{"sf1_id":746488,"sf2_id":null,"title":"The Artist’s Model","author":"StGeorgesHorse","words":3841,"posted_at":"2014-08-20T00:11:00.000Z","tags":["Age Difference","Anthropomorphic","Cub","Equine","Horse","Love","M/F","Vaginal","Youth","artist","burro","colt","marriage","mixed breed"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/746488-the-artist-s-model","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/746488","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=746488\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"#15 of Miscellany\n\nPart of a writing marathon today. Four stories and now I'm brain dead. No, that's a good thing. Really. And if you think of any other tags, feel free to add them. I'm too worn out to think straight.","content":"\n                I have\nloved to paint and sculpt for years. My wife has seen me at my best and at my\nworst. She is a special creature. I hardly deserve her and I thank the day fate\ndropped her into my lap. Well, not my lap precisely.\n                There\nare times when I allow my mind to wander back to the early days. I never knew\nmuch else except for art. Father was a well-to-do merchant, and mother died\nwhen I was young. I knew more of nannies than I did of motherly love.\n                I had\nno propensity for facts and figures. Father found that out quickly. He tried to\ninterest me in the business, but there was no point in trying to force the\nissue. A bad accountant would destroy everything he had worked so hard for.\n                As a\nchild, I liked to doodle and draw, so he sent me to an art school. I did well\nhere, amongst the brushes and paints, the marble and the chisels. I soon found\na love for all the various bodies and forms that I found around me. I was one\nof the only equines in the class. My size made me a bit clumsy in the cramped\nstudio, but my physique drew the attention of all. I spent as much time\nmodeling as I did rendering my own artwork. The ladies in particular liked me\nfor my; endowments.\n                Ask me\nlater, and I'll tell you a few tales from those heady days of my youth. This\nstory starts much later. Father had died and left me the house and a small\nfortune. I was well known to the critics by then, but his death precipitated my\ngreat depression, what they called my blue period. Everything I did was dark\nand horror filled.\n                I was\nsitting in the gardens one day when I heard an unfamiliar sound. I looked\naround and spied a waif, one of the little street urchins that abounded in this\nplace. She was dressed in rags and was trying her best to get an apple from one\nof the many trees that grew there. The garden was walled off from the public,\nbut a spry person could obviously breach its height. \n                By the\ntime she saw me, it was too late to run. I grabbed her by the cuff to keep her\nfrom escaping. I reached up into the tree and pulled down a lovely red one and\nhanded it to her. She grabbed it and cradled it for a moment. \n                \"What's\nit going to cost me mister?\"\n                \"Nothing.\nI have more than I need and you are welcome to this one.\"\n                \"I\ndon't like stealing. What can I do to repay you?\"\n                I was\ngoing to tell her again that I wanted nothing, but I could see in her eyes that\nshe wasn't a bad person, just one that was tired, hungry and alone. \"I'll tell\nyou what. You come here every day and talk with me, and I'll give you something\nto eat each time. But it must be you and you alone. I'll not be overrun with\nlittle thieves.\"\n                She\nnodded quietly, bit into the apple, careful not to lose a drop of juice. I had\neaten a ton of the things and I don't think I ever got that much pleasure from\ndoing it as she did that moment. I watched her disappear over the wall. For a\nbrief minute, my day had been brighter.\n                She\ncame back at the same time the next day. I had a meal sitting out on the table,\nof warm bread, wine, cooked barley and oats. She was an herbivore like me,\nthough in her size I would say maybe burro, with a mix of something else. There\nweren't a lot of pure bloods anymore. Even the felines and the canines where\ngetting jumbled in their lineages. Overall, this was merely an observation, not\na commentary. I hardly cared what the world did in its spare time.\n                She saw\nthe food and her eyes went wide. I held up a hand. \"Here in my house, we have\nmanners. You will wash your hands before eating.