Susan stood in what was to become the master bedroom of the farmhouse, staring at a blank wall. She was a little nervous, and a little cold despite the fact that the house’s central heating was now working. She was nervous because she wasn’t quite sure why Scott had placed her here, although she hadn’t objected at all when he told her to strip so he could put her in some bondage for a while. What she had on was pretty basic, even for her. Her ever present collar of course, more visible than usual because her long hair had been braided into a pony tail. Two sets of handcuffs locking her hands behind her in a folded position, wrists to opposite elbows. And a ball gag, buckled tightly.
A nice, tight little package that completely took her hands and arms out of the picture yet left her able to move about at will. And of course, Scott thought she looked beautiful like that, and commented such when he came into the room carrying several cans of canary yellow paint.
Susan smiled behind her gag at the compliment, but her eyes were on the paint cans, her nimble mind already figuring out what Scott might be planning and hoping he wasn’t serious. But he was!
“Okay,” he said, setting down the cans and opening two of them. “Here’s the deal. We’re not going to do this in every room of course, although I might change my mind later,” he chuckled, eyes shining with mirth. “But up here, at least on this wall, you are going to do some special painting.”
He pushed the two open cans of paint together and then stood up, surveying the interior wall that separated this bedroom from the one next door. The wall was smooth and primed for painting, something Scott had spent a lot of money on. Before Susan and Scott had gotten to this point in their house renovation, Scott had brought in several professionals to do the messier bits. Plumbers had come in to check the pipes and put in more modern fixtures, including a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. Following that were electricians who checked out all the wiring and hooked the house back onto the grid. A new furnace was put in the basement, and decorators had scraped and prepped all the walls and floors and painted the ceilings. Scott had wanted the entire house stripped down and made ready so that he and Susan could work on it themselves. And now that the last of the contractors had left, bondage games could recommence.
“Your job today,” he continued, “is to paint this wall. You have probably noticed that there aren’t any brushes, that’s because YOU are going to be the brush for this wall at least. I want you painting with your tits for the most part, but I wouldn’t object strongly to your using other parts of your body for the more difficult to reach places.”
Susan was right, the man WAS crazy, and she made noises to that affect around her mouth filling gag. Scott just chuckled though, knowing full well what was going through the bound girl’s mind.
“Don’t worry about the mess,” he said, checking her bondage one more time before directing her toward the open paint cans, “This room is getting carpet in last thing, so any paint on the floor will be covered up. Just try to get a nice thick coat on the entire wall, and you don’t get to stop until I am satisfied you have done as much as you are able. I have stuff to do in the workshop, but I’ll be back every so often to make sure you have enough paint to work with and to check on your progress. So…let’s get you started, shall we?”
Susan groaned again, but it was more for show than anything else. She wasn’t that thrilled about getting any of that paint on her body, but if she had learned anything about Scott it was that he seemed to love getting her messy. Besides, painting a wall like this in bondage seemed a lot more interesting than doing it the regular way. So she didn’t resist too much as Scott led her over to the paint cans, had her kneel, and watched as she gingerly leaned forward to dip her breasts into the paint. Scott had conveniently positioned the cans so that there was one for each breast, and this alone made Susan feel rather silly as her nipples touched the paint. But that feeling quickly left her as she jerked back…the paint was COLD!
Scott chuckled. “Oh yeah, I’ve been storing the paint outside, so it might be a little cool.”
Susan glared at him, but of course could say nothing. So she gathered her courage and tried again, this time getting the fronts of both her breasts coated in canary yellow before standing up and approaching the wall.
She gingerly pressed her breasts against the wall and moved her body back and forth. The wall was smooth to the touch and much warmer than the paint, and felt very odd against her bare skin. But it also felt good in a kinky sort of way and she stepped back to see a yellow smear against the gray of the bare sheetrock.
“No,” Scott said shaking his head. “You’ll take forever doing it like that. You need to get a lot more paint on yourself if you want to finish this today.”
