Madame X

Oh, her alabaster skin, how I wanted to replicate it on canvas, show the world the artistry of such pure flesh. Her limbs were long and lean, her bosom round and full. The jewels against her skin reflected light as she sat fanning her overheated frame. The flush of her cheeks made me think of more amorous events. My fingers itched to trace the delicate outline of her throat, tug on the auburn strands of her hair.

I followed behind as she and her husband made polite conversation, weaving their way around the room. He was a banker of influence, and her, his prize for success. Like me, she had left America to claim a life of luxury in France, but unlike me, had moved high into the ranks of the French elite.

The way the light from the chandeliers shone on her skin held me entranced. How I ached to run my fingers over that pure white snow, redden it beneath my grasp. Her hips swaying beneath the fabric of her black silk gown kept my eyes moving side to side. Like a hypnotist, she had me under her spell.

They came to a sudden stop and I took my chance. Practically jumping in front of them, I said, “Monsieur Gautreau, how lovely to see you here. And this lovely creature must be Mademoiselle Gautreau.”

Her eyes settled on my face as she heard my American accent, light sparkling in her eyes. I took her graceful hand in my own, leaning low to place my lips upon it. “Oui, Monsieur,” Her husband replied, “and you are?”

“I am John Singer Sargent, a commissioned painter and I would very much like to paint your wife.”

His back stiffened at this, but her lips curved into a shy smile. “My wife has declined every other offer, Monsieur, but if she is willing, that would be fine. Although I will not pay for your work, as it was you who asked.”

“Cheap bugger”, I wanted to say, but instead I turned to the delicious woman on his arm, my mouth stretching into a wide smile. Her return smile warmed me and I had a sudden moment of embarrassment when I thought my manhood may give me away.

“I would be delighted, Sir”, she said with that same small smile. My heart lurched in my chest, this beautiful creature was allowing me to portray her perfection.

The carriage bounced along the French landscape, the scent of lavender filling the air. Arriving at Les Chênes, I stepped from the carriage, the footman aiding my departure. Being led to the gallery, I was presented to Madamoiselle Gautreau.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” I began.

‘Oh, none of that here. We’re both American and should speak English. It’s much easier on my mouth.” She said with a wide smile. My eyes were drawn to her rouged lips, the pearly whites behind a stark contrast.

Turning I prepared my easel and canvas, taking my time to lay everything out. I could hear her behind me, a faint rustling of clothing and when I turned back, she stood before me, naked as the day she was born.

“Madame?” I asked, my eyes involuntarily taking in her shape and form. Her breasts were full, her waist tight, her hips slender, though I knew she had given birth four years prior. Her long limbs were so proportionally balanced that I thought she was the most amazing creature I had ever seen. My eyes finally met hers and I found that persistent small smile there.

“You can paint me nude. In the end, you can place clothes upon me, if you wish, but this is the painting I want, not some stuffy portrait made for the salon.”

I swallowed audibly, and then again, I had no words. What a dream! To paint her in such pure form. I could not resist.

“Yes, madame. I would be honoured. Let’s start with a seated pose, shall we?”

She sat in a chaise and I rearranged her limbs, this way and that. The touch of my fingers on her warm skin brought pinpricks to my flesh and tingles to my fingers. Her skin was flawless, the hair removed from her body. I had never seen a naked honey pot before, and my tongue came out of my suddenly dry mouth to lick my lips as if it too wanted to taste her.

A wicked smile changed her face and she grabbed my hand as I pulled away. “Do you know how to touch a woman, John? How to please her? Do you know where their hidden spots lay, or how to reach them?”

She held my hand lightly, and I was lost in her trance. Just the touch of her hand to mine had my body responding, and if she didn’t let go soon, we would both be quite embarrassed as my cock grew to half-mast.

She lowered her hand, still holding mine and traced it along the inside of her thigh, farther north to her smooth mons pubis. Releasing my hand, an eyebrow lifted as in question.

Propriety gone, I slowly ran my fingers along her silky skin, the lack of friction bringing a groan to my throat. Using a single finger, I ran along the seam of her nether-lips, gasping as her legs opened to give me better access. As I stroked her womanly charms, I found her eyes trained on me, that smile I’d learned to recognise dancing on her lips. Without looking away, I plunged one finger into her wet channel, swirling my finger in her heat. Her eyes left mine then, as they rolled into the back of her head. A low moan tickled my senses and I added a second digit to the first.

Her hips came up to meet my thrusts as I continued to stroke her internal button, her slick fluid filling my hand. The aroma of her unique scent caused my cock to stir and her eyes lowered to my middle, growing large at what she found there.

With no hesitation she reached out to untie my laces, the offending garments falling away as her fingers deftly opened the fly. Sinking to her knees in front of me, she enveloped my manhood inside her warm mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip. My head went back as she offered her mouth to me, my hips bucking as I felt her swallow around my shaft. I would not last long if she was in charge.

Stepping back, I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to stand. Her smile was replaced with hooded lids, her breathing shallow and quick. Arousal coated her features and I pulled her towards me, my lips claiming hers is an unsuppressed kiss.

She removed the last of my clothing, pressing her naked form to mine. The pressure of her bare breasts against my chest was delightful and I took them each in hand, squeezing them tight. Pulling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, I plucked and twisted then extended them until she yelped.

Pressing her back onto the chaise, I spread her legs and buried my face in her heat, licking her soft button and delving my tongue in deep. Her feet came up to rest beside her luscious bottom and I pushed her knees higher, to rest beside her ears. Taking my time I licked her folds, moistening them before plunging two fingers back inside her. The position tightened her channel, squeezing my fingers, inhibiting my movement. Merde! She was perfection, I had to be inside her.

Bending over her supine form, I aimed my cock to her entrance and waited. Looking up at her, I found her focused on me, need written on her features. Neither of us said anything and the silence stretched out, until finally, she lifted her hips, taking the head of my hard shaft inside her.

She pressed against me until I was fully buried in her velvet flesh. Her delicate hands holding my hips as she gyrated against me. Holding my stance, I let her control it until she spoke a single word.

“Please.”

The seduction of that request was my downfall and I could no longer resist. Taking control, I drove my cock into her, until I could go no further. The repeated motion brought me to the edge of climax too fast. The shock of her advances had worn off, my body remembering the act that was asked.

Flipping her over, I pushed into her from behind, pulling her hips to meet mine. The room filled with our grunts and groans, the sound of our flesh connecting in a lover’s rhythm.

“Touch yourself, “ I said harshly, barely holding on. She did so, swirling one hand around her engorged button. The other came around to grab my couilles, her nails digging in and scraping the sensitive skin there. The suddenness has me lurching forward, pounding into her in frenzy. I felt her tighten around me and knew she was close to release. Securing a better grip I pushed into her as hard as I could, pulling her back to meet me. The force would bruise her bottom I was sure, but I didn’t care.

Raising one hand I lowered it firmly to her bottom. The sound echoed throughout the room. Repeating the motion on the other side, and again, back and forth, her moans filled the air and I felt her tense as a river of wetness gushed from between her legs. Thrusting in one last time I released inside her, a roar tearing from me as I bucked against her reddened bottom.

Once our breathing had returned to normal, I pulled out of her heat and ran my hands over her round buttocks. My handprints painted each cheek and I smiled at the thrill of marking her. Turning, the small smile had returned to her lips, her cheeks rosy. “How many more times will you be visiting me, John? I can’t wait to see your final work.”

My returning smile felt it would split my face.

“As many times as it takes, Madame, as many as it takes.”

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