A Kind of Alchemy
by London Lampy
Chapter 8
Victor had drawn Sam a map to help him find his way to the studio as despite living in the city for over two weeks now he really only knew the route from Fran's house to The Empress. On the whole he liked his new life, working in the theatre was an enormous improvement on looking after his father's cows. Cows were just cows, they ate, they shat and they needed milking every day, and nothing much changed from one week to the next. At The Empress every week brought something new, the acts changed on a weekly basis so at the start of the week a whole new set of faces arrived.
Amongst this weeks turns were a brother and sister singing duo, a comedian who told "blue" jokes and was only allowed to do his act in the evenings and a troop of performing terriers. Yesterday one of the dogs had spotted a rat and being a terrier had given chase, which ended in the dog somehow managing to get itself stuck behind a wall panel, and Fudge and Sam had spent most of the afternoon trying to free it without doing too much damage to the fabric of the building.
Sam liked the shows best though, Fran had explained to him that a theatre was nothing more than a big building until it was filled with an audience, and that was what made the alchemy happen, and having finally asked Fran what alchemy meant Sam understood. He'd experienced it for himself, the musicians were a bunch of hard drinking men who looked sideways at anyone who dared to put a toe into their band room or pit, as Sam had discovered to his cost when he's been sent to clean up the rubbish from it, but at curtain up they became something else. When the lights dimmed and their leader tapped his baton on the side of his stand they turned from a group of surly men into a untied band who played the sweetest music he'd ever heard.
He normally watched the show from either the wings, or if he was helping Teddy that night, up above on the fly floor. He loved to stand deep in the darkness hidden from the audience's view while the performers, bathed in coloured electric lights and dressed in their stage clothes, went from the ordinary people who he chatted with as they slurped mugs of tea in the green room into some kind of glittering stars, then turned back again as they exited the stage, normally while grumbling about missed cues or too little applause.
He was also getting used to living in Fran's house, at first he'd felt awkward, never knowing if it was all right for him to run a bath or make himself a snack, and he'd spent most of his time in his room. Fudge had eventually coaxed him out, and now when he wasn't working or sleeping he'd spend his time playing card games with her, or talking with her and her uncle, although admittedly the pair of them did most of the talking.
Not everything was perfect, Fran was still trying to get him to write to his parents, the man didn't seem to understand that he couldn't, and he very much doubted that they'd want to hear from him anyway. He'd also had a couple of lone encounters with the fearsome Mrs Anglemol, on the second one of these she'd tried to bodily pull him into her hallway in an attempt to "rescue" him from the sinners house, and she'd only let go when her grandson had intervened, apologising profusely to Sam while prising his grandmother's hands off Sam's arm. And then there was the Victor issue. Sam knew that Fran was very much against him sitting for the painter, and he knew why, but he didn't really see that it was any of Fran's business, so despite the man's disapproval he'd set out to find the studio.
It was located down a small back street and he had to ring a doorbell to be let in. He pressed it with a sense of nervous anticipation and after a short wait Victor appeared to lead him up a narrow flight of stairs to the top of the building.
"Come on in." The painter said, opening the door to one single very large room that Sam could see served as both his studio and home. In one corner resting on a square of worn lino that seemed to mark out the living area from the paint stained bare boards of the rest of the place were a bed and a large chest of draws, and next to them a sink and a shelf holding a hotplate, a battered saucepan and a few tins of soup clearly served as a kitchen. The remainder of the room was filled with canvasses. Some were blank, some had the beginnings of paintings on them and some seemed to be completed. Not all were nudes, there were head and shoulder portraits too and a few of clothed individuals, but the majority were of naked young men. Even on a gloomy winter's day the room was filled with light, one wall was comprised almost entirely of windows that looked out over the city's rooftops, and overhead were several skylights.
"What do you think?" Victor asked Sam as he watched him looking around.
"You're a very good painter." He replied, walking over to one of the canvasses.
"I know, but I wish other people felt that way." Victor said ruefully. "Perhaps my painting of you will be the one that finally makes the world sit up and take notice of me. I'll sketch you in pencil to start with, and I want you to sit there." He indicated what looked like an armchair draped in white sheeting. "I've turned the heating up so you won't get cold." Indeed Victor was wearing only a paint stained short sleeved shirt and loose fitting trousers and his feet were bare. Sam noticed that he had spots of paint on them too.
"You want me to take my clothes off?" While Sam had been expecting this he wanted to make absolutely sure.