\" I showed her to a running\nfountain, where she washed the grime from her hands. She ended up eating enough\nto give me a stomachache. Her little coat was straining at the seams by the\ntime she was done.\n                \"Thanks\nmister. Are you sure I can't do something for you?\"\n                \"Tell\nme about yourself, and about the world outside. I so rarely visit it anymore.\"\n                She\nlooked around the gardens. \"I can see why. There is so much beauty here.\nOutside, it's garbage and rot. I'd stay here too if I could.\"\n                It made\nme smile. I guess I had forgotten how nice it is to share. \"It is nice. But\nwhat of you? Don't you have a home?\"\n                She\nstraightened her clothing. \"Not really. Lost my mother last year, and I haven't\nseen my father in three before that. Ain't got no brothers of sisters, so it's\njust me.\"\n                It\ndidn't seem right, though I was hardly in the position to convert the world\nover to being a better place. \"Would you like a job?\"\n                She was\nstreet wise, this one. \"Doing what exactly?\" You could almost see her getting\nready to dash for the wall.\n                \"Artist's\nmodel. I haven't had the energy to paint in a while. I think maybe I need\nsomething that sparks my interest. Something like you.\"\n                \"I'm a\nsomeone thank you!\" she answered tartly.\n                \"Yes,\nyes you are. So I guess as such, we should introduce ourselves. My name is\nCornillan Moderius. You are?\"\n                She\nbacked a way for a moment. \"The Cornillan Moderius?\"\n                I\nsighed. \"Is there any other?\"\n                She\nreached into her tattered clothing and pulled out a battered piece of canvas.\nShe handed it to me. I had to smile. \"Where did you get this child? I thought\nthe whole thing was destroyed when the Caravellia Museum caught fire last\nyear.\"\n                It was\nthe corner of one of my paintings that had been hung proudly in the museum.\nThis corner of it was burned on all sides, but my signature, with its odd\nflourish, was still visible on the charred surface.\n                \"I\nfound it in the street. I used to sneak into the museum to see the beautiful\nthings people had created. I had no idea you were the same artist that had\ncreated that masterpiece.\"\n                \"It's a\nsmall world...\"\n                She\nstared at me for a moment before realizing I was waiting for her name. \"My name\nis Penelope. Penelope Martins. \"\n                I\nhanded the scrap back to her. \"Well Penelope, you like art do you? Follow me.\"\n                She was\nstill a little in awe of who I was. I wasn't. I was just another creature on\nthis world that lived and died and if they were lucky, made a positive impact\non it in some way or another. I wasn't feeling too confident of the latter any\nmore. \n                Inside\nthe house it was packed with paintings and sculptures, some by me, and some by\nfriends. Many of them belonged in a museum, but the fire last year had showed\nme how fragile our works could be. I now tended to horde my work rather than\nshare it. But I felt a small thrill at finally being able to show it off to\nsomeone who genuinely cared. This little girl, a mere waif of an equine; she\nnow meant more to me than any critic or friend had ever had.\n                Needless\nto say she fell in love with my house. And I fell in love with her. Oh, now\ndon't go thinking anything bad of me. I loved her company and nothing more. Or\nso I thought. I allowed her to come and go as she pleased, but over time, she\nspent longer and longer hours in the confines of my house. I made a decision\none day that I hoped I wouldn't regret.\n                She\ncame over the wall one day, looking dirty and bearing a nasty cut. I had had\nenough. \"Penelope?\"\n                Her\nsmiled was warm. \"Yes?\"\n                \"Remember\nwhen I asked you if you wanted a job?\"\n                \"Sure.\nI thought you were kidding.\"\n                \"No.\nI'd like to hire you as an artist's model. I think that what I need is some\ninspiration in my painting.\"\n                \"What\nwould I have to do?\"\n                \"Model.\"\n                \"I get\nthat. I mean like what and how?\"\n                \"Whenever\nI feel like painting.