A Model’s Pose

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Female Ejaculation

I have reworked a story I posted a few years ago. I hope you enjoy the changes. Many thanks to “adetaildiva” for her help and editing.

Please vote and comment, I love feedback!


I struggled to draw the arch of the naked model’s back. She was leaning to the rear, against the wall, with her feet forward and head below her arms. She was voluptuous with soft round breasts, full thighs, and a cleanly shaved crotch. The arch was so difficult to render believably, however my main problem was her sex. Looking at her displayed pussy disturbed me, yet it made me think erotic thoughts. I always left the “private parts” until the end of the session, because I got so turned on each time I concentrated on them. Somehow I was still uncomfortable focusing on another person’s sexual equipment, nevertheless it did arouse me. It seemed much easier to sketch when a woman had a full bush, but this model was showing all her lips and folds, so I avoided looking there until absolutely necessary to finish the drawing.

I had been taking drawing and carving lessons from George for four months. He was a well-known sculptor, creating mostly big lovely nudes. Some of his constructions were definitely erotic to my eye, but perhaps my view came from my strict upbringing and prudishness. Nonetheless, I really wanted to be a sculptor and I yearned to work on nudes in much the same style. He was an excellent teacher with a great commercial reputation so if I became a known student of his I might have a chance of success.

I was having difficulty paying for the classes and began asking other students if they knew of any well paying jobs. George must have heard one of these conversations for he came up to me and told me he knew of my financial problems. He asked me if I wanted to model. He knew I was committed to his program yet he felt I needed more time before I could work on my own. He informed me each modeling session would be exchanged for two study classes. He was very surprised by my rapid acceptance and question.

“When do we start?”

“If you are available, tomorrow morning would be perfect. I have an important commission and you are the ideal body type for the piece,” he answered.

The next day I arrived at his studio precisely on time. I was not at all comfortable about my role for the next few hours, but still felt a tingle of excitement. He sensed my apprehension, or perhaps simply my nervousness at the idea of being naked in front of my teacher. He asked if I had ever modeled before.

“Not only have I never modeled, but I am not very at ease being naked,” I answered. “I know it seems silly to you, but I’m even sometimes embarrassed to look at the nude models we draw. I know I must get over my prudishness and I will, just give me time.”

George decided we should chat a bit before the session and tried to put me more at ease. He offered me some coffee and explained.

“There will be no one, other than myself, in the studio at any time when you are posing. We’ll work in two-hour shifts and you can call for a rest whenever you feel the need. I must complete the commission in the next few weeks, so you will be holding approximately the same pose during all the sittings. Now for the tough part, Marie; the pose requires an erotic stance involving rope bondage. We will not use the rope in the early stages, but it will be required in the final sittings.” He looked at me to see if I would faint but I nodded my head, speechless, and he continued. “If you are not comfortable with the position I’ll find another model, but you really do have the perfect body.”

I could feel myself blush, but I gathered my courage and asked him to show me the pose before I gave an answer. He instructed me to stand, clasp my hands together, reach backwards over my head, and arch my back. My head was to hang back so if I opened my eyes I could only see the wall behind me.

“I’ll have your hands tied to a pillar behind you, and your hips forward. We will have to try different placing of the legs before I know which I want to use for the carving.”

I continued to blush but bravely stated, “Okay, let’s try this. May I call it all off if just can’t cope?”

“Of course, you may, and don’t worry, I will not be upset. The blunder is all mine; I am so accustomed to having naked women around that I forget some don’t find it natural, nor are at ease, being studied in the nude.”

I undressed behind a screen and emerged wearing the kimono he had left for his models. He positioned me on the podium and asked me to drop the robe. He seemed mesmerized by my body. He simply stood there looking at my naked form. I’ve always been involved in sports and have kept in shape. At 26, I have a strong, yet curvy body, well toned and supple. Standing 5′ 8″ I weigh 125 with a slim waist, full hips, and breasts that are still round and high, I believe I have proportions isveçbahis that work well. My breasts have not begun to droop and are topped by small dark pink berries, which harden quickly when aroused. Below my slim waist my hips are full, framing my protruding mound. I’ve always thought this encouraged thoughts of pleasure to all looking at me. Therefore, I have left my fur abundant to hide the lips below. One of my problems is, despite being a prude in my head, my body is quick to get aroused. I was glad I didn’t shave my pussy because I just knew I’d become wet during one of the sessions.

