Yuri’s Tales 01: The Artist

She leaned in, lowering her voice to whisper in my ear. "You're gorgeous, Yuri."

Oh no. My gut clenched, and there was no denying the bloom of warmth in my chest and legs. I knew that she was just trying to psyche me up, make me feel better about my state of dress. My praise kink did not care.

She didn't seem to have noticed the effect her words had on me, thank goodness, as she returned to her chair. She moved it before she sat again, putting herself at whatever angle she felt best captured the scene. As her pencil worked, I desperately tried to think about anything but how good it felt when she'd complimented me. So of course she had to go and double down. "Should I not have said that? You were watching my eyes before, but now it's like you can't even look at my face."

Any concern in her words was overridden by the mocking little smirk she wore. Which, I was starting to realize also made me tingle in all the best places. "It's okay. I just- I wasn't expecting it."

"Really? You, the pretty girl who's make up is always perfect, wearing the cutest outfits you can put together?" She paused her sketching to lean forward, looking pointedly at my choice in underwear. "Even when you think no one will see, you put a lot of work into looking your best. Is it so surprising that it pays off?"

"I mean- I, uh-" I could barely think through the haze of my own blush. "Say it again?"

We both froze for a second before the look on her face took on a predatory edge. "Oh? You want to hear it again, pretty girl? You want me to tell you exactly how I feel about how all your work has paid off?" She leaned back in the chair and pointed at my chest. "Drop your bra. I'd bet my life savings you look better without it anyway."

I was frozen again, caught in the spotlight of that mocking little smirk. She didn't know what she'd unlocked in me, but she was going to use it in any way she could. When I finally managed to force my eyes back to her face, expecting that hungry look I'd saw flash across her features before. I did, but under it I saw the edge of fear in her eyes. She was pushing, and she knew it. Knew that I could walk away, tell her teacher about what had happened. If she'd read the situation wrong, she could hurt her reputation. She could hurt me.

I made a choice, and my arm slowly fell limp, sliding away from my chest and taking my bra with it. In an instant, the hunger returned to her eyes. The smirk became a wide grin, and she said exactly what I wanted to hear. "That's a good girl."

I was done. I knew she had me, and I'd go along with whatever terrible wonderful plan was making her smile like that. I think that, right then, she knew it too.

"I don't know why you're so shy, Yuri. You're easily the prettiest girl from our graduating class. We both know you're smarter than me, and you're more gorgeous than any piece of art I could ever hope to make." Her words were going directly into my abdomen, and I could no longer keep myself from pressing my knees together, squirming as the moisture between my legs became uncomfortable. I hoped she wouldn't notice. I hoped that if she did, she would pretend not to. She noticed. She didn't pretend not to. "Is that all it takes to make you squirm? A few kind words and you turn into needy mess, huh?"

I whimpered, looking away. I tried to cover my face, but she snapped her pencil against her book.

"Eyes up."

Reflex kicked in, and I was once again looking right into her eyes.

"Better. Now get back in position, but put your free arm under your breasts and lift them up a little." I did as I was told. "Now, just keep looking at me like that. I want to immortalize that expression."

She took her time drawing me. I spent longer like that than I had in any other position. Long enough that my supporting shoulder began to ache. I held myself steady, never looking away from her face. The whole time, she wore that wonderful, awful little smirk.

Finally, just when I thought I couldn't stay still any longer, she nodded. "Relax."

I tried to maintain my dignity, but the second I moved my cramped arm I fell onto my side. Rather than fight it, I rolled onto my back and stretched out my legs. Mary laughed at my escapades, standing up and coming to kneel next to me. She held up her sketch book, showing me the page she'd just been working on.

"Look. Tell me what you see."

I looked up at the image, capturing me just from the waist up. It was rough in places, but just like Mrs. Campbell had said earlier, it only took a few specific details to make the whole thing come to life. "It's... me."

"Obviously." She tapped my nose with the eraser of her pencil. "Tell me what you look like. What does your expression convey? Your posture?"

"I look..." I looked into my own eyes, rendered in enough clarity that it felt almost terrifyingly real. After a moment, I found the right words. And after another, I managed to just barely push them past my lips, whispering. "Desperate. I look like I'm begging. I look-"

I trailed off, afraid to say it. Mary finished the sentence for me. "Submissive?" I nodded, and she set the sketchbook aside. Then she took my chin in her hand and turned me to look at her. "And are you?"

