Another week had passed and Sophia and I did not see each other. One rainy morning I was sitting in my office, looking out the big window at the city landscape, the rain turning the normally clear scene into a mixture of blurs and smudges and distorted buildings. Sophia was on my mind. I could have called her into the office anytime, but I wanted there to be some separation between us, as her introduction to the Underground had to be done slowly and carefully. Some women, like Gael or Qwen, will naturally be led into this world, but a woman like Sophia, a bit younger and much more inexperienced, must be treated carefully. She was almost there, but not quite. The moment of the final introduction was near though, and of course, as I meditated upon this, what would follow would be even more intense for her.
But where should the place be? The rain was now coming down in a heavy downpour, and nothing could be seen outside the window. Should it be carefully chosen, or should it be a spontaneous moment. I did not know. What I did know is my passions could erupt anytime, and at anytime the moment of her ultimate submission to me could take place, and that could be anywhere.
A few days later I received a call from an old friend of mine, Francesco, an artist from Florence Italy. He was world renowned and had many acclaimed exhibitions in the top galleries. Our friendship had gone back a long way, and so money was not the reason why he would contact me, but I always made sure I patronized his art with unlimited generosity. He informed me that he was opening a new exhibition in a major gallery, and since he would be in the States for a while he would like to meet up. He asked if I had any projects he might like to work on. By “projects” he meant artwork for the Underground
“Yes, there is actually. I have a potential model whom you might find an interesting subject. She is very beautiful, and her natural features would be something I think you would enjoy sketching or painting. We will see whether she wants to or not, but we will have to wait until she meets you to find out.”
“Si, signore. I always enjoy creating new artwork for you.”
“Good. We will be in touch.”
A few days later I called Sophia. “Tomorrow we are going to have a meeting with a member of our art division. He is quite important, a great artist and an old friend of mine, and I would like him to meet you. So be ready in my office at 9:00 am.” I told her his name and I could hear her excitement over the phone.
“Yes sir. Oh, this sounds so exciting!” Her enthusiasm for all we are doing here was quite infectious.
When Sophia arrived in my office the next day she was dressed in a long blue skirt, below the knees, and white blouse. The blouse was sheer and soft and I could see the outline of her white bra beneath the fabric. Her hair, normally pulled back in a standard ponytail, was pulled back, but instead of the ponytail, her hair freely cascaded down her shoulders in lovely flow of thick, blonde curls. Overall, she looked very professional and businesslike.
“I think you will enjoy this meeting. You have been studying art from a distance, through books and museums and whatever, but now you are going to meet someone who is a major artist, a prominent member of the creative world, and in this way you will learn more about what art is, and the importance of that in my business.”
Sophia ran her hand through her hair. “I can’t wait. This sounds so interesting!”
“Good. Critics are one thing, but the artist is the one who lives the life, takes the risks, undergoes the suffering, and creates those things that enrich our lives.”
“I know. All I have ever done is just read about art. Or study it. I have been to all sorts of museums and events, but I have never really interacted too closely with the artists themselves. I have always wanted to.”
I put my hand on her back and led her to the door. “Yeah. I personally despise most critics, as I think they are merely intellectual parasites, despite their necessity. There are some good critics, critics who themselves create good works of criticism, providing good judgement of what is good and not good, but for the most part I find them a necessary evil.”
I did not tell Sophia that she might become a subject for some artwork. We would wait until we met Francesco. The whole atmosphere needed to be right.
The studio was a property I owned on the outskirts of the city. It was an old mansion with many large rooms, and each one had its own artistic mission. Different artists would use this space for their creations, whether erotic or not, but I only allowed one artist at a time to use the building, usually for a period of three months. They all felt it was the perfect space for their creative output: isolated and unknown and safe from distraction, but still close enough to the world so that they could find inspiration in many places, whether natural or urban. Since Francesco was an artist of such renown, I always let him have the place, if available, for as long as he wanted. He never disappointed me.
We arrived at the building, entered through a spacious front door, and met Francesco in a large downstairs room with a high ceiling and large windows that flooded the room with bright sunlight. Inside the room were numerous canvases, some blank, some half-finished with painted scenes, as well as sketches, sculptures, papers scattered about, the typical cluttered chaos of an artist’s studio. There was also a couch and a few chairs here and there, and a large bed that was often used by the models to lay on for different poses. Francesco was sitting in a corner of the room, busy working on a painting, a mythical forest landscape with nymphs and satyrs dancing besides a flowing river. I knew from studying the history of the property that this room was originally used as a ballroom. In the background some light jazz music was playing, and Francesco was so absorbed in his painting that he did not hear us enter.
“Well, I always like to see a man absorbed in his work!”
Francesco turned his head and put down his brush. He got up and reached towards me with his hand. “Ah, good to see you, signore, it has been a while!’ Having spent much time in this country, his English was excellent.
I shook his hand. “Yes, it has been too long, my friend. How are you?”
“Bene. I am very good. And you?”
“Good.” I turned to Sophia. “And this is my assistant, Sophia. She is a rising star in our art division.”
Francesco said nothing for a moment, his artistic eyes captivated by Sophia’s beauty. As a native Florentine, he was someone who could have stepped right out of the Italian Renaissance, tall with long brown hair, an aquiline nose and piercing brown eyes. I could see him easily cavorting with an artists such as Botticelli or Raphael. He had that natural artistic sense of what is beautiful or not, and it was immediately clear that he found Sophia to be quite beautiful as he greeted her.
“Ah signore, such an assistant! How long has she been working with you?”
“Only a few months now, but she has shown herself to be of great talent, with a real and sensitive appreciation of fine art.”
Sophia blushed and said nothing.
“Well, with such an assistant your business will only grow and flourish.”
Sophia reached out to shake his hand. “Thank you, sir. I have been an admirer of your work for quite some time. I first saw your paintings in the Metropolitan a few years ago. They are quite beautiful.”
“Ahh..you are too kind, signora. Grazia. Thank you.”
Francesco was the type of artist I patronized: trained in the classical tradition, appreciative of those traditions, he was able to mix both the best of traditional and modern art. I despise abstract art, as did Francesco, and he could paint his subjects with a fluidity and complexity as well as anyone, past or present.
He studied Sophia for a few seconds and then turned to me. “Please, sir, I would be most honored, if the signora so desires, that I do a quick sketch of her.”
I turned to Sophia. “Would you be willing Sohpia?”
Sophia’s blush immediately became brighter. “Oh, no one has ever done that before. I…I really do not know what to say…”
Francesco touched her hand. “Come, signora, please…just a quick sketch. Such beauty cannot be overlooked by an artist such as me.”
Sophia looked at me again. I touched her upper arm. “Go ahead, Sophia. It is alright. Think of the honor of being sketched by a man such as this.”
A large smile crossed her face. “Well, when you put it that way. Yes! I would be honored, Francesco.”
“Bene, bene…come..sit over here, and let me get my tools.” He led her to a chair and sat her down while he fumbled around and found some sketching paper and put it on an easel. He used a charcoal pencil.
“Now, just sit there, and look towards the window.”
Sophia turned towards the window and the bright morning light bathed her light blonde hair.
Francesco studied her with his piercing eyes. “Perfetto…yes, the light…” He then trailed off while he began sketching. I sat down on the couch, behind Francesco and watched him work. It was always a wonderful experience to see a great artist create something.
A few quick strokes, and Francesco was done. He turned to me. “See, signore, what an inspiration she can be!”
I got up and walked over to him and studied the sketch. He managed in his unique way to capture her beauty, with a wonderful blend of light and shade, capturing her softness and delicacy in a few lines, and he did so in only a few minutes. I was amazed. “Yes, that is quite beautiful.” I looked over to Sophia. “Come, Sophia, this is really nice.”
Sophia got up from the chair and when she saw the sketch, her eyes teared up. “Oh my god, that can’t be me. She too beautiful.”
Francesco touched her arm. “Oh no, my dear, no, this is you.”
I touched her shoulder. “Yes, Sophia, this is truly you.”
All three of us stood there, admiring this sketch, Sophia between us, and in that moment I felt an erotic tension arise, an erotic tension that often suddenly develops in moments of artistic creation. I felt it needed to be cultivated at this moment.
“Sophia, if you like, I am sure Francesco would enjoy doing a fuller sketch of you. Perhaps he may even like to paint you sometime. Not today, but sometime down the road.”
Francesco agreed. “Yes, signora, I see you as a potential model in the future, but right now I would like to do another, fuller sketch of you. Do you think you would be willing for that.”
Sophia put her head in her hands. “Oh, I really do not know. I mean, no artist has ever painted me before. Gosh. Wow.”
I lowered my voice and spoke with some authority. “Think about it, Sophia. This is your opportunity to become part of art, and not just a spectator.”
Sophia let out a deep breath and slapped her hands against her sides. “Yes. Yes, I would like to do this. Definitely!” Her sudden enthusiasm was once again infectious.
Francesco put his hand to his chin and nodded. “Bene…bene! Now, we must create the proper scene.” He moved to a dresser and fumbled through some items in a drawer. He pulled out a white, silk robe. “I would like to sketch you in this robe. Just you and the robe. Allora. Nothing else.”
