Tillie was being tortured. And she loved every second of it.
Maura was going over her breast right now, dipping the small brush into the jar of lustrous golden paint and dabbing just the tiniest stroke at a time onto Tillie's light brown skin. The tiny hairs tickled Tillie's sensitive flesh, making her nipples stand out and her aureolae pebble into tight buds of arousal, but Maura and Tillie both knew that wasn't what was driving Tillie crazy and making the act of holding her position on the studio floor into a near-insurmountable challenge. Although it didn't help.
"How are you holding up?" Maura asked, smoothly and evenly brushing the shimmering paint down Tillie's small, pert breast toward the tingling nipple. "Do you need a break? Some water?" She made it sound like this was just a normal day, a normal body painting session with her usual model in her home studio that didn't smell like Tillie's aching, needy pussy at all. The very normality of it made Tillie even wetter; somehow, the more Maura pretended that she wasn't doing anything to turn Tillie on, the more aroused the younger woman became. She could only imagine how horny she was going to be by the end of the session.
"N-no, I'm good," Tillie replied, blinking carefully as she tried to push away the fog of lust that clouded her brain. She wanted to shake her head like a wet dog, clear out some of the cobwebs that seemed to be gathering on her sluggish thoughts, but she knew better than to make violent, sudden movements right now. Not when her face and neck was already daubed with delicate brushstrokes of pure gold. God, just thinking about that tiny little brush sliding along the tender skin of her throat made Tillie want to play with herself.... "Um. M-maybe try using the, the airbrush? It might speed things along."
Maura favored her with a wry smile, her angular chin and high cheekbones making it look even more sadistic than the artist intended. "I thought you didn't have anywhere you needed to be. Or anything you needed to do." She punctuated the words with a slow, careful swirl of the brush around Tillie's nipple, her pale fingers holding the brush tightly and daubing the pigment into place with expert skill. The paint clung to each and every one of the tiny bumps of her aureola, throbbing with pleasure until Tillie thought she could actually feel it drying onto her skin.
"I, I don't," Tillie responded reluctantly, although she certainly did need to be in Maura's bed on the other side of the studio and she certainly did need to do some serious grinding on Maura's strong, precise fingers until all of the pent-up sexual energy that had been building the last few hours exploded in a gush of helpless orgasmic bliss. She couldn't say any of that, though. That was part of the game. She couldn't admit that the paint was getting to her, and Maura couldn't tease her with anything but the brush. They'd both agreed to the rules... but it was becoming pretty fucking obvious that Maura got the better end of the deal.
"Well, then!" Maura added briskly, her husky, sensual voice cutting off Tillie's objections before the model could collect her scattered thoughts together and explain why she needed to get the painting over with as quickly as possible so that they could get to the part where Maura fingered Tillie's soaking pussy. "That settles that. Slow and steady, right?" She looked at Tillie, perhaps noticing the way that the younger woman's hazel eyes were going glassy as she began to retreat inside her own head. "I said, isn't that right, Tillie?"
"R-right," Tillie replied, struggling to keep a whimper out of her voice. It wasn't easy; everywhere the paint dried, it left her skin tingling with arousal, so profoundly sensitized that even the lightest whisper of a breeze felt like a lover's caress to her. It was only her imagination, she tried to tell herself, but Tillie knew from months of surrendering to Maura's hypnotic skills that she could be a very imaginative young woman indeed with the right prompting. And knowing that she was following a post-hypnotic suggestion didn't make her any less susceptible to its influence over her.
Tillie's head swam, her body swaying almost imperceptibly as the brush teased its way around the curve of her breast, stroke by stroke, impregnating her skin with the gold paint until it shone. It was so hard for her not to go into a trance right now simply through the power of association; she was focused like a laser on the tiny hairs teasing every last inch of her body, daubing tiny blobs of pigment onto her and then smoothing them into an even coating of metallic ecstasy. She was captivated by every little touch, so aroused that her cunt throbbed like a second heartbeat, and her Domme was standing right there. Playing with her. It was enough to make Tillie want to retreat into her own head just to stop herself from masturbating.