"Yes." The voice was small, and distant. But it was so completely certain of it's own sincerity I almost didn't realize that I was the one who had spoken.

"Tell me."

"I'm desperate. Submissive. Begging."

"What are you begging for?"

"I-" I faltered, "I don't know."

"Then I suppose-" She released my chin, leaning in. I felt her breath on my skin, but she paused, confusion on her face. Then, she snorted. "I just got charcoal all over your face."

I blinked at her slowly, then I was giggling. It was almost hysterical, and she quickly joined me. We laughed, and every time we looked at each other it got worse, a vicious cycle that inevitably left us both lying on the stage, panting between little fits of giggles. "What are we-"

Mary interrupted my question, suddenly on top of me. Kissing me. I barely had time to absorb how soft her lips were before she'd pulled away. "I'm going to go wash my hands and get a cloth to clean your face. I want you spotless when you pose for my project."

I admit it, I whimpered when she pulled away. It made her look so damned pleased with herself, too. I wanted to see more of that look from her.

She was true to her word, using one of the classroom sinks to wash her hands, then bringing over a warm, damp paper towel and holding me still with a hand on my jaw while she scrubbed off the smudges she'd left on my chin and cheek. "That's better. Now, let's talk about my project. I'm working on a series of paintings that I want to title 'Intimacy'. Tonight, if you agree to it, I want you to pose for one of them. Your face will be in the painting, but I can adjust the colors enough that no one should recognize you."

She paused, waiting for me to ask the obvious question. I wasn't about to keep her waiting, "And how do you want me to... pose?"

I had a good idea what she was going to ask, and I could tell that she knew. It made me nervous, which made her nervous. Scared of scaring me away. "There will be three paintings, so you don't have to do this one if you don't want to. The others- it's not all about-"

For the first time, it was my turn to stop her. I put a hand on hers, and tried to be bold. "You want me to... um, touch myself. Right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I have a whole spiel about it too, in the context of the others it's... well, it's not about sex." She took my hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Will you do this for me, Yuri? I want to capture real intimacy. That's why I-"

Something about the way she stopped herself scared me. Mary was suddenly unable to look me in the eyes. "You... what?"

"I told Mrs. Campbell you volunteered to model for us." Her voice was quiet, but steady. "I didn't know how to ask you without scaring you away. I figured if you knew..."

"I never would have had the balls to show up." I felt my shoulders begin to shake a little, unsure how to process this information.

"I'm sorry, Yuri. It was stupid, and cruel, and-"

"You owe me a date."

Mary blinked at me. At the way I was flushed right down to my nipples, no longer trying to hide from her. "What?"

"You're supposed to take a girl out on a date before you try to get her naked. That's, like, dating 101."

"What?" she repeated herself dumbly, and I couldn't help but giggle at the way her brain just stopped.

"You're gay, right? It was probably the worst kept secret in high school. You wanted me to do this because you wanted to ask me out, and putting me in your art felt like a way to establish intimacy." Clearly, she was not expecting me to break down her motivations. Not that she was making it hard, mind you. "You've had a crush on me since... the beach trip, right? Back in high school?"

"I- yeah. Yeah! You wore that pink bikini, and those boys were being assholes-" She stopped, and it was finally her turn to blush. "You knew?"

"You're about as subtle as a Banksy." That earned me a snort of laughter.

"Then, why didn't you ever say anything?" She wasn't accusing me, which I appreciated immensely.

"Well, you never said anything to me, either." She nodded, acknowledging the point, "And more importantly, I only recently learned that I was in to girls."

"I wish you'd said something." She grinned and prodded my shoulder. "If you'd acted like the rest of us and gotten an undercut you probably would have gotten that date first!"

I laughed, "Wouldn't have done me much good, I didn't have much in the way of warning." At her confused look, I slipped closer to her and leaned against her shoulder. "I only figured it out a few minutes ago. When I realized that I was going to help you with your painting."