Susan raised an eyebrow and made a questioning sound, but she didn’t resist as Scott guided her back to the cans. This time as she leaned forward to dip her nipples, she felt a hand on her back pushing down and she was unable to stop Scott from making sure that her breasts were almost entirely coated with paint. Her skin tingled from the cold, sticky fluid, and as she stood she could feel it start to drip down her body, making her groan again at the thought of how she must look. But Scott didn’t let her dawdle. He moved her quickly over to the wall and held her as she again smeared paint on a blank spot. This time the paint went on thicker and covered a larger area, and Scott smiled.
“Fantastic, just like that. I’ll leave you to it for a little while then, have fun!”
Susan gave him another look as he grinned and left the room, and contemplated chasing after him and rubbing paint on his shirt, but the thought was too late and she was left with her job. So she sighed and got back to work, dipping as she was shown, and expanding the canary yellow area on the wall.
She was quite a sight, naked and bound, her front quickly becoming coated with yellow paint, rubbing her body against the wall again and again, but as Susan worked she thought back at the last time she had felt this embarrassed, the day she met Scott’s father for the first time. Scott had thought that a good way to introduce her to his dad would be to make it a part of a tour of the County Sheriff’s Office where he worked. Scott was still concerned over his father’s reaction to Susan’s collar, but Susan compromised with him by wearing a decorative scarf around her neck, with matching outfit. So the young couple looked rather neat as Susan was shown the booking area, the file rooms, the armory, the break room…etc, only to finish in the bull pen where most of the deputies and the county’s sole detective did their paperwork. Every time they met someone Scott introduced Susan, although the one person they never ran into was the one person Susan had come here to see. Things kinda took a turn though, in the bull pen.
Along the back wall were three holding cells, the traditional kind with bars for walls and a bench along the back. All were empty, but they still drew Susan’s attention like a moth to a flame. Scott introduced her to the only other Deputy in the room at that moment, but it wasn’t long before the couple was standing at the open door of the nearest cell.
“Pretty cool, huh?” said Scott, seeing the light in Susan’s eyes and knowing what it meant.
Susan grinned, and after shyly checking to make sure that the Deputy filling out reports was out of earshot, asked “Can I try it? I’ve never been in a real jail cell before.”
“I should hope not!” Scott replied before nodding. Then for the benefit of their audience, Scott loudly gave out a few facts about the cell’s construction and why they were there.
Susan nodded slowly, hardly hearing him as she stepped into the cell, her fingers caressing the bars while her mind fantasized about all the possibilities a jail cell of their own could give them, when the rattle of the door closing behind her made her turn and grin.
Scott started to say something about letting her try out the cell for a few minutes when the Deputy from across the room shouted at Scott to stop. But it was too late, the door’s momentum finished the job as the lock engaged on contact.
Scott frowned and turned to face his colleague. “What’s the big deal, Frank?” he asked. “I was just showing Susan the cell!”
The Deputy shook his head and he walked over from his desk. “Damn it, Scott. I thought you knew!”
“The lock broke on that one last night. Something inside gave way. We were lucky it was open at the time, but we can’t unlock it until the locksmith gets here!”
Scott laughed, while Susan was a little stunned. “Good joke, you almost had me, Frank. Now get the keys will ya!”
“I’m not joking, Scott,” replied Frank rather seriously.
Now it was Scott who stood open mouthed, while Susan stepped forward to hold onto the bars. “You mean,” she said nervously, “that I’m really stuck in here? You cant get me out at all?”
Frank shrugged and reached for a phone. “Sorry, Susan, but I can’t. I thought Scott knew or I wouldn’t have let you walk in there in the first place!” Frank gave the younger man a disapproving look before dialing a short number on the phone. “Sheriff? I think you had better get out here.”
“Oh God,” said Scott, “do we have to involve him?”
“Yeah, it’s fairly urgent,” Frank continued into the phone before hanging up. Then he looked up at the worried couple. “I would think he would have to be involved, Scott. You just cost the county some extra cash because now we have to get a locksmith in today instead of next week! Not to mention the inconvenience you are putting this poor girl through. It could take a few hours to get her out again!”
Scott sighed while Susan reached through the bars to take his hand. “Is that true?” she asked. “Am I stuck in here for hours?”
