Paint · Part 1

Paint · Part 1 (1/2)
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Susan stood in what was to become the master bedroom of the farmhouse, staring at a blank wall. She was a little nervous, and a little cold despite the fact that the house’s central heating was now working. She was nervous because she wasn’t quite sure why Scott had placed her here, although she hadn’t objected at all when he told her to strip so he could put her in some bondage for a while.

What she had on was pretty basic, even for her. Her ever present collar of course, more visible than usual because her long hair had been braided into a pony tail. Two sets of handcuffs locking her hands behind her in a folded position, wrists to opposite elbows. And a ball gag, buckled tightly. A nice, tight little package that completely took her hands and arms out of the picture yet left her able to move about at will. And of course, Scott thought she looked beautiful like that, and commented such when he came into the room carrying several cans of canary yellow paint. Susan smiled behind her gag at the compliment, but her eyes were on the paint cans, her nimble mind already figuring out what Scott might be planning and hoping he wasn’t serious. But he was!

“Okay,” he said, setting down the cans and opening two of them. “Here’s the deal. We’re not going to do this in every room of course, although I might change my mind later,” he chuckled, eyes shining with mirth. “But up here, at least on this wall, you are going to do some special painting.”

He pushed the two open cans of paint together and then stood up, surveying the interior wall that separated this bedroom from the one next door. The wall was smooth and primed for painting, something Scott had spent a lot of money on. For before Susan and Scott had gotten to this point in their house renovation, Scott had brought in several professionals to do the messier bits. Plumbers had come in to check the pipes and put in more modern fixtures, including a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. Following that were electricians who checked out all the wiring and hooked the house back onto the grid.

A new furnace was put in the basement, and decorators had scraped and prepped all the walls and floors and painted the ceilings. Scott had wanted the entire house stripped down and made ready so that he and Susan could work on it themselves. And now that the last of the contractors had left, bondage games could recommence.

“Your job today,” he continued, “is to paint this wall. You have probably noticed that there aren’t any brushes, that’s because YOU are going to be the brush for this wall at least. I want you painting with your tits for the most part, but I wouldn’t object strongly to your using other parts of your body for the more difficult to reach places.”

Susan was right, the man WAS crazy, and she made noises to that affect around her mouth filling gag. Scott just chuckled though, knowing full well what was going through the bound girl’s mind.

“Don’t worry about the mess,” he said, checking her bondage one more time before directing her toward the open paint cans, “This room is getting carpet in last thing, so any paint on the floor will be covered up. Just try to get a nice thick coat on the entire wall, and you don’t get to stop until I am satisfied you have done as much as you are able. I have stuff to do in the workshop, but I’ll be back every so often to make sure you have enough paint to work with and to check on your progress. So…let’s get you started, shall we?”

Susan groaned again, but it was more for show than anything else. She wasn’t that thrilled about getting any of that paint on her body, but if she had learned anything about Scott it was that he seemed to love getting her messy. Besides, painting a wall like this in bondage seemed a lot more interesting than doing it the regular way. So she didn’t resist too much as Scott led her over to the paint cans, had her kneel, and watched as she gingerly leaned forward to dip her breasts into the paint. Scott had conveniently positioned the cans so that there was one for each breast, and this alone made Susan feel rather silly as her nipples touched the paint. But that feeling quickly left her as she jerked back… the paint was COLD!

Scott chuckled. “Oh yeah, I’ve been storing the paint outside, so it might be a little cool.”

Susan glared at him, but of course could say nothing. So she gathered her courage and tried again, this time getting the fronts of both her breasts coated in canary yellow before standing up and approaching the wall. She gingerly pressed her breasts against the wall and moved her body back and forth. The wall was smooth to the touch and much warmer than the paint, and felt very odd against her bare skin. But it also felt good in a kinky sort of way and she stepped back to see a yellow smear against the gray of the bare sheetrock.

“No,” Scott said shaking his head. “You’ll take forever doing it like that. You need to get a lot more paint on yourself if you want to finish this today.”

