She Poses Nude

She'd read his stories and masturbated and she was in his town.

So she reached out to him.

They talked back and forth about her fantasies. He shared more stories and she'd liked all his drawings so she asked, would you draw me.

She'd never posed nude for anyone. She'd had a protector, a lover back home but hadn't explored much beyond that.

He agreed, she was stunningly beautiful. He'd love to draw her. Do a dozen or more big sketches, she picks the poses she's comfortable with and he gives her the art.

That was to be all. He had his Wildflower. She had herself.

But she kept reading his stories. She kept finding herself being lost in the fantasies, visualizing the places, the people and the events. He was keeping her in a near constant state of rapture, her mind wanting to take her body to new flavors.

She wanted him to spank her now. He'd talked about what he called a TenFive.

Ten minutes of spanking, caning, flogging all over her naked body... Starting slow and building in intensity... Ten minutes of awakening every inch of her skin... Then five minutes of soft, gentle caress... Hold her... wrap her in a soft blanket... stroke her... touch her... Soft and gentle... Then when she's ready, start again. He could tease her, edge her, touch her as he drew, teasing her till she begs for relief.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. She'd been masturbating often now... In the shower... In bed... She'd visualize what could happen and let her mind wander and she'd find herself gently stroking her clit through her panties, slow, circular motion...

They set a day and a time and the ground rules. No fucking but he could make her cum as many times as he wanted. Two safe words were established. Yellow meant pull back a little, getting close to a limit. Red meant stop.

Those were carved in stone and agreed.

When he arrived, she was wearing a black dress, soft, thick, clinging against the cold. Black tights and heels. Her long blonde hair flowed over her shoulders and her blue eyes shimmered.

She was nervous. Excited. This was something totally new, but she trusted him.

He slipped her out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor... He unhooked her bra and let it fall... Warm hands caressing soft skin... He slid the tights down and she stepped out of them...

Now she's naked. He takes in her curves.

In Catch 22, Yossarian met an Italian girl who became his lover. He saw her walking down a Roman street in a tight white dress... Narrow waist, full hips swinging with each step. He was taken instantly and had to meet her.

They met, they made love and the story goes.

But her shape, that narrow waste, flowing out to beautiful round Italian hips.

That's what he saw now. He traced her curves with his hands...

And she was... Blonde haired, blue eyed Italian.

You were in a movie.

Really?

So she lay down on the couch, back to him, he moved her legs, her hips, adjusted the light and started drawing. He'd touch her, feeling the curves with his hands as well as his eyes. Every curve... Every nuance... Light and dark defining the shapes...

He drew and drew and drew...

Sometimes stopping to touch her. To tease her...

She's got her ass in the air now, arched back, hair flowing, looking at him as he takes her in. She's smiling... His hands tracing the curve of her back, over her ass... Down the furrow to follow down her thighs... Move this leg over just a bit...

She's glistening... Her pussylips wet... He touches her clit... Her eyes close... Her lips part... Soft moan... back arches more... Pushes back on his hand... gently stroking her clit now... hips riding... a finger slips inside her... Dripping wet... She pushes back... fucking his finger... her voice... eyes closed... purring consent... He strokes her... Her hips come to life, moving, rotating, fucking a finger...

He pulls his finger out and slaps her ass hard...

No cumming for you yet...

She squeals... Laughs... Please... Nope...

Another pose, lay back against the couch... spread your legs... Masturbate for me... Gladly... she looks him in the eye and masturbates, smiling... She'd never masturbated for a stranger before but she liked it. He watched, liking it as well... he reached forward, two fingers inside her now, palm up... Pressing up, slowing fucking her... Wet open lips now, flowing, pink and on fire... She's speeding up, eyes closed now, lips open, gentle purrs, fingers moving faster now... she's squeezing his fingers, pushing out, squeezing...

He holds her hand now...

No cumming for you... Oh fuck..., breathing slows back down... Hold that pose... pussylips wet, puffy, hot and pink...

He draws her.

