midrifftickler
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Here is part 3 of Chapter 15 of Dawn's Story. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn
Previous Chapter
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn, Part 2
After giving Connor some water, Dawn added good news, “We’re going to have another long break, Con, and then I’ll be moving your restraints. I’ve already got your ribs colored in how I want them right now, so it’s time to move to other sensitive spots.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” Connor responded before Dawn could put the water bottle back up to his lips.
“You’re welcome. I didn’t think the painting would be this bad for you, but I always thought you should get a break from the rib tickling at some point. Plus, you know I had to make sure that I’d get to tickle down here.” Keeping the water bottle away from him, the mistress pressed her fingers into the slave’s lower stomach and scribbled. He squealed at the sudden tickle. “Yep, knew I was going to have to get that tummy with the paintbrush. It’d be a crime to tickle everyone else on their tummies and not you.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Surprisingly, Connor sounded genuinely appreciative of the torso targeting. “Hopefully, it won’t tickle as badly as it did on my ribs. Maybe that could let you paint a little faster.”
“Well, I still won’t rush it,” Dawn hesitated. “That’s just a recipe for getting a bad painting, and with all the effort I’ve already put into this, I want it to come out great.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just meant that you wouldn’t have to take breaks for me to rest.”
“I suppose that could happen, especially if you’re not getting exhausted as quickly.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m hoping for.” The repetitive nature of the final part of the conversation quickly killed it, and Dawn continued to give Connor water until he informed her that he was full.
After drinking some more of the refreshing liquid, the mistress put the water bottles back in their place. She set a timer on her phone, left it outside the painting area, and walked behind Connor. “Con, that paint still needs some more time to dry, and I’ve got a great idea of how to pass that time.”
“What is it, Mihihistrehess?” the slave began to ask before Dawn started spidering his bare armpits. “Whyhyhy?”
“I already told you: the paint needs more time to dry. Plus, I’m not painting up here, and it would be a crime not to take advantage of how exposed you are right now.”
“Plehehease.”
“Not going to listen to you, Con. I know this isn’t that bad, and you’ll get another break after the paint dries so I can move the restraints.” Connor still begged for Dawn to stop, but she ignored everything aside from the volume and tone of his words.
Throughout the armpit tickle time, the slave’s laughter stayed quiet compared to the earlier rib tickles. The mistress constantly spidered the moderately sensitive skin for around fifteen minutes, and even when she felt like changing up her tickle technique, she only slightly increased or decreased the spidering speed. Finally, the phone’s timer rang loudly, signaling that the paint had been dry for a few minutes.
“Okay, Con. Time to move your restraints,” Dawn announced after turning off her phone’s alarm. “Now, I’m going to take the belly and chest straps off, one at a time, and move them. Stay still, or I will tickle your ribs.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he calmly accepted, and she saw the muscles all over his body stiffen. “But aren’t you worried about scratching the paint off if you tickle me where you just painted?”
She unwrapped the straps on his belly. “Not at all. After it dries, that paint can’t be removed except with its special cleaner. I never get that out until I absolutely need it.”
“Interesting. Well, I wasn’t going to move, in any case.”
Dawn smiled and set the free straps on the ground, planning to use the other straps to hold his ribs in place. “Oh, I know. Even if it did scratch off, I’ll be going back to your ribs, so that would just mean that you’d have to endure more ticklish painting later.”
“Yes, Mistress.” After removing the second set of straps from around Connor’s chest, Dawn silently placed them over his painted ribs. “Mistress, did you just put that over my ribs?”
“I did, Con. I want to keep your belly still for the next round of painting. From my years of experience painting bellies, rib and hip straps are the best way to do that. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all, Mistress. It actually feels nice to have them wrapped up with something that can’t suddenly activate and tickle them.”
Dawn pretended to consider that, “Hmm, maybe this wasn’t the best idea…”
“Wait, Mistress! It’s fine, it’s fine!”
