Bodypaint

…It was a foolish ordeal, but one that the newly discovered exhibitionist in me couldn’t refuse for more than one reason, my girlfriend Sam’s presence there to ensure I did the deed in its entirety should I suddenly lose my nerve and then beg for some easy out. There was but one day of the year that one could get away with such a costume in public, Halloween in our part of the country chilly, but the farm girl in me was used to the outdoors and the temperature swings of fall. ...

(story continues from Losing The Super Bowl 2015) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Sue finds out that there is no such thing as a sure bet. A Superbowl party at a large government warehouse gets a little out of control as twelve young logistics assistants bet… and bet… and bet on the outcome of Super Bowl LI ...

The cabbie leaned on the horn. Not that it did any good. The place was a parking lot. Shit! Anderson is going to be pissed. It’s not a good idea to piss off your pimp. Denise paid the guy and bounded out of the car, heading south at a trot. She caught another cab three blocks down, found the address, went around back, and was guided to a set of stairs. She found him in the library. ...

The van pulled up to the curb. Denise climbed in. She was the last, so she got the passenger seat. Tina sat next to her, Jess drove. Nobody spoke. The others in back said nothing. Most slept. She thought she heard a snore. They rode across town to Anderson’s warehouse. In addition to being their pimp, he had a nice little black market business. As they rolled up Denise could see the back of a panel truck filled with large bowls. Anderson pulled the door down, latched it, climbed into the truck and drove off. Jess followed. ...

This story follows on from Jemima’s Blossom There was little to be seen of the finer detail of her bedlah save for the flashes of bright red diaphanous material that swept by along with the movements of her body. For some the improvised dance in which she was engaged would have been termed belly dancing, but Jemima had always hated that term. It was so typically Western to boil something so ancient and articulate down to a tawdry term that fell so far from the true nature of the thing. ...

A little more to the left, I thought as Maggie swept her way around the stall. As if my thoughts could move her, she stepped between the support poles and just underneath the beam from which hung a bunch of old rope. We had been playing grab-ass all morning while we cleaned the barn so when I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her she only giggled and ground her tight little butt back against me. I let my hands roam up the front of her body: the flat, well-exercised stomach, her perfect breasts resting in an old bikini top. I kissed the back of her neck, reveling in the smell of clean woman sweat and the hint of perfume. ...

Although the monthly bondage party was in full swing the main topic of conversation seemed to be the pictures that had filled the TV screens throughout the day showing the utter devastation in Indonesia and Thailand caused by the tsunami. Just about everyone had a story to tell - one couple had just returned from a holiday in now almost destroyed Phuket, another had recently been diving off the Maldives and one girl who had relatives in Galle in Sri Lanka had tried unsuccessfully to contact them but all she could do was pray that they were safe. The outcome of all this concern was that it was decided that there would be a special bondage party the following week to raise money to send to one of the aid organisations now rushing to help the injured and homeless. To raise some extra money it was also decided to there would be a fee charged for each flogging, use of equipment or a private room and so on. It was then that Jason, one of the organisers, said that he’d got a great idea for another way to raise some extra cash and he wanted a volunteer. He promised that whoever volunteered was sure of a night they would never forget. Nobody rushed to put their hands up. ...

My name is Leslie, and I am a self-binder. Like many other self-binders, I have certain kinks that work their way into my bondage sessions. Some people like to get dressed up, like in leather or latex, some like to incorporate the possibility of discovery and/or humiliation into their bondage play. Some people even enjoy being tortured to the point that the pain is soooo bad, it becomes pleasurable. So, with that in mind, my kink isn’t so bizarre. I just like to be painted when I’m tied. And I don’t mean painted as on some canvas or mural, what I mean, is that I like to paint my skin, hair, ropes, shackles, everything to some color or colors. ...

