The Artist cont.

page 3

"Very good. That's all I wanted to hear." He shushed her, and pulled her up to her knees in a tender embrace. He clutched her to his chest and stroked her hair while she calmed.  He began to kiss her gently, and she responded to his lips with soft sighs. She shifted until she was sitting on the edge of the platform with her legs around his waist, letting him kiss her and roam about her neck, shoulders and breasts with his soft mouth. After a long while, she pulled herself away and looked at him. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, "What do you want?" His only answer was to shake his head silently, with an enigmatic half-smile on his face. She tried again. "What do you want me to do?" "I'm going to set you free." He said, and in one swift motion he swept her off the platform and set her down on the floor. He said a word she didn't recognize. Was it German? He pointed to the floor as he said it.  She looked up at him with a little confusion. She went down to her knees on the floor.  He knelt down and picked up a long, flat piece of leather from the ground her eyes followed him as he walked around her, looking at her. Then from nowhere, pain exploded across her back and shoulders. She screamed and fell forward, twisting around to look at him. He stood behind her, his hands on his hips, scowling.  �That's not right, slut. I told you to kneel." "But..?" she stammered, confused.  "I didn't understand you." "You don't get it, do you? You belong to me now. You do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you, or you will be very, very sorry."  He raised

the leather strap again for emphasis. She cringed.  "Now. Nadu. And don't make me tell you a third time."  She pulled herself from the floor and arranged her body as he instructed. "That's good." He caressed her hair. "Now, tell me what you are."  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. So many answers ran through her head! Artist, Student, Woman, Lover, Painter, Model, Slut... Then she remembered what he wanted her to say.  "I'm a slave." She finally said. And this time the chill left her heart. "Who do you belong to?"  "I belong to you." And the instant she said it, she knew that it was true.  Weeks of fantasizing, yearning for this man to possess her had finally co= me to fruit. She did belong to him. The feeling shook her. "You belong to me, what?" He asked, sounding like a drill sergeant. "I belong to you... sir?" She tried to say what he wanted. "That's not right."  "I belong to you... Master?" She tried again.  "Yes, that's right. You belong to me." He caressed her hair again and bent to kiss her.  "Get up." He said.  She rose as gracefully as she could. He moved her body again, placing her hands behind her head, straightening her back, moving her into a stance that he found attractive.  He reminded her to look at the floor. She was suddenly ashamed of her nakedness, and aware of his critical eye as he looked at her. She stood there with her hip thrust out lewdly, her back arched slightly to raise her breasts up high, her arms raised and behind her head. She was completely exposed. "There." He said. "You are really quite nice to look at when you're displayed properly." He began to rub her skin with the leather strap.  He stroked her legs, tummy, breasts He slapped the end of the strap gently but firmly against her skin. The slight sting burned for an instant, but after it faded she could feel where the leather had been. The warmth and redness made her sense that part of her body in a way she'd never felt it before. It felt good. Very good.  She began to move her hips slightly to his strokes, enjoying the feel of her wet pussy.  She couldn't help but whimper slightly as he stroked it across her shoulders where a red welt was forming.  "Hurts, doesn't it?" He asked quietly."Yes." And the strap came down again, hard, on her buttocks. She yelped in pain and pitched forward, off balance, but did not fall. "Yes. What?"  He demanded, angry again. "If you don't address me correctly, I'll hit you again." How could she have been so stupid? "Yes Master." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry." "You are sorry." He glared at her. "You're not going to be worth a shit.  Not worth my time." "But..?" She stammered. Was he going to get her all turned on then kick her out? She looked down at her bare breasts, the small red marks his leather strap had left on them. More than anything, she wanted him to take her right there on the studio floor. "Please?  I'll do anything you want me to." Her eyes searched his face. "Then follow me." He said, and led her out of the studio.

Inside the house, he led her to the living room. She'd been in there before and had admired many pieces of bent-iron sculpture that he'd crafted years ago. The main sculpture took up one entire wall, and was a ladder-like maze of oxidized iron, interspersed with ribbons, sheets of cloth, and painted surfaces all welded together in an undulating wave. It stood out from the wall, a few inches in some places, nearly a foot or more in others. He stopped her in the middle of the living room and turned her so that her back was to the sculpture. "Take a step back." He said. She followed his instructions. "Take another" And she did.

When the icy iron bars touched her naked body, she started a little.  He began to arrange her again, just as he'd done on the stand. An arm moved here, back bent, legs apart, one raised up slightly and bent at the knee.  She stood passively and allowed him to move her. This time, she took great pleasure in being molded. This is what you wanted, girl, her body told her, just go with it. But then he reached around her body, as if to hug her.

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