I usually don't post my stories in their entirety, but since I do not have this title up for sale (yet), I am gifting the readers of my work with this raw second draft of Red Passion, completely for your enjoyment.
The twin suns poured the heat of their blue fire upon the city of Thalanamei, turning the buildings a blinding white. Beneath cloudless cerulean skies, citizens bustled about in their daily routines.
Red Passion stared at the shops and markets passed along the way to the coliseum, barely able to contain himself in his seat. The caramel skinned citizens wore flowing white robes with gold sandals strapped to their feet. He also noted both Mistress and male sported their ebony tresses in elaborate coifs, which defied gravity. Frowning, he gripped two handfuls of his crimson hair and pulled it straight up. It only poured from his fingers to spill down his back once more. How did they ever get it to stay up that way?
Red Passion pressed his nose closer to the glass and licked his lips with a smile. The food and wares set out under canopies on the crowded street echoed every color of the rainbow. His eyes widened in the next moment when he noticed the Mistresses of this land conversing with their males. None of the males had leashes so he couldn't distinguish pets from slaves.
Red Passion's fingers closed around the gold leash attached to his jeweled collar, feeling the comforting weight of the links. "Night Moon," he began, "do you suppose our beautiful Mistress Azana is from this land?"
Their Mistress' skin was deep mahogany, much darker than the citizens of Thalanamei. She liked to converse with Red Passion—of course, never in public. Mistresses from the southern regions of Utuduo never bestowed such honor upon lowly males, at least any he knew of.
He sighed in wonder when a female laughed with her young male escort, feeling longing flutter in his gut. How would it feel to have such attentions? He would surely swoon to the floor like an untried youth if Mistress Azana displayed such affection toward him in public.
Red Passion's face flamed in shame. Mistress Azana was good to him, sweet and loving. He shouldn't aspire for more. She more than spoiled him already.
He turned to look at his young companion.
Once again, the young pet fussed over his reflection in the dark glass of the transport enclosing them. Red Passion didn't understand Night Moon's lack of self-confidence. The boy was beautiful. His hair fell to his waist in a mass of black gloss that only served to heighten the azure of his eyes and paleness of his creamy skin.
"I-I'm getting a blemish!"
Red Passion heard the threat of tears in the whelp's voice. "Nonsense—you're fine."
Night Moon turned horrified eyes to him and pointed to his chin. "Right there, Red, it hurts there."
Already, the whelp hyperventilated with mounting distress. He'd work himself into frenzy if Red Passion didn't do something quick.
"Night Moon, I see nothing," he chastised. "Keep up your frantic whining and you're going to render yourself impotent for our showcase. Our beautiful Mistress will be shamed."
His eyes widened and he shook his head. "No—never! I would never shame her in such a manner." As if to prove himself, he dropped to his knees before Red Passion and divested himself of his robe. Head bowed with difference, Night Moon sat back on his haunches and lifted his arms in the traditional submissive position of a sex pet. Immediately the whelp's cock thickened and lengthened until it pressed fully erect against his muscled belly.
"You're a beautiful boy," Red sighed, caressing his cheek. "You're going to worry yourself into an old man before time."
"I'm not as beautiful as you," the boy sighed with a dejected pout.
Red Passion smiled at the silly boy. "Our mistress would not have acquired you if you weren't."
Night Moon turned his face into Red Passion's caress, his lip quivering as the first tear rolled down the smooth curve of his cheek. "She only allows you to couple with her. She barely touches me."
Red chuckled. "You're just a whelp."
Night Moon's eyes flashed in anger as he stood, bringing his erection up to the level of Red's face. Red Passion tried to suppress his laughter at the boy's show of male bravado. "My cock's just as big as yours. I'm fully capable of pleasuring her as well as you."
"And the day she decides to purge you of your virginity, I'm sure you will," Red replied in a soothing voice. "For now, it pleases her to see your ardor for her. Mistress wants to own your soul as well as your cock, Night Moon."
* * *
The golden sunshine poured through every window in Emily's house, the reflection making hardwood floors gleam. She sat on the third step of the stairs in the foyer, and pulled her jogging sneakers on, tying them with determination. Next to her, Tabitha, her miniature Collie, smiled, tongue hanging out as her tail beat a happy tune on the floor.
When done tying her sneakers, Emily hopped to her feet. Pride made her grin. She had survived the entire week without ruining her diet, and even accomplished the incredible feat of going to TGI-Friday's and not hoarding down a plate of her favorite nachos with cheese. She promised not to weigh herself until the end of the month, but the temptation to see if she'd lost any weight was overwhelming. Had her weeklong martyrdom of diet and exercise whittled away any of the twenty extra pounds she had padding her goddess-like figure?
She stepped in front of the mirror in the foyer and turned from side to side, hands on hips.
"I shall bring out the hidden goddess," she said with a nod.
The recent self-help book her best friend Joyce had given her required she always view herself in a positive way, even if she thought she looked more like a manatee than a goddess. Emily bit her lip, her eyes looking at her waist. Taking a deep breath, she sucked in her belly and held it. Think good things. I am a goddess not a manatee.
The goddess thing had also come from Joyce, who claimed that somewhere in the universe women were goddesses and men little more than servants and pleasure toys.
Emily let out her breath in a frustrated rush, her smile waning. God, this was so hard. She'd once had a dainty figure, loved to paint, swim, play tennis, and had even been a cheerleader in high school, but that girl didn't exist anymore. Now she saw a plump woman with sad brown eyes and long, blond, stringy hair who thought she could erase the past five years of horror by losing a couple of pounds and reading self-help books.
"Where did you go, Emily?" she whispered to herself. "What happened to that girl who wanted to be a famous painter, and saw nothing but beauty around her?"
She touched a faint scar on her right cheek, knowing it was nothing compared to the ones on her soul. Would she ever stop looking behind her shoulder, waking up terrified, sobs choking her?
Tabitha's warm tongue on her hand brought her back to the present.
The doorbell chimed, announcing the arrival of her jogging buddy. Tabitha barked in excitement, pirouetting before the front door.
"Easy, girl. