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  #11  
Old 26-Sep-20, 21:23
Silentcrs Silentcrs is offline
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Default Re: The Student Artist - should I continue?

More. This is just the beginning and still needs editing, but it's starting to take shape.

Ultimate Power Ultimately Corrupts
Chapter 6 – The Artist

The rhythmic pounding of the titanic glutes into the diminutive figure below was only matched by the sloshy sounds of paint splashing. Muscles, rippling and striated under the black latex bodysuit, flexed menacingly in the pale light. She crashed her body into his, colorful, splattered imprints left again and again on the canvas. She leaned forward, damp hair hanging into his face, rivulets of paint dripping off massive, heaving breasts onto his pain wracked form. She grabbed his chin and crudely forced his head sideways. “Scream for them, lover,” she smirked menacingly. “They paid for a show.”

Hours earlier, she sat unassuming in the back corner of a high school classroom. Quiet and non-descript, the tall high school senior sketched absently on loose-leaf paper. Bare, thin lines at first, they began to take shape. Sweeping, arched lines filled the page as they began to form figures. Broad shapes: abundant chests, tiny waists, dense thighs. Occasionally, surreptitiously, she would draw small shadows in between. She smiled coquettishly.

Her art teacher walked up to her desk and she hastily slipped the page under a notebook. Another local art show – another award. She accepted the piece of paper with the embossed medallion on it. Her flowing landscapes and flowers already dominated murals all over the rural town. “A teen prodigy” they said. “The next Georgia O'Keeffe” he extolled, for the umpteenth time. She quietly placed the folded piece of paper in the pocket of her flowing, ankle length black skirt. Her large baggy, sweatered chest rose subtly as she respectfully accepted his praise. He turned away, proud that a girl who seemed to struggle with obesity had found her calling in art.

She started to pull the sketch back from under her notebook, but a vibration emanated from her other skirt pocket. The girl surreptitiously pulled out her cell phone and looked down at the text from an unknown number. “23-year-old male. $20K. Packing district. 2 AM.” Her heart fluttered a bit before tapping out her reply. “Accepted.” She placed her phone back against her now involuntarily flexed thigh as she peered down at the corner of her notebook. Wetness began to emanate between her thighs, so she crossed her large legs beneath the undersized desk to provide some much-wanted friction. She pleasingly heard the wooden desk creak in protest.

Later that night, a man woke to the smell of incense. His eyes blinked blindly as he awkwardly tried to sit up. One leg crossed, he felt the back of his aching head. As he made his way around his sore neck he noticed a small, raised bump. A pinprick? He squinted out into inky blackness, blurry eyes slowly making out flickering images. Were those candles? Hundreds of small candles, wax dripping down their fading forms, flames licking the air. He turned and saw candles behind him. Above him. Beside him. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light, it wasn’t until he looked down at his body that he saw that he was completely naked.

What the hell was going on?

The man shakily stood up, his body swaying almost drunkenly. Was he drugged? His bare feet found initial placed on the cold concrete slab on which he was placed. He gingerly stepped forward and found his feet press into an expected light fabric. The weight of his heel sunk into the surface and he clumsily tried to feel the textured surface with his toes. A canvas? He stepped back confusedly and looked out across the floor. As his vision returned, dozens of white canvases spread around him in all directions. He squinted into the distance and saw walls covered with blank canvases as well. Above them, security camera LEDs blinked silently. Far above, he saw a tin roof, rusted in spots from years of neglect. He was in a warehouse.

Before getting his bearings further, a melodic tone rung out. Deep, menacing. He turned slowly to the source and noticed a luxurious bathtub he hadn’t been able to see before, surrounded by candlelight. Another tone rang out. Rich, insistent. A fresh wash of incense wafted over him, coupled with a new smell. Oil? He crept judiciously towards the tub, taking a step or two onto the fabric-covered floor. A final tone rang out. Loud, reverberating, powerful.

