something must show on my face. "That felt good, huh?"

I struggle with myself for a moment. "Yes Sir."

"Take off your underwear, Jo."

That's what makes this feel really surreal: because if this were porn, he'd say "panties". It's not porn, it's real life. It's really happening. This jolts something within me, and that deep down place gets a little stronger. Not strong enough to stop me, but just enough that watching myself remove my underwear fills me with a cold dread. I leave them with my bra on the floor.

"Good job, Jo." Something about his words calms me again, quiets that discontent. I smile again as he takes hold of my upper arm. He leads me carefully to the table. I allow myself to be sat down, guided onto my back. "Be a good girl, Jo," he murmurs.

It feels good when he straps me down. The straps keep my arms from lifting, they cross my shoulders and chest, above and below my breasts. They cross my hips, above the brown patch of hair at the vee of my thighs. The bottom part of the chair opens, splits into two parts, so my legs are spread, then also strapped down. All of this is only alarming in the vaguest, dullest sense.

When he's done, Eric leaves my field of vision. He comes back with a little table, which he sets down next to me. On the little table I can see, just out of the corner of my eye, a bright flash of metal. Something sharp. Eric smiles and caresses my cheek, lets his hand drift lightly down my neck, then come to rest again on my breast. He strokes me softly, then abruptly pinches my nipple.

"Ow!" I frown at him. Why did he want me to feel bad?

"Good," he is speaking to Mark. "She can still feel pain."

This, for some reason, strikes me as immensely funny. I laugh. Eric smiles down at me.

"If you can feel pain, you can feel pleasure, right?" I nod without thinking.

"Good girl." He reaches for the table, then holds something in front of my face. "Do you know what this is, Jo?"

"Vibrator," I say, automatic.

He smiles, this time letting the predator show a bit more. "Oh, Jo... We are going to make you cry." This is very confusing to me, so I choose not to dwell on it. I groan a little as he presses the vibrator against my clitoris, and then he turns it on.

"Okay, Jo, do me a favor?" I moan and nod, trying to pay attention. "Tell me when you're going to come, can you do that?"

"Yes, Sir," I nod quickly, eyes wide.

"Good girl, Jo," he murmurs.

"Uuuhh," I manage. I know this is wrong, disturbing, but only in that place so far beneath the surface I can barely feel it. All I can really feel is pleasure radiating through my body, starting at my cunt.

"You getting this, man?"

"Oh, yeah, great stuff... great stuff."

I look, and there's Mark behind the camera, fiddling with something. A little shock goes through me, considerably dulled. I don't want to be filmed, I know this. I know this. I can't make myself say "stop" or "don't".

The only words that come out of my mouth are: "I'm gonna come!" I'm right there, right on the edge, anticipating going over. Eric pulls the vibrator away.

"Aaah!" The disappointment comes slowly, it barely registers. I want to push my hips up, but the order just doesn't make its way down from my brain.

"Good girl, Jo!" Eric smiles at me. I feel two things at once, an immediate and strong rush of pleasure, and a very weak sense of shame. I don't know which to believe. I decide to let it go. "There you go, just be good for me." I whimper. He presses the vibrator to my clit again.

"Please, yes..." I murmur. I feel like I shouldn't be saying that, but it feels too good not to. I close my eyes. "Ow!" I open them again, to see Eric pinching my nipple.

"Eyes open, Jo." He puts more pressure on my nipple, and I shudder and try to squirm away. I'm held fast. He releases his grip, thumbs firmly over my nipple. I groan.

"I'm gonna come!" He quickly removes the vibrator.

"Okay, Jo, next time try saying 'I'm going to come, Sir.'" He pats my cheek. "Okay?"

"Okay, Sir." I feel sort of ridiculous, but I want him to keep using the vibrator on me. It's all I can think about. "Please?"

"Oh, you want this?" He holds the vibrator just above my clit. "Try and reach it, come on, lift those hips."

I feel somewhat ridiculous, as if I shouldn't be giving in so easily. But giving in to what? To what end? If there is a game at play here, I'm not aware of it. Maybe I've already lost. I can't reach the part of me that cares, or it can't reach me.

"Please... please, Sir." I strain my hips against the strap, but it won't budge. I'm held completely immobile. The fact that this is entirely unfair doesn't occur to me.