Scott knew Frank was probably right. Frank was his father’s right hand man at the station, and was usually right about most things. So he nodded and said sorry before moving closer to her and giving her a brief hug through the bars.
The hug was brief because at that moment the far door to the bull pen opened, and from out of his office came Scott’s father, the Sheriff.
Susan was tired, she had been painting for quite a while now. Her mouth hurt because of the gag buckled around her head, and she also had to breath heavily to get enough air due to her exertions. Her body was also a mess, her front almost completely covered in paint. In places it was wet and runny and flowing in a cold sticky mess, while in others it had started to dry with all the itchiness and tackiness that implied. It also smelled, and that was the only reason why Susan was glad that the windows in this room were both open a little, for cold air came in from the outside, a true sign that Fall was upon them.
But she persevered in her job, dipping various parts of her body in the paint cans and rubbing herself against the wall. She had done as much as she could with her breasts and now was on to her legs, feet and butt. Getting creative, she had managed to paint almost all the wall below her neck height, but it wasn’t a pretty job. The wall was covered in uneven paint smears, thick in some places and thin in others. Hardly professional, but that was the point as far as Scott was concerned, Susan figured. A bigger mess though was the floor! Dripping paint had almost created a yellow puddle that Susan was forced to add to every time she approached the wall. Yellow footprints were everywhere, and the sticky mess felt awful beneath her feet. She didn’t know how Scott could be okay with this, but he set the rules so she had to think it was fine. But what worried her more was how she was going to do the upper part of the wall, where she couldn’t yet reach.
She tried to ask Scott that every time he came up to check her progress. But he either didn’t understand her or chose to ignore her muffled questions, which irked her a little. Instead he kept complimenting her on her progress before topping off her paint cans. And one time when he was up he commented that this was exactly what he had been looking for when he had this (brain dead) idea.
“Look, see?” he said to her, pointing at the wall. “You have to catch it at a certain angle, but it’s great!”
Puzzled, Susan searched for what he was talking about, and after a moment she saw what he was talking about. With the light from the windows striking the wall a particular way, many of the lumps and bumps in the paint could be seen more clearly. And a LOT of those lumps and bumps formed recognizable patterns, for in several places she could see impressions of her breasts, their shape unmistakable, especially with their nipple indentations. Looking at the wall this way there could be no doubt how it had been painted, and Susan started blushing furiously at the thought at anyone in their bedroom could see this if they caught the angle just right.
Scott just chuckled and told her he loved her, before disappearing again out of the house and into the workshop shed where he was busy building something. So Susan was left alone again to continue working. She had almost reached a point where she could go no further when she heard someone downstairs call out a name.
“Scott! Where the hell are you!”
Susan froze…she knew that voice even though she had heard it only once before.
“Scott! Are you upstairs? I’m coming up! I’ve got a bone to pick with you, boy!” drifted up from below.
It was Scott’s father, the Sheriff, and Susan was alone in the house.
Susan felt her panic rise. Here she was naked and bound and covered in yellow paint, and she certainly didn’t want Scott’s father finding her like this. But the room she was in was completely empty, no place to hide at all. There wasn’t even a closet! So she moved to the door to find another place to hide, but stopped. She was tracking yellow paint wherever she stepped, and while in the bedroom that was okay, Susan didn’t know about the hallway. She didn’t want to anger Scott, but what else could she do?
Heavy steps coming up the stairs made Susan turn away from the door. Her mind racing, she thought about trying that old joke of standing against the painted wall and hoping her yellow coating would hide her, but she knew that wouldn’t really work. So that left her with one horrible option.
You might be able to say that her panic was preventing her from thinking clearly, or she might not have tried that particular escape route. But she ran over to one of the windows and with some difficulty she managed to get it open a bit more with her bound hands. There was just enough space for her to climb out, so she did so.
Now she wasn’t stepping out into thin air, for this window was one of several that overlooked the veranda’s roof at the back of the house. So she was able to step out onto the roof tiles and edge along the wall to the corner of the house. She was just in time too, for as she disappeared from sight the Sheriff got to the top of the stairs and started looking around.
