The Painter's Daughters

                         Copyright 1995
                     by mule@tpe.com (Mule)
                               and
                 farnorth@alaska.net (Farnorth)

                           Chapter 16

I minced into the kitchen in my heels. Linda was there waiting
for me.

"Kimmie told me you were going to make lunch for us. About time
you showed up," she said. And she pulled the cord off my bathrobe
being none to gentle about it and my robe parted showing the
pretty things I was wearing.

"Just don't see what Kimmie sees in this stuff," she said. She
yanked the front of my panties down below my balls and fondled my
cock with a few expert strokes. I responded all right. "And stay
that way," she warned.

Linda decided I would make a light lunch for all of them and had
me prepare a veggie tray including sliced celery stalks, carrot
sticks, and cucumber sandwiches.

Lunch was served on the patio as Mistress had intended. Even
though we were outside, in no time I felt comfortable and natural
in my frillies. Mistress had replaced my bathrobe with a gown
made of a nylon transparent overlay that Kathleen had produced.
It too was open at the front.

Mistress consigned my bathrobe to the garbage can.

Mistress' solicitous cock-petting and Linda's rougher handling of
my organ pretty much set the tone for lunch. Every time my cock
was anything less than rock-hard Kathleen delighted in making a
big deal of it and then it was a contest between Mistress and
Linda to see who could take me in hand the fastest and return me
to my earlier state.

I don't remember all the business details they were talking about
but it was agreed between the women that the 'full-dress'
strategic plan for exploitation of the 'new market' would take
place the next day starting at 10 a.m. at my house.

After lunch, Mistress and Kathleen returned to my bedroom and
Linda went back to her painting. I was left to wash and put away
the dishes, and to clean up generally.

After my kitchen duty, I reported to Linda as ordered. Once
again, she made me strip, and I was secured to the board to watch
her paint. The project, at least was coming along nicely, and she
was already beginning to move stuff out. I guessed correctly that
my scaffold was the last to go. Time passed swiftly that
afternoon.

It could have been one hour, two hours or a half hour when Kim
and Kathleen walked into the room where Linda had me bound.
Kathleen was in her bra and slip. Kim was wearing one of Margo's
nightgowns. Kim was uncharacteristicly disheveled. Her hair was
in disarry and her makeup was smudged. She had a glazed look in
her eyes, and it seemed that she not only didn't care about her
appearance, she didn't seem to care about anything. I'd swear
that she was on some kind of drug, but she didn't seem the type
to do that.

The women were holding hands and giggling. Kathleen took Kim's
face in both her hands, turned it towards her and gave her a
final, long, deep kiss.

"What do we have here?" Kathleen asked, looking at me tied up on
the board.

"Oh," Linda responded, "This is where I keep him when I have
nothing better to do with him."

Kathleen taunted her, "And just what do you do with him when you
do have something better to do with him?"

"Well, we play. Hey! How would you and Kim like to help me in an
experiment?"

The two women looked at each other and said almost in stereo,
"Sure!"

"What do we have to do?" asked Kathleen.

"Well, one of the things I get as a professional painter is free
samples of painting products. I got these from a hardware chain."
Linda tossed several small paint brushes on the table. "The
salesman wants me to use them and tell me which one I like the
best."

Linda unwrapped one of the brushes. It had a head about 1 inch
across. "These are nylon brushes," she added, "The same material
Kim likes on her legs. The bristles are very soft and silky.
Don't you think so?" She said, brushing it lightly against my
face. She was right.

She unwrapped two more and showed them to Kim and Kathleen.
"These are a different type of nylon, and as you can see, the
bristles are different thicknesses and the points are chiseled
differently."

"One of the problems a painter has," LInda continued, "is
painting in small places, and painting small (here she giggled)
objects. I have to evaluate my tools to see how well they will
work. Suppose I had to paint a spindle holding up a banister or
some other cylindrical object ..."

She jerked her thumb in my direction. "Which do you think works
better," Linda asked, "taking turns 'painting' Tom's penis, or if
we all do it at once."

"All at once!" Kathleen responded, grabbing one of the brushes.
Kim followed suit.

I never felt a sensation like it before in my life. It was like
my penis was being licked by a thousand tiny hairs, every one of
them matching up with a nerve ending on the head of my penis. It
didn't take long for me to drip precome, and it took even less
time for the women to use it to paint my penis into a glistening
sheen.

The soft silkiness of the bristles wielded under gentle,
deliberate female hands was the slowest torture I could imagine.
The stimulation was enough to start the sequence of events that
would normally lead to ejaculation. Unfortunately for me, but to
the great delight of the women, it was not enough to complete the
act. The result was that I was caught on the verge of orgasm in
an extended state of anticipation.

