Page 47 of Painter's Obsession

Her cunt clenches around me as I pump into her, her red manicured nails drag down my back. “You see,” she moans, her fingers thrusting into my tight hole, “I’ve taught you so many things, my love.”

The familiar heat pools in my core, threatening to spill over as I fuck her like she wants, like she’s shown me. My stomach churns when I look down, seeing the swell of her stomach where we connected.

An abomination. That’s all it could be—the offspring of two monsters.

As usual, I finish inside her. But tonight is different. I am no longer myself. The monster has taken over, guiding me into the kitchen to the knife.

I didn’t stop it.

By the time I return, she has turned to face me, her crimson nails resting on her swollen belly, a smile on her face.

The knife plunges into her side before the smile could fade.

Her screams fill the room as her blood paints the walls, the life within her extinguished before it could breathe. I stab again, and again, until the monster is satisfied. Until there is nothing left but silence.

Now, as I look at Byron, I wonder if I’ve found something worse.

He stirs in his sleep, his face contorted in defiance even now. There’s a strength in him that pulls at something inside me—a dangerous, aching curiosity. Will he break the way I did, or will he prove stronger than me?

The sound of his voice echoes in my head, sharp and cutting.“Did mommy not love you enough?”The words replay over and over until the anger settles deep, a wildfire burning under my skin.

I pull myself off the ground, walking over to where he lies. His chest rises and falls in steady rhythm, oblivious to my approach. Leaning over him, I aim my cock, the warm stream of piss falling onto his head.

The acrid smell fills the room as Byron jolts upright, his muscles coiled with rage. The chain around his neck rattles as he strains against it, his wild eyes locking onto mine.

“Fucking bastard,” he snarls, his voice thick with fury, as he wipes the piss from his face with trembling hands.

“You already fucked me,” I give him a wink which earns me a frown, that causes me to smirk. But it quickly fades as I take in the mess, pointing at the filth surrounding him. “Clean.”

“Fuck, you.” Byron’s glare burns into me, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. It’s beautiful, really. The fire in him. But fire can be extinguished. And just like I learned to fall in line and please her, so will he. I will condition him to want nothing but me.

I storm toward the food I brought in earlier, the scent of rye bread and honey ham wafting faintly in the stagnant air. “As punishment for earlier, you get no food. Until you learn, you eat when I want you to.” I toss the sandwich into the small trash can with a flick of my wrist, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “You will do what I want, when I want it. It’s better that you begin to understand that.”

Byron doesn’t say a word as he moves to his waste, his hands shaking as he begins to scoop it up. His body is rigid, every movement screaming defiance, but he does it.Good. Even a thorn bends under pressure.

“That’s better,” I say, leaning against the wall. “You want to act like an animal? Fine. I’ll treat you like one.” My voice drops, cold and sharp. “I don’t play games, and I hate repeating myself. Next time, it’ll be Gabriela that I tear through while you watch.”

He freezes, his hands pausing mid-motion, and I see it—the crack in his armor. The flicker of fear that dances across his face.Perfect. Fear is the first step toward loyalty. “How can I guarantee you won’t hurt her?”

I frown, my lips turning to a straight line as I watch his body tense. “She’s not here, is she? You are. Your behavior guarantees it.” Byron doesn’t respond, he continues to clean up in silence while I sit with my thoughts and this pent up anger. But it’s not really him I’m angry at. It’s the memory. The pity in the cops’ faces when they realized the extent of her lessons. The quiet, suffocating judgment. My fortune was enough to buy their silence, to keep it all buried. Yet I left that life behind, settling in the mountains of Laguna Bay where no one could recognize me.

Here, I’m free to be the monster she created.

My gaze returns to Byron, his shoulders sagging as he finishes cleaning. He doesn’t look at me, but his defiance lingers, a silent challenge. It’s intoxicating.

“You don’t look too well,” I mutter, cracking open his water. The bottle hisses softly as the seal breaks, and I take a long, deliberate sip. The cool liquid slides down my throat, and I smile. Maybe I’ll bless him with a drink to show him I can give him everything he needs but I can always take it away just as quickly.

He grunts, swaying slightly before catching himself on trembling arms. “That’s what happens,” he rasps, his voicehoarse and raw, “when an asshole kidnaps you...” He glances over his shoulder, his back muscles flexing with the effort. “Rapes you and deprives you of food and water.”

“I told you, it’s not rape if you want it.” I motion between us, “and you clearly want this.”

“Fuck you,” he snarls.

“Fuck me, huh?” I laugh softly, taking another sip of the water before swirling the liquid in my mouth and spitting it out near him. The splash echoes in the silent room and despite the thirst burning in his throat, the fucker won’t submit. Won’t accept defeat. “You want a drink?”

Byron dips his chin slowly, “What I gotta do for it?” Good boy. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks after all.

“Kneel,” I say, my voice slicing through the air like a blade. “Beg.”

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