“Scott! You up here?” he called out, poking his head into each room. The policeman in him noted the details of the renovation as it had progressed so far, matching it up with how the place used to look the last time he had been in there. But what stopped him short was the mess in the master bedroom.
“Scott!” he yelled once more, shaking his head at how his son seemed determined to destroy this house. There was WAY too much paint on the wall and if he wasn’t careful he would have yellow paint seeping in through the ceiling downstairs. There had to be at least a full bucket’s worth spilled on the floor…and all those footprints! They led everywhere, even to… And that’s when the Sheriff paused, for his expert eye saw the tracks leading to the window, yellow finger marks on the frame, and the larger smears of someone passing over the sill. Someone had gone out that window.
Outside, Susan was shivering and totally miserable. She had gone all the way to the corner of the house, her feet slipping on the rough roof tiles and wet paint that she was leaving everywhere. There was also a stiff breeze that sucked all the heat out of her naked body, and up here on the roof she felt even more exposed as she watched cars go by on the nearby highway. She was also starting to hyperventilate, the gag in her mouth making it very difficult to breath and forcing her to take quick, short gasps of air. But her worst fear was of being discovered so when she heard someone fumbling at the window she had just come out of, her panic rose even higher. The last thing she wanted was to be found this way by a man she had only met one time before. Her first meeting with that man had been under much different circumstances, but only marginally less embarrassing, for although that time she had been fully dressed, she was also locked in a jail cell at the County Sheriff’s Office.
The Sheriff, called out of his office by one of his deputies, saw his son standing by the holding cages and rightly guessed that this was where the problem lay. So with a sigh he walked over. The few times Susan had ever gotten Scott to talk about his father she had gotten the impression that Scott and his father were much alike in many ways. She figured at least that they would look alike, and imagined the Sheriff as an older, more distinguished version of the son. She was surprised however by how wrong she was. The Sheriff was a short man of heavy build, almost round, with a fringe of hair left on his head and a thick moustache. Hardly a description that you would confuse with Scott’s. But it was as the man got close that Susan could pick out the family resemblance, for it was in the eyes. Both men had that way of looking at you that made you feel that you were the only one in the room. On Scott it was charming and rather flattering, but on the Sheriff it was a little scary. Susan could easily imagine some crook trying to pull a fast one on this man, only to find him looking at you as if he knew the truth already.
Yes, scary. And that look was fixed on her now as the Sheriff drew close.
“What’s this woman doing in this cell?” he growled, “I thought it was out of order, Frank!”
Frank, the deputy, only shrugged and pointed at Scott. The look transferred to the younger man.
“Sorry, Dad,” said Scott, looking about as humble as Susan had ever seen him. “Nobody told me!”
“This is your day off,” said the Sheriff. “What are you doing here and who is this woman?”
“This is…er, Susan, Dad.”
After a moment the Sheriff turned his attention back on Susan, his expression softened a little. But Susan figured that look never did truly fade from this man’s face.
“Sorry I have to meet you like this,” he said, extending a hand through the bars. “I suppose that Scott was merely showing you around, and that you aren’t in my cells on official business?”
“Hello, and…er…yes. Scott was just showing me around,” Susan replied, taking his hand and shaking it.
“And you know that we cant get you out of there, don’t you?”
The Sheriff sighed again and moved to take his son by the arm, towing the boy away from Susan. “You are an idiot sometimes, Scott,” he said quietly.
“Well no one told me!”
“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have been…well, the damage is done. But you know that there is only one locksmith in this part of the State qualified to work on those doors, don’t you? And I just got off the phone with him. He wont be able to make it for a week.”
“A week!” Scott exclaimed. “Susan can’t stay here for a week!”
“I know that, you idiot. But unless you want to pay the guy yourself for all his overtime, that’s how long she will have to stay here, the County isn’t going to foot THAT bill. But then you can afford it now, can’t you.”
Scott said nothing for a moment, his inheritance one of the many sore spots in their relationship. “I’ll pay for it, the whole thing,” he eventually said.