But that was part of the rules, too, Tillie thought to herself as Maura's brush tenderly stroked its way between Tillie's breasts. She wasn't allowed to go into trance. It had seemed like a pretty easy stipulation to agree to, but Tillie was finding it harder and harder to keep her scattered thoughts together as she posed for her lover. Not only was she getting fuzzy with arousal, Tillie was only now beginning to realize just how often she'd drifted away into her own thoughts while modeling without even understanding that she was hypnotizing herself all along. It was hard not to have that calm, mellow headspace to retreat to, even before Maura's suggestion kicked in.
Tillie realized distantly that she was woolgathering again, her mind floating along from one lazy, disconnected thought to another until she couldn't quite make herself think properly at all, and she forced herself to surface from the light trance she'd slipped into. She half-suspected that Maura knew she was going to have this problem, that she made that rule because she wanted Tillie to fractionate herself with her constant attempts to snap out of a hypnotic state that felt all too natural for her now. Not that Maura was cheating or anything. She was just the kind of deliciously sadistic bitch who loved to rig the game right from the start.
And Tillie was just the kind of needy, whimpering little slut who loved to have her head messed with. "You doing okay, dear?" Maura asked calmly, as though she didn't even notice that she was flicking her paintbrush up and down Tillie's other nipple with agonizing attention to detail. "You looked like you were having a little trouble standing. Just let me know if you need a break."
Tillie shook her head as fast as she could under the circumstances, blinking heavily in an attempt to clear her head. "N-no," she mumbled, her voice slurring in distracted pleasure. "No, I'm good. Let's just keep going." She knew what would happen if she tried to take a break. The aphrodisiacs in the gold paint would seep even deeper into her pores, saturating her bloodstream and impregnating her brain with more and more potent chemical arousal. She would become even more desperate, even more aroused, even more turned on and foggy and unable to think. And the drugs wouldn't wear off, because they were all in Tillie's surprisingly vivid imagination. Only Maura could end the suggestion and return her to normal.
And this wasn't one of those games that Tillie could just decide to lose. There wasn't an agreed-upon forfeit, this wasn't a challenge between Maura's hypnotic suggestions and Tillie's willpower. She couldn't simply slip away to the restroom and flick her throbbing clit with one shiny gold finger until she saw stars, then come back and say to Maura, 'Oops, guess I need to be punished.' Her obedient subconscious knew better than to pull that kind of shit by now. No, she was completely, totally, one hundred percent at Maura's mercy. And Maura was merciless.
It wasn't until she felt the brushstrokes flicking across the dappled skin on her belly that Tillie realized she'd lost another chunk of time, her perception crumbling into an abyss of dazed, distracted arousal despite her best efforts to stay conscious. She knew her eyes hadn't closed, she felt like she might even have responded to something Maura said while she was off inside her own head. But the memories of the last little while felt kind of soft and mushy, like she wasn't really certain that they happened or not. She definitely didn't remember the details of every daub and dab on her tender flesh.
Her thoughts continued to swim in and out of focus as she watched the paintbrush move in tiny, flickering motions against the splotches of pale pink skin on her belly, and Tillie had to work to keep herself from gasping so hard that she ruined the paint job. She'd never thought of her stomach as a particularly erogenous zone before, but godDAMN was that suggestion doing a number on her head. Everywhere the brush touched, it left behind a trail of sweet, soft thrumming pleasure that mingled with the buzz in her head to melt her mind into helpless arousal. She couldn't stop fantasizing, couldn't stop picturing Maura dropping the paintbrush and sliding two fingers right into Tillie's slick, soaking pussy.
But of course it didn't happen. Maura went down to the swell of Tillie's shaven pubic mound, then slowly and meticulously painted her way along Tillie's waist with an expression of studious concentration on her face. "Now you just tell me if you need to drink something, okay? I don't want you getting dehydrated. We've still got most of your legs and back to do." What she didn't say was that she thought Tillie might be dehydrated because she could see actual fucking lubrication dripping off of Tillie's labia like she was a leaky fucking faucet, because Tillie had practically gone into fucking heat right there on the dropcloth. She didn't know how Maura was going to paint her down there without the gold pigment running down her legs.
But they hadn't even gotten that far yet. First Maura painted her way around Tillie's waist to her back, then began to work down over the curve of Tillie's shuddering ass. Tillie was hoping that without Maura's mesmerizing jade eyes to distract her, it might be a little bit easier to keep herself from slipping back into trance, but somehow it was even worse. Without the paintbrush to watch, the only thing anchoring Tillie to reality was the agonizingly slow progression of the tiny little hairs flicking and licking their way along her warm, soft skin, and focusing on that was so much easier with her eyes... closed....