“Of course it is. I’ve still got this to tickle.” She viciously wiggled a finger in his bellybutton, throwing him into a fit of laughter. “Not to mention up here.” Her other hand shot up to his chest and dug in with more tickles. Though his belly had not moved when she attacked his navel, Connor’s chest unexpectedly began to wiggle back and forth. Surprised by the revelation, Dawn exclaimed, “Oh! I didn’t even think about your chest being able to move. I can’t have you ruining my painting because you’re too ticklish. Hmm.”
The slave spoke up defensively as soon as he got over the giggles, “Mistress, I’m sure I can keep it still while you’re painting. It’s not as ticklish as my ribs. You know that.”
“I’d rather make sure neither of us has to put in any extra effort,” Dawn stated. Realizing that the previously used belly straps would be too big for what she planned, she headed to the living room and grabbed four smaller straps.
“Mistress, do you really need to do this?” Connor questioned when his mistress began to wrap the new straps just above his shoulder.
“Yes, I take my painting seriously,” Dawn replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. Luckily for him, the slave sensed the change in his mistress’ demeanor and stayed silent as all four straps tightened his upper body to the X-frame. “How do you feel, Con?”
“Like I can’t move very much.”
“But you can still breathe okay, right? And you don’t have any pain anywhere?”
“I’m breathing fine, and I don’t have physical pain.”
“Well, this is a punishment. Still, let me know if I’m actually hurting you.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Now, let’s see if those extra straps worked.” Her fingers dove back into Connor’s chest, and he started laughing up a storm again. This time, though, the tickled spot did not squirm around enough to disrupt a painting for the whole five minutes of testing. “Excellent! Are you ready to start, Con?”
“Sure. Let’s get it over with, Mistress.”
“That’s kind of the attitude I wanted,” Dawn shrugged. “I’ll start with your belly so your chest can recuperate.” Grabbing one of the paintbrushes from the water bucket, the painter shook the remaining water off and dipped it in green paint. She drew a few squares on Connor’s left and middle zones, getting squeaks out of her ticklish canvas. However, once those were done, Dawn immediately left the spots for the right side. Her brush began swishing up and down on the non-ticklish area, giving Connor a break from the already short tickling.
A few strokes in, though, she thought better of her plan and moved her tool just outside the middle zone square. With a large area of unpainted skin in between the square and the slave’s side, Dawn set her brush on the bare belly and got to work. Connor burst into laughter, much less desperate than the earlier rib tickling, as the mistress colored in that side of his midriff.
When Dawn’s brush finally reached Connor’s barely painted right side again, his laughter died down to nothing. Although somewhat disappointed by the necessity of tickling a non-sensitive spot, the painter continued her work and filled it in. She took a quick look at the colored-in spots on her slave’s stomach before deciding, just like almost everywhere else, to use a second coat. Connor’s laughter started up again as she repainted all the green on his right zone, dying out when she reached the side. A third coat filled with laughter and then silence finalized her plans for that area of his abdomen.
Once she was satisfied with the area to the right of her sectioned-off squares, Dawn moved to the leftmost square. Working solidly on her slave’s left zone, the painter put three coats on the area from that square to the left side. The continued non-ticklishness of Connor’s sides mildly bothered her, but she made up for it by going slightly faster, knowing that it would not negatively affect his recovery.
After painting all the non-ticklish spots that she had exposed, Dawn focused on the middle of Connor’s torso. Wanting to save each of the green squares for other colors, she painted an inch of green on all sides of all three, giving herself a tiny bit of leeway for when she finished the main belly painting. Once that was done, her brush began to attack all the unpainted and unsquared parts of the midsection. Connor squealed out louder laughter as Dawn worked the sensitive areas with abandon. Finally getting her revenge for her slave’s non-ticklish sides, the mistress dipped her paintbrush in Connor’s bellybutton and began swirling it around. She took significantly more time to fill this sensitive spot than any other equivalent area, knowing that the depth of the innie would hide excessively dark coloring. As Dawn tormented his navel longer and longer, Connor’s laughter started pitching up and up, threatening to rival his rib tickling. It eventually settled on a pitch well below the rib torture, and shortly after that, Dawn finally moved on to fill up the remainder of his abdomen.
