The Art of The Squeal

Now that she'd made a tertiary color from one primary and one secondary, Sylvia thought she'd mix two secondaries. She combined green and purple, resulting in a grayish indigo. This would go nicely with the other colors already used on her "canvas." Another coat of oversensitized genital skin later, Noelle was ready to start begging.

"Aunt Sylvie, plee-e-e-e-ease!" she literally laugh-sobbed, tears indeed pooling from her eyes in the blindfold.

"Please what?"

"I'll talk already!" Noelle joked. "Whaddaya wanna hear? I'll tell you! Anything! Just...I-I can't take this! Please, make it stop!"

Aunt Sylvie laughed out loud. She took merriment in the girl's choice of words—"make it stop," rather than simply "stop." As if Sylvia wasn't administering this paint job herself, but having it done by a robot or something. Hmmmm...how fascinating would that be, her eccentric mind wondered. What a weird and bizarre and yet...arousing concept. She leered back up at the face of her canvas.

"You're so funny, Noelle. Do always hang on to that wonderful sense of humor for your Aunt Sylvie."

"I'm not trying to be funny; you're torturing me!" Noelle screamed between forced laughs. "What did you fucking expect?!"

"But we only got started a couple minutes ago!" Sylvie told her, dosing her own voice with feigned pathos. "Don't you wanna see this marvelous masterpiece come to fruition?"

At the expense of my sanity?...Not really so much, no!

"Well, can we at least take off this fucking blindfold?!" a frustrated Noelle hollered.

"Oh, but of course not, darling; that won't do at all!" Sylvie yelled back. "Aren't you aware what awful luck it is for the canvas to view herself in an unfinished state? It's like seeing the bride on the wedding day before the ceremony! That's no good whatsoever!

"Trust me; the artist knows what's best for her work. Now, where were we..."

Noelle was finding herself less inclined all the time to trust "Aunt" Sylvie anymore. She couldn't believe she'd trusted her this far. Ever since Sylvia had picked her up this evening, she thought something was up. That foosball game really was fun, but...perhaps this would be a lesson to her: next time, win. At any and all costs. Then maybe she could torture Aunt Sylvie.

"All righty, dollface," she heard Sylvie call up. "You may wish to brace yourself for this next portion."

May wish to brace myself for this next por—?!...NOW you fucking tell me?!!...

Rinsing and using the same brush, Sylvia combined some yellow and green, applied it to the bristles, and twirled the brush into the center of Noelle's folds, essentially penetrating her with the tip. Noelle likewise threw her head straight back, guffawing in mad hysteria, jerking on her cuffs with such ferocity, and yet utter futility. Sylvie was indeed continuing to drive her ape-shitting-bananas with laughter—until...

The brush found its way upwards...to her bulging, engorged, deadly vulnerable clit.

Noelle's actions at the clitoral assault gave new dimension to the phrase "lost it." Her lovable squeals graduated into primal banshee howls. She officially, went, nuts. The other parts of her body tried to take over. Her hands turned inwards as her feet wriggled free of Aunt Sylvie's, all twenty nails trying frantically to scrabble up and away from the awful bristles. Unfortunately, Sylvia maintained a firm, powerfully persuasive grip on her nether-region, keeping her feet on the ground, if only literally.

But Noelle'd admit one thing for sure, if she could think straight. Despite what she'd told Sylvia and her chauffeur tonight on her streetcorner, she really had believed she was one hundred and one percent hetero, no two ways about it. But present events compelled her to think twice. Feeling bristles massage and torment her now swollen, hardened, erect clit—courtesy of another woman...did not tickle.

Anything, in fact, but. Sylvie had found and awakened something within her Noelle hadn't found inklings of in three decades. It was amazing. Could she be gay? At least while in the company of a lady? She knew that while with gentlemen she was doubtlessly straight, and yet...could she somehow be straight, and gay? It seemed implausible, even impossible, but still...here she was...indubitably turned on.

Had she been in her rational mind, she'd worry about waking up the others in the house, but Sylvia'd thought of that and planned accordingly. Down here in the buried-away sex cave, not even the most piercing scream could reach all the way to the upper floors, where the staff and servants put themselves to bed. And while on a normal night, Sylvia would have fallen into a deep, deep sleep by now, her timing to fuck with Noelle couldn't have been much more ideal. The chances anyone would come down here and disturb them were slim and none. And slim was on holiday.

And Noelle was blazing up like a bonfire.

"GOD—FUCKING—!"

Sylvie smiled up to see the trembling, quaking Noelle in a teeth-gnashing grimace, her sweaty, bangsy head directly back against the leather, as if held there by centrifugal force. Only visible was the bottom half of her face, cringing, wincing, straining for divine release. Her muscles twitched and flexed, trying still like mad to break loose. Her extreme, intense fit made Sylvia so pleased. She just knew the first time she saw Noelle, she could have this lass and bend her to her sexual will, straight, bi or gay. And she loved being right.

