Eine Geschichte zu einem Bild von Prismarinepaint, mal in Englisch. Ich hab das Original zwar in Deutsch geschrieben, aber dann wegen der Übersetzung so viele Details geändert oder hinzugefügt, das englisch jetzt die „Mutterkopie“ ist.
Bruna had been working on the Painstein for 22 months and just wanted to get away. The Painstein was in the middle of a Thuringian cultural landscape in which every mountain was crowned by a castle or at least a manor house. There were only villages in the valley. Of course, the buildings on the surrounding hills were better restored, more imposing, more steeped in history or at least easier to reach. 1000 meters to the train station is enough for train noise, but 400 m difference in altitude is an annoying obstacle if you want to get away quickly.
The Painstein was a loose collection of buildings of various ages that had already a history as a castle, National Socialist training center, preacher’s seminary and sect headquarters and now served as an ecumenical hotel and conference center. The main building had underground parking, WLAN, guest rooms and was in a good state of renovation. The hotel’s own chapel was also well preserved, its basement containing crypts and dungeons that Bruna would never voluntarily enter. The secrets of the stables, the casemates and the dilapidated outbuildings were unknown even to the security staff, who would either scare away urban explorers or give them a tour in exchange for cash.
How did Bruna end up here? At the age of 21, she stood out with her long brunette hair, slim figure and polite, friendly manner. She prided herself on her slim figure, even though she did nothing for her body and didn’t do any sport. But a critical to fussy attitude to food and her chronically empty wallet ensured that she remained slim. Her innocent smile and naive appearance belied her long criminal record. Fraud, embezzlement, sexual theft – Bruna lacked morals. That’s why a juvenile court judge had sent her to the Painstein. Her training as a hotel manageress was part of her probation and took place in this very hotel, whose guests didn’t appreciate theft and only wanted tea and scrambled eggs from a beautiful waitress. Working 6 – 10 a.m. for breakfast and 5 – 10 p.m. for dinner, she was well under control.
Runa’s apprentice’s wages and even the tips were regularly collected by a bailiff. So she didn’t have the means to get away from Painstein. Even the cost of a cell phone was not covered by her probation conditions. On days off, she sat depressed in a library full of ancient religious textbooks. Or she simply stayed in bed.
And so the months rippled by until a special tour group had rented rooms on the Painstein. The manager had already apologized in the briefing that a photographer had repeatedly tried to get permission to photograph naked women in the catacombs on the Painstein. He had been refused permission out of consideration for the other house guests. Now he had booked the entire hotel for three days. The deal: if other photographers also rented the hotel, he would not have to pay the costs. The photographer had advertised and the hotel was fully booked with self-appointed photographers, lighting designers, ruin documenters, lighting assistants and models.
Bruna planned for some photographer to visit her at night – for money, of course. Angela Ermakova had managed something similar and Bruna looked much better. On the first evening, she was on restaurant duty and saw the many young models who had dressed up and gathered closely around the much older photographers. Bruna was inconspicuous, her boss emphasized discreet make-up and a matt black hotel uniform. She made an effort to touch many of her guests inconspicuously, but no one noticed her.
The next morning was also uneventful. The group of photographers got up barbarically early and only talked about light conditions and the morning sun. At nine, the last booked house guest appeared – alone. He was about 40, didn’t look like he had any money, but looked incredibly sad. Bruna sensed her chance. The bored young woman adopted an attitude. She smiled when she spoke to him. All she really had to do was ask him for coffee or tea or eggs. He didn’t want eggs.
She asked again: „With bacon, onions, peppers, chives, cheese? You have no idea what else I can do with your eggs!“ She almost danced in front of him. She got another refusal, but at least she got a smile. His smile returned when she came near him.
Then Bruna asked directly: „Is there anything else I can do for you?“ „No. My model has canceled for today.“ „Then we’ll do something else nice.“ The man smiled amusedly. „How much would that cost?“ Bruna plucked up her courage: „Three hundred euros for the afternoon.“ The guy laughed: „I calculated a thousand euros for my model.“ „You can do anything with me for a thousand euros.“ A quiet smile: „You have the right figure. The lighting technician and the make-up artist get their money anyway, the clothes are also made for today. Intimacy doesn’t seem to be a problem for you. So would you play fetish model for me today?“
Bruna had no idea what a fetish model had to do. She had use for €1000 – much more than she had ever earned in an afternoon or even a night in bed. So her ok was a formality. Bruna was instructed to come to a specific room in the unused part of the Painstein immediately after her service.
