Painted Stripes - The Commission

Jocelyne poses nude unaware of the changes this will bring to her life

Jocelyne commissions a nude painting of herself in an attempt to rekindle her marriage. But the painting seems to take over her life, leading her into a world of hedonistic sex, bisexual affairs as she explores the kinkier side of pleasure.

Painted features many of my favourite characters and themes: a bisexual heroine (although she does not know this yet); there’s something strange going on, is it a bit of magic, something supernatural or all in Jocelyne’s mind? There are some kinky scenes, people get caned and spanked but maybe not in the way you would expect and for the first time there is a dominant female character who has submissive men falling at her feet.

The full series of Painted Stripes is available to paid subscribers on Substack. The first episode is free to read. Become a paid subscriber to read the full story plus my complete BDSM eBook The Donnington Chronicles, The Mistress’ Pet Show and other erotic stories.

Episode 1 The Commission

“I want you to paint me.”

Mr Lorenz simply nodded. The action did not convey assent, merely that he understood her desire.

Jocelyne looked around. She had always pictured an artist’s studio as a mess - a table covered with half-squeezed tubes of paint, its edge and legs splattered with a multitude of colours - an easel in the centre of the room and an unmade bed in the corner. This was different, neatly arranged tubes of paint in laid out on a table in colour order, clean brushes standing in jars like bunches of flowers and no errant specks of paint anywhere. Canvases, mostly nudes, hung on the walls. Each had an almost photographic realism and they were all very, very good.

Lorenz himself was dressed completely in black; polished shoes, knife-edge creases in his trousers and a tailored jacket over a crisply ironed shirt.

“A nude, just a back view.” Jocelyne said, “It’s a present for my husband. He used to love my bottom so much and now, well… it’s just…”

Lorenz stepped forward and extended his hand to place two fingers beneath her chin. She lifted her head and tilted it back slightly. He looked at her like a buyer inspecting a horse.

“I work from life,” he said.

Her body shuddered as if the room had suddenly grown cold. “I know.”

She looked back into eyes the colour of dark polished wood. He was tall, lean, maybe in his fifties but something about his posture suggested he had maintained the muscular frame of his youth. His black hair greyed at the temples.

“The painting will show your inner desires, your dreams.” His eyes seemed to darken as if he was staring into her mind. “ Are you ready for that?”

“I, I just…”

“Twelve thousand pounds,” he said, his fingers still under her chin.

She nodded. Her husband was rich, he barely noticed what she spent, in the past years he had seemed to barely notice her. Maybe the picture hanging in their bedroom would remind him of what lay beneath the covers.

“You must do precisely what I say, be on time for each sitting and only speak when I speak to you.” His voice was deep, resonant and had a slight hint of an accent. “Do you agree to the terms?”

“Yes.” Her voice was husky as if holding her chin up had dried her throat. “When will my first sitting be?”

He turned away and without looking back at her said, “Now. I will make some preliminary sketches and then you will return at ten a.m. the day after tomorrow.”

---

“He’s weird,” Jocelyne said, “Strangely attractive but weird.”

The waiter brought their coffees.

“I know,” Sandie laughed, “But his paintings are fantastic, that’s why I recommended him.” She paused whilst the waiter fussed around and then leant forward. “They seem to bring out some inner glow. He seems to capture something from deep inside you and blend it onto the canvas.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Every man that has seen mine has wanted to fuck me.”

“What,” Jocelyne spluttered, “You’ve been showing yours around?”

Sandie’s painting was full frontal. When Jocelyne has seen it it had seemed to radiate sexuality like a playboy centrefold but somehow more real. She was sat back, legs slightly apart, the lips of her sex somehow suggesting they were about to part and reveal the succulent depths within.

There was something deeply sexually inviting about the picture and Jocelyne could imagine men being drawn toward it, especially as the expression on Sandie’s face could only be described as, come and get it.

“Of course,” Sandie giggled, “But only if they are handsome and muscular and have certain other attributes I like.”

“Other attributes?” Jocelyne frowned.

“Ah, that would be telling,” Sandie took another sip of her coffee.

“Let’s face it, every man you meet wants to fuck you,” Jocelyne said. She looked at her friend, long straight blonde hair, big bust and blue eyes that sparkled with naughtiness.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sandie smiled revealing perfect white teeth. “Why do you think the waiter was fussing around us so much?”

“That was because of you.”

“No, I think he was having a quick fantasy of getting two sexy thirty-somethings into the same bed.” She tilted her head and looked over Jocelyne’s shoulder. “Nice bum,” she said, “Maybe we should make his dream come true?”

“Stop it. It’s Robert I want to entice with this painting not some waiter just out of college.

---

It took a month. Two or three times a week Lorenz would summon her. She would enter the studio, go straight behind a screen and remove her clothes, don a robe and then step out, remove the robe, hang it carefully over the screen and stand naked in the pose he required.

That first day the whole process from clothed to nude had taken around fifteen minutes as she slowly unclipped and removed each item of clothing and emerged clutching the robe tightly around her. After the first week, she arrived wearing less and emerged with the robe hanging open and by the fourth, she wore nothing but a light summer dress that she shucked off behind the screen before stepping naked into the studio.

Once he started painting Lorenz seemed to barely look at her, his mind concentrated completely on the task. She stood naked in his studio for hours but all he seemed to see was shape and form. After each sitting, she dressed and went home to another man who also hardly seemed to notice her.

At the end of the fourth week, she arrived punctually and was about to step behind the screen when Lorenz raised his hand. “You may see it,” he said.

She looked around but could not see a likeness of herself. Opposite, in the centre of the wall of pictures, was a painting of a woman bent over. The curves of her behind seemed to glow in the light but her wrists were secured to two beams by loops of ropes.

Jocelyne stepped closer and examined the painting.

“Is that me?” she asked, her voice quavering.

Lorenz did not speak.

“It’s beautiful - but…” Jocelyne glanced at Lorenz. “The ropes…”

He shrugged. “I painted what I saw - it is all that I do.”

---

“Wow,” Sandie said, “You really do have a kinky side.”

They were stood in Jocelyne’s bedroom; the painting hung on the wall opposite the end of the bed.

“But I don’t.”

“What does Robert think?”

“He’s barely looked at it.” Jocelyne’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t think he even realises it is me.”

Sandie’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Maybe you should explore your kinky side - that might wake him up a bit?”

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