Finally, after several minutes of painting, Connor’s entire tummy, aside from the three squares, was green. With other colors required for both the empty stomach squares and the bare chest, Dawn opted to give her slave a break. “Want some more water, Con?” she spoke the first words the room had heard in a while.
“Sure, Mistress. Or if you want to keep going, I’m fine.”
“I’m taking a break no matter what, Con.”
“Okay, Mistress. Thanks for the water.”
Once the two were refreshed, Dawn put the water bottles back and grabbed another paintbrush from the water bucket. Once it was clear of water, she dipped it into the light blue paint. “Time to start up again, Con.” He nodded, and with the earlier confirmation that the torso tickling had not tired him out, Dawn began painting his chest. A surprised squeak came out of the blindfolded man’s mouth, followed by more squeaks and squeals as Dawn traced a few rectangles on her new target area. When the artist finished sectioning off areas, she began painting a sky, and Connor’s laughter went pure.
Fortunately, the tickle slave took chest painting about as well as tummy painting, and Dawn did not hear any concerning signs for the first coat. When she started on a second coat, she focused on varying the sky coloring, leaving space near some of the rectangles with a lighter blue. She repeated the process a few times, focusing her paint on different areas each time. When Dawn was finally satisfied with how the blue sky looked on Connor’s chest, she swapped out her current paintbrush for a new, thinner one, dipping it in yellow paint. “Doing okay, Con?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he grimaced, knowing what that meant.
“Don’t worry, Con. I’ll get it over with as quick as I can while still making it look good. You just stand there and laugh for me.”
“YEHEHEHAHAHAHA!” Connor began to respond, only to be interrupted by the paintbrush lightly brushing inside the large middle zone square.
“Some of this is going to go slow, but I don’t want any more talking out of you. Just laugh for me,” Dawn instructed as she focused on the smaller area. The tickle slave complied, not like the belly brushing gave him any choice. Forcing her canvas into hysterical laughter, Dawn carefully painted the outline of a sprinting dog inside the square. Then she painted the inside, taking special care to stay inside the thin lines. After giving the dog a paint of coat, she repainted certain body parts to give them a proper shade. When she finally finished, a golden retriever, ears flopping and tail wagging, was running towards the smaller squares.
Connor had come out of his helplessly constant laughter with the analytical breaks Dawn took while painting the dog. However, he had heard his mistress’ instructions and followed them, not adding pleas or other words to his laughter when the paintbrush forced it out of him. The lack of constant laughter changed when Dawn moved to the edge of his chest and painted a yellow circle. When his laughter started up this time, Dawn’s increasingly smaller circles around the center kept it going until she had a sun. She put a few more coats around the edge, making the center of the light-giving ball appear as bright as possible. Then, from her years of painting, Dawn automatically put a few rays around the sun, all the way to the edges of her designated square. Once that was done, she took a look over the sun and the dog, finding them both satisfactory.
“I’m taking another break. Want some more water, Con?” she wondered after setting the paintbrush in the water bucket.
“Sure, Mistress.” The two took another quick break, and then Dawn got back to work with another thin paintbrush, this one a lighter brown.
“Con, you’re going to have more frequent breaks again, but I still don’t want you begging or distracting me,” the mistress instructed, and her tickle slave nodded. Taking her paintbrush back to the bare belly of her sensitive canvas, the artist worked on the first of the two small squares. She drew a small outline, then cautiously painted a squirrel inside. Once she was satisfied with the small animal, she repeated the process on the other empty square, giving the dog a pair of targets to chase after.
She exchanged one thin paintbrush for another, dipping this one in white paint. Moving up to her tickle slave’s chest, she went straight to the central circle. After drawing the outline of a bird, she only painted the body, leaving the wings for another color. Heading near Connor’s armpits, Dawn painted a series of clouds, all slightly different in size or shape, across the chest. She used a second coat on some of the clouds, but her experience with painting them and the fact that she was getting used to painting Connor made the process go by quickly, and soon enough, her paintbrush was in the water bucket.
Immediately, she retrieved the first thin paintbrush, ensured it was clean, and dipped it in black paint. She painted the wings on her bird and then discarded this brush for a previously unused one. Dawn got green paint on her newest tool and went back to the belly. Working carefully to avoid messing up the dog and squirrels, she filled in the remaining areas on Connor’s midriff, completing the grass background. Knowing that she would use the green again soon, she set the paintbrush on the side of the appropriate bucket and grabbed her final thin paintbrush. Once the background sky finished covering Connor’s chest, Dawn gave the two areas one last look-over and then stored the light blue paintbrush on the edge of the half-filled can.
“Alright, Con, that’s all for your tummy and chest,” the mistress announced.
“That’s good, but I have to say, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. Does that mean that your painting is finished?”
“No, Con,” she playfully chided through some giggles. “There’s not much left to go, but I painted two separate areas with very little chance to see between them. I need to make sure they look right together. Plus, there’s always some touch-ups, and this is a punishment. We both know that it wouldn’t be a proper punishment without some touch-ups on your ribs.”
“Mistress, please,” he groaned, although his tone made it clear that he had already accepted the further torture.
“It’s a punishment. And another part of the punishment is letting the paint dry with some fun activities, so…” She headed behind him.
“Mihihihistrehehehess!” Connor giggled as Dawn began tickling his still-bare armpits.
“Just having some fun while that paint dries, Con,” she teased as her nails danced in the ticklish spot. Just like before, she spent about fifteen minutes tickling her slave, and then she grabbed the water bottles. They both drank until the bottles were empty, at which point Dawn headed up to fill them for what she hoped to be the final stretch of painting.
Next Chapter
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn, Part 4
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn
Previous Chapter
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn, Part 2
After giving Connor some water, Dawn added good news, “We’re going to have another long break, Con, and then I’ll be moving your restraints. I’ve already got your ribs colored in how I want them right now, so it’s time to move to other sensitive spots.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” Connor responded before Dawn could put the water bottle back up to his lips.
“You’re welcome. I didn’t think the painting would be this bad for you, but I always thought you should get a break from the rib tickling at some point. Plus, you know I had to make sure that I’d get to tickle down here.” Keeping the water bottle away from him, the mistress pressed her fingers into the slave’s lower stomach and scribbled. He squealed at the sudden tickle. “Yep, knew I was going to have to get that tummy with the paintbrush. It’d be a crime to tickle everyone else on their tummies and not you.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Surprisingly, Connor sounded genuinely appreciative of the torso targeting. “Hopefully, it won’t tickle as badly as it did on my ribs. Maybe that could let you paint a little faster.”
“Well, I still won’t rush it,” Dawn hesitated. “That’s just a recipe for getting a bad painting, and with all the effort I’ve already put into this, I want it to come out great.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just meant that you wouldn’t have to take breaks for me to rest.”
“I suppose that could happen, especially if you’re not getting exhausted as quickly.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m hoping for.” The repetitive nature of the final part of the conversation quickly killed it, and Dawn continued to give Connor water until he informed her that he was full.
After drinking some more of the refreshing liquid, the mistress put the water bottles back in their place. She set a timer on her phone, left it outside the painting area, and walked behind Connor. “Con, that paint still needs some more time to dry, and I’ve got a great idea of how to pass that time.”
“What is it, Mihihistrehess?” the slave began to ask before Dawn started spidering his bare armpits. “Whyhyhy?”
“I already told you: the paint needs more time to dry. Plus, I’m not painting up here, and it would be a crime not to take advantage of how exposed you are right now.”
“Plehehease.”
