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...
