Chapter 7: Dominating the Scene

“Susan, Arthur and I both want to work with you,” Kendra said as she led our model into the studio. “The last time you posed, he really only had time for one quick painting.” Susan giggled a little.

“Sorry about that. I guess I got carried away.”

“I’d say you were out cold,” Morgan laughed. “But the scene was definitely hot.”

“Anyway,” Kendra continued. “Arthur needs to spend more time at the easel and less time ... um ... getting you into stimulating poses.” I noticed that the entire time Kendra was talking to Susan, she was touching her. Just little light touches on the hand or shoulder, once putting her arm around our model’s waist. Each touch caused another little flare in Susan. “All that’s just to say that at any time, any of us might approach to ... adjust your pose a little. Will you give us all permission to do that in Arthur’s stead?”

Susan was looking into my eyes as Kendra ran a hand down her arm. She glanced nervously over to Kendra’s worktable where Morgan was busying herself organizing Kendra’s tools, then to the reading sofa where Annette was jotting down more notes on her story. I knew that they were both concentrating intensely on the conversation Kendra was having and not on their tasks.

“Um ... Could ... Would it be okay ... if your Dolly wore a blindfold?” she whispered to me.

“I think that would be fine,” I said with a nonchalance that I didn’t feel. Annette stood up from her sofa.

“You guys are so mean,” she said as she approached Susan. “You’re scaring my friend.” She put an arm around Susan. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s not going to be a free-for-all. I know you like posing with Arthur and this will be almost like it. He just needs to spend time painting, too. He gets kind of carried away when he has his hands on his little Dolly. I’ll protect you.”

“You ... um ... don’t mind that we got ... a little carried away last time?” Susan said.

“Oh, no. It was nothing to the way we got carried away afterward,” Annette laughed. She’d begun moving Susan toward our bedroom, which we’d decided to use as the dressing room because we could all hear through the open arch. “Let me help you get ready. Did they even tell you that they had a costume for you today? I swear they forget the most important things.”

“I was really worried.”

“Susan, it wouldn’t have bothered us if you’d made passionate love. You are so sexy! We’ve all been with you when you posed and you are just impossible to resist. I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off you myself.”

“You can. I mean if you need to help pose me so he can keep drawing. I’d be okay if I knew it was you.”

“Don’t you worry,” Annette said. “I’ll take care of you.” That was a key phrase that I’d used often with Susan. And I meant it. I felt strongly that one of my key responsibilities as an artist—and as a friend—was to protect and care for my models. I knew, though, that Annette meant it, too. Susan was her friend and she wasn’t going to abuse her. “What do you think of this?”

“It’s beautiful. It’s like a Princess Leia harem outfit.”

“More or less. It’s a little more revealing, but we aren’t selling space opera to teen boys. One of the things we discovered was that Arthur could actually see the fabric when he painted you. You know that up to that time, the only color he could see was the flesh of his model? He chose this himself because he thought you’d be especially beautiful in it.”

“He always takes care of me,” Susan said, barely loud enough that we could hear her in the next room.

“And he will today, too,” Annette reassured her. “And you’ve got me to depend on, too. You’re so pretty. Are you ready for the veil?”

“How does this work?”

“Well, they didn’t want to spoil the costume with a pirate blindfold like some of what you’ve worn. So, we built the blindfold into the veil. How does that feel?”

“It kind of tickles around my ears, but it’s fine. It’s a good blindfold. Don’t leave me, Annette,” she said as if suddenly panicked.

“Don’t worry; I’m right here. Hold my hand and I’ll lead you over to where you pose. Oh, this fabric is just so sensuous when you move.” Annette led Susan in front of the window. We’d doubled the number of drapes and had them hanging around almost like a tent. Susan was fantastic. The diaphanous costume revealed curves and details unlike anything we could have imagined. She was already beginning to shoot off sparks, as Morgan called it. To me it looked like random hotspots glowing against her skin. It was my turn to join in the scene we’d practiced. I’d already removed my shirt as had Morgan and Kendra.

“Is this the little artist’s Dolly I ordered?” I asked Annette.

“Yes sir. She’s our top model. We imported her from Arabia just for your masterpiece,” Annette said. I ran the back of my hand down Susan’s arm. She shivered with anticipation. A good thing about having posed her so frequently was that I knew a lot of triggers. She always liked the artist to start by simply appreciating what a fine model she was. That wasn’t hard to do.

“What a beautiful shape she has beneath these veils. She seems so warm and real. I almost expect her to start breathing.” I passed a hand over Susan’s ass and she gasped.

“Your wish is her command, sir,” Annette said.

“How wonderful. I need to move her into position for the first pose. May I touch you, little Dolly?”

