Fucking Anna

"Anna, you'll have to leave the drape low enough for me to see the crack of your ass, my darling."

He was sculpting me from behind: just my bare back and the crack of my ass above the drape. But it was cold in the studio and my nipples stood up like two hard points.

"What a lovely ass you have, Anna" he said as he fingered the drape above my ass crack. He adjusted the drape, dragging one finger along my skin and the curved mounds of my ass cheeks. I felt my face flush as he fondled me. I did not answer. It was frightening enough to undress for this artist who had just a few moments ago been a stranger. He was touching me this way within fifteen minutes of me being here.

I had felt shy about answering the ad to be an artist's nude model. I felt even more shy when I arrived and he asked me to get undressed in the same room where he was preparing his clay.

So when he told me to face the wall so that he could see my nude back and just the top mounds of my ass cheeks, I felt relieved. I was relieved to not have to look at him. I was relieved to know that at least my bare tits were not exposed to him when I was facing the other way.

But when he came close and fondled the tops of my ass cheeks, I felt my face burn hot again and my breath quicken.

"What a beautiful ass you have, Anna" he was almost whispering in a ragged voice. "Let me see how deep this crack goes..."

and with that he gently pushed one finger down the ravine between my ass cheeks, tickling the long crevasse slowly...just stopping above my asshole. I breathed in a sharp intake of air.

With that he reached around with his other hand and cupped my right tit in his hand. I was breathing heavily now, and although I didn't know quite what was going on, I didn't want it to stop.

"Honey, your nipples are really hard. Are you feeling cold?" He gently squeezed my nipple between his thumb and finger. I let out a little gasp when he pinched it. After about a second I tried to reply, but all I could say whimper was..."Mmm hmm"

"Hold on. I'll help you with that." And he let go of my tit as it bounced down against my chest, standing up and walking back to the clay.

I heard his boots clomp on the hard concrete floor of the studio. It was five loud steps back to the clay. Then five loud steps approaching again me from behind. I felt frozen with desire and fear.

He reached around with both hands and smeared cool wet clay on both of my tits, working it around and around, smearing the cold slimy earth over my nipples, around the aureoles, and pushing my tits up against my chest as he covered my tits in clay. It was cool and slimy and ticklish. He chuckled quietly, "This will protect those gorgeous fat tits for later, too." He laughed again. I had no idea what "later" meant.

The drape under me was wet. I realized that it was my own pussy that was making the drape wet.

I was sitting straddling a low stone bench, with the drape wrapped around each of my legs and falling down to expose just the top of my ass.

"Anna, now that your tits won't get too scratched by the stone bench, I'd like you to get up on all fours now, please."

I clutched the drape to my one leg and turned my head over my shoulder: "Here?" I asked in a voice much quieter and smaller than what I knew to by my own voice.

"Yes, darling, just bring your knees up on the bench and stretch your arms out in front of you on the bench so that we see your lovely elongated back. You can let your tits press down on the cold stone bench - it won't hurt since I have covered them with clay. Go ahead now and be a darling. Bend down for me now, please."

He chuckled again, "This is called 'The Devotional Pose' in yoga. Now I need your ass in the air, and your tits pressed against the bench with your arms stretched out straight in front of you holding on to the bench, okay? Can you do that for me, Anna?"

He said the last question so softly, so sweetly, that I immediately complied. This was art, after all, he didn't want to fuck me, he wanted to make a sculpture. And after all, I was getting paid for this. So part of the job was to let him direct me so he could make his art, I told myself.

The bench was still cold on my tits, even through the clay that he had smeared on them, and which was now beginning to dry. When I stretched my arms in front of me and lowered my back, the drape slid off of me and my full round ass cheeks were exposed to the cold air, along with my wet pussy. I felt ashamed and nervous and excited all at once.

"Oh, Anna. what a wonderful ass you have" the sculptor said in a low voice. It was too quiet and too low the way that he said it. He was almost laughing, and breathing heavy now. He said this slowly, and somehow I thought it sounded menacing, or promising, or something...

I heard a zipper unzip. He walked over closer to me. I heard four steps. I kept my eyes closed, panting, not knowing what was coming next. I felt something hard and wet press against my pussy. I gasped. This was really happening. It was his dick, exposed, pressed against my pussy - now dripping wet and hot.

Reaching over my back, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head up from the bench. It hurt. He had me securely in his reins as if I were his horse. I wondered if he was about to ride me.

"Anna, I am going to fuck you. But not yet. First I am going to play with you."

And with that, he walked back across the room. I heard five steps, and wondered what he was going to get. I wondered what he was going to do next.

(To Be Continued...)