would you submit to me fully once i brand your skin with my mark

I clicked on the video link, a slight nervousness in my stomach. I had trusted this person, had shared my most intimate secrets and desires with them. Now, I was about to see if they were serious about doing what they claimed they wanted to do.

The screen flickered to life, and the video started playing. There they were, the person I had been messaging for months, sitting in a dimly lit room. They were wearing a black tank top that hugged their body, and their hands were trembling slightly as they held the camera.

“Hey,” they said, their voice a bit shaky. “It’s me. You know what this is about. You know what I’m about to do.”

I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. This was really happening.

They took a deep breath and continued, “I’ve been thinking about you constantly, about how much I want to show you that I’m serious about this. About us. And I know there’s only one way to do that.”

With a shaky hand, they reached into their pocket and pulled out a small, glinting object. A tattoo gun. My eyes widened, and I leaned closer to the screen.

They held up the gun, letting it catch the light. “I know we agreed to this, but I never thought I’d actually go through with it. Kneeling down with a tattoo gun in my hand, ready to mark my own skin with your name. With your mark.”

They set the gun down and grasped their pants, tugging them down slightly on one hip. My breath caught as they exposed their skin, revealing the smooth curve of their hipbone and the top of the tank top that dipped down their abdomen.

“Here goes nothing,” they said softly. They picked up the tattoo gun again and clicked it on, the sound piercing the quiet room.

For a moment, they just held it there, the metal tip hovering over their skin. Then they closed their eyes and let out a shuddering breath. I realized I was holding my breath as well, my hands clenched in my lap.

They started the tattoo, the hum of the gun mixing with their soft gasps and grunts of pain. I watched, transfixed, as they slowly inked your name into their skin, my eyes eager to see each letter appear.

When they finally finished, they sat back and looked down at their hip. There it was, my name, your name, permanently etched into their skin in elegant, cursive script. They ran a finger along the letters, almost reverently.

“I did it,” they whispered. “I left my mark on myself for you. For us.”

They looked back at the camera, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “I hope this shows you how serious I am. How much I want this, want you. I’m yours now, in every way. I’ve claimed myself for you.”

They smiled then, a soft, intimate smile that made my heart flutter in my chest. “I love you,” they said softly. “And now, you know it’s true.”

The video ended there, and I sat back, my head spinning. They had done it. They had actually done it. They had marked themselves, their own skin, with my name, with their promise to me.

And now, I couldn’t wait to see it in person, to touch the skin that held my mark. My love. They were mine, and I was theirs, and I had the proof of it, inked into their flesh forever.