Art Studio
Yes, it's something old. Rated NC-17 for language and, uh, paintbrush abuse. O.o Oh, and tons of MAWness. It's what I do. :)
Disclaimer: I don't know Linkin Park and I've never met them.
This is what I want; I swear it.
Give me my punishment even if I cannot bear it.
I know exactly what I deserve.
Give a cut to your slut, you fucking perv.
But I want this.
I need this.
You want to see my blood stain the floor and white walls.
How can you resist?
"How could you do this to me?"
Chester's voice rang in Mike's ears. Mike was blindfolded and tied up to a chair in the middle of his art studio. He had disappointed Chester once again. Chester always said that he wasn't good enough, or smart enough, or strong enough. But this wasn’t the reason he was disappointed this time. Chester had found out about the other man Mike had been fucking. He had been doing a nude painting for him. Fucking bastard. It didn't matter who the guy was, it was the fact that it someone else. He wasn't willing to share his boyfriend with anyone.
Mike could hear Chester move across the hardwood floor. Soon, he felt something cut his t-shirt in two. Chester had found a drawer with a Xacto knife and was now using it on Mike's shirt. He cut down the middle but decided to move closer to Mike's skin, leaving a thin, red line down his lightly tanned chest. Chester did the same with Mike's cargo pants, but since the cargos are thicker he had to apply more pressure. This time the knife cut deeper into Mike's flesh. Blood rose quickly from the thin wound on his leg. Soon Chester stopped and laid the Xacto knife on the floor.
He heard his footsteps again. Mike heard him rummage through some things. Chester knocked over some black and red paint but didn't care. He finally found the paintbrushes and grabbed three of them. He slowly walked back over to Mike and picked up the knife again. Chester cut the crotch of Mike's pants, ripping his boxers as well. He put the wooden end of the brush into Mike's entrance. Then he soon rammed the other two in. Mike screamed out, tears dampening his blindfold. Chester took a rubber band out of his pocket to put on the brushes so they could stay in place. He pushed the brushes in and out harshly making his boyfriend release deafening screams that echoed in the studio. Blood covered the light colored wood of the brushes.
"Did you really think you could get away with this?" he yelled. "Did you really think you were smart enough to fool me? You fucking bitch." Chester managed to push the brushes in even harder. After a few moments, he finally stopped and untied Mike from the chair. He was too weak from the assault and fell to the floor, landing in the paint Chester had spilled. Chester straddled Mike and started punching him. Mike could taste the metallic taste of his blood. A trail left his nose and traveled past his lips. Chester pushed Mike up against the white wall of the studio, the red and black paint making a brown stain on the wall. Chester grabbed the knife and held it menacingly over Mike's face.
"Do you think this is what they mean by suffering for your art?" he asked. "If you ever betray me like this again, I promise you it'll be worse than this time. I fucking promise you."
Chester got up and placed some clothes by the door. "Get changed and let's go." He walked calmly out of the art studio, leaving a weeping Mike lying on the floor.
Chester's feet lightly sloshed in the paint. Mike was still on his back, frozen from fear, paint hardening in his beautiful black hair. He just looked down at his boyfriend. He wanted to see the fear in Mike's eyes so he took off the tear-soaked blindfold. The brown eyes belonging to the half-Asian were still watering. Mike looked up at Chester and saw the rage in his eyes. But Chaz still didn't think he had done enough. He had to make sure that Mike understood not to betray him. He sloshed in the paint again, and suddenly Chester kicked Mike in his ribs, leaving the footprint of his shoe on Mike in the brownish paint. The crack of the rib was like music to his ears. He kicked again, hearing another crack and a loud yelp. Chester then took his foot and lightly rubbed into the place where he had kicked Mike. He looked down again and saw the paint dry into his carving he had placed on Mike's chest. He looked even farther up and saw the tears rolling down his face. He heard the wheezy breathing. He smelled the paint and blood
Chester knelt down, his hands getting stained. He put his face close to Mike's, his hot breath making the below him tremble and shake. Making him shake so hard you could hear the slapping of the paint against Mike's back. He grabbed his chin, the paint and Mike's tears almost making it slip from his grasp.
"Tomorrow, you're going to call that bastard and tell him you can't paint him anymore. Understand?" Chester ordered.
Mike didn't speak. His uneven breaths filled the silence for a few moments. When Chaz didn't get a response he slapped Mike; the brownish paint leaving a handprint. Another yelp from Mike.
"Do you fucking understand?" Chaz yelled.
This time Mike nodded and in a raspy voice said, "Yes. Tomorrow. No more paint."
"Good." Chester smiled. He got up and walked to the other side of the room and pulled something out of a duffel bag. He put the things on the unstained part of the floor and put the bag over his shoulder.