\"\n                \"I mean,\nwould I have to be naked?\" She didn't sound all that disappointed with that\nidea.\n                \"I\nsuppose maybe. I haven't thought that far ahead.\"\n                \"How\nfar ahead have you thought this through?\"\n                I\npulled out a box. It was large, but not overly heavy. I set it down in front of\nher. \"What am I supposed to do with this? Is this where I'm supposed to live?\"\n                I could\ntell she was being funny. \"Open it!\"\n                She\npulled open the top and stared inside. The first thing she pulled out was a\nsmock. After that, a new dress cut as close to her size as I could have the\ntailor manage. There were shoes, stockings, hats, bed sheets, and in the\nbottom, canvases, paints and brushes. The color drained from her face.\n                \"All\nthis for me?\"\n                \"If you\nwant it. Call it an advance on your wages!\"\n                She\nnever left after that day. I drew her a bath, complete with bubbles, and made\nher get in it. It was strange, taking care of another being. I had looked only\nto my own needs for so long. As it turned out, under all that dirt was a\nbeautiful little creature. Sure, she wasn't a pure blood, but that didn't\nmatter. She was, once she was clean and dry, a lovely little lady with coltish\ngood looks.\n                 I guess I was staring at her a little too\nlong. \"Should I get dressed, or should I start modeling now?\"\n                I\nsnapped back to reality. \"Get dressed girl. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was\nthinking.\" Oh, I did too. I was such a liar.\n                I found\ndelight in teaching her to see things with an artist's eye, not only the\ncolors, but the shadows and the light. She was a quick learner, and when she\nwasn't learning to master the brush, she would sit quietly for me. There were\ntimes when I asked her to strip, and she was always willing without a fight. \n                As time\nwent on, I tended to prefer her that way. I longed to look at her, and would at\ntimes forget my canvas until the paint dried on the palate. Still when I could\npull myself away, the work I would do was wonderful. I didn't think so, but\nMagelleni the dealer did. He came by from time to time to try and get me to\npart with some older works.  At these\ntimes, I would have her hide away. I did not want to have people questioning me\nabout her. Street folk were looked on as inferior and disgusting. \n                He\nstepped into the garden and saw the one I was working on at the time. He looked\nat it, got in close with his glasses, stepped back, and then walked around it\nbefore stopping again.\n                \"Who is\nthis intriguing creature?\"\n                \"No one\nof importance.\"\n                \"As\nlikely as not, but whose is she. She is exquisite!\"\n                \"Someone\nI know. Let's leave it at that.\"\n                \"Oh, I\nsee. A lover is it? That would account for the brighter colors and the vibrant\ndetails that you had seemingly forgotten. I don't care who she is! Just keep\nher around. And please consider selling a few pieces. I have collectors\nclamoring to have one of yours.  The\nmuseum has rebuilt the damaged section and they too would like a replacement\nfor the one that was burned...\" His eyes fell on a scrap sitting on the table.\n                He\npicked it up. \"Is this?\"\n                \"It\nis.\"\n                \"Where\ndid you get this?\"\n                I\npointed to the painting. \"It came from heaven where this girl came from.\"\n                He\nnodded. \"Yes, just add some wings and she would be fit to roam the clouds\nabove.\" He set down the salvaged scrap. \"I'd like to meet her someday.\"\n                \"When\nshe's good enough for you to judge her art, then maybe you will.\"\n                \"Oh ho!\nModel and painter. I believe that was your calling at one time. I will look\nforward to what she has to offer.\"\n                As he\nwalked away, I mumbled to myself, \"So will I\"\n                The\ndoor closed. I heard a faint voice. \"What did you mean?\"\n                It was Penelope\nof course. \"Mean by what?\"\n                \"You\nsaid so will I. I believe Master\nMagenelli said he would be looking forward to what I had to offer.\"\n                \"It was\nnothing, just an offhand comment. \"\n                She was\ninsistent.