Noelle's trembling knuckles and toes were turning snow-white. Sylvia'd moved on to the next "phase" of her project, no longer rinsing to use different colors or brushes. She simply used the tiny-bristled—and clearly effective—brush to ever so gently circumnavigate Noelle's erect, bulging, throbbing clit. She brushed up, down and around in circles, methodically driving the girl through a whole new level of crazy. Noelle's pussy was so wet, its pre-cum ran the drying paint back off. Sylvie didn't care; she expected this result sooner or later. Her own pussy was getting pretty moist as well. Perhaps she'd do a little artwork of sorts on herself...or have Noelle try her hand at it.

This thought made her happy. She squeezed her left hand between her hot thighs while her right was at quite hard work. She no longer needed Noelle to hold still, or keep her feet on top of the girl's feet. Noelle stood hoisted on her quivering, curled toes, all but literally driven up the wall. So Sylvia scooted her chair further up, kept focus on rocking the young Noelle's world, slipped her left hand out of her crotch, stretched it upwards to grip and fondle her right breast, and leaned in to nuzzle and kiss her pelvis, her hip, her tummy. The girl's nipples stood puffed and erect on their own. This, along with the trickle of sweat Aunt Sylvie felt drip down onto her left hand, flattered her enormously.

The blindfold stayed put, but Noelle saw things she'd never seen before. Shooting stars blasted her in the eyes. Fireworks exploded in her dizzy little head. Her bangs fused in perspiration. Whatever it was tickling her swollen clitty felt like the flame of a candle over her melting cunt, igniting, engulfing her in flames of passion. She didn't imagine this measure of splendor and divinity existed. She couldn't bear it, and also didn't want it to ever end. She realized Aunt Sylvie was making her feel something she never knew she never felt...happiness.

If only she could see it all happening in living color.

But, if she were to make a request right now, she had something else in mind.

"Uhhhhh—...A-Aunt Sylvie..." Noelle drooled out.

Sylvia looked up.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Ca—...can I plea—...can I please fucking cum??"

The beatific smile again spread across her dear auntie's cheeks.

"You wanna cum, honey?"

Noelle nodded frantically. "UH-HUH!..."

"You think you're ready, darling?"

The girl nodded again. "YES! YES!!"

"All done with your punishment, sugar bear?"

Noelle bit her lip, unable to stand much more. "MM-HM!"

"You really really really ready for me to make you orgasm, dearie-pie?"

Noelle pulled as hard as she could on the cuffs, ready to rip her own limbs free.

"...FUCK...ING...YES!!"

Sylvia pretended to have to think about it.

"Well...ohhh-kayyy..."

She smoothed her left palm down Noelle's pelvis and thigh, keeping her right hand to task softly ringing the girl's doorbell. Easing her south paw between and under the SYLF's inner thighs, Sylvie rubbed her fingertips where the cunt and taint met, warming her up with a little foreplay, even though foreplay was about the last thing Noelle needed right now. Noelle whimpered, trying to hold out patience while Sylvia gathered all her hand-to-mind coordination...and slipped her digits into Noelle's still puffed-up pussy.

She may not have been ambidextrous, but Sylvia could quite literally pull this off. Squeezing in a trio of soft lady-fingers, she pumped up Noelle's pussy a second time, now digitally, thrusting northward, trying to reach her g-spot. Noelle felt the penetration, and a heaven-induced smile crossed her own sweaty face.

It was happening...finally...it was happening.

"Oh-ohh-ohh-ohh-OHHH, OHHHHH, OHHHHH!!" Noelle bellowed between rushed gasping breaths, ejaculating enough profanity to make Joan Rivers blush. After all that overwhelming pussy pumping and tickling—however exactly Aunt Sylvie was doing it before versus now—by the time they got to this portion, poor riled Noelle was already fired up like mad. She was still disconcerted her hostess wouldn't let her move or see, but this kinky setup lent an air of spontaneous mystery to the act. And any disconcertment couldn't compare to the supremely torrid pleasure surging through her, inside and out.

Sylvia glanced back up to the underside of her chin.

"Yeah?" she asked in response to the girl's outbursts.

Too flabbergasted to coherently answer, Noelle was getting so close to the edge, she could taste the big, sweet 'o.' It was even more deliciously sumptuous having the climax administered by someone else—an older woman, of all individuals. Even in the nature of her normal profession, Noelle'd have been asleep by this time of night. And in the back of her mind, she could tell that when this was over, she wouldn't have energy left for beans. She was a little curious where exactly she'd be sleeping tonight, guessing she'd eventually find out. But none of that nonsense mattered at the moment. She was being brought closer every second...

...Until Sylvia Quibley at last thrusted up into her just far enough to rub her enigmatically precious g-spot.

...And Noelle Beckman's very world, as she knew it, exploded.

The sound that came out of her as she flew over the edge put all those before it to shame. Noelle came...thunderously, rapturously, ferociously...thanking Aunt Sylvie profusely with a handful of hot cum and the ultimate SQUEEEEAL. Neither Sylvia nor Noelle had heard such a tremendously overwhelmed SQUEEEEAL in their lives, and neither likely would ever again. Sylvia couldn't help but want to laugh her heart out. She looked up at Noelle with an open-mouthed, incredibly elated grin. She couldn't believe it. Twenty-four hours ago, she was stupefied with ennui over her dull, solitary state. Now it was twilight, after midnight, and had already become arguably the greatest, happiest day of her life. She couldn't wait to let the good times keep rolling with her new buddy-girl after this.

