The Art of Red

Lit Admin note: this story does not contain explicit sexual situations. Because future chapters will include explicit BDSM sexuality, we are placing this chapter in that category to keep the story together.

Note: This text is only getting published in merit of my gifted editor, Psycho17 -- I strongly recommend his aptitude! His editor profile may sound intimidating, but his approach and his feedback are priceless. Hadn't he touched the narrative (he hardly even touched it -- and it instantly became better!), it would've ended up forgotten (as all previous parts of the same series did).

That morning, the maddening itch for ill lechery and ruthless abuse on his Cow's gross and swelling udders suffocated him as soon as Trebor woke up. The urge was eating him alive almost as much as when he'd met her for the first time, leaving him hardly able to breathe, to reason, to ... to exist. The sensation felt like a vague memory from a past life - when his diseased libido had last taken over him like that. Back then, the Cow had been a human yet, 18, but mortally dragged into an ever degrading BDSM by her then boyfriend and now husband, Eduardo.

IT.

WAS.

AN EMERGENCY.

And WHERE in hell had the beast gone just when one needed it?!?!

Pestered, Trebor remembered he'd gotten rid of her, sticking her in a barn thousands of kilometers away from his married life.

At the beginning of his matrimony, he'd intended to keep the Cow in his life, permanently reducing her status to a slave for both Emma, his wife, and him -- but soon everything else, apart from the 19 year old Emma, had felt repulsive.

Everything.

And he had pushed away everything else, investing himself unreservedly, body and mind, in worshipping every second with his wife's unmatched beauty.

Because Emma wasn't just beautiful. She was graceful at heart and it felt like light was coming out from inside her willowy body, from her very soul. It was the light of her genuine innocence, taming, with a gentle caress, the ferocious hellhounds within his amputated soul, and keeping them at bay. His lust for his teenage wife had never experienced the usual urge to destroy her in order to obtain satisfaction. He was certainly desperate to ravage her innocence, but every time he had tried, he ended up shamelessly wallowing in it instead.

Emma's innocence was incorruptible.

And it'd become a hunger he couldn't seem to ever satiate. Being with her, toying her, teasing her, fucking her ... more so, loving her had become his top priority.

So, as she'd lulled his rotten greed to sleep, the beast had become a very unnecessary piece of furniture and had ended up in a farm house at the furthest border of the country.

What was unprecedented was that the redheaded girl had become, to Trebor, a priority above his business. And keeping their eye constantly on him for many reasons, his wealth and his corporation, his looks and young age, his extravagant lifestyle — the local media, was quite aware that in spite of any feelings or interests involved, he'd never ever put anyone let alone anything, EVER, above his business. And they'd called him heartless, merciless and even inhuman for that.

Trebor couldn't care less. Perhaps they've had more reasons than what they'd have ever imagined. It wouldn't change anything.

Therefore when he married the teen model, they'd been scandalized. More often than never, he'd read about Emma that she had brainwashed him and had him reeled around her finger. That the hot unapproachable businessman had become a girl's puppy on a leash. That he'd gotten into a kind of insanity that had disabled him completely. And finally, that the redhead had ruined a legend, turning him into a zombie.

He'd ignored them once again. It was practically useless to deny the tabloid gossips. Everyone knew they were publishing fantasies, the sole purpose being drawing attention, and at the end of the day, raising sales. Though, it was only him again, who had known how frighteningly close they were, to the truth.

The corporation hadn't crashed after he'd met his wife and devoted most of his time and energy to her — he had expanded it enough to make that impossible. But the total sales had fallen so low, it'd sobered him instantly when he'd found it out. This time, the media had remained unaware of the sleepless days and nights, and months he'd spent at the office, in a restless desperation to bring back the business, while his redhead was alone at home. As a result, he'd actually outgrown every success he has ever had before. And again, only he had known that this had also been unprecedented.

Certainly, the celebration with Emma had been befitting, too. After a heavenly vacation in the Andes, where they skied as much as they watched movies, cuddled up by the fireplace and indulged in slow debauchery, he'd technically gone back to being enraptured with the teen model.

Finally, after the initial revolt, the local media had actually started favouring the both as 'Malaysia's most beautiful and successful couple'. The union of the teen model and the young owner of an international beauty corporation had now become 'a match made in heaven'.

'Yack!', Trebor had thrown away the paper, disgusted. And once again, convinced that nothing at all mattered, but the naïve way Emma would spread her thighs on her seat in his car, just so she could let him know that her perfect little cunt was always at his disposition. He'd never been able to remain on guard against her overwhelming innocence. And little did he care if it were a drug, mind control or whatever other crap the tabloids would call it.

However, now, after a timelessness of meek growling, the hellhound within him was howling earsplitting. And it didn't thirst for innocence! It was crying for degradation and sheer sadism, for suffering and disfigurement! And it wouldn't stand

anything

else for that matter!

Right now, destroying the Beast was the only satisfaction his now awake canker would get.

When Emma's tender fingertips started tracing a path over to his shoulder, her swollen lips kissing tiny hops down his stomach, Trebor knew the redhead was waking up. At this point he'd normally lose it, and give in to the rapture of her dainty sexuality. Every detail in her was dainty — and seemingly sanctuous. Her long fingers, her brittle bones, her thighs, her heavenly vagina, her perky tits ... He surely couldn't be blamed for getting lost in her, and he had it clear, he was a damn lucky bastard to have made her his. Forever.

At the moment though, the beast within him would tear apart everything, on its way back to surface, to senseless degradation. He hardly held back from tossing her away with irritation. His voice sounded strangely even.

-- "Leave me, Emma".

Next moment her clear round eyes met up his.

-- "Did something happen, Trebor?", her fingers reached for his chin in an exquisite move, and he turned his face aside to avoid the touch.

-- "Just leave me alone!"

She froze.

-- "Leave, now!!!", it wasn't a yell but it wasn't needed to be. It was aggressive and hurtful and somewhat resembled a growl.

Though the girl had been spoiled by her husband's love, she knew enough about him to understand. She got up making her way to her bedroom.

-- "Will you call me later?"

-- "I don't know. Leave!!!"