“Don’t move!” George commanded, as he quickly started drawing. “You are perfect for this piece. If you can hold the pose we’ll be done in no time.”

I accepted the order and fell completely under his spell. All apprehension disappeared as I tried to please the master. He madly worked to translate my sexy shape to paper, constantly asking me to move into different poses. An hour later I finally had to ask for a rest. He suddenly became aware that he had given me no pauses. As I sat and massaged my tired muscles, he told me how inspiring I was as a model. I felt a rush of pride. Maybe I could be an inspiration; maybe I could relax with nudity and pose for his erotic works. I was shocked to notice I had not put on the Kimono when I sat to rest.

“If you can stand it, I will start sculpting tomorrow. We could do some detail drawings this afternoon then I will be ready for you tomorrow.”

Again I acquiesced quietly and we returned to work. Late in the afternoon, after many hard poses he sent me home. He told me how thrilled he was with the work we had done.

“You are an extraordinary model, Marie. You have a natural sensuality and a sense of position that makes my life very easy. Thank you. See you in the morning.”

When I arrived the second day, he was already at work roughing out the forms. “Today you will pose in short sittings, Marie. Often I’ll not need you while I’m carving so you can draw or read while resting. Now, relax, get a coffee and be ready when I call you.”

For the rest of the day I watched him as he carved the plaster. The chips flew and the dust covered him as he formed the shapes. Periodically he would ask me to pose, and I could see him scrutinizing every curve and sinew in my body. Sometimes I could feel his gaze on my pubic area and it would make me blush. Nonetheless, the feeling was erotic as well as disturbing, and I realized I was becoming more comfortable with posing as well as being aroused by his studying my body and sex. Yes, I was getting moist below; I just hoped he couldn’t see. I began to reflect on all the stories I had read, or heard, of artists and their models.

Finally he asked me to look at the progress of the work.

“You are an exceptional model! Your sensuality is perfect for this piece. You inspire such spicy emotions that everyone seeing it will feel your heat, and the way you are aroused. Tomorrow we’ll have to use the rope to get the details right. I believe we might be able to finish sooner than I thought, maybe by the end of the week.”

I was shocked by his frank comments about my sensuality, yet I felt pride in his judgment. He gave me a pat on my ass and left his hand for an instant longer than a pat requires and said, “See you in the morning, sexy!”

The third day I went to the studio I sensed a difference in his attitude. I knew the pose I would be taking and the aches I would feel as a consequence. I was pleased with the progress of the carving and with my participation. I was proud to be the inspiration for a piece that had so much power and emotion. George barely greeted me as I entered, undressed, and climbed the podium. I noticed his absorption in the work and felt a pull of jealousy.

He approached me to tie my hands over my head and gently pushed my shoulders as low as possible. Feeling his hands on my bare skin was new and upsetting. We’d never been intimate and I wasn’t comfortable being touched by others, yet somehow the strength of his hands and the purpose of the touch electrified my body. He returned to work and I could hear the intensity in his carving. I dared not move for I knew today was crucial. The work had advanced to the point where the expression and details creating the tone would now be added. I heard him stop and approach the podium.

His hands were unexpectedly on my hips adjusting the tilt. I shivered and drew a deep breath to keep from exclaiming my surprise. No man had ever taken such liberties with my body. He pushed on my spine and lifted my hips to increase the curve of the back and give the form a more submissive characteristic. I felt his right hand lifting me by the back of my left thigh as his left pushed on the center of my back. The fingers of his right hand were almost touching my sex. I fought to control myself; yet again I could feel isveçbahis giriş the dampness begin. I wanted to leap off the podium and run from the room, or have him fuck me right there.