\" It was not an offhand comment. I had lived here long enough to know\nwhat you're thinking, and this time, I don't understand what you meant. Are you\ntalking about my art?\"\n                \"I\ndon't know Penelope. Sometimes I feel that...\"\n                \"Yes?\"\nHer voice rose a little. \n                \"It's\njust the desires of a tired old horse. You've managed to brighten my days and\ngive me a reason to look forward to each passing day. I just thought that\nmaybe...\"\n                \"Yes?\"\nHe voice was trembling with eagerness. \n                I\ncouldn't say it. If I scared her off I would be alone again. \n                \"Say it\nplease master!\"\n                \"I AM\nNOT YOUR MASTER!\"\n                Tears\nformed in her eyes. \"Why are you angry with me?\"\n                I\ndropped to the floor. \"I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with me. I should\nnever have brought you here. It was a fool's dream.\"\n                Her\npetite hand came to rest on mine. \"I did not mean any disrespect when I called\nyou master. I was referring to your prowess as a teacher. I am your humble\nstudent, and you are my master.\"\n                I\nsuddenly felt ashamed. \"You are a wonderful student. I thought that you were\nthinking of yourself as a servant or a slave. I could have no part of that.\"\n                \"You\nhave treated me well always. I have no complaints. So why do you fret so?\"\n                I drew\nin a breath. \"Because I don't want to lose you. I never knew how lonely I was\nuntil you came along. Now, I don't know what I would do without you!\" \n                \"So you\nstill can't say it?\"\n                \"Say\nwhat?\"\n                \"I'll\ngo first. I love you.\"\n                I was\nstunned. \"Do you mean it?\" Her smile was enough to melt my heart into a sopping\npuddle. \"Do you really mean it?\"\n                Her\nhand gave mine a squeeze. \"Of course I do. How could I not love you? You took\nme in, you gave me food and clothing. You taught me how to paint! And you asked\nfor so little in return. Anytime, you could have asked for so much more from me\nbut you didn't. Now you have everything I can possibly give at your disposal,\nand yet you fail to see it.\"\n                I was\ntoo stunned for words. I reached out and hugged her close. Her body relaxed\ninto mine. All those days of staring at her naked body had been wasted. I could\nhave been hugging it and more. True, she was young and I was old. But I was\nbeyond caring. I had rediscovered a purpose to my life. \n                \"Penelope,\nwill you marry me?\"\n                 \"I thought you'd never ask!\"\n                I\nsobered up right then. \"You know, it'll be a few years before the law will\nrecognize you as being old enough to marry, since you don't have parents to\nvouch for you.\"\n                \"I'll\nwait!\"\n                \"Time\nis more on your side. It is less a friend to me now than before.\"\n                \"So\nwhat do you suggest?\"\n                \"That\nwe carry on as before, until such time as the law agrees to our marriage.\"\n                \"Nope.\nI will have no part of that.\"\n                My\nheart sank until she spoke again. \"We have wasted enough time. I hardly need a\npiece of parchment to tell me where my heart lies. It lies with you. Will you\ndo me the honor of gracing my bed tonight?\"\n                I felt\na quiver in my legs. \"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!\"\n                I\nthought I was going to suffer a heart attack before the sun dropped and night\nfell. I went to her room and knocked. A voice inside beckoned me in. I had\nstayed out of her rooms from the moment she moved in. I wanted her to have her\nown place, somewhere where she could get away even from me if she needed to.\nShe spent so much time with me that I failed to notice what should have been\nobvious. She didn't want to be away from me, she wanted to be with me.\n                I\nentered quietly, not knowing what to expect. I don't know what I could have dreamed\nof, because what she had done was beyond it. The lights were lit above the bed,\nand she was on it, wearing her one costume from the painting Magelleni had\nremarked upon. She was such a different creature from when she had first\nclimbed over my walls to steal my apples. That seemed like ages ago.  \n                With\nher mane styled, and her fur trimmed, with white teeth and bright eyes, she was\nas far from the street as you could get. The white diaphanous gown was\npointless as an article of clothing, for it hid nothing from the eyes. Her\nbreasts were budding hills, and I knew what lay lower from the many times I had\nseen her undress for her modeling. Only now, I knew I would be allowed to\nsample it for the first time. I was shaking I was so nervous.\n                I felt\nlike a foolish teenager. Not in years had I felt this unsure of myself. It made\nme giddy. She sensed my discomfiture and extended a hand. \"I have waited too\nlong for this moment my love. Let's not tarry it away with unnecessary delay.\"\n                I could\nhear her old voice in the back of my head. She had grown up so much. It was so\nhard to believe that they were one in the same girl. I knelt on the bed as she\nmoved over, the smile never once leaving her face. I relaxed into my role as\nlover, rekindling old memories as to how best proceed. \n                That's\nwhen it dawned on me that I might want to get undressed before getting into\nbed. I stood and dropped my clothing, doing my best to not be shy in front of\nher. How long had she modeled for me without a touch of crimson in her cheeks.  As it was, this was the very first time I had\ntaken such a liberty. She leaned forward and ran a finger along the length of\nmy cock.\n                \"Oh my.\nIt looks like you've saved your best lessons for last my master. This is the\nmost intriguing tool yet!\"\n                It was\nspringing to life under her gentle touch. I climbed into bed and leaned over\nher, kissing her soundly. She returned it with enough fire to stoke my long\ndormant furnaces to a raging inferno.  I\nsuddenly felt years younger. I might not by the end of the night, but I was\nawash in the flames of love. And love conquers all, they say.\n                Penelope\nwas quietly unwrapping herself from the folds of the gown she was wearing. When\nshe was done, she presented herself openly and plainly. \"Come here, my love,\"\nshe cooed in my ear, and I was quick to comply.  Her hand instinctively guided my engorged cock\nto her hole. I outsized her, now and forever, but I'll have you know that she\ntook me in; all of me in... that very first time. \n                She was\nan incredible lover, because when it came down to the basics, this is what\nmaking love was all about. Not just physical horseplay, but intimate, loving\nentwinement. Becoming one. I felt my soul cling to hers that night, digging in\nand not letting go. It was the last day of my blue period. From then on, it was\nsaid that I had a renaissance in my work. It was only years later, after we\nwere married, that the truth came out. I was surprised how few found fault in\nmy choice. Penelope went on to become famed in her own right. But that is\nanother story.\n                I was\non top, feeling the heat of her body comingling with mine. I swear; the sheets\nshould have smoldered and caught fire! Her hand's rubbed my chest, and mine\nrubbed hers, playing lightly over her delicate nipples. They seemed like ham\nhands compared to her body, she was so undersized, but she enjoyed every minute\nof it, maybe even more than I did.  I\ncarefully thrust into her, taking extreme caution not to damage her on the\nfirst night.\n                She\nwould have none of it. \"I won't break lover! I'm made of sterner stuff!\"\n                I\npressed a little harder. She tweaked some of my mane hairs. \"Really? Is that\nall you've got?\"\n                I knew\nshe wasn't being petty or demeaning. She honestly wanted me to step it up. So I\ndid. I pulled back and delivered a solid thrust that pushed her insides up an\ninch. She let out a gasp. \"Now that's more like it!\"\n                Having found\nmy mark, I proceeded to work away the evening, cumming multiple times and\nmaking a mess of her bed. She didn't mind, In fact, I think she had planned it\nthis way. After the seventh time, wherein, I had her on top and allowed her to\nbe dominant in our act, she whispered to me, \"Lover, I think maybe I'll need to\nsleep in your bed tonight. Look at the mess we've made of mine!\"\n                I\nyawned sleepily. It was the age factor creeping in. \"I agree. But then, if you\nstart sleeping in my bed, who's going to sleep in this one?\"\n                She got\nthe biggest grin you can imagine. \"Oh, it'll see plenty of use! Just not for\nsleeping!\""}