This continues... Pose... Touch... Almost orgasm... Stop... Pose... Touch... Almost orgasm... Stop...

Time to move to the next thing...

He stands her up. He puts headphones on her. Big, full headphones that blot out the universe. He selects hardcore metal... Loud... Abrasive... All encompassing.

He puts her knees on the couch and pushes her forward... arches her back... Her ass served up...

His big hand strikes... Hard...

She gasps... Muffled tiny shriek. Again... And again... Her ass goes from soft pale white to bright red... The imprint of his open hand visible as though he'd painted it there.

Each blow throws her. Each strike shakes her to her soul... He'd stop, run his hand between her legs and stroke her clit, she'd arch her back, push down on his hand... fuck me is in her mind... then again, hand on flesh... He slapped her body, slapped her breasts, her belly, thighs, ass, back... big hand delivering loud slaps, squirming, get away... more...

then the cane.

The first strike left a red welt instantly. Squeal... in her mind, all she hears is the loud music, chaos, powerful angst, shredding guitars, drums destroying silence, and her breathing, her squeals... She can't even hear the strike, but she feels them...

He'd stop, caress her ass, feel the heat rising, explore her pussy, gentle pleasures now... oh fuck... pussy squeezing his fingers, push back, more please, deeper... fill me... WACK again on her fucking ass...

He stood her up... Cane on thighs... belly... breasts... squeals... panic... passion... harder on her ass now... welts rising...

She was getting frayed... He could sense that... It stopped... He pulled her to him and held her... She melted into his arms... He took off the headphones... covered her in a blanket... Gentle caress... Soft touch...

She recovered. In his arms...

Time stopped...

A soft voice in her ear... I'm going to make you cum.

Lay back, spread legs... Two fingers stroking her clit, standing, soft, hard, pink, shining. He strokes her, the way he'd seen her masturbate. Learn from her... Gentle, firm circles... Hips moving... giving way... Open... Take it all in...

Her first orgasm was beautiful... She looked up at his as she came, eyes melting into pleasure... Again... faster... fingers inside now, faster... oh fuck... oh fuck... hips moving... eyes looking... oh fuck... it starts... she's squirting... oh god... legs wider, open wide... push... splashing... open... close... open... close... body shaking, convulsing... ohfuck... fuck... FUCK...

Orgasm melted into orgasm... He stopped... got more towels... She soaked them... Over and over... gushing orgasm... No more... I can't... Please...

Hold her... Relax... breathing slows... I want you to stand up... A big full length mirror... She stands in front, he behind her... Do you want me to slap your pussy...

Yes sir...

He does. Knees buckle... He holds her up... Do you want it again? Yes sir...

Again, loud slap on dripping cunt...

Again... Again... Each time, he asks, she says yes...

I'm going to make you cum again... I can't... Too much... Slap or cum? Slap...

He kneels behind her, her ass hot and pink... Reaches between her legs... She watches in the mirror, her naked body, pink and red and white... His hand now stroking her clit... slowly... slowly... faster... fingers inside... fuck... cumming again... squirting... gushing... splashing on the concrete floor...too much... knees buckle... body gives way... Holds her up... watching in the mirror as her body is lost from her... Escaped somewhere else... Intense pleasure taking over, mind melting, body shaking, dripping, grasping and lost.

Red... Red... can't... fuck...

He stops... Holds her up... back to the thick rug... Blanket... Relax...

The drawings were scattered around the room... She loved them... He even drew her tattoo, "don't let the bastards grind you down" in Latin, wrapping around a soft thigh, ending just a finger away from her clit.

He had to go. Present to a room full of executives. Time to adult. Drawings of her everywhere. Exhausted. Fulfilled. Smiling. Come back to town again. I will. Smiles...

(NOW THIS IS HER SIDE OF THE STORY. SHE WROTE ABOUT HER EXPERIENCE POSING...)

I was nervous. I had assured everyone that I would be safe, but I was deeply nervous.