Susan raised an eyebrow and made a questioning sound, but she didn’t resist as Scott guided her back to the cans. This time as she leaned forward to dip her nipples, she felt a hand on her back pushing down and she was unable to stop Scott from making sure that her breasts were almost entirely coated with paint. Her skin tingled from the cold, sticky fluid, and as she stood she could feel it start to drip down her body, making her groan again at the thought of how she must look. But Scott didn’t let her dawdle. He moved her quickly over to the wall and held her as she again smeared paint on a blank spot. This time the paint went on thicker and covered a larger area, and Scott smiled.

“Fantastic, just like that. I’ll leave you to it for a little while then, have fun!”

Susan gave him another look as he grinned and left the room, and contemplated chasing after him and rubbing paint on his shirt, but the thought was too late and she was left with her job. So she sighed and got back to work, dipping as she was shown, and expanding the canary yellow area on the wall. She was quite a sight, naked and bound, her front quickly becoming coated with yellow paint, rubbing her body against the wall again and again, but as Susan worked she thought back at the last time she had felt this embarrassed, the day she met Scott’s father for the first time.

Scott had thought that a good way to introduce her to his dad, would be to make it a part of a tour of the County Sheriff’s Office where he worked. Scott was still concerned over his father’s reaction to Susan’s collar, but Susan compromised with him by wearing a decorative scarf around her neck, with matching outfit. So the young couple looked rather neat as Susan was shown the booking area, the file rooms, the armory, the break room…etc, only to finish in the bull pen where most of the deputies and the county’s sole detective did their paperwork. Everywhere they met someone, Scott introduced Susan, although the one person they never ran into was the one person Susan had come here to see. Things kinda took a turn though, in the bull pen.

Along the back wall were three holding cells, the traditional kind with bars for walls and a bench along the back. All were empty, but they still drew Susan’s attention like a moth to a flame. Scott introduced her to the only other Deputy in the room at that moment, but it wasn’t long before the couple was standing at the open door of the nearest cell.

“Pretty cool, huh?” said Scott, seeing the light in Susan’s eyes and knowing what it meant.

Susan grinned, and after shyly checking to make sure that the Deputy filling out reports was out of earshot, asked “Can I try it? I’ve never been in a real jail cell before.”

“I should hope not!” Scott replied before nodding. Then for the benefit of their audience, Scott loudly gave out a few facts about the cell’s construction and why they were there.

Susan nodded slowly, hardly hearing him as she stepped into the cell, her fingers caressing the bars while her mind fantasized about all the possibilities a jail cell of their own could give them, when the rattle of the door closing behind her made her turn and grin. Scott started to say something about letting her try out the cell for a few minutes when the Deputy from across the room shouted at Scott to stop. But it was too late, the door’s momentum finished the job as the lock engaged on contact.

Scott frowned and turned to face his colleague. “What’s the big deal, Frank?” he asked. “I was just showing Susan the cell!”

The Deputy shook his head and he walked over from his desk. “Damn it, Scott. I thought you knew!”

“Knew what?”

“The lock broke on that one last night. Something inside gave way. We were lucky it was open at the time, but we can’t unlock it until the locksmith gets here!”

Scott laughed, while Susan was a little stunned. “Good joke, you almost had me, Frank. Now get the keys will ya!”

“I’m not joking, Scott,” replied Frank rather seriously.

Now it was Scott who stood open mouthed, while Susan stepped forward to hold onto the bars. “You mean,” she said nervously, “that I’m really stuck in here? You can't get me out at all?”

Frank shrugged and reached for a phone. “Sorry, Ma’am. But I can’t. I thought Scott knew or I wouldn’t have let you walk in there in the first place!” Frank gave the younger man a disapproving look before dialing a short number on the phone. “Sheriff? I think you had better get out here.”

“Oh God,” said Scott, “do we have to involve him?”

“Yeah, it’s fairly urgent,” Frank continued into the phone before hanging up. Then he looked up at the worried couple. “I would think he would have to be involved, Scott. You just cost the county some extra cash because now we have to get a locksmith in today instead of next week! Not to mention the inconvenience you are putting this poor through. It could take a few hours to get her out again!”

Scott sighed while Susan reached through the bars to take his hand. “Is that true?” she asked. “Am I stuck in here for hours?”