Before he could take another step, a figure slowly began to rise. A head, obscured by shadow, appeared first. Elegant but strong facial features. Long wet hair splayed behind it, dripping downward back into the tub. The figure twisted subtly as it rose further, broad muscle-capped shoulders encased in a black-as-night bodysuit, liquid dripping off the sides. The silent antagonist’s body paused. A thick, formidable back appeared next. The shadowy figure deliberately widened its full expanse like a cobra head, inch after inch of muscle seemingly being manifested under the stretched latex in front of him. It raised two dense arms, pausing as if to beseech the gods for power, then flexed them into raw, peaked biceps. His already labored breathing shuddered.

The figure paused now again now. Looked up at the one of the cameras, its hands reached up to its obscured chest. It arched its back, rubbing its chest wantonly, seemingly in lust with its own body. He heard an unexpected moan. A feminine moan? The figure swayed as if drugged under its own power, delicately twisting in a self-induced erotic dance. As it did so, thick curves eclipsed the candlelight behind, and, in between the flowing smoke of incense, he saw two massive, heavenly bosoms.

She was a female.

The young woman now turned directly to face the quivering man. An elegant thumb and index finger reached up to the top of her bodysuit. She deliberately pulled down the zipper with a satisfying sound of intermixed metal teeth. In doing so, her deep, cavernous cleavage came into full view. Her palms reached up to once again lift her heavy globes, nipples growing erect under the increasingly strained bodysuit. Her hands drifted downwards across her abs as she twisted a sexy belly dance, before resting below her torso still obscured by the tub edge.

He started to back away but couldn’t move. Was it the drugs? No, it was the shock. She took that as a sign and continued to elevate. Thick, corded quads were revealed next, flexing menacingly under the shiny black bodysuit. She turned and let the back of her elegant hand float down her shapely ass. As she turned back to face him, her fingertips grazed her crotch, a deep camel toe evident under the skintight covering. As her football-sized calves came into view, she playfully did some toe raises, threatening to burst the latex covering at any time. Her fingers pressed deeper into her pussy and her tongue snaked its way around her lips. She bit her lower lip and moaned loudly for the cameras.

Awestruck, the man began to cower as she stepped over the edge of the tub. Her full, frightening height came into view. She took it slow. Her face was gorgeous. Young, almost model-like. It completely belied her long hair, powerful body, and clearly mature intent as she sashayed towards him. As she came closer, he realized what the oil smell was from before: paint. She was covered in a thin layer of it to match her bodysuit. It plopped messily on the canvases as she made her way across the room.

When she finally reached him, she stood with clutched fists on her hips. He was curled up in a ball on the ground. She sighed mockingly and bent down, gripping him by the nape of the neck. Wrapping her long fingers around his throat with hardly any effort she pulled him upwards. When he got up on his bare feet she kept pulling, a formidable bicep menacingly flexing as she lifted him off the ground. As he pawed uselessly at her strong forearms, she pulled his clutched neck towards her angelic face. She peered into his fearful eyes and he could smell her sweet breath. “Don’t worry lover,” she cooed. “You’re going to be my masterpiece.”

...to be continued.
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  #12  
Old 28-Sep-20, 05:11
davidwatts davidwatts is offline
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Default Re: The Student Artist - should I continue?

This will be your masterpiece....

Too many people care about political things, when we are thinking about a beautiful, personal inner-life that is the world of the imagination...fuck everything else.

Your women should defy all of the SJW bullshit and be in a realm completely free of such utter stupidity.

Last edited by davidwatts; 28-Sep-20 at 14:28.
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  #13  
Old 28-Sep-20, 22:19
Silentcrs Silentcrs is offline
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Default Re: The Student Artist - should I continue?

Quote:
Originally Posted by davidwatts [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
This will be your masterpiece....

Too many people care about political things, when we are thinking about a beautiful, personal inner-life that is the world of the imagination...fuck everything else.

Your women should defy all of the SJW bullshit and be in a realm completely free of such utter stupidity.
Well this is definitely not a political piece. If anything, the women in my stories are undoubtedly feminists.
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  #14  
Old 11-Oct-20, 20:57
Silentcrs Silentcrs is offline
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Default Re: The Student Artist - should I continue?