We had agreed on a time, had set the place, and now I was waiting to be picked up. Picked up by a man I didn't know. A man who would then draw me,then hit me, then spank me, then cane me.

Then he would make me cum.

All because I had asked for it, and gentlemen give ladies what they ask for.

That morning I read and reread and reread again our agreement. I knew exactly what he would do. We had safe words. I felt safe... but still I was nervous.

I got in the shower. Long and hot. I put a sugar scrub on my skin and oiled it, finding peace in routine. I looked in the mirror and as my hands massaged in oil they slipped lower, only to find that I was dripping.

I dressed methodically. No panties, just tights. A black dress with a high neck and a zipper.

Then I paced.

"Here"

I walk outside, lock the door. Get into his car.

His hands... I cannot stop staring at his hands... big and obviously strong... rings on fingers... I wonder if he'll finger me with those on...

I shift in my seat, thighs trying to find friction...he pulls up my skirt...

"You're delicious."

We arrive at our destination and go inside. He's setting up paper and charcoal, I don't know what to do but I can feel the wetness of me dribbling down my thighs.

"Let's get you out of those clothes."

I reach for my own zipper but his hands have beat mine. He slowly unzips, lowers the dress to the floor. His hands rove over newly exposed skin and my breath catches. Tights are lowered gently and I step out of them. Bra is taken off. And those hands are on every curve of my body.

"I'm not going to touch your pussy until later."

Already I need him too.

He poses me on the couch. Moving a hip or directing me to put an arm down. In his hands I become art.

As he poses me, his hands explore my pussy. He touches me and my back arches further...my hips move like water... I want more of his touch...He says I cannot cum until later...

Another pose another touch. Again and again. I'm thoroughly on edge when he instructs me to spread my legs and touch myself.

I'd never done that for a stranger before. Under his gaze I felt free, and safe. I pleasured myself for him. Circular motions on my clit, fingers greedily fucking... Breath hitching faster...so close...

A hand on mine... an order to stop...

"Hold that pose"

The drawings are finished, laid out before me. He identifies my heritage by looking at my ass.

I know what comes next... he places headphones over my ears and the world disappears. I'm lost in the music.

I do not hear or see his hand go up, I'm faced towards the wall... but I feel the hit when it comes crashing down. My breath escapes in a gasp. A little yelp escapes me.

His hand spanks again and again... I'm lost in the pain, reveling in it. I move away from it and want more of it at the same time. A sharp sting against my ass and I know I'm being caned. I shriek and ungulate. Another and another.

His hand is there now. Mimicking how he had watched me touch myself. Fingers slip inside and I push my hips back. Wanting more, wanting him deeper. The first orgasm rolls over me like a rising tide. For a moment I cannot breathe as it crashes.

His hands are still there, demanding more. I writhe. I cum again and again. Soaking myself and the couch. Squirting from this man... There is no respite, I have turned into clay in the hands of a master.

I'm on the floor now, face pressed against the carpet and ass in the air and still those fingers are buried. Seeking more. I cum again... I cry out and crumple... arms move around me and a blanket is placed over me. The headphones are removed and I come back to the world. Slowly I gain the ability to form coherent thoughts. I breathe in the smell of my own cum...

I'm stood in front of a mirror.

"I don't know if I can..."

"One more, there's always one more"

His frame supporting mine. I watch myself in the mirror.

"Would you like me to slap your pussy"

"Yes Sir"

"Would you like more?"

"Yes Sir"

I ask for more and more, greedy in my pain. I watch his hands conquer me...See my own mouth form an O of pleasure as his fingers once again transform my reality. I watch my skin flush and hips grind down on his hands. I see my own knees buckle.

"I've got you" whispered in my ear on repeat like a promise as he holds me up.

I gush, cover his hand and carpet again in my ecstasy, I watch it flood down my thighs.

I'm lowered to the ground.

My breath slows down.

He dresses to go to a meeting.

I stand and marvel at the shades of red his hands have painted onto my skin.

I promise to come back into town again soon.