She nodded, then stopped. She looked at me, and her face lit up. It was amazing, the way each emotion hit her individually. It made her look very kissable. "You will?! You really-"

I interrupted her with my lips on hers, stopping her from asking me to confirm my consent a dozen times. "I'm sure, Mary. But..."

I wasn't sure how to ask for what I wanted, but by the way her eyes changed, I think she got the idea. "But someone's going to have to walk you through it, huh? You're too shy to just lay back and go to town for me, Yur'? You need to be told what a good girl you are, and how you're giving me a wonderful gift by letting me immortalize your most personal pastime?"

The effect was immediate, my legs tightening against each other as my heart began to pound. I swear my eyes must have dilated from the sudden rush of endorphins. "Yeah. That."

"Are you going to be a good girl for me, Yuri?" Mary pushed gently on my shoulders, lowering me to the floor.

"Yes." I squeaked, letting her put me where she wanted me.

She leaned in close, her lips grazing my ear before she whispered, "Do you want me to help?"

I whimpered. I sounded pathetically desperate even to myself. "Please."

"Ask nicely."

"Please..." I was at war with my own mind, so many things flashing through my mind that I was lost in the maelstrom. Mary saw me waver, and she remembered what I'd asked her for at the beginning of all this.

"Do you want me to kiss you? I want to hear you say it." She put her thumb on my lips, pulling the bottom lip down until it popped back into place. "Can you do that for me, cutie? Can you beg?"

Her words went straight down my spine, shot through my pussy, and leaked out into my panties. "Please, Mary. Please kiss me. I want to taste you this time."

It was her turn to shiver, and the intensity of her gaze matched my own. Wordlessly, she leaned down and pressed her lips to mine. She didn't wait for my mouth to open, flicking her tongue across my lips and making me moan into her. Once she was given access she took her time to explore my mouth with her tongue, doing as she wished.

It was easily the hottest thing that had ever happened to me.

I knew that I was dissolving into a moaning, whimpering mess as she ran her fingers through my hair and down my arms. She encouraged me to wrap my arms around her neck, giving her hand access to my side. When she finally pulled away, leaving the tastes of cherry and graphite on my lips, her little smirk threatened to remove all coherent thought I had left.

I felt almost dizzy, like I'd forgotten to breathe. Honestly I might have done just that. Regardless, she caught my gaze with hers and the steady weight of it helped center me. I felt myself relax more than I had at any time since I'd opened my email to a surprise this morning.

"Are you ready to show off for me, Yur'?" She trailed a finger down my chest, from my collarbone to my navel. "I'm so excited to see you on display for me, all needy and touching yourself. Can you do that for me?"

"I, uh-" Talking has no right being this hard. "I think so."

"Good girl. I'm going to grab my sketchbook." She leaned in close to gently kiss my cheek and whisper in my ear. "Take your panties off for me."

She pulled away and stood up. I must have made some wordless sound of complaint, because she flashed a look over her shoulder at me. The way she was looking down at me again, combined with the thought that I was about to be completely naked while she did her best to record it onto paper, made me shudder with anticipation. It started in my neck and traveled down my spine before sinking into my gut and making my whole system quiver. When she looked away again, I reached to my hips with shaking hands, hooking my thumbs into my panties and tugging on them.

But I didn't pull them off. I knew, consciously, that I didn't have anything to be scared of. That I was safe. Hell, I wanted this. I wanted her to see me like this, to look at me with that little mocking smirk and tell me I was doing a good job.

My hands, clearly, were not on the same page as the rest of me. They refused to do more than tug gently on the waistband of my panties. I whimpered softly, helplessly. Instantly, she was looking at me again, concern clear on her face. Before she could ask me the question behind her eyes, putting voice to her own insecurities and finding out if my voice was as traitorous as my hands, I caught her eyes and tugged meaningfully on the elastic in my fingers. "Help?"

Immediately, the fear left her expression. She bent to retrieve her sketchbook (giving me a lovely view), then turned and cocked her hips, placing a fist on one and raising an eyebrow at me. "Really? I leave for a second, and you're already helpless?" My only response was to whimper and squirm. She rolled her eyes dramatically and came back to kneel next to me and replace my hands with her own. "You want me to take these off of you, Yuri?"