Current version. Polished some of the opening - still working on editing and polishing the first video sequence. (Note: she's not done with him yet. I have two more video ideas for the loving couple. )

Chapter 6 – The Artist

The rhythmic pounding of her titanic glutes into the diminutive figure below was only matched by the sloshy sounds of paint splashing. Muscles, rippling and striated under the shiny black latex bodysuit, flexed dangerously in the pale light. She crashed her powerful body again and again into his, leaving colorful, splattered imprints on the canvas. She leaned forward, damp hair hanging over his face, rivulets of paint dripping off her massive, heaving breasts onto his pain wracked form. She grabbed his chin and crudely forced his head sideways. “Scream for them, lover,” she singsonged. “They paid for a show.”

Hours earlier, the tall young woman sat unassuming in the back corner of a high school classroom. Quiet and tactiturn, the senior sketched absently on loose-leaf paper. The drawings started out as bare, thin pencil lines at first, but over time they began to take shape. Sweeping arches in thick ink, abstract figures loosely shaped like bodies. Occasionally, surreptitiously, she would draw small shadows in between the curves. She traced a finger along one and smiled coquettishly.

She hastily slipped the page under a notebook as her art teacher walked up to her desk. Another local art show – another award. She accepted the piece of paper with the embossed medallion on it. Her flowing landscapes and flowers already dominated murals all over the small town. “A teen prodigy” they said. “The next Georgia O'Keeffe” he extolled, for the umpteenth time. Her large baggy, sweater rose subtly as she respectfully accepted his praise. He turned away, proud that a girl who seemingly struggled with obesity had found her calling in art.

She started to pull the sketch back from under her notebook, but a vibration emanated from her backpack. She surreptitiously pulled out her cell phone and looked down at a text from an unknown number. “23-year-old male. $20K. Packing district. 2 AM.” Her heart fluttered a bit before tapping out her reply. “Accepted.” She placed her phone against her now involuntarily-flexed thigh and peered down at the corner of her notebook. Wetness began to emanate between her legs, so she crossed them beneath the undersized desk to provide some much-wanted friction. She pleasingly heard the wooden desk creak in protest.

Later that night, a man woke to the smell of incense. His eyes blinked awkwardly as he tried to sit up. One leg crossed, he felt the back of his aching head. As he made his way around his sore neck he noticed a small, raised bump. A pinprick? He squinted out into inky blackness, blurry eyes making out flickering spindly light. Hundreds of small candles sparkled to life in front of him, wax dripping down their fading forms, flames licking the air. Incense smoke wafted around, playing with the light. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he looked down at his body. He was completely naked. What the hell was going on?

The man got up shakily on one knee. He felt drugged. His bare feet found purchase on a cold concrete slab on which he was placed. He gingerly stepped forward and found his heels press into an unexpected fabric. The weight of his foot sunk into the material and he clumsily tried to feel the textured surface with his toes. A canvas? He stepped back confusedly and looked out across the floor. As his vision continued to return, dozens of white canvases splayed around him in all directions. He squinted into the distance and saw walls covered with blank canvases as well. Far above he saw a tin roof, rusted in spots from years of neglect, with security camera LEDs blinked silently. He was in a warehouse.

Before he could get his bearings further, a melodic tone rung out. Deep, menacing. He turned to the source and noticed a luxurious tub in the distance, surrounded by candles and incense smoke. Another tone rang out. Rich, insistent. He smelled something new. Oil? He took a judicious step forward. A final tone rang out. Loud. Reverberating. Powerful. A figure slowly began to rise from the porcelain.

A head, obscured by shadow, appeared first. It was turned away from him, long wet hair splayed and dripping backward. The figure rose further, shockingly revealing broad, muscle-capped shoulders encased in a black-as-night bodysuit. Rising still came a monstrous backside. Pausing for dramatic effect, it slowly unwound its back like a cobra head under the skintight material. Inch after inch of muscular width seemingly manifested at will. When it reached its full, frightening expanse, the figure raised two dense arms, seemingly beseeching the gods for power, then flexed them downward into two raw, peaked biceps that threatened to split the bodysuit. The man shuddered.