Sophia stood there silently and looked at me. She needed assurance and so I assured her. “It’s ok, Sophia. Trust me. You will be fine.”
“Si, signora, you can change over there,” he pointed to a white folding screen that was in the corner of the room, “and there will be no nudity. Again. Just you in the robe.”
I could see her processing the situation, and when she had absorbed everything she calmly but with confidence walked over to Francesco, took the robe in her hand, and went behind the white folding screen.
I sat back down on the couch while Francesco arranged some more sketching items and a few different charcoal pencils. Sophia stood behind the folding screen, disrobing. “Well, what would people back home say if they found out that I was being drawn by such a renowned artist as this.”
She emerged, the silk robe falling delicately over her body, but tied at the waist. The soft fabric complimented her full breasts, and her nipples were slightly visible.
Francesco pointed towards the bed with one of his pencils. “Please, sit on the bed.” Sophia climbed on top and sat, facing us. “Please, lean back a bit. Resting on your arm.” She did so, leaning back on the bed, her legs straight on the bed, her torso upright, resting on one arm, facing us.
“Would this be a little better?” Sophia gently untied the knot on her robe, not all the way but enough to reveal more of her breasts.
Francesco snapped his fingers. “Yes, that is it. Bene, bene. Now, please, be as still as you can.”
As he began his work I enjoyed the sight of Sophia, so beautiful and such a wonderful subject of art, the robe draped over her lovely body, closed but now open enough to show more of her pale, ivory skin and full, round breasts.
Francesco was now absorbed in his sketching. I heard him mouth beneath his breath. “Bella… si…bellissma. Mi piace…”
The background music continued, soft jazzy type music, but otherwise the room was filled with silence. I sat and admired the whole scene, the beauty of Sophia being captured by the supreme talent of this renowned artist. The universality of all art throughout all time passed through my mind.
Before I knew it, Francesco was finished. What he created was a full sketch of Sophia, half laying on the bed, covered by this silk robe. I stood up from the couch and walked over to him and studied the sketch. “Magnificent, Francesco. Wonderful.”
“Si, signore.” He looked over the easel to Sophia. “But how could I not succeed in creation with such a beautiful subject.” Sophia sat on the bed, silent but her eyes focused on both of us. Without really being aware of when this happened, the music had stopped and the room was now filled with silence.
The moment of silence was broken by the sound of a cell phone. Francesco looked around, stood up and walked over to another table, where he picked up the phone. “Ah, I thought I had turned this off.” He studied the screen. “Scusi, signore, I must answer this.” He walked to the corner of the room, and I could make out a rapid and somewhat heated conversation in Italian. I could not really understand what he was saying, my Italian being rather rusty, but I did make out the word “denaro”, which means money. He put the phone down and walked back over to me. “I am so sorry, sir, but something has arisen that I must take care of immediately. Perhaps we can meet at another time?
“Of course, Francesco. Please. Feel free. We will stay here for a while and lock up after you.”
“Grazia, signore. Tu sei un buon amico. A true friend. Si.” Francesco quickly gathered his coat and left and now Sophia and I were alone in the room.
Sophia was laying on the bed, and our eyes met and we looked at each other, a long and sensuous and silent look, as her eyes seemed to widen in an expression of desire and anticipation, her eyes large and bright, wet and deeply blue, like Alpine lakes during a warm, sunny summer afternoon, drawing me towards her with almost hypnotic power. I walked over to her and as I did she untied the knot of her robe and let it slip over her shoulders freeing her torso and her quite lovely breasts.
I stood before her and undid my tie, then my shirt and took both off and bent down and kissed her and she lay back on the bed, the silk robe still beneath her. She seemed to melt into the robe and the robe into the bed in a cream-colored vision of fluid sensuality. We kissed and she ran her hands over my torso, feeling my broad shoulders and muscular arms and as I began to lay on top of her she reached down and fumbled about with my belt, trying to loosen it. Again, she was quite inexperienced, and was unable to free the belt, so, holding myself up with one hand, I reached down with the other and freed myself from my slacks, and pulled them off, and we were finally both quite naked and quite close to each other.
We kissed some more, her lips soft and warm and her scent that of a sweet perfume, the smell of her hair exotic and alluring, like a tropical breeze. She pulled me close to her, and I positioned myself, parting her thighs with mine and gently touching her outer lips with the head of my hard penis. She reached down and gripped me, feeling the hardness, her fingers gently playing with the head as she guided me closer to her, closer until I started to enter her. I could feel her wetness now on the sensitive head, and her breathing increased as she pulled me slightly past her lips and whispered in my ear, “I want to feel you inside me…today…now…”
I pushed a little bit, and her lips opened to receive me, and I could feel her soft, warm flesh beginning to engulf me. She put her arms around me as I took control.