“Not going to listen to you, Con. I know this isn’t that bad, and you’ll get another break after the paint dries so I can move the restraints.” Connor still begged for Dawn to stop, but she ignored everything aside from the volume and tone of his words.
Throughout the armpit tickle time, the slave’s laughter stayed quiet compared to the earlier rib tickles. The mistress constantly spidered the moderately sensitive skin for around fifteen minutes, and even when she felt like changing up her tickle technique, she only slightly increased or decreased the spidering speed. Finally, the phone’s timer rang loudly, signaling that the paint had been dry for a few minutes.
“Okay, Con. Time to move your restraints,” Dawn announced after turning off her phone’s alarm. “Now, I’m going to take the belly and chest straps off, one at a time, and move them. Stay still, or I will tickle your ribs.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he calmly accepted, and she saw the muscles all over his body stiffen. “But aren’t you worried about scratching the paint off if you tickle me where you just painted?”
She unwrapped the straps on his belly. “Not at all. After it dries, that paint can’t be removed except with its special cleaner. I never get that out until I absolutely need it.”
“Interesting. Well, I wasn’t going to move, in any case.”
Dawn smiled and set the free straps on the ground, planning to use the other straps to hold his ribs in place. “Oh, I know. Even if it did scratch off, I’ll be going back to your ribs, so that would just mean that you’d have to endure more ticklish painting later.”
“Yes, Mistress.” After removing the second set of straps from around Connor’s chest, Dawn silently placed them over his painted ribs. “Mistress, did you just put that over my ribs?”
“I did, Con. I want to keep your belly still for the next round of painting. From my years of experience painting bellies, rib and hip straps are the best way to do that. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all, Mistress. It actually feels nice to have them wrapped up with something that can’t suddenly activate and tickle them.”
Dawn pretended to consider that, “Hmm, maybe this wasn’t the best idea…”
“Wait, Mistress! It’s fine, it’s fine!”
“Of course it is. I’ve still got this to tickle.” She viciously wiggled a finger in his bellybutton, throwing him into a fit of laughter. “Not to mention up here.” Her other hand shot up to his chest and dug in with more tickles. Though his belly had not moved when she attacked his navel, Connor’s chest unexpectedly began to wiggle back and forth. Surprised by the revelation, Dawn exclaimed, “Oh! I didn’t even think about your chest being able to move. I can’t have you ruining my painting because you’re too ticklish. Hmm.”
The slave spoke up defensively as soon as he got over the giggles, “Mistress, I’m sure I can keep it still while you’re painting. It’s not as ticklish as my ribs. You know that.”
“I’d rather make sure neither of us has to put in any extra effort,” Dawn stated. Realizing that the previously used belly straps would be too big for what she planned, she headed to the living room and grabbed four smaller straps.
“Mistress, do you really need to do this?” Connor questioned when his mistress began to wrap the new straps just above his shoulder.
“Yes, I take my painting seriously,” Dawn replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. Luckily for him, the slave sensed the change in his mistress’ demeanor and stayed silent as all four straps tightened his upper body to the X-frame. “How do you feel, Con?”
“Like I can’t move very much.”
“But you can still breathe okay, right? And you don’t have any pain anywhere?”
“I’m breathing fine, and I don’t have physical pain.”
“Well, this is a punishment. Still, let me know if I’m actually hurting you.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Now, let’s see if those extra straps worked.” Her fingers dove back into Connor’s chest, and he started laughing up a storm again. This time, though, the tickled spot did not squirm around enough to disrupt a painting for the whole five minutes of testing. “Excellent! Are you ready to start, Con?”
“Sure. Let’s get it over with, Mistress.”
“That’s kind of the attitude I wanted,” Dawn shrugged. “I’ll start with your belly so your chest can recuperate.” Grabbing one of the paintbrushes from the water bucket, the painter shook the remaining water off and dipped it in green paint. She drew a few squares on Connor’s left and middle zones, getting squeaks out of her ticklish canvas. However, once those were done, Dawn immediately left the spots for the right side. Her brush began swishing up and down on the non-ticklish area, giving Connor a break from the already short tickling.
