My Tattoo Artist: From Prisoner to Lover
Joy Brown
Introduction
"Become my personal tattoo artist or go to prison," his words pierced my heart like an ice pick. I clutched my tattoo gun, tempted to smash it against his skull, but instead signed the contract with trembling hands, becoming a "prisoner" in his penthouse studio.
But as I etched roses onto his skin, my fingertips brushed against the grotesque scars across his back—could this man who had trapped me be harboring a pain he dared not speak of?
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About Author
Joy Brown
Chapter 1
Rose
At 2 PM in "Thorn Art" tattoo studio, I was completely focused on outlining a coiling dragon across my client Jack's back. Every stroke had to be perfect—this dragon design would take another two hours to complete, but it would be my masterpiece.
"Rose, this dragon looks like it's about to come alive!" Jack admired his back in the mirror, eyes full of amazement.
I chuckled softly, my tattoo gun continuing its dance across his skin: "We're not done yet. The eyes are what bring it to life."
This commission would keep the studio running for another two months.
Despite tight finances, I never compromised my artistic standards. Every piece was my signature—I couldn't afford to half-ass anything.
BANG!
The glass door was violently shoved open, the wind chimes crashing together with a jarring sound. My hand jerked, nearly ruining the dragon's scales.
"Gentlemen, we work by appointment only! Get out, now!" I barked without looking up, fury igniting in my chest. Nothing pissed me off more than interruptions during my work!
"Miss Thorn."
A deep, magnetic male voice spoke behind me, carrying undeniable authority. The kind of voice that sent chills down your spine, like it came from the depths of hell itself.
I slowly turned around to see three men in expensive suits standing in the center of my studio.
The man in front was tall and imposing, wearing a tailored black suit. His features were sharp as a blade, but those steel-gray eyes were cold as ice.
"I'm Raven Crimson," his thin lips barely moved. "Your new creditor."
My heart felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer: "What creditor? What the hell are you talking about?"
Raven smiled faintly—that smile was more chilling than his cold stare. The lawyer-looking man behind him stepped forward and began reading mechanically:
"Equipment loan $240,000, rent guarantee $180,000, supplier debt $260,000..."
Each number hit me like a bullet to the chest. My eyes widened in disbelief.
"That's impossible... My contracts were all payment plans, and I've been current on everything..."
"Total $680,000, plus interest." Raven cut me off. "Cash or prison?"
Everyone in the studio froze—Jack, my assistant Lucy, and several waiting clients. Their stares felt like spotlights, filling me with unprecedented shame.
"You... you've been watching me, setting me up?" I finally realized, my voice shaking.
This wasn't random—this was a carefully orchestrated trap. All my loan contracts had been maliciously bought out, every debt consolidated under this man's control.
Raven's lips curved into a dangerous smile: "I'm offering you a solution. Three-year exclusive contract as my private tattoo artist."
"This is coercion! This is kidnapping!"
Rage made me lose control. I grabbed my tattoo gun and hurled it at him, but before it could reach him, two bodyguards in black suits seized my arms.
"Ah!" Lucy cried out.
Jack and the other clients gasped, the entire studio falling into dead silence.
I struggled like a caged animal, but those bodyguards' arms were like steel vises.
"My art... my freedom... you've destroyed everything!" My voice was hoarse, tears betraying me as they spilled from my eyes.
Raven approached me, looking down from his towering height: "Sign, or go to prison. There's no third option."
The lawyer placed a contract in front of me. I stared at the dense legal text, every word feeling like a death sentence for my soul.
"I... I don't have a choice..." My voice was barely audible, my hand trembling as I took the pen.
The moment the pen touched paper, I felt my artistic career die.
After signing, I was "escorted" out of my own studio like a criminal.
At the door, I looked back one last time, seeing all those unfinished pieces.
It was over.
A black Rolls-Royce waited outside the studio. I was "invited" into the car, with Raven sitting across from me.
"You'll find working for me more interesting than you think," his voice was especially deep in the enclosed space.
I stared coldly out the window: "Interesting? To someone like you, art is just decoration."
"You know far too little about me."
The car headed toward the most upscale part of downtown. Crimson Tower, one of the city's tallest buildings, would become my new prison.
The elevator went straight to the top floor. When the doors opened, I saw a tattoo studio ten times larger than mine. Top-of-the-line equipment, perfect lighting, and a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the entire city.
Luxurious beyond belief, yet it made me feel suffocated.
"This is your new studio," Raven stood behind me.
I clenched my fists, anger, humiliation, and fear swirling together inside me.
This cold bastard thought he'd won, thought he could control me at will.
But he was wrong.
I would never submit. Never.
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About Author
Joy Brown
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