The Artists Muse; a beginning

Cupid Untying Venus's Belt Sir Joshua Reynolds (English, 1723 — 1792)

Cupid Untying Venus’s Belt
Sir Joshua Reynolds
(English, 1723 — 1792)

I have inadvertently begun a series of stories about an Artist and his muse. This began with ‘A Muse Dancing‘ which was a response to a suggestion from another blogger who had asked for a sexy tale of dancing. I will continue the tale and see where it leads. Warning this post contains adult only content and is probably not safe for work, that said, enjoy…

I am nervous as I drape myself on your chaise lounge with your artist’s eyes upon me. I know you are not just seeking my physical form but my mind, my thoughts and desires, dreams, hopes, secrets, doubts, pain and fear; you want it all. For the time it takes for your painting to be complete I will be yours in every way. I knew this the moment we first connected. Your eyes dance across me from where you stand I feel your longing reach out and caress my skin. As you begin to capture my form your hungry eyes moving between your easel and me my body feels on fire. You are sketching quickly in pencil, getting to know me. I am draped in an empire cut dress essentially a length of fabric draped over my naked form. The dress loosely covers me; thin straps holding the bodice, which gathers under my breasts, then drops long and flowing beneath. I feel physically relaxed but the sexual tension within me grows. Surely you can see my lips parting, breath catching, and nipples hardening. A flush enters my cheek.

All too soon you are done with your first sketch and approach me slowly deciding how you want me. Wordlessly you press a juicy red grape to my lips, I open my mouth wide enough to allow this gift to pass into my mouth caressing its globe with my tongue before breaking the skin with my teeth allowing its sweetness fill my senses. You observe the movements of my mouth then your hand reaches for the right strap of my dress, casually you slide it off my right shoulder and let gravity settle the fabric exposing my breast and erect nipple. You feast on this sight then return to your sketching. My eyes start to smolder with the excitement of my partial nakedness. The gentle ache in my loins begins to amplify.

When you next approach you pull me to my feet and slide the left strap free from my shoulder exposing both breasts. The dress falls to my waist. You seat me placing my hands on my knees and turn my head with a finger on my chin until I am looking down to my left. You allow your finger to trace under my chin, down my soft neck, over my collarbone, down my chest to delicately circle my nipple. My whimper is barely audible. You return to your sketching. I cannot see you clearly now, my other senses awaken. The hint of your smell left in the air around me, the sound of the pencil across the paper, I feel as though you are drawing on my skin. I become lost in the trance of sound and smell, the arousal in my body, my breasts rising and falling with each breath.

I hear your footfall approaching me again. You push me back into the pillow and arrange my arms above my head then delicately move my hair in a cascade around me. The cool grape you hold you put in your own mouth then remove it covered with your moist saliva using it to wet and tease each of my nipples in turn. Then you place this grape against my lips. I open to you and you slide the grape deep into my mouth. I close my lips on your finger and you slowly draw your finger out. I cannot help the moan that releases from me. Now you arrange my legs, bending the one closest to you moving my foot up towards my knee. Starting at the hem you tear apart the fabric of the dress exposing my legs, then my sex. You gaze admiringly and I wonder if my wetness is an obvious as it feels. I lick my lips and shuddering release my breath.

I return to my trance but I can see you again from this angle. I feel bound, paralyzed and unable to move even if I wanted to. Your loving artists hands have placed me and thus I will remain until your instruction guides me. My lust has calmed but still pulses through me, when our eyes meet I feel my now rampant desire for you is obvious. You look almost stern or angry; I pray you are merely restraining your own desire. As you approach me again our eyes are locked. I whimper audibly. Your hands go straight to the bodice of the dress and you tear apart the small fragment remaining and peel the fabric aside devouring the sight of all of me. Kneeling over me your masculinity overwhelms me. I want you now. I need you now. As if sensing my thought you tweak my nipples hard looking me right in the eyes, asserting your dominance over my hungry flesh. I bite my lip. You lean forward and bite my lip for me sucking on it teasing me with your tongue. I shudder again and close my eyes. You take my feet and push my knees up taking in the sight of my swollen labia and I imagine the silky sheen of my wetness. Then you close my legs turning them to my left and pushing my head to the right. Satisfied you return to your easel.

