The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Chromachondria 
by Elaine Pascale 

Version 12.12 of the painting paramour extension fulfilled all it promised. As an art lover, Ruben had no interest in the real girl experiences that other men paid for. He felt that the overly designed breasts and enhanced waist-to-hip ratios lacked finesse and grace. With version 12.12 of the painting paramour extension he was able to engage in virtual dalliances with famous subjects of the canvases he so admired and no longer had to travel to see. But the extension did more than allow him to see. The images were in 3-D and when he reached out with the special gloves his hand encountered soft, warm skin that felt just as real as his own. He swore he could smell the painted projections.

The first painting he tried with the VR headset and gloves was Titian’s Venus of Urbino. Venus looked at him coyly, her sumptuous naked body divine. He grew tired of her faster than he anticipated so he moved onto Diego Velázquez’ The Rokeby Venus. He stroked the pale buttocks while filling in the gaps of her blurred countenance with a variety of women who had rejected him. Realizing that consent was nonexistent in this extension, he gave her a playful slap, followed by an extensive spanking until he was spent.

He devoted months to squeezing and pinching and forcing his way on countless famous nudes, growing more and more bored of the endlessly available curves and brush-stroked coquettishness. He was frustrated that their sly smiles kept their mouths shut when he wanted them to taste him. He was nearly to the point of giving up the art product entirely when he was offered an upgrade labelled “danger.”

His heart beat faster as he waited for the upgrade to download.

He clicked on what was promised to be a thrilling experience and was taken to The Execution of Lady Jane Grey by Paul Delaroche. Lady Jane was blindfolded and trying to find the block where she would place her neck so that her head could be severed from her body. The executioner regarded her with as much sympathy as a carrion crow gazing at the carcass of a rabbit. Initially, Ruben wished to save the girl from what awaited her, but he realized how stimulated he was by the danger she was in. He was more aroused than he had been in a long time.

He was next suggested to enter something “terrifying” and was brought to John Singleton Copley’s Watson and the Shark. Ruben was provided the perspective of leaning over the side a dingy, trying to reach young Watson before he fell prey to the ravenous shark. Yet Ruben did not lean too far, wanting to see the culmination of the action, which he knew was the loss of the lad’s leg. Imagining that severing bite sent spasms of ecstasy through his body.

The next suggestion was labelled “risky” and Ruben landed on the turbulent sea of Winslow Homer’s The Fog Warning. He was assaulted by the smell of the large dead halibut and pelted by the cold ocean spray as the dory rocked precariously. The fog was closing in and the mother ship was drifting out of sight.

“No thank you,” Ruben said and clicked on the icon to return him to the main page.

The next suggested upgrade was called “no turning back.” It came with a warning that it was only for the most intense aficionados.  

What’s this? Ruben was confused after being confronted with a painting he could not place. The subject was a large face and a beautiful one at that. Oceanic blue splotches colored her right and sunrise yellow her left. There were broad strokes of crimson at her lips.

While splendidly painted, there was no action in the image, no danger, which had become his kink. Strangely, he found himself engorged despite the lack of peril. He reached for her lips with his special gloves, noting that he could easily fit inside her giant mouth. That idea became more and more enticing; he imagined himself lying on her soft, wet tongue, his body being stroked by her lips.

“Can you open your mouth?” he whispered, thrilling when she followed his command.

Her mouth smelled like cinnamon and he willingly climbed in. Her lips slammed shut, trapping him in darkness.

“Taste me,” he commanded. This experience was far more realistic than the previous ones. Her tongue moved beneath him, the undulations making him delirious. Her tongue lifted to the roof of her mouth, pushing him toward her throat.

“This is not—” he started to say, but her saliva quickly engulfed him.

Then, she swallowed.

.

Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of Pixaby.com

More from Elaine Pascale:

The Kitchen Witches

The women of Cape Cod have a story that is dying to be told. If only they could live long enough to tell it.

When Fiona Walker is contracted to write about a party attended by her social circle, her friends begin dying. She captures the competition and misery of the women around her through three different stories.

In Wishes, Melanie Voss discovers a Time Between Time where nothing that happens counts. Initially, Time Between Time is a welcome escape from a life spent watching the clock while doing chores for her family. But something sinister is in the Time Between Time and it is headed straight for Melanie.

Death and Taxes tells the story of Nashville DeCota, the Cape Capo. Nash swears that she is not the Island Impaler, nor the Tooth Snatcher, but she has just as many skeletons in her closet. When her husband, Derrick, is kidnapped, she has to come clean about her crimes if she ever wants to see him again.

Fiona tells her own story in Hazing, where she finds that the real source of evil behind the deaths of her friends is worse than she could have ever imagined.

Available on Amazon!