“You are beautiful; you are truly the perfect model for this piece. If you could hold that position for a few more minutes the work will be perfect,” he said. The heat of his fingers burning into my thigh and back seemed to give me the strength to do as he asked. I breathed deeply to control my emotions while he walked back to carving the plaster.

Minutes, that felt like hours, passed, and my body began to tremble but I heard no permission to rest. I thought of the feeling of his hands on my flesh and wondered how he could touch me and so easily return to work. He had aroused me and I needed his touch but he was at work. The sounds of his carving continued and I heard him mumbling. Again he approached and lifted my shoulders.

“You are wonderful, my dear,” he told me, “but you need to really feel what it means to be submissive for us to finish this piece. Now, do as I say and I will show you.”

He led me by the rope to a small bedroom off the studio. The room was almost dark because of the velvet curtains on the window. He made me kneel on a soft rug and tied my arms behind me in the same position as the pose. He asked me to remain in that stance and submit to his whims. “If I overstep your personal boundaries you are to simply say ‘STOP George,’ and I will cease.”

I didn’t really understand, but acquiesced. Suddenly I felt his hands on my thighs again, but this time there is no adjusting of position only caresses of a very intimate sort. I was surprised and almost cried out my objections, yet the warmth and softness felt calming. His hands knew where they were going and felt my flesh as if they were another pair of eyes. I sensed them outline the muscles and bones, searching for shapes and attachments. Slowly I became accustomed to their feel and their heat as my pussy began to drip. He caressed the outsides of my hips and buttocks, and slid up and down my inner thighs. His fingers glided along the cleft of my derriere and kneaded my cheeks. I felt the exploration but also the sexual intent. He was trying to arouse me and he was succeeding. I wanted him to touch me intimately and make me come. Suddenly his hand cupped my sex and my hips leapt away but his other hand pushed me back.

“I can’t take this,” I thought, but I did not say the words. I felt his fingers tracing the outline of my seam touching it like the petals of a rose. I submitted hoping he would bring me release. His caresses were soft and knowledgeable increasing my excitement with every stroke. His touch was so light and I pushed my hips up to increase the contact but he simply backed away.

Suddenly, he pulled me by the rope tying my hands, and led me back to the studio with his other hand on my hungry sex.

“If you pose correctly, we will return to the room and we will finish the caresses, but now you must push your soaking pussy toward me as if you were begging for my touch,” he stated as he placed me on the podium.

“How did he know what I was feeling? OK, if I am really good maybe he’ll give me some release,” I was thinking as I stood, arched my back, pushed up my hips, and thought of the soft touch of his fingers while he carved the beauty of my submission.

I began to tire and hoped for a rest but, he only commanded, “Don’t move, five more minutes and you can rest a bit!” he continued to work and left me many more than five minutes before finally releasing me.

“Stretch a bit and come back quickly, we have much work to do.” I walked around the studio without putting on the kimono. He realized there had been a change in my demeanor, but he wanted me in the pose again. George called me back to work and became absorbed in his craft for the rest of the day.

As the studio darkened, he realized he must let me stop. He came to me and took me by the rope to the little room again. He placed me on the bed, lying on my back with my hands secured to the headboard.

“Remember, my dear, if I ever overstep your bounds just say ‘STOP George.’ Now, open your legs relax and let me release your tensions.”

I felt his hands exploring again. Softly, his fingers looked into my body with delicate touches and caresses. He started at my shoulders and kneaded the tired muscles. He caressed my neck and face with the touch of a feather, tracing the outlines of my mouth, eyes, and ears. His experienced lips touched my upper chest as his hands outlined my breasts. I began breathing more deeply as the circles became smaller but never touching the sensitive center. The circles widened and then diminished, still never touching the hub. I tried to let go and allow the sensations to take over, but I was too new at this to be at ease. Abruptly, I felt his mouth on my left isveçbahis yeni giriş nipple and my hips rose off the bed as I cried out my surprise and desire. He gently suckled the sensitive nub while rubbing the sides with his fingers. He alternated from left to right breast until both nipples were stiff and red. He noticed the crimson flush spreading on my chest and knew he must venture south. I was finally becoming lost in the sensations and letting my body take over my mind.