I nodded slightly, but she didn't move. Clearly, silent consent wasn't good enough for her. That, or she knew it would be more embarrassing if she made me say it. "Yes... uh, please." Still no movement, just a silent look of encouragement. "Please take off my panties for me." My voice was less 'cute begging' and more 'pitiful whining', but at least the right words came out. Little victories.

She didn't keep me waiting any longer, slowly pulling the damp fabric down my legs. When both ankles were free from the confines, she examined the cloth in her hands to find that the cloth wasn't so much damp as it was absolutely fucking soaked. I was immediately mortified, much to her delight. "Wow, you must have really liked that kiss. Or was it the part where I drew you in all sorts of sexy poses?" I hoped the questions were rhetorical, because I couldn't think of a way to say 'all of the above'. Fortunately, she continued. Unfortunately, she had an evil tilt to her smile while she did. "You know, if I wasn't being generous, I might assume that you wanted me to have these, asking me to peel them off you like that. But I'd hate to break up a matching... set..."

As she trailed off, she was staring at me. At my face which, as I came to realize, was wide eyed and... nodding? Pardon? I opened my mouth to say, well, anything to dissuade that notion, but looking at the wet fabric in her hands, thinking about going home without them and knowing that she had something tangible to prove this had happened- I felt that deep shiver again, that quivering in my abdomen. "I can replace them."

She didn't seem to know how to respond to that, looking from me to the wet fabric and back again a few times while she processed that. Then, with a shrug, she tucked their edge into the chest pocket of her overalls and let them hang there on display. A little reminder. "We can talk about ownership when we're all done, alright? You have something more important to be doing." She tapped the knee closest to herself with the tip of one finger. "Show me where all that wet came from."

I blinked slowly, my mind still caught on the fabric dangling from her pocket as she neatly pivoted onto the next little humiliation. But I was determined to see this through, so I slowly forced my knees apart, sliding my feet along the floor until they were wide enough to show her exactly what she wanted to see.

She gave a low whistle of appreciation and approval. Which was easily the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me, seeing as my pussy was absolutely drenched. I knew from, well, 'experience' that the entire area around my spread labia was slick and shiny with my arousal. She looked like she was going to lick her lips, staring so intently at me. Then she did lick her lips, and the implication made me weak. Finally she spoke to me, "Did you shave just for me? I could have sworn I saw some short 'n curlies in some of the drawings from earlier."

I'd thought I was out of blood to blush with, but I think I set a new record when she asked me that. I covered my face with my hands, mortified that she had realized. I knew that she was just teasing me, but not answering her felt wrong, somehow, so I nodded without moving my hands.

She laughed, a short, sweet sound that held none of the teasing tone I'd expected. I peaked through my fingers to find her smiling at me with a warmth that almost seemed discordant with the the joy she took at my discomfort. She saw my eyes, and responded by placing a hand on my knee to give it a reassuring squeeze. "It's almost too bad. I think the piece could've used a subtle reminder that the point is your pleasure, not the viewers. But I can always add some hair if I think it adds to the message." She squeezed my knee again, then sat back to put her sketchbook on her knees and ready her pencil. "Is this a comfortable position for you, or do you have a different way to get yourself off? I want you to be comfortable, not try to look good. I'll worry about that part."

I thought about it for a moment. I'd never really put much thought into the positions I chose when I was masturbating. It wasn't so much something I set out to do as something I ended up doing when I was alone in bed and the mood struck me. I thought back to the last few times I'd felt the need, but I really had no idea what positions I'd been in. There was one common factor I could think of, though, "Um, do you- is there a pillow I can use? Or, um, ideally, more than one?"

She considered that carefully for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "I think I make that work. Unless you plan to grind on one, because I do not recommend putting your bits on the still life pillow. We only have one though."

She hopped to her feet, then off the stage. It was a short jog over to one of the various cabinets to dig around for the aforementioned pillow. While she dug, a thought occurred to me and I slowly rolled to my feet. I walked over to where I'd left my dress, retrieving it and folding it into a little pad I could use to rest my head on. It wasn't as thick as I might like, but we were improvising. By the time she got back with the awful yellow velvet throw pillow, I was already back in position under the spotlight. I took the pillow, choosing to ignore the mysterious stains, and put it between my knees before rolling onto my side and curling them just enough to keep me steady.