"Here are some clothes, babe. I'm going to wash this paint off. I'll wait for you the car. Love ya."
Disclaimer: I don't know Linkin Park and I've never met them.
This is what I want; I swear it.
Give me my punishment even if I cannot bear it.
I know exactly what I deserve.
Give a cut to your slut, you fucking perv.
But I want this.
I need this.
You want to see my blood stain the floor and white walls.
How can you resist?
"How could you do this to me?"
Chester's voice rang in Mike's ears. Mike was blindfolded and tied up to a chair in the middle of his art studio. He had disappointed Chester once again. Chester always said that he wasn't good enough, or smart enough, or strong enough. But this wasn’t the reason he was disappointed this time. Chester had found out about the other man Mike had been fucking. He had been doing a nude painting for him. Fucking bastard. It didn't matter who the guy was, it was the fact that it someone else. He wasn't willing to share his boyfriend with anyone.
Mike could hear Chester move across the hardwood floor. Soon, he felt something cut his t-shirt in two. Chester had found a drawer with a Xacto knife and was now using it on Mike's shirt. He cut down the middle but decided to move closer to Mike's skin, leaving a thin, red line down his lightly tanned chest. Chester did the same with Mike's cargo pants, but since the cargos are thicker he had to apply more pressure. This time the knife cut deeper into Mike's flesh. Blood rose quickly from the thin wound on his leg. Soon Chester stopped and laid the Xacto knife on the floor.
He heard his footsteps again. Mike heard him rummage through some things. Chester knocked over some black and red paint but didn't care. He finally found the paintbrushes and grabbed three of them. He slowly walked back over to Mike and picked up the knife again. Chester cut the crotch of Mike's pants, ripping his boxers as well. He put the wooden end of the brush into Mike's entrance. Then he soon rammed the other two in. Mike screamed out, tears dampening his blindfold. Chester took a rubber band out of his pocket to put on the brushes so they could stay in place. He pushed the brushes in and out harshly making his boyfriend release deafening screams that echoed in the studio. Blood covered the light colored wood of the brushes.
"Did you really think you could get away with this?" he yelled. "Did you really think you were smart enough to fool me? You fucking bitch." Chester managed to push the brushes in even harder. After a few moments, he finally stopped and untied Mike from the chair. He was too weak from the assault and fell to the floor, landing in the paint Chester had spilled. Chester straddled Mike and started punching him. Mike could taste the metallic taste of his blood. A trail left his nose and traveled past his lips. Chester pushed Mike up against the white wall of the studio, the red and black paint making a brown stain on the wall. Chester grabbed the knife and held it menacingly over Mike's face.
"Do you think this is what they mean by suffering for your art?" he asked. "If you ever betray me like this again, I promise you it'll be worse than this time. I fucking promise you."
Chester got up and placed some clothes by the door. "Get changed and let's go." He walked calmly out of the art studio, leaving a weeping Mike lying on the floor.
Chester's feet lightly sloshed in the paint. Mike was still on his back, frozen from fear, paint hardening in his beautiful black hair. He just looked down at his boyfriend. He wanted to see the fear in Mike's eyes so he took off the tear-soaked blindfold. The brown eyes belonging to the half-Asian were still watering. Mike looked up at Chester and saw the rage in his eyes. But Chaz still didn't think he had done enough. He had to make sure that Mike understood not to betray him. He sloshed in the paint again, and suddenly Chester kicked Mike in his ribs, leaving the footprint of his shoe on Mike in the brownish paint. The crack of the rib was like music to his ears. He kicked again, hearing another crack and a loud yelp. Chester then took his foot and lightly rubbed into the place where he had kicked Mike. He looked down again and saw the paint dry into his carving he had placed on Mike's chest. He looked even farther up and saw the tears rolling down his face. He heard the wheezy breathing. He smelled the paint and blood
Chester knelt down, his hands getting stained. He put his face close to Mike's, his hot breath making the below him tremble and shake. Making him shake so hard you could hear the slapping of the paint against Mike's back. He grabbed his chin, the paint and Mike's tears almost making it slip from his grasp.
"Tomorrow, you're going to call that bastard and tell him you can't paint him anymore. Understand?" Chester ordered.
Mike didn't speak. His uneven breaths filled the silence for a few moments. When Chaz didn't get a response he slapped Mike; the brownish paint leaving a handprint. Another yelp from Mike.
"Do you fucking understand?" Chaz yelled.
This time Mike nodded and in a raspy voice said, "Yes. Tomorrow. No more paint."
"Good." Chester smiled. He got up and walked to the other side of the room and pulled something out of a duffel bag. He put the things on the unstained part of the floor and put the bag over his shoulder.
"Here are some clothes, babe. I'm going to wash this paint off. I'll wait for you the car. Love ya."