As George continued to lick and bite my nipples, his hands slid over my belly to find my hungry sex. His fingers parted the fur to find moisture coating my nether lips. He gently spread the wetness along my seam, coating me from my puckered opening to the start of my slit. I began to move against his fingers making little noises in the back of my throat. Every time his fingers passed the center of my opening they would become soaked with my honey. He continued to spread this nectar with the lightest touch possible. His mouth never left my nipples, feeling the hard nubs against his lips and the crinkled areola’s texture on his tongue. He could hear my breathing increase and see my chest rise with each intake. His fingers found my protruding clit and he softly flicked it sideways. I threw my legs wide and pushed my hips against his hand. He let two fingers delve into my core, feeling for the roof of my inner heat. As his thumb circled my clit, his fingers curled toward the same spot but from inside and his teeth bit firmly on my left nipple. I went rigid as my climax burst and I released a long, high wail as I felt my cunt rhythmically squeeze his fingers. He didn’t move as he let the pulses surge through my body. Bit by bit, they subsided and I relaxed.

He disengaged his fingers and softly kissed my eyes.

“Now, go home, I will see you again tomorrow morning,” he ordered when I had finally calmed.

I was barely able to get dressed and walk out of his studio I was so shaken by the experience, as well as by the power of the orgasm I had just felt. Nonetheless, I stumbled home in a daze reflecting on all my new experiences.

Arriving in the morning I again sensed George’s preoccupation with the sculpture. He said “good morning” without looking up from his work.

“Please undress and get on the podium. Today I need to blindfold you with a scarf for the full effect of the piece,” he stated as he walked to the stage. When I climbed up he tied the rope around my wrists and placed me in the pose. He then tied a scarf around my eyes adjusting it so I could see nothing. He said it had to hang from my head parallel to the pillar. He stepped back and told me to push my hips a bit further forward. I did, and I knew he was looking at my mound again.

I could hear him working and became lost in my sexual thoughts of yesterday. With my blackened sight I envisioned how I looked in the pose. Little by little I became aroused and let my mind imagine his caresses. Suddenly, hands were on my hips. They barely touched me as they traced the contours of my thighs. They moved to my stomach, and then to my breasts. The touch continued so lightly I could barely feel their texture. My breasts wanted more contact, but they were being denied. One hand, finally, lightly pinched my left nipple as the other hand slid to my fur and parted my lips. My hips pushed against the invading fingers searching for more pressure but the caress remained extremely light.

“Oh, please caress me harder,” I cried, “please make me come!”

The fingers continued their light exploration never truly stroking the places I needed touched. I pushed my hips up, I arched my back, I opened my legs, I filled my chest with air, and I whimpered my need. Nothing helped; I only became more aroused with every feather-like touch. The hands constantly moved, never staying in one place long enough to bring me relief, but increasing my desire with every move. I could feel my nectar slipping down my inner thigh as my pussy begged to be fucked. Again I cried out,

“Please fuck me, now!”

Suddenly I heard George order, “go ahead, and finish her off!”

I froze, who was touching me? Then a mouth attached itself to my nipple and a hand plunged into my cunt. I could no longer worry about who it was, I just wanted to come. And come I did! The mouth and hands brought me to the most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced. My whole body shook; I pulled at the rope, I cried out in ecstasy, and sobbed as the contractions surged through my body. I flooded the invading hand with my juices as I let my hips rest against it for support.

As I calmed I felt the rope being undone and the scarf was pulled off my eyes. There stood the model I had been drawing in class. “Hi, Marie, you’re beautiful when you come. I’ll bet George got it all immortalized in that plaster,” she said.

“You see, Marie,” said George, “the commission calls for two women and I thought you would never consent. So I tricked you. I hope you don’t mind and will continue working with us.”

I guess all those stories about models and artists don’t tell half the story!

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