"Okay, Jo..." Before he gives it to me again, he pushes a button. When it touches me, the vibrations are much stronger.

"Uuugh," I groan, eyes fluttering shut. They fly back open when he slaps my breast hard. My toes curl against the vinyl cushion of the chair. "I wanna come..."

"Let's go for number three, Jo... you can do it. I know you can."

The edge hits me even faster this time. "Aaah! I'm gonna come... Sir!" I am proud of myself for remembering. He yanks the vibrator away. I pant desperately.

"How about we try something different, huh?"

"I don't... what?" Before I can find out what he means, Mark is coming over to stand next to me, next to my head. He unzips his fly.

"You want to be good, right?"

"I... yes?" I'm so confused.

"Go ahead, suck on it a little." When I turn back to look, Mark has his cock out and in hand. He angles it at my mouth.

I frown. This definitely feels wrong. I wrack my brain, trying to figure out why. "Condom?" That's the most I can manage, and it feels like a lot.

I feel Eric's hand cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. It feels distractingly good. I try to push my chest into it, with little effect.

"Come on, Jo," Eric smiles at me. "Do you want a condom? Or do you want the vibrator?"

I frown. "I want... I want to come."

"Do you want the vibrator?" He cocks his head to the side.

"I want the vibrator, Sir." This seems to be the easiest way to get what I want.

"I'll give you the vibrator, if you open your mouth and suck. Be a good girl, Jo."

Something about the way he keeps saying my name, it quiets that nagging little voice inside of me. It makes me feel so good, inside and out. I turn back to Mark and open my mouth. Eric puts the vibrator back against my clit.

"You know the rule, right? Stop sucking, tell me. Okay, Jo?"

"Yes, Sir." I open my mouth again, and he turns on the vibrator as soon as Mark slowly starts to fill my mouth with his cock. I'd only ever sucked wrapped cock, so the taste catches me off guard. I start to pull back slowly, as fast as I can manage, but Mark had placed a hand against the back of my head. He doesn't push, just holds me gently in place. It feels reassuring, like I'm being cared for. I can barely acknowledge this thought as perverse and twisted. Anyway, the vibrations between my legs are making it even more difficult to think correctly.

Mark is average sized, not too large, so I can keep my mouth open quite comfortably as he slides inside. Still, it isn't long before he hits the back of my throat and stops. He gasps above my head. I feel bad, because if my hands were free I could make up for the loss of sensation at the base of his cock, but he seems to be enjoying himself.

He starts to thrust. The room is quiet except for our breathing, the wet sounds of sucking, and the buzz of the vibrator. Distracted, it's taking me longer to build up to an orgasm, but before long I've gotten to the edge again. Panicked, I make an urgent noise against the cock in my mouth. Mark pulls out.

"I'm --" My tongue feels heavy and awkward. "I'm going to come, Sir!"

"Good girl, Jo." He removes the vibrator. This time, he sets it down. I make a sad little noise. "Here's a question: Will you let me pierce your nipples in exchange for an orgasm?"

I nod, faster than I have any reason to. I've barely registered his words before I'm agreeing desperately.

Mark laughs above me. "What was that? Four?"

Eric laughs back at him. "Yep, she didn't last long at all. I told you."

My head is reeling, but any shame I should feel is severely muted, impossible to have any effect on my ability to make decisions. Mostly I'm embattled by pleasure, and they aren't even touching me at the moment. I make a desperate noise. "Please? Please, Sir? Pierce my nipples for an orgasm, please?"

"Shh..." Eric strokes my side and I feel vaguely like a startled horse. "Just keep sucking, okay, Jo?" I nod, turn my head back, open my mouth. I register Eric's absence, hear running water in the distance, then Eric is back between my knees. I hear the snap of exam gloves.

As Mark slides past my lips again, I feel something cold and wet on my nipples.

"Just disinfecting the area..." Eric murmurs. "Okay, buddy, you might want to disengage just to be safe..."

Mark pulls his cock out of my mouth. This confuses me, until I feel something cold grip my nipple. I look down and see that Eric has my nipple held in a pair of metal tongs, pulling it gently away from my body. It all feels surreal and far away. Then he reaches out with one hand, takes a needle from the little tray. I feel like I should be terrified, bracing myself, but I can't even make my muscles tense.