The figure paused once again. Looked up at one of the cameras behind them, its hands reached up to its obscured chest. It arched its back, rubbing its chest gently at first, then uncontrollably, seemingly growing in lust with its own body. He heard an unexpected high-pitched moan. The figure swayed as if drunk on its own power, delicately twisting in a self-induced erotic dance. As it did, thick curves eclipsed the candlelight behind, and, in between the flowing white incense smoke, it turned its profile to the side.

He saw elegant hands cup two massive bosoms.

The young woman now turned directly around to face him. A devious smile flitted across her lips as her thumb and index finger reached up to the top of her bodysuit. She gingerly pulled down a zipper with a satisfying sound of intermixed metal teeth, deep, cavernous cleavage coming into full view. Her palms reached up to lift her heavy globes once again, nipples erect under the increasingly strained latex, as she played with their mass. Her hands danced downwards across her chiseled abs as she traced their etched surface under the skintight material, liquid flowing rivulets in between.

He tried to back away but couldn’t move. Was it the drugs? No, it was the shock. She took that as a welcome sign and continued her ominous elevation. Thick, corded quads were revealed next, flexing menacingly under the black bodysuit. She shook them in place, expanding them to their full, frightening girth with an audible snap. Her fingertips reached around to graze her wet crotch, a deep camel toe evident under the skintight covering. As football-sized calves came into view, she playfully did some toe raises, threatening to burst the latex covering. Her fingers pressed deeper into her pussy and her tongue snaked its way around her lips. She bit her lower lip and moaned loudly, damp hair falling down over one eye.

Mesmerized by fear, the man fell backwards as she stood to her full shocking height. With considerable agility given her size, she stepped over the edge of the tub. As she walked toward him the smoke started to part. Her face was gorgeous. Young, fresh, almost model-like. It completely belied the musclebound body, long damp hair, and clearly mature intent. As got closer, to his cowering form, he realized what the oily smell was: paint. She was covered in a thin layer of dripping oil paint to match her bodysuit. It plopped messily on the canvases as she made her way across the room.

When she finally reached him, the size difference was extraordinary. He curled up in a ball on the ground as she placed her palms on wide hips. As he mumbled incoherently, she sighed mockingly and bent down, gripping him by the nape of the neck. Wrapping her long fingers around his throat, she pulled him up to his feet. When his toes grazed the ground she kept pulling, a formidable bicep flexing as she lifted him upwards to her gorgeous face. As he pawed uselessly at her strong forearms, struggling for breath, he could feel hers. “Don’t worry lover,” she cooed. “You’re going to be my masterpiece.”

Months later, an encrypted video appeared on the dark web. The buzz in the domination community was immense. “Clearly, it was a deepfake,” some said. “It had to be special effects.” A young man downloaded the file through Tor. His index finger, shaking on his mouse, opened amazflatten.mp4.

The video began without a title. A single, wispy light blue bullet flew across the screen. Seconds later, a giant pink cannonball flew across in the same direction. A loud thud was heard, followed immediately by a whoosh of air.

The camera turned to reveal the pink blur was not a cannonball. It was a young, musclebound woman.

Gigantic in stature, she pressed her massive body up against a wall-hung canvas. Clad in a bodysuit that clung to her like a second skin, pink paint dripped off her hard curves. She pressed her chest forward, flexing her pecs, as her palms lay flat against the wall. She backed up her glutes, flexing them into dimple-hardened rumps, before slamming them forward into the wall. A muffled screech emanated from under her chest. She raised her prodigious ass again, twisting it sexily side to side, before again blasting it forward to another almost inaudible squeal. This time, she rolled her sizable mound into the wall, glutes flexing menacingly, grounding whatever was in front of her. In between the waves she heard another delightful scream.

She placed her hands on her shapely hips and took a deep breath. As her lungs filled with air, she spread her canopy of a back open. Her graceful fingers playfully tapped on her hips briefly. An almost silent gasp could be heard. She pressed a single finger down between her cleavage, trying to create a more sizable air gap for whatever was hidden from view. When that didn’t seem to work, she tried two fingers. Hearing pitiful groans for air, she eventually gave up with a malicious chuckle. The angle switched to a camera at her side. She glanced her beautiful face towards it and impishly toyed a finger around long, paint-covered pink hair. Her biceps flexed as her body continued to smother against the canvas. She winked coyly and brought a pink, dripping pinky to the edge of her cooing lips, hair dangling over her eye. “Am I doing something wrong, daddy?” she hushed in a little girl voice.