With Linda sitting on my legs, I couldn't provide any movement of
my own. I gritted my teeth and tensed every muscle in my body
trying to get as much blood into my penis and increase its
sensitivity enough to make it discharge. It wasn't successful,
and the women laughed at my thrashing and gnashing.

"Ooh," Kathleen observed, "I've never done this with a man
before. I bet he'll do anything for us now." She was right.

"We'll get enough of that tomorrow," quipped Linda. "We got to
get him off and stable so I can train him for the show tomorrow."

The other two women continued to paint up and down the length of
my shaft. Linda slapped my penis from side to side vigorously
with her brush. That did it! I errupted in a fountain of come to
the sucking of air on the part of Kathleen, and a surprisingly
gigglish "ewyoo yuck" from Kim. Had she accepted my come? Man was
I falling for this girl!

The women were already getting up as I came down from my orgasmic
high.

"Well, if you two are done with him," Linda said, "I have some
training I want to get done with him."

Kim and Kathleen just laughed, "Use him all you want. I'm sure
Kim and I will find a way to keep busy."

Kim and Kathleen went back to the bedroom apparently to get
dressed. Linda untied me and took me to the family room where the
following day's meeting was to be held. She wanted me to help her
set up the room, and learn some additional things from her for
the show I was to put on.

"Get in here, my pud-pounding pet!" Linda ordered me into the
family room.

"Look, we got company coming tomorrow. That means a couple of
things. One, you have to clean this place up; it's a pigsty. I
guess that's appropriate for you. But mom doesn't live here
anymore. From now on, you'll be responsible for cleaning up
around here."

"Two, you are going to have to learn to be a good host or
hostess, depending on Kim's whims. I'm sure she has you well
trained in the service part of hosting, I'm going to teach you
how to entertain properly."

Linda kept me busy that afternoon. Since she was just about
finished with the painting, she had me pack up and clean her
supplies as she humped them out to her truck. She didn't want to
let me get dressed yet, and even she didn't want my neighbors
calling the police.

There was still a lot of cleaning up after her work was done, but
she said, "Leave it for now. You can clean it up after I leave.
It will be good practice for you."

Linda was more interested in preparing me for the following day's
show. She put me through a lot of paces, and although I could
figure out some of what she planned to do with me from what she
had me do in this practice session, I still didn't have any idea
what the show was going to be about. There were some things she
made me do that I simply had no idea of how she would use them!

The three women left me sometime later Friday evening. No-one
even asked me if I wanted them to come back the next day. It was
understood that I would always do what I was told.

I wanted so much to lay down and relax. Then I remembered my
tasks! Particularly the one for Kim. I still hadn't researched
the Cosmopolitan article. My 48 hours were running out. I took a
quick shower and put on some male clothing. I actually felt
uncomfortable putting on my boxer shorts. I felt a sense of loss
not having the silkiness of feminine garments next to my skin. I
hopped into my car and sped off to the library.

I got there several minutes before closing. Although I frequented
this branch often, I didn't know where the periodicals were kept,
and certainly didn't know where the back issues were hidden. I
swallowed my pride and asked the librarian for assistance. "I
need to research a back issue of a periodical," I told her.

"Sure, we can help you. I'll get my assistant." She turned and
said to the young blond sitting at one of the terminals behind
me, "Lisa!"

I turned around to look a Lisa. She was the same Lisa who lived
down the block from me and was a high school student pushing 16.
Wonderful! She looked up from her terminal, smiled at me and
said, "Hi, Mr. Greer! What are you looking for? I'll get it for
you."

I was trapped. I knew I didn't have time to browse the stacks.
"The June 1994 Cosmopolitan," I whispered as lightly as I dared.
Lisa lifted an eyebrow, but otherwise had no reaction.

"You're in luck," she said, "We still carry the original issue.
Anything older than two years might be on microfiche. Wait here."

I felt the heat rising in my body, a knot in my stomach, the
flush in my face, and the sweat trickling down my back. I was
sure that the three other patrons knew exactly why I was there.

Lisa returned in a matter of minutes, but it seemed like hours to
me. She carried the green-covered magazine in her hand looking at
the cover titles intently, including the one that read, "Men who
want Women to Dominate Them."

If she had any doubts about which of the cover topics I was
interested in, they vanished when I stated plugging coins into
the copier to reproduce the four-page article. I finished my task
and returned the magazine to her. As I walked out I could see her
and the librarian whispering, looking my way, and doing their
best to stifle their giggles. I knew they'd remember my "unusual"
request every time I came back.

I drove home and spent an exhausting couple of hours cleaning as
the women had ordered. I grabbed a final cup of tea, and studied
the article. By the time I dragged myself to bed, I was so tired
I hardly appreciated the soft pink nightie and matching panties
that Mistress had left on my bed for me. I barely slid the
delightful fabric over my body when I lost consciousness.