Beatrix was, by all accounts, a very happy woman as she got dressed for another day. After disciplining several of the more willful sluts over the last few weeks and making examples out of a few for good measure, she was satisfied that they now knew their roles in her home and would think twice before displeasing her. The raven haired dominatrix was about to put on her usual catsuit when she spotted a package lying on a table nearby. “Hmm… that’s right… I forgot to open this up yesterday when it arrived in the mail. It’s the new boots and gloves I ordered online from that fetish web site, " she muttered as she tore open the box and pulled out the items in question. Nodding in satisfaction as she ran her hands over the smooth surface of her purchases, the dominatrix quickly stripped off her outfit and put on the latex hose and gloves followed by her white high heels. Beatrix walked over to a large mirror at the opposite end of the room and admired herself in the mirror. Of course, the mirror itself was yet another punishment the dominatrix had handed out to staff who had disobeyed her rules. In this case, she had caught Delilah and Tiffany, two of the first servants she employed, in her room trying on some of her outfits without Beatrix’s permission. To punish them, the cruel woman had them strip every stitch of clothes off their bodies before having them stand in a highly erotic pose back to back in the center of the room. Beatrix then took an aerosol can of gold paint and told the two they would be spending the next 24 hours posing as gold statues to remind them that things of value are to be admired and respected. After posing them with their backs arched, one arm hung seductively in the air and the other covering their respective pussies, Beatrix started to spray them with can after can of glittering gold covering the two from head to toe. Of course, Delilah and Tiffany realized too late that the coating was turning their entire bodies to gold. The look of horror on each of their faces when they realized the truth brought immense satisfaction to the cruel dominatrix, who got a large pane of glass out of her closet while waiting for the change to near completion. When she thought the process was about to finish, she took the glass and wedged it down so that the golden women’s ass cheeks would support it as well as give it an attractive and erotic framing. She then set it where she could gaze into it on a daily basis when dressing and be reminded how bad servants should be treated. “Well, should I go with the push-up corset or go with my black and red ‘punishment’ outfit for today? " Beatrix mused out loud as she looked through her closet. She had just picked out what she wanted to wear when she heard the approach of an unexpected vehicle at the front of the house. Pulling the curtain back on her bedroom window, the dominatrix saw two men get out of what was clearly a local police car and walk towards the front door. Seconds later, the doorbell chime sounded announcing the police’s arrival at the house. “DAMN !!! Just when I was going to do my daily disciplining of my servants, this has to happen. I wonder what they want with me anyway…. " Beatrix muttered to herself as she pulled on a satin blue bath robe. She decided to talk to the police right away rather than have snooping around and find things that would require more explanations. The dominatrix checked to make sure the robe covered up her nearly nude body before she headed out of the bedroom to talk to her guests. “….and I must admit I’m a little surprised that your superiors didn’t call me ahead of time so it would save you two the trouble of coming all the way out here, " Beatrix said serenely as she sipped her coffee and looked at the men seated across from her, Detectives Bouseau and Combs. “Well, our boss thought a personal visit to your home would clarify the whole situation about your niece Janice Delorteaux coming to live with you next week. It seems some of your relatives have complained that you live a deviant lifestyle which would have a detrimental effect on her way of thinking, " Bouseau said while looking around the expensively decorated living room. “My niece is 21 years old so I think she’s a little too old to be influenced by anybody’s lifestyle. Besides, I think the word ‘deviant’ would hardly apply to the way the way I live my life. While it’s true that I tend to dress more flamboyantly than some people are comfortable with, I also employee a large amount of local women as part of my staff and give generously to the local charities, " Beatrix said smoothly while smoothing out her left latex boot with her hands. “Yes, those are certainly not deviant practices. Nevertheless, we must…OOOFF!!…” Bouseau started to speak again before tripping on the imitation bear rug lying on the floor and stumbling into the large cabinet which fell backwards as a result of his weight. The cabinet fell into a set of doors leading outside causing the glass to shatter and fly everywhere which included into the side of a huge fish tank. The tank shattered sending water everywhere and fish flopping around on the water soaked rugs. “Clumsy fool!” Combs muttered at his colleague, who was busy picking himself up from the middle of the disaster he had created. He turned his attention back to Beatrix, whose expression was one tinged with shock, surprise and horror. “My apologies, Miss Beatrix, for the accident. If you’ll send the bill for the damages to the police HQ, I’m sure my superiors will take care of it,” he said with an apologetic tone. The detective then stood up and motioned his colleague towards him before looking at Beatrix once again. “Well, ma’am, we shall be going. If we need to speak with you again, I’ll try and make sure our superiors call ahead next time. Bouseau, let’s go!” he said trying to avoid any difficulties for now. The dominatrix watched with a smug satisfaction as the two men hurried out the door and off her property with great speed. “Well, that turned out better than I expected.. no awkward questions about missing staff… and they didn’t press me about my lifestyle. Of course, that idiot Bouseau is lucky he wasn’t one of my staff members when he caused this catastrophe. If he was, he’d be up on the wall as my latest object d’art….” she thought to herself as she looked over the broken glass and shattered wood before here. After summoning two of her staff, Beatrix sat down in a nearby chair and contemplated her day’s schedule. Sniffing the air, the dominatrix detected the odor of soup emanating from the kitchen area. “If Nina adds the special ingredient I asked her to, this should be a very memorable dinner indeed… " the woman said with a soft sinister laugh out loud. ...