Alice tried to remember who had given her the key.
She looked at the old, bronze key with its elegant arches lying in the palm of her hand. It looked more like a piece of art than a functional object. The beauty of the key wasn’t part of Alice’s thoughts. Nagging mental images, not forming fully, left her with the feeling she had to be somewhere. Instinct told her the ‘somewhere’ had something to do with the key.
Frustrated she trapped the key between the palms of her hands. Resting her elbows on the table, she bowed her head and rested it against her hands. To anyone walking in, it would look like Alice was praying, but Alice’s mind wasn’t in the room anymore…
Alice’s skirts swished around her legs as she briskly walked down the street towards the heavy wooden door in the brick fence. She glanced over her shoulder but no one showed any particular interest in her. Alice smiled inwardly. Obviously no one would look at her. Everyone was going about their own business. It was her guilty conscience that made her think everyone knew what she was up to in the house on the other side of the door.
Reaching the brown door, she pushed her right hand deep into the pocket of her skirt, retrieving a beautiful bronze key. Alice pushed it into the keyhole, then turned it clockwise in two full circles. Adrenaline washed through her body as she slipped though the narrow opening, shut the door behind her, and locked it again. She breathed in and out a couple of times to calm her beating heart.
Five minutes later she was in his studio. Event though he had been waiting for her, he paid her little attention. She walked to the couch in the corner of the studio, and started the laborious task of removing her corset. Once done, the loose white blouse followed, exposing her firm, naked breasts. Her hard nipples betrayed her excitement. One by one Alice took off the four long skirts, finally revealing the garter belt and stockings underneath.
She stole a quick glance at where he sat behind the easel. He paid her no inkling of attention. Alice moved to the spot in the middle of the floor, turned her back to him, and resumed the same pose as the last time she stood there: her legs spread slightly, her hands on her hips, and her head tilted back. The ribbons of her hat tickled her bottom, and at the same time the wetness between her uncovered labia increased.
Only ten minutes after she had unlocked the door, the first sound of a pencil on paper filled the space around her.
Alice lost track of time. The heels on the shoes she wore weren’t high, but her feet started aching. She paid no attention to it. Anticipation had her nipples harder than before. Her cunt ached, waiting for her labia to part so it could release its juices.
Modeling for him was good, but the best was yet to come. Standing here was the part she was familiar with; the rest always came as a surprise.
Silence filled the room.
The sound of the pencil on drawing paper had stilled.
Would he start again? Alice flinched only slightly when he put his hand in the small of her back, and guided her towards the coach; made her bend over.
Those were the first – probably the only – words he spoke to her.
Alice concentrated on keeping her back straight, supporting herself on the wooden backrest of the couch. Something cold and light touched her back. He pushed his foot between hers, lightly tapping the insides of her heels. She spread her legs. An audible sigh escaped her when his finger touched her lips, and the horny wetness escaped. His fingers opened her labia, and kept still.
The sound of pencil on paper resumed.
Minutes later it stopped.
Alice pushed back, opening up for him when his cock pressed against her opening. He filled her slowly, pushed in, pulled out and pushed in again.
In and out. In and out.
And then he stopped, holding the tip of his erection at her entrance.
Pencil on paper.
Pushing his cock back in, he held still again, and pushed his thumb against her other opening. Alice tensed, but only for a mere second.
Her nipples ached in need. She wanted this.
His thumb pushed in when she relaxed her muscles. Once more, he pulled his cock out until only the tip remained inside. He wiggled his thumb inside Alice, making her moan as little currents of pleasure ran through her pussy.
The sound of pencil on paper resumed, and only minutes later it was quiet again.
His cock disappeared from her cunt, and pressed against the same spot where he just had his thumb. He waited. Alice breathed in deep, and relaxed. He pushed and waited. Pushed some more and waited again.
Alice grunted as his cock opened her up, bit by bit. She wanted to reach between her legs, but instead concentrated on holding her back still, to keep the drawing pad from slipping off. Halfway inside her he stopped and the sound of pencil on paper started again. It stopped at the same time he removed the drawing pad from her back.
His hands gripped both her hips, a cue for Alice to move her hand to her clit. He pounded into her, fucking her ass to the point where she knew it would hurt for days. She climaxed twice before he emptied his balls inside her.
He quietly left the studio, and four hours after Alice had entered the house, she left again. On the table next to the front door was a envelop with her name written on it. She pushed it into her skirt pocket, and used the same key to get back onto the busy street again.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing baby, why?” Alice asked her daughter.
“Oh, I just thought you were unwell, sitting like that.”
Alice looked at her palms pressed together and smiled.
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart, I was just caught up in my own thoughts,” Alice said as she turned on her chair to get up.
The pain between her buttocks made her wince, but at the same time it filled her with happiness. If only they knew…
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay
This story was originally written for the discontinued meme A Darker Flame, with the prompt: Back in time and combined with the Wicked Wednesday prompt where a story had to be started with the words Alice tried to remember who had given her the key.