“Yes, sir. Please touch me. Anywhere. Any way you need to. Or want,” Susan said. This was also part of our posing ritual. I never moved into her space to touch her personally without asking her permission. Once she gave it, she knew that I would be in almost constant contact for a while as I posed her and got her more and more aroused. It also gave her the option of setting limits on what she would allow. She had never been slow to offer everything. But her next words surprised me. “And your assistant, too,” she breathed, scarcely audible.

Annette smiled at me. As soon as she had placed the Dolly in my hands she had stepped back and stripped. Mostly. She wore the same straps crisscrossing her torso and framing her breasts that she had worn when working as my assistant for Zen’s performance video. But this time, she had omitted the bikini bottom and bra from beneath the straps. Annette had already begun to emerge from the blackness around her.

I worked for several minutes, giving Susan another veil, and positioning her hands exactly the way I wanted them. All the time I was stroking her body and whispering encouragements. Though I didn’t dwell on them, I made certain that my touches and adjustments included frequent caresses to her breasts, butt, and legs. I often asked my assistant to help position her and Annette’s hands were almost as often on Susan as my own were. Finally, I knelt in front of Susan and lightly grasped her left leg. I pulled so that she bent her knee as I lifted her foot. She struggled for balance for a moment and Annette stepped up close to support her. Her pose was balletic.

“I’m not sure I can hold this pose for long, sir,” Susan said.

“My Lady will help you,” I said. I lifted her veil enough that I could brush my lips against hers. She sighed. “Don’t worry about a thing. She will take care of you.” Annette took over from there and Susan shifted her focus from me. I moved to my easel and took in the composition. Kendra was already rapidly molding the clay in front of her.

What I saw, I was sure, was much different than what Kendra or even Morgan could see. I could see transparent black veils tenting over two intense figures. The veils Susan held and that wrapped her were of various colors, but none heavy enough or dark enough to obscure the shape and detail of her body. I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold this pose for long, so I worked as rapidly as I could with chalk pastels rather than oil. This gave me better control over blending the colors I could see clearly now. But the wonderful thing I could see was Annette. All of her. While Susan was still not completely illuminated and hotspots continued to flare and subside, Annette’s glow was constant and ever-brightening.

In a few minutes, Annette began moving Susan, first straightening her raised leg and pointing the toe so Susan could shift her weight. I don’t know if Susan had realized that the harem pants were like a skirt with legs. From her knees to her crotch there was no seam. I saw her straighten and whine as Annette ran a hand up the inside of her thigh. I didn’t think Annette had quite touched Susan’s pussy, but my experience told me that she’d probably been dripped on. This was confirmed when Annette stood and licked the back of her hand. Annette shifted Susan’s veils to a new position and released the catch on the harem bra, allowing the thin fabric to simply hang in front of Susan’s breasts. Annette made sure that Susan’s nipples were attended to and stood at attention. When we’d worked the first time, close to three years ago, Susan had constantly brushed her breasts with her hands to keep her nipples erect. She seldom had a problem with that when she was posing blindfolded. But I could hear Annette continuing to reassure Susan that she was taking care of her, including making sure that she presented proud nipples for the artist.

In the new pose, Annette was once again behind Susan, helping hold one arm up as she stroked it. Annette’s other hand was inside the harem pants on Susan’s left butt cheek.

The painting was going well. I had a new sheet of sanded pastel paper on the easel and saw the light emitted by the two women beginning to blend. Susan was much like the fabric of the veils. Her light continued to run in streaks through her body, highlighting what I knew now as her erogenous zones. But her body was somehow transparent and allowed Annette to shine through, solid. Annette’s color was consistent and opaque, illuminating a bit of what was around her. I could see her through Susan as if Susan were a spirit that Annette was controlling. Or perhaps a djinn she had summoned to do her bidding.

Watching Annette with Susan was much like it had been watching the slow motion silent orgy with Mavis weeks ago. I worked as quickly as I could to capture the amazing performance before me and shifted to new canvases each time Annette moved the two to a new pose. It was exhausting and both girls were pulsing in my vision. Morgan laid her hand on my shoulder and I looked up at her. I could see behind her that Kendra was in the same condition as the rest of us, naked and sweating over her series of tiny clay models.

“She needs to end it before Susan implodes,” Morgan whispered. “It’s almost more than she can take.” I looked at the scene again and realized exactly what the pulsing I saw meant. I moved quickly into the scene.

Susan’s veil had been lifted so only her eyes were covered and Annette’s lips were sealed to hers. The girls each stood on one leg—Annette’s right leg raised and pressed against Susan’s sex, moving slightly back and forth; Susan’s left leg wrapped around Annette’s waist. I wasn’t sure how they were balanced in such a precarious position. I moved the daybed into the scene and pulled a couple drapes onto it, quickly arranging the pillows so the girls could recline. I embraced both girls in my arms and Annette shared Susan’s lips and tongue with me. I lifted Susan in my arms and positioned her on the daybed, Annette swiftly moving to the other side to stretch out next to her. Susan’s lips did not leave mine until I relinquished them to Annette.

