SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 9

"Right, Buster, while we're waitin for Jimmy you can shave your head again. Nisbo, show him how it's done," instructed Charlie.

Nisbo took Anthony down the hall and into a small bathroom.

"Right, get the water nice and hot," said Nisbo as he turned on the tap. "While it's getting hot, soap up your head, here.." Nisbo handed Anthony a can of shaving foam. Anthony looked at it clueless. "Go on, get started." Obviously Anthony had to learn to shave his own head. Gingerly, he squeezed a spurt of shaving foam into his hand.

"That's never enough, Buster. Use more, and rub it into your scalp nice and hard." Anthony tried to do as he was told. Nisbo joined in, rubbing the shaving foam into Anthony's head. As Nisbo started to rub, Anthony stopped. Naked as he was, there was no way Anthony could hide his growing erection. Something about the skinhead rubbing the shaving foam over his already almost-bald scalp was doing something to him that he'd never experienced before. "Oh shit, Nisbo, I'm really sorry, please don't tell the others, I can't help this," he said shamefully looking down at his now fully erect dick.

"Don't worry, Buster, we're all as queer as fuck here, and you will be in time too, here, let me help you with that." Nisbo squirted more shaving foam into his hand and this time rubbed it over Anthony's dick and balls, kneading and squeezing. Anthony's legs started to buckle. "Whoa, stand up straight, Buster," warned Nisbo, fondling away at Anthony's balls, stroking his cock with the other hand.

"I, I, I can't...." moaned Anthony, as he shot his load quickly into Nisbo's expert hands.

"Can't let it go to waste, Buster." With those words Nisbo massaged Anthony's cum into the shaving foam on his head, and after giving him a few seconds to recover, handed Anthony a Mach III razor. "Right, off you go."

Anthony took the razor and looked inquiringly at Nisbo. "OK, start in front of your ear and shave upwards towards your scalp and work your way round the back of your head till you get to the other ear, and then shave the top from the forehead to the back."

With great trepidation, Anthony began under Nisbo's watchful eye. Very slowly, but very surely, with a few interjections from Nisbo from time to time, Anthony shaved his own head for the first time. Sure it took ten minutes, but that would get much quicker with practice. Anthony even allowed himself a smile at Nisbo once the operation was over. "You're lookin better already Buster, and we can have a repeat performance of your little bit of fun any time you like, mate, that's what mates are for." Anthony just nodded and looked down at the floor, embarrassed at what had happened.

Their conversation was interrupted by Charlie shouting at them to come back to the main room. "Get him in here Nisbo, Jimmy's here."

"Look, Buster, in spite of you being an ex-copper, I like ya. You're goin to get inked now, just take it like a skinhead, right? You've no fuckin choice, mate. Just let Charlie take charge, it'll be easier for ya." Nisbo sounded ominous, and Anthony began to tremble as Nisbo led him into the living room, freshly balded.

"Did he do a good job, Nisbo?" asked Charlie. "Yeah, he did, very good. We even raised a smile from him at one point."

"Excellent, excellent, I'm sure you'll still be smiling at the end of your inking session, Buster, I know I will, we're only doing the visible stuff today, you'll get the rest over time, when you've earned them. This is Jimmy."

Jimmy stepped out of the kitchen, holding a bacon sandwich in his hand. He was about 5'10'', about 40 years old, and about 300 lbs of pure wrath and anger. He smiled a hello at Anthony, revealing that most of his teeth were missing. Huge arms protruded from a plain black teeshirt, although it was difficult to see where the teeshirt stopped because his arms were so covered in tattoos, all intermingling with each other, stopping abruptly at his wrists.

"I'm ready when you are chum," he said cheerfully.

"I don't want to be tattooed, really I don't," ventured Anthony.

"Don't be silly, Buster, it says here you are willing to get anything done that the tattooist chooses to do." Charlie let Anthony see the text of another one of the papers he had been forced to sign earlier that morning. True enough, he'd committed himself. He remembered Nisbo's words, perhaps it would be for the best just to comply.

Two of the skins jostled Anthony into the chair below the light and Nisbo and Charlie roped the captive in quickly at his legs. Strangely though, they left his hands free.

Jimmy gulped down the rest of his sandwich and opened up his travelling kit. Inks of all colours, two or three tattoo guns and a roll of kitchen paper came out and were all laid out ceremoniously on the sideboard in Anthony's full view. "Charlie, have you changed your mind any about what the lad's to have?"