“Slowly, sir…I have never been with someone so big…”
I gently entered her, slowly and carefully and patiently, and when I felt myself pass that special place inside a girl, that tightness in her entrance that suddenly opens and invites you inside of her, and you are now fully inside her, and past her moist lips, and she is now taking you all in, she gasped and dug her fingernails into my back, nearly breaking the skin.
“Oh god…you feel so good…”
I paused to let her feel me, all of me, the whole length and width and total girth of my completely hard cock which was now fully inside her. I did not move, I just let her adjust to me, and when I wanted to move, and I knew she was ready to move, she did, and she started gently moving her hips and I knew she was now completely ready and I began to move, to fuck her, and let her finally feel all that I could give her.
I began moving in and out of her, slowly, all the way in and all the way out, her wetness covering all of me, the patience of my motions preparing her for what was soon to come, and as she began to meet my motions with her own, my own thrusts became more forceful, as I now began to fuck her, to fuck her in a way she had never been fucked before. In this sweet ecstasy of erotic pleasure all seemed to become lost, like a wonderful dream where all time and place lose all meaning, and all I knew was the exquisite feeling of her soft and tight vagina engulfing me and drawing me into her deeper and deeper as I began fucking her harder and harder.
She clawed and scratched me, and kissed me with a passion, a hot passion this sweet woman was now experiencing, and her sighs and moans soon became and screams and throaty gasps and heavy breathing. I felt her body beneath me, warm and hot and soft and sweaty, bearing my weight, feeling me, her body undulating in a magical unison with all my thrusts. She was now losing herself in the pleasure. “Fuck me, sir, oh god yes, fuck me like I have never been fucked before!”
And I did. I pounded her, thrusting deeply inside her, each powerful thrust met with a scream by her, sometimes just a scream, sometimes a “God yes!”, sometimes a “Harder, fuck me harder” and then sometimes again just an incomprehensible cry of pleasure. Her legs wrapped around my waist as I kissed her neck and face and lips and hair and then her breasts while pumping her over and over and over again. The feel of my cock sliding in and out of her, pounding her into submission with such fullness and hardness, the warmth and wetness of her vagina squeezing all around me, totally surrounding me, nothing seen but everything felt, was exquisite. Apparently the feeling was mutual. “Oh, your cock is so huge…I love it,” she moaned with delight.
How long were we at it? I have no idea. All I know is that sometimes I would be pounding her, and other times I would slow down and let her feel me, or I would even stop altogether and rest inside her and she would writhe her hips against mine and then I would gently pull out, but only a little past her lips so she could still feel me, and each time I pulled out a little I teased her lips with the swollen head of my cock and when I entered her again she would gasp and grab my hips and pull me into her more forcefully. “I want all of you,” she would moan, and I would oblige as I pumped her slowly, then fast, then slowly again, letting her feel all the wonderful variety that my cock could offer. But of course I could never resist just a vigorous and unbridled pumping and pounding, just good old fashioned forceful fucking. “Oh god I love it…more sir…yes…fuck me….yes…please…harder…yes…oh yes…”
In our heavy, sweaty passion I whispered in her ear, “Do you like the way I am fucking you Sophia….”
“Oh god yes…”
“Do you want me to fuck you some more….”
“Yes! Fuck me! O please fuck me more!”
I always desire some variety when in bed with a woman, so when I turned Sophia onto her stomach, and then lifted her hips up so I could enter her from behind, she seemed eager. But her inexperience was obvious. She did not quite know what to do, how to meet me in this sensuous dance, and I had to hold her firmly while I guided myself inside of her. Still, her beauty was exquisite, the vision of her hips curving onto her tightly sculpted back and her long blonde hair covering her face while her head was turned to one side on the bed only increased my passions. I began doing her from behind, holding her hips, but when I stopped so that she could move, to push herself back onto my cock in a rhythmic pleasure, she did not know quite what to do, her motions once again awkward and without fluidity. Yes, she was going to need some training. For a twenty-five-year-old woman in this day and age, this was a little surprising, but it also endeared me to her all that much more. When I gently massaged her pretty little butthole, she gasped and jerked forward. “Oh my god! No one has ever touched me there!” I moistened my finger, and when I gently entered her extremely tight ass with the tip she moaned and then gasped, “Oh…oh god…mmmmm…yes…” Yes, Sophia was beginning to learn the finer arts of erotic pleasures. She was now for the first time fully experiencing the pleasures of the Underground.
