She might have been a study in chiaroscuro. He might have been Rembrandt.
The thick dildo spearing up from the block dismissed that idea, although one only saw it when they passed behind her. The base of it, anyway, the balance of the bronze dick buried deeply in her rectum.
Balance of light and dark, movement and stillness, art and artist.
Some had called the Marquis de Sade an artist as well. Some believed his soul had been reborn in Rene’ Lambeau, who went by the affectation, The Beast.
Yet every Summer he held a show, just one show, to pose his muse for an evening of artistic torment.
The doors opened, and in they came. The rich, the famous, the curious. They came to sketch, to photograph, to oogle or just to scratch the curiosity itch.
“why would she…”
“how could he…”
“did you see the fucking size of that thing?”
Champagne, conversation, flashing lightbulbs, fame.
IN the loft that served as studio and apartment was a new tableau.
“If they only knew your inspiration, my little beast,” she cooed. She adjusted the strap on her harness, then rubbed her fingernail across his anus.
His reply was muffled by the ball gag stuffed deeply in his mouth. She smiled as muffled words turned to muted screams as she began to impale her beast with the giant dildo, one thick inch at a time.
Thanks to Panserbajorn for the great pic this week! I was so inspired by this particular pic to write 2 versions…scroll down for Beauty and the Beast, two!
(Nilla is WAYYYY over the word count this week…295!)
Want to join the Flash Fiction Challenge? C’mon it’s fun! Think of it as a collective word orgy!..you know, the more the merrier! Go see Panser (in the box to ther right…go!) for a complete list of everyone who wrote their short piece to this same pic!