"Nah, just as we discussed a few weeks back, Jimmy, just the visible ones today and you can come by in a few weeks and do the rest."

"Better tank him up a bit then, it's goin to be quite a shock for him."

"Nah, mate, you just get started, I want him to be fully sober when he sees what's goin on, part of the fun for the lads, you know..."

"OK, you're the boss. Get him steady though." Two of the skins stepped dutifully forward one at each of Anthony's arms. Jimmy fired up his equipment and loaded the needles with black outliner.

"Spread his fingers on the arms of the chair." Anthony resisted but the whole scene was too powerful for him. Deck managed to hold his hand down on the arm of the chair so his fingers were spread out.

Jimmy warned, "Buster, don't move, son, it'll only be worse if you do." Anthony realised the sense in this and didn't move his fingers. He couldn't bear to look though. The hum of the tattoo gun filled the room.

The little finger of Anthony's right hand was first, over the bone below the knuckle. Jimmy tattooed a heavy letter "S". On the next finger, a few moments later, Anthony got a "K". The middle finger was given an "I", and the pointer was marked with an "N".

When Anthony's hand was freed, Jimmy pushed it into the shape of a fist. The word "SKIN" was plain to see. "So far, so good," said Jimmy. Charlie and the others nodded in agreement.

Jimmy then started on Anthony's left hand, little finger first. It was marked with a "D". Jimmy worked inwards, with "A", then "E" and finally "H". Anthony's two fists spelt "SKIN HEAD" when held together.

"Right lads get behind him," said Jimmy, "one of you hold his head to the right."

Tears were streaming down Anthony's cheeks, but he could do absolutely nothing. He knew if he moved that would botch up whatever tattoo Jimmy was going to put on him. The tattoo gun fired up again.

"About here, Charlie?" asked Jimmy pointing to the side of Anthony's neck.

"No, mate, a few inches higher."

The two skins held Anthony's head in place as Jimmy began to tattoo on the side of the captive's neck. Obviously this was more intricate, because it took much longer, and Anthony could just make out that Jimmy was swapping colours and so on. After about twenty minutes, the skins shifted his head to the other side, and Jimmy set to work on the other side of Anthony's neck. Again, after twenty minutes or so, the water spray and wiping down of the area let Anthony know that it was finished. He'd stopped crying by now, by now he was just numb. "Bring the lad a mirror," ordered Charlie.

Nisbo brought Anthony a mirror. Anthony gasped as he saw the matching swallows (a good two or three inches big) on his neck. Nisbo leaned over the prisoner and whispered in his ear, "Well done, mate, you look great.."

"Only two more for today, Buster," encouraged Charlie.

At this, the skins held Anthony tight in the chair again, but before the next tattoo was started, Charlie insisted that Anthony had some Special Brew. "You've done great so far Buster, so I'm goin to let you have some anaesthetic. Bring me two cans, Deck." They were dutifully poured into Anthony's gob.

The skins pushed Anthony's head forward onto his chest and Jimmy began his work, lifting his tattoo gun and applying it to the back of Anthony's head. This one REALLY hurt, and Anthony was even glad of the beer that was helping to numb him a bit. Forty minutes later the penultimate tattoo was on. A three inch by two inch Union Jack, square in the back of Anthony's skull.

Just like at the barbers, Anthony got to see the result with the aid of a mirror. What could he say? This would change his life forever, no going back to the office once this was over, he was beginning to look like a thug.

"One last one now, Buster. You need to get this to stay in our gang, we've all got the same one."

Jimmy switched his position round to the front of Anthony's face. Anthony couldn't believe that his face was about to be tattooed. Nisbo and Charlie stepped forward and held Anthony's head in place again. Jimmy pulled Anthony's bottom lip forward and down. To Anthony's disbelief, Jimmy began to tattoo the inside of his bottom lip. A very short job, no more than five minutes. "Show him lads," shouted Buster.

All the skins in the room rolled down their bottom lips to reveal the word "SKINS" tattooed on the inside, marking them like a herd of cattle. Anthony knew his lip would be no different.

"That's it for today, Buster. You'll pay Jimmy another time, don't worry."

The skins all came forward to "congratulate" Anthony. Anthony didn't feel good though, in fact, he felt sick to his stomach.

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