Painted Into A Corner

Sara went down on her knees, her face close to Inara's belly. "It's a garden, A garden of delight."

The soft strokes swirled around her belly button and across the sensitive skin of her abdomen. Her eyes fell closed, too heavy to stay open, hypnotized by the sensation of the brush. She stifled a moan as the brush dipped down to her pubic mound but she could not seem to help the roll of her hips. She rocked forward, closer to the brush. Sara's hand came down on her hip, steadying her, holding her still. "Easy, baby. Hold on," she murmured.

The brush dipped lower, lower, down to her freshly shaved mound. Sara's hands came between her legs, stroking up from her knees between her thighs to push lightly and spread Inara's legs wider. Inara could feel the soft pant of her breath as Sara worked the brush across the sensitive skin of her pussy.

"Gorgeous," came the husky tone of Niall, waking Inara from her trance. She opened her eyes to see what had transpired on her skin, but Niall was not looking below, he was watching her face. He let the neck strap take the weight of the camera, his hands coming forward to cup Inara's face. "So beautiful," he murmured running his thumb across her lower lip. Her mouth opened instinctively to let the thumb enter. Her tongue came out and flicked across the tip as he pulled the plump lip down. He cursed, let go of her face and raised his camera to take a rapid series of shots, close to her face.

"So fucking sexy," he said over and over as he snapped away.

Down below Sara had moved to a brighter palette—the base blacks, browns and grays finished. Her pubic mound became a riot of color, a slick vibrant flower that spread between her thighs and across her lower stomach. From there the flower grew, tentacle like up her torso, around her breast with tendrils that reached up her neck and to her lips.

When Sara had finished the front she moved to the rear, making Inara bend over. Niall spread her bottom as Sara worked the brush on the puckered rosette of Inara's asshole. Inara panted and gasped as the velvet soft paint brush pushed against her ass. She closed her eyes and imagined it breaching the hole, working into her behind. People watching as it happened. Her head felt light, her limbs heavy and her skin, her skin burned. Along the lines of the garden, the spreading tentacles that now streaked across her body she burned.

And then it was finished. The painting was done. The last stroke left Inara's body and she felt empty, aching for touch. She opened her eyes to find a paint streaked Sara standing close in front of Niall. "We just need to do your hair and face make up then we'll do the final shots."

Inara nodded. Muted by need she found herself unable to speak.

Niall brought over a stool for Sara to stand on. She stepped up, slicked her hands with gel and worked Inara's short hair into a messy creation of spikes. Then she turned Inara to face her, rimmed her eyes in kohl and slicked pink gloss across her lips. "We're done," Sara said, "Do you want to see?"

Inara shook her head, "I'll wait for the exhibition. See your final vision."

"Good." Sara nodded, seeming pleased with her answer.

Niall positioned her in front of a white screen and began to call out directions. Directions that made her body sing, throb like bass in time with his melodic voice. "Look at me, right at the lens, part your lips. Spread your legs wider. Splay your fingers, down your body, not touching but just in front, right in front of your pussy honey, right there. Yeah. So good. So good."

He'd moved closer and closer, now he was crouched down on his haunches right between her spread legs his camera lens inches from her vagina.

She was wet, she knew she was and so must he, so close to her swollen pussy. "Bring your fingers closer, closer. Touch yourself. Touch that beautiful flower. Spread the petals, baby spread them wide for me."

"But I'll smudge it. I'll smudge the paint."

"I'll fix it if you do."

Inara swung her head around to see Sara standing close off to the side. She'd forgotten she was there, hypnotized as she had been by Niall's words Sara had seemed to disappear.

She followed Niall's instructions, bringing one hand down to spread the petals of her swollen flower. "Touch yourself, with the other hand, bring your finger down and run it down your beautiful wet slit for me darlin'."

It didn't occur to her to object. She did as she was told, slicking a finger through the wet lip lips up to the edge of her pink painted clit. She shuddered at the touch, close, so close to orgasm.

"That's right. That's perfect. So good baby. Look at you. So good." She slicked the finger in time with his words, with the rhythmic croon of his constant praise until, legs spread, pussy bared, painted with passion. Captured by the shutter of the camera, she came.

"Yes. Yes!" Niall cried out, his camera catching the spasm of her release. She stood on unsure legs rapidly coming down from the intensity of her orgasm. Reality hit and a burning flush of shame streaked across her body. She'd just come, made herself come in front of stranger. In front of a camera.

How did that happen?

How could she let that happen?

Before she could react to her shame by bolting from the room she felt the cool hands of Sara stroking the unpainted skin of her calves.

"It's OK. It's OK Inara. It's just art. Beautiful art."

"I'm smudged, it's wrecked," Inara said looking down at the smeared petals of her pussy flower, deliberately avoiding Sara's eyes.