“Such a good little Dolly,” I whispered. “My Lady, she deserves a reward. I always treat my little Dolly to something special when she works so hard.”

The harem pants and flimsy bra had long since been discarded and I made sure to touch and stimulate every inch of Susan that I could reach, even sliding two fingers into her hot wet channel as she had a small orgasm. I’d seen these flares frequently in the past few minutes as Annette had stimulated her. I lifted my wet fingers to Annette’s lips and she sucked them eagerly.

“My Lady, this is my Dolly. Please take very good care of her,” I whispered. Susan moaned. I took Annette’s hand and moved it down so her fingers were in our model’s very ready sex. Annette knew what to do from there. Morgan claimed she had the most talented fingers on the planet—not that Morgan had any but mine and her own to compare with. Annette returned to kissing Susan as she manipulated the girl’s clit and pussy. Susan was gasping around Annette’s insistent lips, crying out her muffled rise to fulfillment. In a sudden inspiration, I bent and took one of Susan’s nipples in my lips and nipped at it. The scream broke the lock Annette had on her lips. Susan went through the phases of what I recognized as a knockout orgasm: stiffening, relaxing, stiffening, relaxing, utter rigidity, and limp unconsciousness. As she was screaming out her release, I circled the daybed and caressed Annette’s bottom, hanging just at the edge of the bed. I could clearly see my target and stooped to thrust my cock into her pussy from behind. I coupled this with an attack on Annette’s right nipple—the one that I had discovered long ago was key to her most intense orgasms.

The echo of Susan’s scream was still dying as Annette’s was raised. She pounded back on my cock, spasming around me until I, too, was caught in the climax. Annette drew in a long shuddering breath and did not release it until she went limp against Susan. I was panting as my cock slid out of Annette, messy with our combined spend. I looked at the two sleeping beauties in front of me and carefully removed the blindfold veil from Susan’s eyes. They stayed closed. I paused only long enough to move a couple stray locks of Annette’s hair from Susan’s face and then returned to a fresh canvas.

Morgan and Kendra were still clamped in a fierce embrace, their fingers resting between each other’s thighs. I couldn’t blame them for getting caught up in the emotion that had played out before us. I kissed them both on top of their heads. Morgan lifted her lips to me and drank deeply of my kiss. At the same time, Kendra dropped her head and my still-rigid cock slipped effortlessly between her lips. After a few moments of exquisite torture, I pulled away and pointed to our models. Kendra and Morgan reluctantly relinquished their hold on each other so Kendra could get her fingers in a different kind of moist clay.

I began to paint.

What I saw before me was the slowly fading image of the spirit lover, so thin that I could see the mage who summoned her through her wispy presence. Annette’s glow illuminated the drapes nearest the sated couple. They faded into black on black elegance from there. I marveled at the tracery of colored light that shot through Susan’s body—captured it with delicate brushstrokes. It flickered against translucent skin.

I watched as the two girls slipped from near comatose into gentle sleep. Susan settled into a soft glow, barely visible to me, as Annette continued to be solid. This was a new challenge. I knew I would not have time to paint everything, but I grabbed a small canvas board and focused on building the layers and textures with quickly applied acrylic. The coloring was Annette’s, but the shape and texture were Susan’s. I’d never seen nor experienced anything quite like this. I could see Susan’s shape, but could clearly see Annette right through her. For the first time, I wished I was working in bronze and glass like Kendra. I wondered if Morgan could see what I was seeing.

This was more than painting, certainly. I had to capture both the gentle chiaroscuro of Annette’s color and sculpt the shape and texture of Susan in her arms. I knew this was a rough sketch for all I was painting with acrylics. But I needed to bring this to life. I had to.

We worked as they slept for about half an hour and then the two began to stir, sleepily nuzzling with each other. I was sure there were some soft whispers between the two, but from my distance of eight feet, I couldn’t distinguish words until they both yawned and began to sit up.

“I think I should take a break from posing for a couple weeks. Maybe a month, you know?” Susan said. She was still on the daybed wrapped in Annette’s arms. I thought she was talking to me, but she was looking Annette in the eye. “I need to ... work ... on my writing. Poetry. For my final project. You understand, don’t you, Annette?”

“I do. And so do the rest of us. With all the stress we’ve been under first semester, we’ve all needed to do some pretty extreme things to regain our balance. You’ve been so good to us that we’ll do anything we can to help you,” Annette said.