Her wrist was starting to kill her, but she didn't let up until Noelle was all done, and bawled out for auntie to please stop now. Aunt Sylvie honored her request, extracting her cum-covered left hand to the wrist, and dropping her teensy paintbrush in the water with the others. Now spent and completely drained, Noelle slumped down, hanging from her restraints, and fell asleep.

*****

Post-Squeal

Sunday, April 24th, 2016, 5:42 a.m.

Noelle felt herself stirred to consciousness by a ginger, 47-year-old hand on her shoulder. She moaned through her nose, twitched, and awoke. Trying to get her vision to focus again, the first thing she said was, "...Huh?"

A pleasantly smiling silver-haired vixen ran her digits through Noelle's sweat-riddled hair.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

No longer blindfolded, Noelle blinked a half-dozen times, and opened up her crusty eyes.

"...Miss...uh...Aunt...Sylvie?"

Her hostess nodded, carefully wiping the girl's eyes for her. "Sleep well?"

"Um..." Noelle couldn't help but notice she was still cuffed up to the leather mat. "Kinda..."

"Well, I'll let you go get cleaned up and then I'll put you to bed...but first I'd like to show you something."

Sylvia held up a hand mirror. Noelle looked, registered, and let out a surprised yelp.

Her face was speckled in multicolored streaks of paint. She looked like a Native American warrior. One glance down told her the rest of her looked similar, from her neck to the tops of her feet. Just about any and all generable colors in existence were represented somewhere on her skin, in a hundred different designs, lines and shapes. At the same time, her puffed-up pussy had shrunk back to normal. Noelle wasn't sure what to think or how to feel about this. On one hand, she supposed it looked...pretty. On another, she was a bit freaked out. She thought she could bring to mind what had happened in the past several hours, but...

"Not bad, eh?" smirked her hostess. "You see, my dear Noelle, watercolor painting is my favorite hobby right now. And by sheer coincidence, yesterday, I found a TV show...on the game show channel, of all places...about painting the skin of naked models. And while I couldn't be on a show like that..." She shrugged. "I thought I'd give it a go."

Noelle let it all come back to her. So that was what Aunt Sylvie was doing. The whole time. Her suspicious were right.

"Uh..." The girl looked around, darting her eyes, trying to figure out something to say.

"...I see...well, but, uh, Aunt Sylvie, was it really necessary to tie me up and blindfold me?"

"Once again, you betcha, kiddo. We were both new at this, but even so, if I let you move or see while I was painting your special sensitive areas..." She shrugged. "...Let's be honest: you and I know full well you'd never be able to sit still. And let's be even more honest: I get a lovely girl in my house, make her get naked for me and tie her up? What part of her do you think I'm gonna paint first?"

She had a point.

"And next time, if you like, you can paint me."

Noelle's countenance filled with intrigue.

"Really??"

"Naturally. Provided, that is, of course, you win whatever game we play beforehand." She winked.

Noelle smiled, remembering the foosball match. Maybe the orgasm played a role, but she had to admit, though still exhausted, she felt happy. More than happy, in fact. Ecstatic. So jovial, she felt like crying some more, but not right now. Sylvia finally uncuffed her and led her out. She'd come back down to collect her toys and supplies later. It was still very early, and very dark outside, Noelle noted with relief. Sylvie then took her to the nearest washroom and started running a nice big bath for her, with bubbles, salts and oatmeal.

"I could help bathe you if you'd like," she coyly offered.

"Ummm..." Noelle chuckled nervously. "That's...that-that's very sweet of you, Aunt Sylvie, but I think I can manage on my own."

"Well, you go ahead then, honey. I'll get you a towel and a nice big fluffy robe. And when you're through, I'll show you your room."

"My room?...I can have my own room??"

"Of course, dear! I did offer to let you live here with me last night, didn't I?

"And it's entirely up to you, but I'd be honored if you let me brush your hair afterwards, and help you style those beautiful bangs."

A warm, happy balloon inflated inside Noelle. That was right; she had offered. It was hard to take the old broad seriously until the chauffeur opened that suitcase, but...oh, now Noelle really did want to cry again. Her own home. Where no one knew her. Where she'd be safe. Where those bad people couldn't find and harass her. Where if anyone did, Aunt Sylvie's helpers and bodyguards would chase them away. Where this woman could give her all the things no one else could. Where her new adopted aunt could take her shopping, out to eat, spend time with her, play with her, do everything else nobody had before. As Noelle never had many loved ones of her own, and Sylvia's gradually all abandoned her by way of decease...the two could now find and take happiness, in one another's hearts and souls.

And Noelle would no longer have to sell her body and dignity on the streets. She found that she'd be granted the most miraculous, wonderful gift of all: the chance to start over again, with a new guardian angel, caretaker, and friend.

Exploring a new world.

In a new home.

A new life.