She was amazed when she entered the room: The old walls looked beautiful in the sun. Someone had cleaned it properly, it looked like an old castle. The photographer was already waiting with papers with „Model Release“ written across them. Bruna just skimmed through the whole thing. It said something about latex, insertions and bondage – not words she was familiar with. Only two lines were interesting: „Injuries and permanent marks are excluded“ and „One thousand euros for six hours“. She would be missing for the evening service. The money was worth the trouble. The photographer smiled as she signed. The make-up artist stood next to him and said, „You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into?“ „No“ „OK, that makes it more realistic.“
Bruna had a hunch: she would have to put on latex now, then the photographer and the lighting technician would have sex with her. Only the make-up artist’s role was unclear. She looked at her briefly and then asked: „Have you ever worn latex before?“ Bruna replied: „Why wear it? You make condoms and gloves out of it.“ She was a little offended by the laughter that followed. The make-up artist showed her a few black rubber pieces, but the photographer interrupted her.
„Then we can shoot a bit of ‚First Contact with Latex‘ today. Come on, just take your clothes off, leave your panties on and sit over there in front of the light. Silvie throws you the clothes. You try to understand her meaning and just put them on. I’ll take photos, your confused face is already exciting.“
Bruna didn’t mind undressing in front of three strangers, especially as there was a woman there and the lighting technician hadn’t said a word. She realized that her ignorance made her more attractive to the photographer and that annoyed her. The first thing she was given was a pair of latex socks – with molded parts for each toe. Putting them on wasn’t easy, every now and then a toe was in the wrong sock. Bruna was very ticklish and the latex between her toes made her laugh. This in turn made the photographer happy.
„Now it’s getting intimate!“ said the make-up artist and threw her a plum-sized black object. Bruna felt the hard rubber egg, but couldn’t imagine using it as a piece of clothing. Then she put it in her mouth as a gag. „No, in the back!“ commanded the make-up artist. „You can’t see that in pictures!“ grumbled Bruna. „Your posture is getting better. You can go out to insert it. And then put this on while you’re at it!“ Bruna was given another indefinable piece of black latex – longer, thinner and softer with some latex film on it. No one had to explain to her what a dildo slip was – she could see it.
„You can run away now!“ the photographer laughed at her horrified face. „But then you won’t get any money.“ Bruna didn’t feel overwhelmed, just surprised. It took less than three minutes and she was back in front of the camera – with a pair of latex briefs over her private parts and a pair of toe socks. The pressure between her toes still amused her. It was more intense than the pressure in her vagina. She hardly noticed the egg in her butt.
The next challenge came: Bruna was thrown a catsuit made of thin latex. She liked tight clothing. It was therefore easy for her to squeeze into the far too tight trouser legs. She looked curiously and somewhat bewildered at the front of the suit. There were molded cups that were much larger than her bust. But the make-up artist told her to put the catsuit on further and to tuck her arms into the sleeves. It couldn’t fit. The empty sleeves hung baggy in front of her breasts. Bruna felt embarrassed and insignificant. The photographer continued to take pictures unperturbed, as if everything was going according to plan. Strangely, he had no problem with Bruna’s cup size and only said: „The looks on your face when someone puts on latex for the first time are priceless.“ Then he handed her a heavy box. Bruna opened it and found two skin-colored, elusive breast prostheses that fit exactly into the empty pockets in the front of her catsuit. Something metallic flashed at the back of the soft parts. It came to rest almost exactly on her nipples as she pulled up the back zipper.
Bruna only got the zip up to her waist, then the make-up artist had to help her again. When the zip was pulled through between her shoulder blades, the prostheses pressed tightly against her breasts and restricted her breathing. There was also an uncomfortable pressure on her neck when the back zipper closed at the top. Bruna found this unpleasant.
The photographer took a small compressed air bottle, pushed a small hose into the sleeve on Bruna’s wrist and briefly turned on the air. With a loud hiss, first the sleeve and then the belly of the catsuit inflated and lifted the latex from her skin. The air escaped from her neck and the suit fit like a glove. When the procedure was repeated on the other arm, Bruna laughed again at the tickling sensation. The photographer briefly inflated her legs and the last wrinkles in the latex disappeared. Bruna was held up to a mirror. She thought she looked hot. The black latex emphasized her contours, the huge silicone breasts looked better on her than the natural version and the long zipper not only pushed the toys into her crotch, it also gave her very long legs.