Scott knew Frank was probably right. Frank was his father’s right hand man at the station, and was usually right about most things. So he nodded and said sorry before moving closer to her and giving her a brief hug through the bars. The hug was brief because at that moment the far door to the bull pen opened, and from out of his office came Scott’s father, the Sheriff.

Part 2

Susan was tired, she had been painting for quite a while now. Her mouth hurt because of the gag buckled around her head, and she also had to breath heavily to get enough air due to her exertions. Her body was also a mess, her front almost completely covered in paint. In places it was wet and runny and flowing in a cold sticky mess, while in others it had started to dry with all the itchiness and tackiness that implied. It also smelled, and that was the only reason why Susan was glad that the windows in this room were both open a little, for cold air came in from the outside, a true sign that Fall was upon them.

But she persevered in her job, dipping various parts of her body in the paint cans and rubbing herself against the wall. She had done as much as she could with her breasts and now was on to her legs, feet and butt. Getting creative, she had managed to paint almost all the wall below her neck height, but it wasn’t a pretty job. The wall was covered in uneven paint smears, thick in some places and thin in others. Hardly professional, but that was the point as far as Scott was concerned, Susan figured. A bigger mess though was the floor! Dripping paint had almost created a yellow puddle that Susan was forced to add to every time she approached the wall.

Yellow footprints were everywhere, and the sticky mess felt awful beneath her feet. She didn’t know how Scott could be okay with this, but he set the rules so she had to think it was fine. But what worried her more was how she was going to do the upper part of the wall, where she couldn’t yet reach.

She tried to ask Scott that every time he came up to check her progress. But he either didn’t understand her or chose to ignore her muffled questions, which irked her a little. Instead he kept complimenting her on her progress before topping off her paint cans. And one time when he was up he commented that this was exactly what he had been looking for when he had this (brain dead) idea.

“Look, see?” he said to her, pointing at the wall. “You have to catch it at a certain angle, but it’s great!”

Puzzled, Susan searched for what he was talking about, and after a moment she saw what he was talking about. With the light from the windows striking the wall a particular way, many of the lumps and bumps in the paint could be seen more clearly. And a LOT of those lumps and bumps formed recognizable patterns, for in several places she could see impressions of her breasts, their shape unmistakable, especially with their nipple indentations. Looking at the wall this way there could be no doubt how it had been painted, and Susan started blushing furiously at the thought at anyone in their bedroom could see this if they caught the angle just right.

Scott just chuckled and told her he loved her, before disappearing again out of the house and into the workshop shed where he was busy building something. So Susan was left alone again to continue working. She had almost reached a point where she could go no further when she heard someone downstairs call out a name.

“Scott! Where the hell are you!”

Susan froze…she knew that voice even though she had heard it only once before.

“Scott! Are you upstairs? I’m coming up! I’ve got a word to pick with you, boy!” drifted up from below.

It was Scott’s father, the Sheriff, and Susan was alone in the house.

Susan felt her panic rise. Here she was naked and bound and covered in yellow paint, and she certainly didn’t want Scott’s father finding her like this. But the room she was in was completely empty, no place to hide at all. There wasn’t even a closet! So she moved to the door to find another place to hide, but stopped. She was tracking yellow paint wherever she stepped, and while in the bedroom that was okay, Susan didn’t know about the hallway. She didn’t want to anger Scott, but what else could she do?

Heavy steps coming up the stairs made Susan turn away from the door. Her mind racing, she thought about trying that old joke of standing against the painted wall and hoping her yellow coating would hide her, but she knew that wouldn’t really work. So that left her with one horrible option.

You might be able to say that her panic was preventing her from thinking clearly, or she might not have tried that particular escape route. But she ran over to one of the windows and with some difficulty she managed to get it open a bit more with her bound hands. There was just enough space for her to climb out, so she did so. Now she wasn’t stepping out into thin air, for this window was one of several that overlooked the veranda’s roof at the back of the house. So she was able to step out onto the roof tiles and edge along the wall to the corner of the house. She was just in time too, for as she d

Paint · Part 1 (1/2)
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