"It's not wrecked. It's bloomed," Sara said looking up at Inara from between her thighs. Their eyes met just for a moment, a brief electric moment before Sara brought her lips to meet with Inara's paint smeared clit. She laid soft kisses, sweet gentle touches against the throbbing flesh. Inara was just about to reach down and push away her head when out snaked her tongue. Wet and insistent, it stroked against her clit. Inara moaned, threw her head back and cried out at the intense feelings shooting through her body from her overly sensitive clit. It hurt so good. So good. Then her whole mouth came down to suck on the little organ. Lips teeth and tongue working her, working her hard. Her knees bent she pushed, grinding her pussy down against those lips.

Inara heard Niall grunt to her side and turned her head to see him, black jeans unbuckled hanging low on his hips. He'd brought his hard cock out, pushing his briefs down until they sat under his balls. He had a hand gripped around the turgid stem, his thumb slicking across the wet tip. His eyes were on his wife, watching her as she worked her lips against Inara's clit.

Inara followed his gaze to look down. Look down at that blonde head. Her hair had come loose from the perfect pony tail and was now spread across Inara's thighs. Her lips and chin were smeared, wet with paint and the juice of Inara's pussy. Seeing the stain of pink that sullied the perfect Nordic façade sent her over. Sent Inara crashing into her third and most brutal orgasm of the day. Her legs gave out as her pussy spasmed hard, contracting in delicious waves. She fell against Sara's hands and Sara helped her gently down to lay flat on the calico covered floor.

"Fuck yeah! Yeah!" She heard Niall cry out and looked up just in time to see cum spray from his cock—splattering down to join the paint that already stained the drop sheet. Inara watched as he tucked his still hard cock back into his briefs. He didn't re button his jeans, instead he sank down to the floor beside her.

They lay still not speaking, with only the sound of heavy breathing until finally Sara spoke, "No fair guys. I'm the only one who didn't come."

Niall came up on his elbow, resting his head in his hand and said, "Well, Inara my lovely, do you think we should do something about that?"

"Yes," came her hushed reply. Not wanting to think, rationalize or justify- she went simply with her feelings. She wanted to make Sara come. She wanted to feel Sara come.

"Take off your pants Sara my love," Niall said and Sara stripped off the black tights she was wearing, leaving her clad only in a pink thong and tank top. Rolling over on her stomach, Inara hooked up Sara's legs and moved between her thighs. She didn't remove the thong, instead she brought tongue down to wet fabric and then with her teeth she teased her clit trapped beneath the wet satin.

"Oh yeah. Gorgeous, just gorgeous," Niall murmured from behind Sara as he pulled off her tank top and bra, releasing the soft full mounds of his wife's breasts. Inara looked up from between Sara's thighs to see the white rise of her breasts and could think of nothing she had ever wanted more in her life than to taste those breasts. She crawled up across Sara's body until her mouth came level with the pink tipped nipples. First she trailed her tongue around the nipples, watching with delight as they puckered into hard points. Then she clamped her lips around those points and sucked until she heard Sara's moan of pleasure. As she used her mouth, her teeth and her tongue to tease that delicious point she felt Niall come beside her, his head bumping hers as he too brought his mouth down on Sara's breast. Two mouths working both her breasts had Sara writhing, arching her back up and crying out.

Inara released Sara's breast with a wet pop, turning to watch Niall as he tortured his wife's breast with his stubble-rough chin. He was gorgeous, so hot, so sexy that Inara was possessed with the need to kiss him. Reaching across the soft swell of Sara's breasts she claimed his mouth. First sinking her teeth into his bottom lip before swooping her tongue into his mouth. Niall moaned, the sound resonating deep in his throat.

"Hey." From below their entwined mouths they heard Sara's protest, "It's my turn remember?"

Niall laughed, released Inara's mouth and moved his hands down to strip off his wife's thong. "Impatient are we my love?"

"Yes," she groaned, "Need to come."

"Then come you shall," Niall said as he lowered his mouth between Sara's spread thighs to clamp on her needy clit.

Inara watched, laying beside Sara, playing with her nipples as Niall worked his mouth between her thighs.

As she raised her hips to push against his mouth Sara cried out, "No. Not Niall. I want Inara."

With a wicked grin Niall looked up from between Sara's thighs. "You want Inara do you?" He asked between long licks of Sara's wet pussy. "How much do you want her?"

"Want her...want..." Sara panted out as she writhed beneath his mouth. "Please..."

"What do you want darling tell me? Tell Inara."

Niall didn't look at his wife rather he watched Inara's face as Sara spoke, his eyes dark with pleasure. "I want her pussy against mine. I want her to rub my pussy against hers until I come."

Inara felt a rush of wet heat settle to throb between her legs at the words. Rub their pussies together. Stiff little clit against still little clit, pressing down, teasing until they both came.

She didn't answer. Didn't respond to those words. Instead she moved to straddle Sara's hips, pushing Niall away.