Her legs were visually lengthened by a pair of high heels. Bruna was then handed a corset, which fell down a few times before she understood the closing mechanism. The photographer took a short break. Bruna had to hold on to the wall while the make-up artist tied the corset for her. „Our planned model was a little slimmer, but it still closed all the way,“ the make-up artist remarked. Bruna didn’t know whether this was praise for her bravery or a criticism of her figure.
The corset had an immediate effect. Bruna had great difficulty breathing. Her stomach was pressed together. As her chest lifted with difficulty, she felt the unaccustomed weight of the silicone breasts. Something moved on her nipples – not disturbing, but clearly pleasantly arousing. Her pelvis was squeezed together and the foreign objects in her abdomen forced themselves into her consciousness. Bruna had butterflies in her stomach, but she could hardly breathe. She stood upright like never before. As soon as she tried to stand comfortably, the corset cut off her air completely.
„So, now it’s getting tight!“ the make-up artist whispered softly in Bruna’s ears. Before she could ask or even protest, shiny steel arm and ankle cuffs were put on her. The clasps clicked into place with a loud snap. The shiny clasps barely squeezed, but Bruna couldn’t get her fingers under the metal. Dressed like this, Bruna was asked to move in front of the camera while being photographed from all sides. Bruna had never noticed her body like she did today. She felt the pressure all over her skin. She could feel the sweat collecting under the rubber skin. The elastic latex pulled her arms down and pressed her elbows straight. After just a short time, the photographer was dissatisfied.
„She wobbles too much!“ grumbled he. The make-up artist grabbed a short metal bar, squatted on the floor behind Bruna and pushed her legs apart. It cracked twice again, then Bruna’s legs were joined. She was now standing really uncomfortably and protesting. No one was interested. Bruna was used to that, though. Protesting had never done her any good, so she kept her mouth shut.
„So, now the last attachment – unless you want a gag. Unfortunately, that would make your cute pout look worse. Escape if you can!“ laughed the make-up artist and showed Bruna a heavy metal chain. She grabbed first one hand, then the other and fastened the chains. Bruna had her arms free and tried to push the no longer smiling make-up artist away. She couldn’t prevent a rope from being attached to the chain and her arms being pulled upwards.
„Thanks, that’s it,“ said the photographer, mounting his camera on a tripod and pointing it at Bruna. „Do you know where the Hotel Painstein got its name from? There was a Germanic sacrificial site under this room. If you chain a sweaty virgin here and she receives great pleasures, then a dragon is said to appear here. Unfortunately, the legend does not tell us what he does with the virgin. In the past, girls were made docile with drugs, presumably henbane, and then warmed up between two fires. We don’t know how the shaman triggered the orgasm. We have better options these days. So enjoy the show, you’re the main character. We’re leaving now. And if the dragon doesn’t work out, we still have sexy photos. If you want to survive, just don’t have an orgasm.“
This was not what Bruna had expected when she accepted the modeling job.
The make-up artist took her cell phone, pressed a button and disappeared into the doorway. Bruna was alone. Something was humming between her legs. She didn’t find it threatening, she didn’t believe in dragons and had never had an orgasm. She was able to hang onto the chain with her full weight and slowly turn around the room. Stone walls, closed wooden windows, a fireplace with candles, a camera and two spotlights pointed at her and an unreachable door – there was nothing else. She could stand comfortably and catch her breath – otherwise she could do nothing.
At least Bruna could close her eyes . When it was dark, she could clearly feel the humming in her abdomen. It felt pleasant – soothing. But there was another sensation. A slight tingling sensation on her clitoris. She had to feel deep inside herself to feel it at all. Sometimes it was there and sometimes it was gone. Then Bruna noticed the silence – she had never noticed such quiet surroundings before.
Next, Bruna noticed a small disturbance on her breasts. At first it was a slight pinching in her most sensitive areas. Then she realized that it was breath-dependent. When she exhaled, it was gone, when she inhaled, it became stronger. There wasn’t much difference, she could only take shallow breaths. But that interested her. The harder she breathed against the resistance of the corset, the more she felt her breasts. The pinching became tingling, then burning, but it was actually stimulating.
Despite all the confinement, Bruna was now breathing excessively and could feel the sweat gathering around her. She felt a little dizzy and started daydreaming. What if there were dragons after all and a prince came to rescue her? The prince could save her and she would open her thighs for him – wide and without any thought of anything in return. However, her belly was just filled and that felt good. In addition to the increasing humming, her most sensitive spot tingled and she had an urgent need to touch herself there. She couldn’t. She tried gyrating her pelvis, squatting her legs and trying to kneel. It didn’t make much difference.