"Yes." Victor looked Sam up and down, making him blush. "You know it's really very endearing that you turn pink so easily, and it makes you rather easy to read."
"I can't help it."
"That's what so endearing about it." Victor smiled. "How far down does it go?"
"I don't know." Sam shrugged.
"Take your clothes off and let's find out then."
Sam was very aware of Victor watching him as he undressed. "You have nice muscle definition." The painter said once he was fully naked. "I should have farm boys model for me more often. You really should think about making your carpets and curtains match though."
"What?" Sam asked, thrown by what seemed to be a very odd and sudden change of subject from his physique to soft furnishings.
"Never heard that expression before then?" Victor smiled.
"No." He shook his head.
"What I mean is this." Victor stepped closer to Sam and touched the dyed white blond hair on his head. "Doesn't match this." He then brushed a finger over Sam's light brown pubic thatch.
"Oh."
"And we've just discovered how far the blush goes, all the way to here." Victor traced his finger up Sam's torso until he reached his collar bone.
Sam was well aware that his body was reacting shamelessly to the painter's touch, and he took a deep breath expecting more, but instead Victor walked away from him and over to an easel.
"Sit down on the chair." He ordered a confused and slightly frustrated Sam. "Throw your legs over the arm and stretch your body out...no, lean back against it, that's right. Put your right arm behind your head and rest your head against it...very good. Now stay like that, no moving until I say you can."
Sam sat as still as he could, the position Victor had made him assume wasn't all that comfortable, and soon the arm that was behind his head started to develop pins and needles. To take his mind off his discomfort Sam thought on what Victor had said about his his differing hair colours. Seeing as the hair bleach had made his scalp sting he couldn't see that it was a good idea to put it on his more sensitive areas, and it wasn't like many people saw him naked.
Victor kept glancing at him then adding a few pencil strokes to the paper clipped to his easel. This seemed to go on for a very long time, and the longer it went on the more uncomfortable Sam became, until finally Victor put his pencil down and told Sam that he could relax.
"Argh!" Sam shook his hand, trying to get some feeling back into it. "It's not easy sitting still like that."
"I know, that's why I'm paying you. Do you want to see?" Victor indicated the sketch.
Sam did very much, so he went and stood beside Victor. He found it strange, seeing himself drawn on a sheet of paper like that.
"Do you like it?" Victor asked, putting one arm around Sam, his hand resting on his hip.
"Yes, it looks just like me." Sam felt the man's hand move downwards to squeeze his ass, and he started to harden again in response.
"It's just a preliminary sketch, I'll work it up onto a canvas then have you come back and sit again for the actual painting."
"So I'm done for today?" Sam asked.
"If you want to be. You're quite welcome to put your clothes back on and leave, or you could stay and I could give you the best fuck of your young life, it's up to you."
Sitting on the edge of the bed Sam watched Victor getting undressed. The painter had a long, lean body, his skin under his clothes was even paler than on his face, he had a dusting of dark hair over his chest and thick dark curls surrounding his erection. Sam longed to touch his body, to run his hands over Victor's skin, but he had been told to sit on the bed and not to move, and the painter had used a tone of voice that suggested he'd better not disobey.
"Has anyone ever tied you up?" Victor asked, producing some lengths of rope from the chest of drawers beside the bed.
"No." Sam frowned, he'd never even heard of the idea.
"Do you trust me enough to let me do it to you?" Sam looked into Victor's very blue eyes, he wasn't sure that he knew him well enough to say that he could trust him, but he really did want him very much, and he was intrigued by the idea. "Yes." He said after a moments thought.
The rope was surprisingly soft against his skin and he commented on it. "Silk." Victor explained. "Rope burns aren't a pleasant pain. I had to paint some stupid red faced business man's portrait to get enough money for them, but it was worth it."
Once Sam was secured hands and feet to the bed, face up to his slight surprise, Victor tied a blindfold around his eyes. He was now completely at the painter's mercy, but far from being afraid of this Sam felt a thrill of excitement go through his body.
"Mmm...I wish I could paint you like that, you look delicious." He heard Victor say as the bed dipped, then Victor's mouth was suddenly on his, kissing him hard and deep. Not being able to see seemed to heighten the pleasure he was feeling, so when his nipple was squeezed between the man's fingers he gasped loudly.
"You like being touched there?"