Our pleasures became a sweaty delight of sex, and when I turned her once again onto her back and lifted her legs and put them over my shoulders and straightened my legs and when I began driving as deep into her as possible, pumping her with all my strength and vigor and hearing the sound of our flesh slapping against each other, pounding her, my hips meeting hers, my balls hitting the bottom of her ass, my massive cock overpowering her, my passions unleashed like some primordial beast, so dangerous and yet so desired by her, and so pleasurable to me, as her moans and gasps and screams echoed through this large room filled with all sorts of unfinished artworks, the beauty of which mirrored the beauty of what we were now creating on this bed, Sophia and I, and as all this heat and beauty and sweaty sex were building and intensifying I could not hold back any longer and I exploded inside her, a violent eruption of burning, long pent up desire, all of it deep inside her, filling her with each thrust of my cock, and as I did she grabbed me and kissed me with a kiss as forceful as all my fucking, deep and hot and wet, and she moaned as the warmth of my semen filled her, our bodies all sweaty and taut and covered with the aroma and essence of the most exquisite erotic delights imaginable until I slowed and slowed and pumped her more gently and made sure that I emptied all of my sperm inside that most sweet and wonderful part of hers until, finally spent, I stopped altogether and let my hard cock rest inside her vagina, her vagina finally filled with all my essence. I rested on top of her and she embraced me.
We both let out a deep sigh and kissed some more, soft and gentle kisses as I ran my hands through her hair, while I was still inside her, and she gently caressed my back and hair, and her breathing became less labored as she began to recover from what she had just experienced.
I pulled myself out of her and lay beside her, she flat on the bed while I was resting on my side, looking at her beauty, her body glistening with sweaty sex, her thick and full blonde bush matted from the violence of our fucking, her nipples still hard and her lips still inviting and so kissable. So I kissed her some more. We were quiet, not saying anything for a few minutes, both of us letting the silent aftermath of our intense lovemaking settle into our minds and bodies and souls, like those few moments when, after a wonderful symphony in a spacious and crowded theater has just finished, everyone in the audience is hushed and silent while the last note they just heard softly and delightfully settles into their minds and souls.
As I caressed her side, Sophia was the first to break the silence. “Wow. I have never…” She ran her hand over her breasts. “I have never experienced anything like that. God.”
I kissed her and ran the fingers of one hand over her stomach in small, wavy semi-circles. “I think you are now becoming part of the Underground, Sophia. And it seems you are enjoying it.”
“Oh yeah. This is more than I could ever have imagined.” She lifted her head to kiss me. “Thank you, sir. This is really a wonderful day.”
“This is only the beginning, Sophia. This is only the start of your journey…your transformation.”
She gently put her fingers around my now semi-hard cock and slowly traced them down to my balls, cupping and caressing them. “Transformation? Oh, how intriguing!” She laughed.
We gathered ourselves as we both knew we needed to be going. While we were getting dressed Sophia became quiet. I did not ask her anything, but I sensed a little something had come into her mind, so I walked over to her and touched her hand and kissed her. A bit of gentleness after you have made love to a woman is always important. She hugged me and let out a deep sigh and while her head was buried in my chest she quietly said, “Oh god, what would my boyfriend think if he ever found out.”
“He won’t Sophia. This is between you and me and he will never know.”
She kissed me again. “Yes, you are right.” She began buttoning her blouse while saying under her breath, “Well, he is such a dud in bed anyways.” She then looked at me, her eyes still foggy from our delights. “You know, a girl needs two things every now and then. Sometimes she needs a good cry. And sometimes she needs a good fuck. And the second is much more satisfying!” She laughed.
I smiled as I adjusted my tie. “Yes, yes she does. But usually the good cry is often the result of the good fuck no longer being available.”
She laughed again and kissed me. “Oh yeah, that is definitely true.”
We started to leave, but before we did she grabbed my hand and stopped in her tracks. “Before we leave, please sir, tell me something…”
“Yes, what is it?”
“How did you know?
“Know what?”
“That I am on birth control?”
“I didn’t”
Sophia looked at me with a quizzical shock, and then kissed me. “Oh….” A small smile came across her face.
We left the old mansion and I gave her the rest of the day off while I returned to the office. I sat at my desk and began going through some papers when my cell phone buzzed. It was a text message. The message was from Gael.
“Hi! I just wanted to let you know I am back in in town and would like to see you sometime soon. Let’s set up a time, ok?”
So, Gael was back in town and wanted to see me. She had no idea what had happened in her absence. I wondered how she would handle it.
I texted back. “Sounds good. Why don’t you come by my office when you come back into work.”
“I will. See you in a few days!”
Yes, Gael and I would be seeing each other in a few days.