“Then I’ll make another call,” said the Sheriff as he let go and went back to his office.
It was Scott’s turn to sigh as he went to break the bad news to Susan, and Frank watched as the frustrated couple dealt with their setback.
Things didn’t get much better when the Sheriff reappeared. “Bad luck, Scott,” he said from his doorway. “The guy simply cannot get here before morning. I’m afraid that your girl will have to spend the night here.”
Susan and Scott looked at each other through the bars, dismay on both their faces. “Well it’s better than a week!” Susan said.
Scott tried to smile, but he did feel like an idiot. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Susan whispered, drawing closer to him, “it’s not like I’m a stranger to being locked up.”
This did make Scott smile, and the warmth between them returned as they gazed at one another and held hands. That is, until Susan said she needed to use the bathroom. This was a bit of a problem, for the holding cells in the bull pen were only supposed to be used for a few hours, where someone was put while paperwork was being done. All overnight stays were done in the County Jail, another part of the building. So there was no toilet in the open barred cell, just a hard wooden bench bolted to the back wall. So what followed was a scramble for a suitable container, the absence from the room for a few minutes of both men, and Susan’s most embarrassing moment of the day yet.
Her embarrassment never did truly abate, as the business of the department kept on going. She got to meet a few more of Scott’s work friends through the bars of her cell, and a couple of the town drunks who were happy to be locked up for a few hours in the cells next to hers. Day progressed to night and the 24/7 activities of the County bustled on around her pretty much continuously.
Scott stayed with her for quite a while, before Susan insisted he go home and get some sleep. But while he was there he kept her fed and watered and basically looked after her as best he could, all the while apologizing for getting her into this mess. (But they did get time to talk, and one of those conversations will make it into another story…but not now.)
However, Susan did get to see another side to the Sheriff that she wasn’t expecting. It was after Scott had left her for the night. The Sheriff was obviously on his way home but he stopped by Susan’s cell with a couple of blankets and a pillow.
“I…er…keep these in my office, for when I have to spend the night on my couch,” he said quietly, obviously not wanting the other deputies in the room to hear. “I expect that you will find them useful.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Susan, gladly taking them from him.
The Sheriff seemed to hesitate. “My son…Scott…he’s not a bad kid. But he can get overfocused, if that’s a real word. I guess what I’m trying to say is that he doesn’t always think things completely through, so if you and he are getting serious…well…just so you know.”
Susan said nothing as the Sheriff gave her a very brief smile before turning away. But what he said echoed in her head until she finally got to sleep on the uncomfortable hard wood bench. Scott was by early in the morning for her, bringing breakfast and what he hoped was good cheer. He did indeed improve her spirits although Susan had quickly tired of the novelty of being locked in the cell. Maybe in another place with more privacy…being locked up would be more fun. But here she was, and by design always under the eyes of someone!
At mid-morning, the locksmith finally arrived, and it only took him a couple of minutes to figure out that he couldn’t fix the broken lock.
“What?” Scott almost yelled.
“Not without taking the door off entirely. I need to get it back to my place and replace the whole lock assembly!” protested the locksmith.
“And how do we do that?” Scott asked.
“Gotta torch off the hinges, I’ll have to replace them too.”
Scott sighed. He could have dragged in some equipment last night if all they had to do was cut the door down, but he hadn’t wanted to incur the wrath of his father by torching County property. But now it looked like that was what they had to do anyway. So he simply nodded and told the locksmith to go ahead, while the Sheriff watched from his office door.
They gave Susan a thick fire blanket to cover herself with while the cutting was being done, and soon the door was free of its hinges and Susan was free of her confinement. She and Scott hugged and shared a kiss, and then without looking back he got her out of the building as fast as he could.
That had been the last time Susan had seen the Sheriff, but as she stood on the sloped roof of the veranda she thought she could go a little longer before seeing him again. But someone was trying to get the window open a little wider, and there was no place left for Susan to hide…except…
Taking a look, Susan could see that she could move around the corner of the house if she was really careful. There wasn’t much for her to put her feet on, but if she was lucky she wouldn’t be there long. But she wished Scott was there, because from where she stood she could see the shed where he was working. If she hadn’t been gagged, she would have yelled out for him…maybe. She at least hoped that he would poke his head out the door and see her standing out on the roof. But she was more worried about his father poking his head out the window and seeing the same thing.