"Yes." Sam admitted. He very much liked having his nipples played with but he was slightly embarrassed about it, it seemed like something girls would enjoy. A warm, wet sensation on his chest could only be Victor licking and sucking the skin there, then teeth bit down on his other nipple.
"Oh...yes." He surprised himself by saying, but he was beyond embarrassment now.
"And you like a bit of pain too it would seem." Victor said against his skin, before biting the other side.
"Yes." Sam gasped again. The sensation coming from his nipples was undeniably pain, but it was a sweet kind of pain that hummed through his whole body and made him want more.
He felt a rush of cool air and heard the slap of bare feet on the floor as Victor suddenly moved away from him. "I'll be back in a moment, I have something you might like." This was followed by the sounds of a draw being opened, then the painter returned and something cold was clamped onto first one and then his other nipple.
"That'll keep the sensation going while I attend to other parts of you." Victor said. "Not too tight are they?"
"Gods no, feels good."
Victor's mouth now travelled slowly down his torso until it reached his stiff shaft. "Fair boys always have the prettiest cocks." Sam felt Victor's warm breath against it as he spoke. "All pink and white and just asking to be eaten." And with that he licked Sam while gently squeezing his balls, then took the head into his mouth and sucked.
Sam was more aroused than he had ever been in his life, and therefore very close to orgasm already. He knew that he couldn't take much of Victor blowing him before he exploded in the painter's mouth. "Vic...Victor, I'm going to come soon." He panted.
The sucking immediately stopped, and he once again felt something cold and unfamiliar against his body, but this time the something was being wrapped fairly tightly around the base of his cock. "No you're not." Victor sounded amused, then the sucking began again, and Sam found that although he desperately wanted to climax, he couldn't.
"What have you done?" He asked, slightly concerned that it was something permanent.
"I strapped you, that's all. It's to stop overstimulated boys from blowing their loads before I want them to. Don't worry, things will return to normal when I take it off."
"When are you going to do that?" He hoped it would be soon.
"When I'm deep inside you and want to feel you tighten around me as you come, that's when."
Leaving the blindfold on Victor had untied Sam, turned him over, positioned him with his legs open and his bottom in the air, then retied his hands to the bedposts. Being put in that position made Sam very aware of Victor's intentions, and his ass tingled with the anticipation of having something inside it again.
"Gods, you look like a wanton little slut right now." Victor's tone of voice suggested that his wasn't bad thing. Sam was then suddenly surprised when the painter swatted him on one buttock hard enough to sting, but just like with his nipples earlier it was a pleasurable pain.
"Do that again." Sam said, amazed at his own boldness.
"Who would have thought that a nice country boy like you would turn out to be nearly as dirty as I am?" With that Victor spanked him again, then kept going until Sam's bottom burned from the attention, and he was gasping from the mixture sensations.
"I'm going to fuck your little red ass now." He heard the painter say, and the next thing he knew cool, slippery fingers were exploring between his stinging cheeks, and he let out groans of pleasure when first one then two of those fingers were pushed inside him. "Tell me what you want." Victor said, his fingertips touching the place that made Sam's toes curl with pleasure.
"I want..." He knew that Victor required him to be graphic here. "I want your cock right in my ass, I want you to fuck me hard...and I want you to take that thing off so I can come."
"Oh Sam." Victor breathed as he entered him slowly. "You feel so fucking good."
Once he was all the way and had given Sam a while to adjust Victor did as Sam had requested and fucked him hard. Sam could hear the man's breath as short sharp pants interspersed with low grunts.
"Going to unstrap you now." Victor reached underneath him and Sam felt the pressure around the base of his cock instantly disappear, to be replaced by a stroking hand.
"I'm coming!" Sam said as he was almost immediately engulfed by an orgasm that seemed to have been building up in strength all the time he'd had the strap on.
"Ah...FUCK!" Victor shouted as Sam's orgasming around his cock pushed him over the edge too, and the pair of them came almost simultaneously.
Once Victor had unbound him, removed the clamps and the blindfold Sam lay back in the bed with Victor's arm around his shoulders. Having been tied up the whole time Sam was now taking the opportunity to run a hand over the painter's body.
Victor gave him a deep soft kiss. "You enjoyed that." He said once he was done, it wasn't question.
"Mmm." Sam agreed, resting his head on Victor's arm, and noticing that there was a large purple red mark on his chest where the man had sucked him.
"So you'll get Fran to give you another afternoon off to come and sit for me again?"
"Mmm." He absolutely, definitely would.
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