Settling down on Sara she moved, pressing down against Sara's arching hips until she felt the first touch of their swollen clits. Electric pleasure conducted from her clit, shooting down her clamped thighs and up to the tips of her peaked nipples. Moving her hips in a circle she pressed down on that wet slit, mixing their juices and smearing the paint from her body until they were both stained pink. Sara thrashed beneath her, arching, writhing, trembling, gripping her fingers until they bit deep into the flesh of Inara's hips.

"Yes. Yes! Yes!" Sara cried out, her head whipping from side to side. "Coming. Coming!"

A guttural wail erupted from Sara as she arched up and became rigid, her orgasm wracking through her body. It was the hottest thing Inara had ever seen. She tried to continue the roll of her hips against Sara to come up. Sara pushed her away. "Too sensitive. Sorry too sensitive," she apologetically explained as she pulled herself out from under Inara.

Wanting desperately to come once more she came up on all fours and was moving her hand down to her clit when she felt the press of Niall's body from behind. "Can I. Can I please?" He asked and Inara looked down between her legs to see Niall's condom sheathed cock butting up against her pussy.

"Yes. Oh yes," she answered and Niall thrust into her with one rough push. His hands moved to her hips, gripping exactly as his wife had done. With his finger biting into her flesh he levered her back against his thrusting cock, over and over, his balls hitting her clit. She could hear him grunt, each time his cock bottomed out deep in her pussy. Her wail of orgasm came from deep within, feeling as if It came all the way from her toes. Her pussy clenched over and over, the contractions almost painful in their intensity. She collapsed down, her arms giving out, if Niall had not been gripping her hips she would've ended up flat on her face. Spent and panting she was liquid, languid, malleable, Niall controlled her, manipulated her body for his needs. He pulled her back, slamming her against his hips. Pushing his cock deep within until with a hoarse cry he stiffened, holding her tight against his pelvis as he came. After his orgasm he let her slide down, slipping off his cock until she lay flat, face first on the calico drop sheet.

* * * *

The night of the opening was cool, autumn was drawing to a close and the winter winds while not yet biting, were definitely brisk. She could have worn a coat, maybe she should have but she wanted to wear a shawl from her new collection. The collection soon to be seen in Neiman Marcus, thanks to the wonderful work of Niall and Sara Graeme—so pleased were they with her 'posing' they rewarded her with their combined talent for free. As a result she had a professional portfolio that had drawn the attention of the major Department stores. When she entered the Latham Gallery there was an audible hush, faces turned to her and fingers were raised to point. She was an object of attention. Something that she'd come to love since her wicked photo shoot.

She had not seen the results of that passionate day, no matter how curious she had been she forced herself to wait. Wait to see Sara's vision. On the rear wall were mounted five huge canvases surrounded by people. Inara surmised that they were the centerpiece of the showing. She moved easily through the crowd, people parting as soon as they realized who she was. Finally standing in front of the canvas she took a deep breath and looked up. Looked up to see her own face, mouth slack, eyes closed quite obviously in the throes of orgasm. The next canvas was her from below, life-size. It was shot from between her thighs, her fingers hovering over the swollen pink petals of Sara's painted garden.

The others were artful shots of her body, close ups of her painted flesh. They were sexy and divinely beautiful. They were mixed media combining the photographs of Niall with the exquisite painting of Sara. There were none of the more explicit shots that she knew Niall had taken. She was relieved, and slightly disappointed. She had both feared and wanted to see it. To see her fingers speared in her pussy, spreading the swollen flesh for all to see. To stand in the crowd while strangers watched her come.

She felt him, his erection pushing into her lower back. Niall was behind her, he murmured, "They're beautiful aren't they?"

"Yes Niall they are. I'm really pleased with them."

A soft puff of air vibrated against her ear as she heard him chuckle. "Liar," he said.

She turned to face him saying, "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're a liar. You're not entirely pleased are you? You wanted more didn't you?" His words were low, they made her shudder and heat pool between her legs. "You wanted them all to see you come didn't you dirty girl. You wanted all the lovely people to see your fingers pressed into your wet pussy."

She couldn't help the moan that escaped her mouth, Nothing had happened since that day. Both Sara and Niall had been supremely professional when they photographed her collection. She'd come to think that nothing more would come of their encounter. But now, with his wicked words whispered close to her ear and the press of his erection against her belly she wondered if more was to come. As if in answer she felt Sara press from behind, sandwiching her between their two bodies.

"We have another showing planned, did you know?" Sara said softly.

"No," she answered in a breathless whisper.

"A private showing, a select audience who have been invited to see the whole collection."

"Really?"

"Yes. And for that night we think we'll need something special. A live model. Painted up on a pedestal. Would you like that?"

Inara shook her head even as her body screamed out YES. She wanted it, but she couldn't. She couldn't ask for it.

"Well then we'll have to play for it. Won't we Sara?"

"Yes. Another wager. Would you wager for it Inara?"

And just like that Inara found herself painted into another corner.