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Searching for the key is indeed a serious offence, worthy of harsh punishment.
Artist's brushes.
These were the tools of her trade.
The beautiful works of art masterfully crafted by the skilled hands of this talented young woman were in demand by every gallery in the city. But, at the moment her mind was drifting elsewhere.
To her other set of brushes. The ones she kept on the nightstand next to her bed, not the ones next to her easel.
Those were the brushes she used to create masterpieces of another sort. Erotic masterpieces. Masterpieces where rather than her medium being canvas, it was instead helpless male flesh... spread to the four corners of her bed, secured in place with silk scarves.
It was the only way. She'd come to learn that men's bodies were simply not designed to withstand the sorts of pleasures she inflicted upon them. Without the scarves inevitably it would become too much for them and they would try to take control.
But with them? Then they were at her mercy and would have no choice but to endure every last quiver of pleasure that she wanted to wring from their bound, trembling bodies.
Her mind drifted to thoughts of the night before. To the man's very first moans of pleasure when she first treated him to the sensation of her brushes slowly 'painting' his stiffened erection with warm oil.
The strokes of her brushes were sensual. Gentle. Slow and deliberate. Painstakingly sculpting his cock into a state of swollen hardness like he never imagined possible.
Inevitably his pleasure filled moans became stronger, then evolved in to pleas for relief, which eventually would become softer, weaker, more incoherent.
The exquisitely skilled strokes of her brushes were designed to tease and tantalize the most sensitive spots of his cock, yet they were so wickedly light and slow there was no hope of the feathery soft caresses of her brush ever allowing him to go over the edge.
Instead, they left a man feeling as if his cock was about to burst, helplessly trapped near the brink of a desperately needed orgasm that was always just cruelly out of reach.
She'd smiled softly as she watched this man slowly breaking before her very eyes, the intensity of pleasure and desperate need for release becoming too much and causing him to slip away from reality. Her voice cooed sweetly, reassuringly, sympathetically to the now seemingly floating man.
"Mmm, you're so hard for me now, aren't you baby? You poor thing, you need it so bad."
She smiled even more at his mindless whimper.
Her voice purred softly, "Don't fight it... feel what my brushes are doing to your cock. Feel the pleasure. They're going to keep you right there. Right where you are. But don't worry sweetie, you're going to cum... eventually. But not for a long, long time... it'll be so much better for you this way, you'll see."
Now thoroughly distracted from her work she tried to snap her mind back to the present. No good. Slowly and deliberately she traced the soft tip of one of her brushes along the valley between her soft breasts.
With a soft, throaty purr of pleasure she whispered to herself, "Work is going to have to wait just a little bit longer...."
Hoping to pave the way for Female Supremacy!
