Paint Job Read Free Page B

You’ve not
moved a muscle. Look how nice your bikini will be. Come on—take a look.”
    I look. My hips are blue. “I wanted a green bikini,” I say,
whimpering. I’m not liking this. I didn’t sign up for this. When do I get sex
again? And why are they painting blue all over me?
    “It’ll be green,” says Leena. “Base coat, remember?”
    Randall looks up at me. He’s just dabbed paint on the crease
between my hip and my leg. It stings. Of course it does. “Just a little longer,
honey. Then we’ll lay you down on the mat again. Just hold on a bit longer,
okay?”
    After a while, Randall takes my hand and lays me facedown on
the mat. He kisses me. “Wait for it,” he says, putting his finger to my lips.
“You’ll get it again. Don’t worry.”
    Leena laughs. “Oh, yes, you’ll get it again. We like you.”
    “But first we want to finish the base coat.”
    I lay on the mat, biting my lip as their brushes burn my
hips and my butt and the middle of my back where the straps will be. “Almost
done,” says Leena, “just one more place on this side.”
    Then one of them spreads my butt cheeks and the other
applies paint. I shriek.
    “Sorry, honey,” says Leena, “this part tends to hurt more.”
    By the time they’ve covered the territory around my ass, I’m
crying into the mat, trying not to move as they put the finishing touches on
the tender skin near the back of my vulva. Stop! Please! I want to
yell—but I’m in another place, trying to survive, trying not to move. Then I
feel it. Something is inside me, and it’s not paint.
    “I’m so sorry we have to hurt you, honey,” says Randall’s
quiet voice close to my ear. “I hate to see you cry.” He’s moving his fingers
gently inside me as I tremble from the burning of the paint—which, to my
horror, Leena is still applying. Randall massages the walls of my vagina and
pushes my legs farther apart. He reaches farther under me and plays with my
clit, reaching around Leena’s brush, the two of them moving in a complicated
choreography. I’m crying softly. They’re working in tandem. She dabs paint to
the left of my asshole. He reaches far inside me and moves his fingers slowly
back and forth. She paints the tender area in front of my ass. He makes sensual
circles inside me. She paints my anus and I shriek again, the worst pain of
all. It lingers and lingers as he finds a place inside me that feels so
wonderful it makes my legs twitch. I tremble with the effort of not moving. I
lie flat on my stomach, gasping. I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. The
pain! The pain! The pleasure! The pleasure!
    “Don’t move, Gabby,” Leena warns.
    How can I not move?
    “There’s nothing like it, is there?” says Randall, leaning
over me, whispering. “I know. I know. ”
    “Okay. Turn her.”
    Leena has set aside her brush. I take a shuddering breath.
Randall takes his fingers out of me and helps her move me onto my back. Every
muscle in my body has turned to mush. I look up at them, tears rolling down the
sides of my cheeks. Randall and Leena pay no attention to my wet face—they’re
still in working mode. They change tasks. Randall picks up a brush and starts
in on my left breast, and the stinging starts up again. Leena holds my hand and
whispers to me, “You’re doing fine. You’re good at this.” She smiles
down at me and I manage a grimace—Randall has just slapped paint on my nipple
and no, I do not feel good at this. “Don’t move,” she warns.
    She watches him at work for a few moments, then she arranges
herself between my legs. I barely register her spreading my knees apart. She
takes a tiny brush, one I haven’t seen before, and makes delicate dabs at my
genitals. I whimper. She spreads my labia and applies paint. I don’t even
notice Randall at work on my tit. Wait—he’s not at work painting my tit, he’s sucking my nipple . I gape down at the top of his head and cry out in wretched
pain as Leena paints my clit. He