Bruna could only feel inside herself and wait. Her arms were asleep and didn’t bother her. Her breasts were on fire and distracted her from what she was feeling on her clitoris for the first time. Bruna wanted it to be more. It became more. It felt good – the way a tender, caring wild man should feel. Bruna didn’t know anyone who was good to her anyway, so she was aware of the lack of logic in her desires – but no matter. Maybe a prince could. Although: a prince would probably finally disappoint her, she wasn’t a princess after all.
The clothes she had been dressed in were probably really only made for sex. It felt good. Yes, she was tied down, could barely breathe and had no options except to open her eyes. Then the spell would be over. She had experienced every intercourse of her life so far with her eyes open – after all, she didn’t want to let her victims out of her sight. Besides, it was always over after 3 minutes when a sweaty man removed his twitching something from her. It had never been anything nice or exciting.
Slowly, Bruna felt an unfamiliar excitement building up inside her. That was new. She wanted it to get stronger. She wanted it to hurt. But she had no options. She had to wait. She waited patiently. Someone had once explained to her how to massage a man with the pelvic floor muscles. She tried it now to increase her own arousal. And it worked. Her pelvis tensed around the dildo inside her. Then suddenly there was absolute silence – everything was gone. Bruna knew she was on the verge of an unknown climax. She didn’t yet know what a denial of orgasm could do to her brain.
Frustrated, she opened her eyes. The room around her was still empty, of course there was no dragon, just a camera. Sweat dripped from her crotch into a puddle between her legs. Her shoulders ached, her hands were numb and her feet hurt. But a faint burning sensation on her nipples reminded her of more delicious feelings.
With her eyes closed, she felt the tickling on her breasts move from left to right, then left again. Sometimes it was faint, then brief and intense. Bruna waited for something to happen in her crotch again and found it rather annoying how her breasts captured her attention. Her expectation was only very slowly fulfilled: a slight tingling in a place that she only found out today why it was called the clitoris. Then she had the feeling that her rectum was inflating. A little wait and she realized: it was getting really tight back there. At the same time, the pressure in her bladder increased, which made it even harder to breathe. Bruna started daydreaming again.
She wasn’t sure if she would really get €1000 at the end of the day. But maybe she could use the €1000 to buy a latex suit like this – and a pair of panties with a remote control. Maybe each of the items cost more than €1000. She wanted the latex parts anyway. A strong humming noise distracted her from these thoughts. Bruna gyrated her pelvis and tried to see if she could suck in the vibrating dildo with her pelvis. She imagined how she would work the dildo with her mouth. Normally she found this disgusting, but today the idea got her going even more. The longed-for climax was approaching again, the slightest change would send her over the edge. It came: nothing. All activity in her abdomen stopped, the pressure in her rectum suddenly disappeared. At the same time, a series of short, painful electric shocks to her breasts brought her back to reality.
This time, Bruna kept her eyes closed. She felt the relief of breathing and heard it dripping at the same time – her bladder was empty. Shortly afterwards, she could smell it too – disgusting. Suddenly she had the thought that the people who had put her completely in latex and then tied her up here had no interest in Bruna’s arousal at all – they just wanted to torture her. So Bruna decided that she didn’t want an orgasm at all. She would fight back now – at least internally.
Bruna’s body was a rotten traitor. A slight tingling sensation on her breasts told her that it was starting again. Only now did she realize that there were at least two rings of electrodes around her breasts. A cycle always began with a slight tingling far out on the breasts before a rhythmic pinching sensation teased her nipples. It increased slowly over a minute or so, but was still bearable at the end. And she felt that she could bear a little more with each cycle. It was nice how this pain distracted her from her abdomen.
At the same time, a gentle crawling in her most sensitive spot eroded her will not to get aroused. An interplay followed: slowly increasing stimulation of her breasts, then a pause and at the same time a violent vibration in her abdomen. This stopped after a minute, but her breasts were back on again. Bruna tried to pant away the increasing excitement, as she had seen during childbirth. That worked for a while. Then the perverse electronics started with short new stimuli on the clitoris and vagina at the same time and Bruna was defenceless. Her pelvis twitched and the first longed-for, now unwanted orgasm came over her. It lasted a long time and did Bruna good. It was a new feeling. It was a good feeling. She knew from the first moment that she would become addicted to it.
It was not what she had expected.