Tillie jerked her head back up, mumbling, "Sorry, ma'am," in a muzzy voice that she recognized all too well. It was the way she sounded when she was heavily fractionated, when Maura decided to really mess with her pretty little girl's head and brought her up and down, over and over, triggering Tillie in and out of trance until she forgot whether she was awake or asleep anymore. Those nights were always so nice. Tillie always wound up so dazed and sleepy. Open. Programmed. Sucking her Mistress off until her mind just... went away....
"Ah ah ah!" Maura said sharply, and Tillie realized she'd failed to respond to a question. "You remember the rules. You need to stay wide awake for me, don't you?" Even Maura's voice felt like a trigger now, although thankfully the artist seemed to be following her own rules and avoiding the breathy, languorous tones she used when she was hypnotizing Tillie. That would really fuck with her head. She'd be gone in seconds if she heard that voice. Oh god did she want to hear that voice right now.
But instead, she murmured, "Yes ma'am, sorry, ma'am," and raised her head back up from where it had unaccountably drooped onto her chin and tried to focus. Or not focus. Tillie needed to keep her mind moving, that was all. She needed to stop fixating on the movement of the brush as it spread drugged paint all over her buzzing, tingling ass cheeks and think of, of something else. But something real. If she started to fantasize, Tillie knew she'd be disassociating all over again within moments as her mind retreated from the overwhelming, impossible need that suffused her whole body into daydreams of being fucked like a good girl. Of bending over all the way, so that Maura could take her from behind and make her drooling, squishy pussy gush with cum. Of....
Fuck. She was losing it again. "C-could I have a very, very cold drink of water, please?" she asked, her whole body lightly quaking in place as the brush finally stopped its relentless motion for a moment.
"Of course, dear," Maura said, her voice filled with poisonous sweetness. "Just a moment." She stepped away, leaving Tillie to shiver in position like a trembling fawn, and filled up a squirt bottle with water straight from the fridge. "Open wide," she said, as she tilted the nozzle into Tillie's mouth and gave it a gentle squeeze. Of course Tillie wasn't allowed to touch anything, not with her hands already painted. Maura would do all the touching today.
The icy water helped, sluicing across Tillie's tongue and down her throat with a shock of cold that washed away some of the cobwebs in her mind. She wished she could pour it all over her face and head, soaking her long curly hair in it until it dripped down her feverish body, but that would defeat the purpose of the whole day's work. She had to be painted. Head to toe. Until she gleamed for her Mistress.
"There we go," Maura said, resuming her seat behind Tillie and gathering a few stray locks of long dark hair behind her headband. "You just let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?" She paused, the paintbrush poised right next to Tillie's lower thigh. "Within reason, of course," she chuckled, as she began to paint again.
Tillie understood perfectly what that meant. It meant that even if she begged, even if she broke down into a puddle of whimpers and moans and helpless sobs of mindless, aching need, she wasn't getting fucked until Maura was good and ready. And Maura wasn't ready yet. Neither was Tillie, if she was honest with herself. Oh, she was horny as fuck, an absolute mess between her legs and practically shaking so bad that Maura would have to redo some portions once their little game was over, before the photo shoot properly began. But she had to admit it. She wanted to see how far she could be pushed.
It wasn't as if she couldn't safeword, after all. She'd known Maura for years as an artist and friend before the slow accretion of intimacy and trust built up to the point where they fell into bed together with an almost sheepish sense of relief, and there was absolutely no question in her mind that if she genuinely reached the limits of her endurance, they would stop and stop instantly. But Tillie didn't know what her limits were for something like this. She didn't know how much arousal she could stand before her brain broke, or how deeply she could be fractionated before she needed to stop going into trance for a little while. She only knew that it was still the fun kind of difficult at the moment.
So when Maura asked, "How are you doing, dear?" while her brush flicked away at the small of Tillie's back, she didn't say that she was so horny she could practically fucking scream. She didn't say that her eyes had crossed three times in the last five minutes, or mention the way that the scent of her drooling cunt was practically thicker than the smell of the paint at this point. She pointedly didn't discuss any of her daydreams of having every long, thick object within view crammed into her pussy and pumped back and forth until her whole existence was one long, shuddering orgasm.
Tillie just said, "I'm... fine. For now." And tried to keep her mind on her work.