A few strokes in, though, she thought better of her plan and moved her tool just outside the middle zone square. With a large area of unpainted skin in between the square and the slave’s side, Dawn set her brush on the bare belly and got to work. Connor burst into laughter, much less desperate than the earlier rib tickling, as the mistress colored in that side of his midriff.
When Dawn’s brush finally reached Connor’s barely painted right side again, his laughter died down to nothing. Although somewhat disappointed by the necessity of tickling a non-sensitive spot, the painter continued her work and filled it in. She took a quick look at the colored-in spots on her slave’s stomach before deciding, just like almost everywhere else, to use a second coat. Connor’s laughter started up again as she repainted all the green on his right zone, dying out when she reached the side. A third coat filled with laughter and then silence finalized her plans for that area of his abdomen.
Once she was satisfied with the area to the right of her sectioned-off squares, Dawn moved to the leftmost square. Working solidly on her slave’s left zone, the painter put three coats on the area from that square to the left side. The continued non-ticklishness of Connor’s sides mildly bothered her, but she made up for it by going slightly faster, knowing that it would not negatively affect his recovery.
After painting all the non-ticklish spots that she had exposed, Dawn focused on the middle of Connor’s torso. Wanting to save each of the green squares for other colors, she painted an inch of green on all sides of all three, giving herself a tiny bit of leeway for when she finished the main belly painting. Once that was done, her brush began to attack all the unpainted and unsquared parts of the midsection. Connor squealed out louder laughter as Dawn worked the sensitive areas with abandon. Finally getting her revenge for her slave’s non-ticklish sides, the mistress dipped her paintbrush in Connor’s bellybutton and began swirling it around. She took significantly more time to fill this sensitive spot than any other equivalent area, knowing that the depth of the innie would hide excessively dark coloring. As Dawn tormented his navel longer and longer, Connor’s laughter started pitching up and up, threatening to rival his rib tickling. It eventually settled on a pitch well below the rib torture, and shortly after that, Dawn finally moved on to fill up the remainder of his abdomen.
Finally, after several minutes of painting, Connor’s entire tummy, aside from the three squares, was green. With other colors required for both the empty stomach squares and the bare chest, Dawn opted to give her slave a break. “Want some more water, Con?” she spoke the first words the room had heard in a while.
“Sure, Mistress. Or if you want to keep going, I’m fine.”
“I’m taking a break no matter what, Con.”
“Okay, Mistress. Thanks for the water.”
Once the two were refreshed, Dawn put the water bottles back and grabbed another paintbrush from the water bucket. Once it was clear of water, she dipped it into the light blue paint. “Time to start up again, Con.” He nodded, and with the earlier confirmation that the torso tickling had not tired him out, Dawn began painting his chest. A surprised squeak came out of the blindfolded man’s mouth, followed by more squeaks and squeals as Dawn traced a few rectangles on her new target area. When the artist finished sectioning off areas, she began painting a sky, and Connor’s laughter went pure.
Fortunately, the tickle slave took chest painting about as well as tummy painting, and Dawn did not hear any concerning signs for the first coat. When she started on a second coat, she focused on varying the sky coloring, leaving space near some of the rectangles with a lighter blue. She repeated the process a few times, focusing her paint on different areas each time. When Dawn was finally satisfied with how the blue sky looked on Connor’s chest, she swapped out her current paintbrush for a new, thinner one, dipping it in yellow paint. “Doing okay, Con?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he grimaced, knowing what that meant.
“Don’t worry, Con. I’ll get it over with as quick as I can while still making it look good. You just stand there and laugh for me.”
“YEHEHEHAHAHAHA!” Connor began to respond, only to be interrupted by the paintbrush lightly brushing inside the large middle zone square.