So she eased herself around the corner, trying to balance with her arms bound up behind her back. It was not easy to do, made harder by the fact that she was so tired, cold and sticky, and ultimately that was her literal downfall as she lost her footing and headed for the ground. The slope of the roof slowed her down a little as she slipped and rolled down it, and the fact that she only fell one story onto wet muddy ground prevented her fall from being fatal. But it was bad enough.
She screamed as she fell, loud even through her gag, and landed somewhat feet first although there was no way she could stop the rest of her body hitting the ground too.
Her scream was heard by both men, Scott coming to the door of the shed wondering what Susan was up to, while his father moved to another window to see what was going on. Scott was the one that saw her, a bright yellow form on the ground, motionless, and with his heart in his throat he ran to her.
He thought she had broken her neck, but she was still quite alive when he reached her, swearing in pain from behind her gag. He quickly unbuckled it and then started checking her body for other injuries, not caring about the paint.
“My ankle!” she kept crying, so he checked it. It didn’t seem broken, but she was in evident pain.
It was as he was taking off her bondage that his father joined them outside the house, and the look he gave his son spoke volumes about his anger over what had happened.
It took a while to get Susan cleaned up, but the nurses at the County Hospital were pretty efficient, although curious as to how she got almost completely covered in yellow paint. It was the first time for most of them seeing someone brought in in such a state, but their professionalism kept them from asking too many questions.
Susan’s collar caused more concern than her lack of clothes and yellow skin, but when they found that taking it off would require major surgery (if you excuse the pun), they left it alone. Susan’s problems, apart from some scrapes and a couple of nasty bruises, were at the other end anyway, consisting of a badly sprained left ankle and knee. She had landed mostly on her left leg and it had absorbed all the shock at a bad angle. She had been pretty lucky really, but that put an end to her painting for a few says at least.
All this attention caused Susan some embarrassment, but the worst was what she overheard outside the curtained alcove where she was being treated. Both Scott and the Sheriff had brought her to the emergency room, and while Susan was being attended to she had to listen to the father give the son a right dressing down. It was only the Sheriff’s personal embarrassment that prevented him from shouting out any details about Susan’s physical state, but that was little consolation. Her heart went out to Scott as he stood there and took it, and when the Sheriff finally left he came to her with head bowed.
Susan did the only thing she could, she took him into her arms and said “Don’t!”
“I said don’t! Don’t apologize. Not one word!”
Scott looked at her, confused.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Susan said firmly.
“I left you alone, for far too long. You could have been killed!”
“You didn’t do anything wrong…nothing! I was fine in that room, no danger at all…unless you count paint poisoning,” she added with a grin. “But I was okay. It was MY fault what happened. I could have just stayed in the house and dealt with the embarrassment of being found out. But I couldn’t do that to you.”
“If I had been watching, I could have stopped him from seeing you,” Scott replied, determined to take the blame.
“Were you expecting him?” Susan asked.
Scott shook his head.
“Then you didn’t do anything wrong. Sweety, there are going to be times when despite out best plans, something is going to go wrong. You know that.”
“True, but that doesn’t matter, I should have been keeping a better eye on you!”
Susan sighed. “Scott…I’m going to tell you something profound…something that you learn from years of self bondage games and something you are going to have to learn too if you expect to…be my Master.”
The ‘M’ word got his attention, one of those thing that they had been discussing at the jail. So he asked her what profound thing he had yet to learn.
So Susan told him, in all seriousness. “Shit happens.” It took Scott a moment to start chuckling, and only then did he start to relax as he hugged her once more. Susan started laughing too, well aware of how close she had come to ending it all, yet not allowing it to rule her future, and she hugged back as she painfully could.
From outside the curtain, passing hospital staff wondered what the couple was laughing about, and their smiles were passed on to staff and patients alike.
I welcome your comments. Email me at nightguy40ATcableone.net