After a few minutes she slowly, deliberately, peeled one of her sticky bosoms off the canvas. The gooey paint clung between her globe and the wall before eventually separating with a gummy squish, revealing the head of a man. She grinned in satisfaction as he coughed for breath, covered in light blue paint. She gently pet his wet head before ferociously slamming a single globe back into his face. Its mass completely enveloped his moaning head as her erect nipple peaked out from under the bodysuit. She drilled it between his lips, a finger pulling aside a single strand of hair nonchalantly.

As the oxygen left his lungs, his outmatched body ceased before her. She shook her chest to be sure he was unconscious and then stepped back from the wall. The entire scrunched, nude male stuck unceremoniously to the wall for half a second before crumpling down the wall like a swatted fly. The artistry left behind on the canvas was impressive: a small spindly stick of blue paint overwhelmed by giant curves of pink. Splashes of paint left globular imprints on the canvas, completely obliterating his head. She admired her work. However, she wasn’t done yet.

She picked up his loose wrist and flung him like a ragdoll at the another part of adjacent canvas. Before he his limp body fell forward, she slammed backwards into him, flexing her ass into his overwhelmed pelvis. She looked up at another camera before her, letting her hair again fall across her green eyes. She flexed her powerful ass muscles against his, sliding his little body up and down the wall, clenching his erecting penis. She raised a finger to her chest zipper, opening her bodysuit down further to her naked abs. She pulled a single, paint-free breast out from underneath. As she felt his penis grow more turgid, she signed wantonly and sucked on the plump nipple with her full lips.

She lavisciously winked her free eye at the camera before reaching downwards. Her long fingers wrapped around his gangly ankles and placed them around the front of her taut, muscular calves. Trapped in a reverse grapevine, she spread her gargantuan quads to the sides, taking his spindly legs with them. Next, she leaned back and grabbed his weak wrists. She propelled his arms outwards to the side, fierce muscles flexing, before extended his arms ever upwards. She spread his body outwards in her organic, muscular torture rack. His tendons extended to their limits against her full, statuelike form.

After hearing his spine crackle satisfactorily, her elegant hand reached down between her legs, pulling out his raging hardon from between her thighs. Clutching her fingers around it, she fingered the glans with her fingernail before resting her strong grip at the base. She stroked upwards, feeling him delightfully shiver, before pressing down deep into his swollen balls. She repeated this movement again, his throbbing dick leaking precum onto her fingers, mixing with the pink paint. She repeated the action faster, quietly delighting in her dominance. Faster still, forearm pistons rapidly outclassed the rod within.

After several minutes of foreplay, she crashed her entire body backwards. Held up by her mountainous backside and his legs still sandwiched between hers, she placed both hands around his elongated shaft. She gripped tightly with both palms, pistoning his entire body forward with powerful force against her unyielding back before crushing him again into the canvas. Pulled forward dangerously by his crotch, the pleasure was mixed with excruitaing pain. Again and again she stroked, his body mercilessly controlled by the young teenager.

Finally, she felt him shudder behind her. She clenched his genitalia with indomitable force. “You… are… mine!” the teenager growled.

His sperm flew in front of them as he squirmed pathetically behind her crushing back. She continued to pump one fist against his outclassed cock, ropes of jism practically hitting the camera, as she raised a powerful arm and flexed it into a earthshattering bicep. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath in, completely overwhelming the frail form in her young grasp.

When he was finally spent, she let go of his still dribbling cock before peeling her sticky body off his. His unconscious, frail form crashed onto the ground as she turned around delicately. Michaelangelo’s Vitruvian Amazon unfolded across the canvas, pink paint completely surpassing thin streams of blue. She raised a single finger to her sexy lips, licking it, before using it to sign her work – a viscous name written in cum and pink paint.
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