A potential submissive partner asked me to describe a session of messy paint play. The following short story resulted.

You arrive at my home and I let you in. It is hot, almost uncomfortably so. You are sweating a little. You catch a glimpse down the hallway of a room with good natural light that appears to have plastic sheeting everywhere, but we proceed to a different room and sit down. I offer you a glass of wine or water. I ask if you have any last-minute concerns or questions beyond what we have already discussed. This is simply a formality, because I have already sensed in you, in the tone of your voice, in the burning of your eyes, in the pheromones of your sweat, that you are rapidly becoming more and more eager to proceed.

After that formality, I introduce the beginning of the session of dominance and submission by placing a light chain around your neck. This symbolizes the exchange of power. When you are not wearing the chain we relate as equals, but when I place it around your neck something deep inside you activates. You recognize the beginning of a trance-like submissive state that is familiar to you.

I tell you to remove your clothes and you comply without hesitation.

Then, to your surprise, I inspect your body thoroughly, looking closely at every part of you equally. Not just the parts that you're used to having men stare at. I look closely at your fingers, your back, your neck. Your face and hair. All over.

I smell your neck and familiarize myself with the scent and texture of each part of your skin, everywhere on your body. I will be touching every inch of you when I paint you, so I want to be very familiar with the territory before I begin.

After I am satisfied with this, I tell you to undress me as well. It would inconvenience me to damage my own clothes. Then I lead you down the hall to the other room. In the protected space you now see that there are cushions for comfort, as well as several cans of paint.

In fact, you are somewhat shocked at the amount of paint. You see at least 4 gallon cans of different bright colors of paint, and some smaller containers of other colors. There is certainly more paint than would be necessary to paint the entire room.

You are reminded fleetingly of the sense of satisfaction you get when you are off-roading in your truck and you find a mud hole deep enough to really enjoy the rally. You've always felt that making a mess is somewhat unsatisfying if you can't do it all the way; you're used to having no middle ground. You maintain so much order in your life that when you want to make a mess, you want to go all the way. You recognize that the situation you now find yourself in seems to be designed with that aspect of you in mind.

But that is not the only aspect of you that is being played with today. I tell you to extend your hands, and I take hold of both of your wrists. My grip is comfortingly firm.

I lead you towards a cushion in the middle of the cans of paint and push you down to a kneeling position. I hold out your hands towards two cans of paint, and place your fingertips just beneath the surface.

The texture is surprisingly pleasant. I pull your fingers out and you watch the two bright colors drip slowly and thickly down your palms.

Then I press your hands and wrists deeply back into the cans. The quality of the texture is even more apparent now. It is surprisingly thick, almost like mud. After a moment I pull your hands out and then hold them up in front of your face so you can watch.

The paint is flowing up your arms, over my own hands as well. I release your wrists and tell you to place your hands on your breasts as I watch intensively.

You comply. The feeling of the the paint on your breasts is erogenous. The slipperiness is primordially erotic.

I reach out again and intertwine my fingers with yours and move our hands slowly up and down on your breasts.You notice that there are mirrors clearly in view, and you watch the colors spread on your body as you feel the erotic lubrication spreading as well. You are enjoying the sensation, and continue moving your hands over your body as I release them. I now place my own hands in the cans of paint and then begin spreading them further on your body. I spread them smoothly down your back and over your ass.

As I do this the paint drips onto the soles of your feet and puddles between your toes. (Remember, you are kneeling.)

We continue like this for a long, slow time. I spread thick smooth layering of different colors all across your body. You are thrilled when my hands reach between your legs and cover your sex, nervous but still thrilled when they reach from behind and fill the space between your cheeks. You are carried away in the sensation of having smooth, erotically lubricated touch all over your body, on all parts you never would have included in lovemaking. Elbows, underarms, toes. Knees, neck, small of back.

At the same time you watch yourself in the mirrors, being transformed into something unearthly and magical, a creature of bright colors.

As you have been receiving so much sensory stimulation over your body for an extended period now, you are feeling quite aroused. Every part of your body is more slippery than any part of your body has ever been before, but you can feel the intense sexual lubrication inside your pussy very clearly. You feel the pleasure and desire building even as they are more and more subject to the way I move your body, rolling you over to apply new thicker, slipperier layers of new colors to different parts.

I roll you onto your back and tell you to close your eyes. You comply, knowing what this must mean, and then feel the warm, smooth flow pouring in large volume onto your face. It pours over your eyes and up through your hair. Your hair was already messed up, it was inevitable with all the paint going around, but now it is saturated. The paint flows over your ears as well and suddenly it is quiet. You hear the pounding of your own heart and the sensory isolation focuses your mind more sharply on the tactile erotic sensations.

In this place of arousal and amplified sensation you feel the warmth and presence of my body over yours. Suddenly you feel a touch directly on your clitoris. A shudder passes through your body and you let out a small moan, which you hear echoing inside your own head, in the quiet isolation.

As you feel the stimulation beginning, my body slides over yours and my hands move your legs wide, wide apart. You feel an odd combination of sensations as I kiss the insides of your thighs, slowly converging.

You feel my mouth hover over your pussy, the warmth of my breath, even through the paint, the bright colors of your pussy, you don't even know at this point what color it is but you know your pussy is beautifully adorned. The warmth grows and then you are enveloped in my mouth.

You know what comes next... it is not long before you're not really experiencing time in any normal sense. The shivering electric stimulation, the climaxes.

You feel suffused, electrified, multiply-sensorily-enhanced. Entirely melted and open. Very, very open.

My body once again slides up yours. You feel my hard cock sliding over you. Another thrill of anticipation, and then you are filled up. A gasp.

Another timeless time of lovemaking. I scream my own climax and the scream feels to you like your own spirit.

When we are both spent, we lie together, colorful. The touch of our paint-covered skin on each other is now an almost innocent, childlike pleasure. You giggle and perhaps flick paint at me. We play.

Eventually it is time to clean up. I wipe down your body thoroughly, then lead you to the shower. As you stand in the hot shower I clean you all over, massaging the paint off in the spray, soaping you up, and scrubbing your back and all over with a soft brush. It is the most comforting and nurturing, thorough cleaning shower you have ever experienced.

This is the end of the story. Perhaps afterwards we are hungry and go to dinner. Perhaps you have a glass of wine and I smoke a cigar in the warm summer evening air. The rest is peaceful.

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