I can only see you with my peripheral vision. I feel humiliated by my outrageous lust for you. My cheeks are hot with confusion. I struggle to regain my senses and calm my desire. Yet I cannot. I bring my focus to my breath; reminding myself to just breathe. Then you approach me again. You stand next to my head and stroke my hair. You undo your trousers exposing your erect manhood. It is clear what your intention is and I want it. You press your smooth head to my lips and I welcome you as you slide into my mouth. You linger inside my hot wet mouth probing deeper then grab me by the hair pulling me up off the chaise lounge and onto the floor. With me settled on my knees you return your cock to my mouth and fuck me intently. I feel as if I could cum with just this sensation, your hardness sliding in and out of my mouth, and your hands firmly in my hair guiding me. Being on my knees before you worshipping you as you have been worshiping me with your pencil and artists gaze. Oh God how I want this moment to last forever. When you withdraw it is to cum over my mouth and face. I am marked by your desire. I lick at the cum on my lips. You stop me when I try to touch it. Instead taking your own fingers and rubbing your cum into my skin across my lips, down my neck, massaging it into my breasts. I moan loudly full of desire and the satisfaction of being claimed in such a way. You present your glistening head to me again to be licked clean.

I remain on my knees. You bring me a glass of red wine. I savour it slowly, fighting the urge to gulp it all in one go. It feels surreal to be here in your studio a place I thought I would never experience except in my imagination. Yet I am here and you are sketching me as I drink. My desire is wetted deeper by the feel of your semen, your mark drying on my skin and the flush of the wine as it hits my blood stream. Your eyes are on me watching my movements seeing my arousal you smile a wickedly dirty smile. When my wine is drained you come towards me offering your hand assisting me to stand taking the empty glass away before pushing me back onto the chaise lounge. Opening my legs your smile deepens and you growl your pleasure at the sight of my wet open womanhood. Now you kneel eyes firmly fixed on my sex as you slowly slide one finger inside me and out again starting a wicked rhythm of growing desire. Your eyes meet mine you are relishing the pleasure in my face. Your other hand exposes my hooded clit and your tongue dips to taste me. I moan loudly and earnestly. You are slow and maddeningly purposeful. Driving me gently, intently to climax sucking my juices from me but increasing the pressure and speed painstakingly unhurried pace. My voice cries out in supplication “please”. But you are not swayed from your design and continue to apply small increments of weight drawing my bliss to an ever-heightening place. I let go entirely allowing you to control me I have no will to try, you somehow know the harmony my body needs. Then the orgasm begins to break over me creeping from my clitoris outward and inward at the same time, deeper you are driving your finger then more arrive inside me moving at different paces swirling and painting inside me. The wild sounds leaving my mouth are alien to me I have never felt such an orgasm as this; it peaks then rises again and again. I feel impossible hot wetness gush from me and the pleasure intensifies then begins to still. Slowly you relax your ministrations and plant a single kiss on my trembling clit. “Good girl.” You say, “Rest now I am going to run us a bath.”

Words by Errant Satiety © 2013

‘Cupid Untying Venus’s Belt’ by Sir Joshua Reynolds 1784

(This painting has several slightly differing titles)

Continue the story with ‘Bathed’

3 comments on “The Artists Muse; a beginning

  1. mrmodigliani says:

    As an artist and as a man, I find this deeply moving and inspiring. It captures perfectly some of the complicated aspects of an artist/muse relationship. Errant, your immense talent and sophistication as a writer continues to shine, as well as your deep sensuality as a woman.

  2. […] An Artist and His Muse continued from ‘A Beginning’ […]

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