Kat laughed. “You want to do what?!”
Derek had met Katrina, Kat to her friends, just two weeks earlier and had been amazed that such a young girl had not only found a man his age attractive enough to sleep with, but had never objected to joining in with his increasingly unusual games. Nothing seemed too bizarre for her.
He ran a hand over her smooth stomach, letting a finger circle her navel. “I said I’ve bought some body paint, and I want to cover you with it.”
“Then I’m all yours, get the paints!”
Derek started with a deep blue, his delicate brush tracing a line from the centre of her forehead down over her nose and mouth to the top of her sternum. Here he switched to a broader brush loaded with yellow paint, which ran over her left breast, producing a giggle from Kat, down to the small triangle of hair between her legs. He then went back to the top of her sternum and painted an identical line down her right side.
“Ooh, this tickles,” cooed Kat.
“I’ve not finished yet,” said Derek reaching for his smallest brush which he dipped into shocking pink.
The game continued as Kat’s naked body was daubed with a mass of lines, wide and narrow, in every hue imaginable. She sighed occasionally when the wet brush stroked a particularly sensitive part of her body, while Derek remained quiet, concentrating on the task at hand.
Finally he announced he was finished, and after taking a few trophy Polaroids, handed her a large glass of wine loaded with Rohypnol.
Once she was asleep, Derek went to his kitchen and fitted the new blade he had bought to his Stanley knife. The keen blade glinted as he returned to the bedroom to survey his artwork. Some of the lines he’d painted he now regretted, but didn’t concern himself unduly because he knew full well that there was always more than one way to skin a Kat.
By Nick Allen
The Carnage Conservatory 