“Some of this is going to go slow, but I don’t want any more talking out of you. Just laugh for me,” Dawn instructed as she focused on the smaller area. The tickle slave complied, not like the belly brushing gave him any choice. Forcing her canvas into hysterical laughter, Dawn carefully painted the outline of a sprinting dog inside the square. Then she painted the inside, taking special care to stay inside the thin lines. After giving the dog a paint of coat, she repainted certain body parts to give them a proper shade. When she finally finished, a golden retriever, ears flopping and tail wagging, was running towards the smaller squares.
Connor had come out of his helplessly constant laughter with the analytical breaks Dawn took while painting the dog. However, he had heard his mistress’ instructions and followed them, not adding pleas or other words to his laughter when the paintbrush forced it out of him. The lack of constant laughter changed when Dawn moved to the edge of his chest and painted a yellow circle. When his laughter started up this time, Dawn’s increasingly smaller circles around the center kept it going until she had a sun. She put a few more coats around the edge, making the center of the light-giving ball appear as bright as possible. Then, from her years of painting, Dawn automatically put a few rays around the sun, all the way to the edges of her designated square. Once that was done, she took a look over the sun and the dog, finding them both satisfactory.
“I’m taking another break. Want some more water, Con?” she wondered after setting the paintbrush in the water bucket.
“Sure, Mistress.” The two took another quick break, and then Dawn got back to work with another thin paintbrush, this one a lighter brown.
“Con, you’re going to have more frequent breaks again, but I still don’t want you begging or distracting me,” the mistress instructed, and her tickle slave nodded. Taking her paintbrush back to the bare belly of her sensitive canvas, the artist worked on the first of the two small squares. She drew a small outline, then cautiously painted a squirrel inside. Once she was satisfied with the small animal, she repeated the process on the other empty square, giving the dog a pair of targets to chase after.
She exchanged one thin paintbrush for another, dipping this one in white paint. Moving up to her tickle slave’s chest, she went straight to the central circle. After drawing the outline of a bird, she only painted the body, leaving the wings for another color. Heading near Connor’s armpits, Dawn painted a series of clouds, all slightly different in size or shape, across the chest. She used a second coat on some of the clouds, but her experience with painting them and the fact that she was getting used to painting Connor made the process go by quickly, and soon enough, her paintbrush was in the water bucket.
Immediately, she retrieved the first thin paintbrush, ensured it was clean, and dipped it in black paint. She painted the wings on her bird and then discarded this brush for a previously unused one. Dawn got green paint on her newest tool and went back to the belly. Working carefully to avoid messing up the dog and squirrels, she filled in the remaining areas on Connor’s midriff, completing the grass background. Knowing that she would use the green again soon, she set the paintbrush on the side of the appropriate bucket and grabbed her final thin paintbrush. Once the background sky finished covering Connor’s chest, Dawn gave the two areas one last look-over and then stored the light blue paintbrush on the edge of the half-filled can.
“Alright, Con, that’s all for your tummy and chest,” the mistress announced.
“That’s good, but I have to say, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. Does that mean that your painting is finished?”
“No, Con,” she playfully chided through some giggles. “There’s not much left to go, but I painted two separate areas with very little chance to see between them. I need to make sure they look right together. Plus, there’s always some touch-ups, and this is a punishment. We both know that it wouldn’t be a proper punishment without some touch-ups on your ribs.”
“Mistress, please,” he groaned, although his tone made it clear that he had already accepted the further torture.
“It’s a punishment. And another part of the punishment is letting the paint dry with some fun activities, so…” She headed behind him.
“Mihihihistrehehehess!” Connor giggled as Dawn began tickling his still-bare armpits.
“Just having some fun while that paint dries, Con,” she teased as her nails danced in the ticklish spot. Just like before, she spent about fifteen minutes tickling her slave, and then she grabbed the water bottles. They both drank until the bottles were empty, at which point Dawn headed up to fill them for what she hoped to be the final stretch of painting.
Next Chapter
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn, Part 4
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