She didn't do that badly. Maura was able to join up the patches of gold paint on the back with the completed front, covering the vitiliginous spots where they curled around Tillie's belly to her spine. It was when the older woman got down on her knees to paint her way down Tillie's legs that Tillie began to have difficulties concentrating again. Having Maura that close, feeling her warm breath on Tillie's feverish skin brought back so many wonderful memories of spreading her thighs for Maura's skilled tongue that they almost seemed to swarm around her head like flies. She felt like she was drunk on pleasure just thinking about it, as if the drugs in her imagination had finally reached some critical dose and all she could think about now was sex.
Tillie never knew before now just how many places she could feel arousal--she'd been a model for body painters for years now, even done a couple of episodes of 'Skin Wars', but nothing prepared her for the constant, thrumming buzz of arousal from every square centimeter of her skin that the paint touched. She thought she had gotten so used to being brushed and stroked and decorated that it barely even tickled anymore, but when the tiny little hairs of Maura's tiny little paintbrush grazed the back of her knee, Tillie's legs almost buckled under her at the waves of overwhelming sensation that pounded her fuzzy, vulnerable brain. "How are you doing?" Maura asked, her voice betraying nothing but sincere concern.
"Uh huh," Tillie whimpered, her eyes rolling back just a little in her head. "Um, I mean, um, fine. I'm fine. I, I just... how much more do we have left to do?" It was the closest she could get to begging Maura to fuck her without disobeying the rules, and the pleading whimper in her voice made clear what her words weren't technically allowed to say. She needed Maura inside her so bad. She needed to cum. She needed to stop thinking and plummet into mindless, obedient trance. Tillie wasn't even sure anymore which of those she craved more, but she knew she wanted all of them and she wanted them right now.
"Not too much longer," Maura said brightly, moving back around to the front and looking up at Tillie's glazed, bleary eyes. Tillie let out a choked, involuntary whimper--Maura was at exactly the right height to lean in and slide her long tongue right in between Tillie's dripping, slick pussy lips. It would be so easy for her. It would be just the work of a moment. But even though she opened her mouth, Tillie couldn't say a word. Not when her subconscious knew exactly what a good girl should do right now.
A good girl needed to wait. If Tillie was a good girl, she would hold her pose and watch as Maura slowly, carefully painted every inch of her legs from the ankles up. If Tillie was truly obedient, she would do nothing but stare down at the crown of Maura's head, struggling with all her remaining willpower not to let the motion of the swept-back dark hair lull her into trance simply because everything felt hypnotic to her at this point. If Tillie was a good, obedient little slut for her Mistress, she would stand perfectly still, even as the musk of her arousal gathered in maddening little beads on her sensitive labia before dropping off to join the little puddle on the dropcloth.
Tillie was astonished to find out just how good a girl she really was.
And then, finally, the step that truly made Tillie's mind melt all the way down her spine into her aching, hungry pussy. Maura took a towel and gently dabbed at Tillie's slick, soaking labia, the rough terrycloth teasing Tillie's sensitive skin until she moaned in helpless arousal, then took the brush and began to paint Tillie's vulva with the special aphrodisiac paint. Each stroke was delicious agony, like being lashed with a whip made of pure pleasure, and it was only moments before the metallic pigment mixed with her natural lubricant to form a slippery froth. Neither of them cared. They could always retouch this later.
All Maura cared about was watching Tillie's eyelids flutter and dance with the struggle to keep her soft, vulnerable mind from sinking into trance. Her eyes were rolled back so far in her head that only the whites showed, and she was the only person she was fooling into thinking that she remained anything like conscious, but the sight of her slack jaw and blank, vacant expression rendered in gold was enough to make Maura a very happy woman. The painter idly stroked herself through her tented skirt as she applied the last few brushstrokes.
And all Tillie cared about now was cumming. Her mind fogged over and cleared, fogged over and cleared with every gentle dab against her skin until she couldn't remember anymore whether she was awake or not. She could only pant, her breath coming out in hoarse gasps that sounded almost like orgasmic moans already, her thoughts utterly fixated on the moment when Maura would finally reward her for being such a good, obedient girl. When she would get the release she craved more than air, more than food, more than water. When she would be fucked into mindless, hypnotized bliss.
And then at last, Tillie let out a guttural grunt of consuming ecstasy as Maura sank three fingers easily and effortlessly into her gilded cunt.