July 8, 2013

The Artiste

Posted in stories at 4:59 am by littlesubmissions

Cheap plastic crinkled between his toes as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was never sure how to stand when he was naked. It didn’t help that she was circling him, walking around his body, studying him intently.

“I want a mood submissive, but I’m just not sure what I’m the mood for.” Her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned into a hard line. She stopped in front of the chair and sighed, then reached into the bag on top of it. She snapped a bright yellow rubber cooking glove on one hand, then the other. “I think I’ll start with blue.”

He swallowed nervously as she pulled out a large jar of blue finger paint and twisted the lid off.

She walked over to him, rocking her head from side to side. “Blue means bruising, in this case.” She dipped her fingers in the paint, and smeared a liberal coat on the skin over his right bicep, then punched him hard. The paint splattered, radiating out from where her fist had crashed into his flesh, and she punched him again.

She paused a second, looking carefully at the results, then nodded in satisfaction. The blue was darker around the edges, getting fainter as her punches drove it away from his skin. She started punching again, settling into a rhythm, hitting him with a steady staccato. The blue paint ran down his body between her punches, staining the bright yellow glove a sick green.

She paused and moved in front of him, slapping another blob of paint on his chest, and smearing it around his skin. He rocked back as she started punching him again. The paint splattering, the force passing between them, his hard gasps and her stony silence.

She took a tour of his body, covering him in paint, punching him, watching the paint splatter and show the outline of her punches. Stepping around him on the plastic, hitting him again and again until she was ready to move on.

“Then there’s red.” He jumped at the sound of her voice, and she stalked back over to the chair, putting the blue jar away and pulling out a bright red container. “Red means abrasion.”

She slapped her hand down on his shoulder, and started rubbing. The hands of the gloves had a textured grip and tried to dig into his skin. It slid across the paint, pushing it down his body until it dispersed and dried and the glove could generate friction.

His skin heated up, and started to burn. She kept rubbing, pulling it until it couldn’t stretch anymore, then dragging the rough surface of the glove over his body. He tried to hold still, to keep his body from being jerked off balance as she scraped her palm over his flesh. She worked her way around him, torturing his skin, smearing red and pain all over him. The back of his knee, the underside of his upper arm, all the places where the skin was soft and rarely touched.

She paused, and pulled out another color. “Do you know what pink is for?”

He didn’t want to lose his head space, the only thing keeping the pain enjoyable. He tried to talk without thinking. “Penetration, ma’am?”

“Penetration? No, pink is for ‘piggie,” but we’ll work some penetration in since you’re so eager.”

“Piggies are pink…” She slathered a handful of pink finger paint on his face, working it around his jaw, smearing it all over his face. It felt cold and wet on his skin, and he clamped his eyes shut as she smeared it across the bridge of his nose.

Her lip curled as she pulled another blob of paint out and slapped it underhand on his cock. She started jerking him off, running her fingers over his balls, smearing the paint into his pubic hair and rubbing it up and down his cock. She slapped more pink paint in her hand, using it for lube, and leaning in close to him.

“Disgusting little pig, your cock is getting hard, isn’t it?” He nodded his head with a quick jerk. “Say it pig!”

His breath was a loud rasp. “My disgusting pig cock is getting hard, ma’am!”

“Good boy, now I want you to turn around, and keep that fucking pig cock hard for me.” He turned around, feet slipping on the paint splattered drop cloth and started to slowly jerk himself off. Her voice was a snarl. “Cum and I will beat your brainless ass raw.”

He jumped as she forced a finger into his ass, penetrating him, twitching and jerking himself off a little faster to take his mind off the discomfort. She reveled in the feeling of penetrating him, of taking possession of his body, of violating it.

She shoved another finger inside his body.

He jerked himself off while she slapped paint on her fingers and worked them in and out of his body. A third finger followed the second, then the fourth. She made a cone shape, and started pushing it inside his body.

Paint down the glove onto her arm, and his body started to slide away as she pushed. “Down on all fours!” Not willing to wait she grabbed his hair and forced him down until he was awkwardly kneeling on his knees and one forearm, still jerking himself off with his other hand.

“Head down. Back arched.” She got down on one knee behind him, pouring paint down the crack of his ass as he contorted his body. She shoved three fingers in, then four, then started pushing her fist in. “Come on…”

She worked her hand back and forth, trying to shove her fist in his ass. He felt the obscene pressure, and tried to balance and jerk himself off as she pushed. His face was stuck to the plastic, paint gluing it down, and he could feel it sliding along with him as his head moved.

“I’d be so proud of you if I got my whole fist in your ass…” She felt the pressure lessen a little as he strained the muscles, and slid a little further inside him. “So proud of my little fuck pig…” She slid a little further. “Spitted on my arm…”

He groaned and her hand slid inside him, his ass closing around her wrist. She smiled and let out an “Ahhh…” slowly sliding further inside him, fucking his ass with her fist.

She started jerking herself off, rubbing her clit with her off hand while she fucked him with the other. Feeling his body wrapped around her, pushing more of herself inside of him, pulling back only so she could push further in. Her off-hand was on her cunt, rubbing up and down, slightly awkward with her left hand.

Pressure and pleasure built up inside of her, and she slid her arm inside him, watching it disappear in his ass as she came, moaning and twitching. She leaned against him and slowly, reluctantly pulled her arm out. She slid the gloves off and dropped them on the plastic, wanting to feel his skin.

“You can stop jerking off now.”

He slumped forward, and her eyes wanted to roll back up in her head in pleasure. She sat down and swallowed hard, relaxing for a minute. “When you’re ready, we’ll take a shower, and I’ll wash that off.”

He nodded, and she turned around to rest her back on his body, the colors seeping from his body onto hers.

Preview: She closed her eyes, picturing what she wanted in her mind, then took another sip.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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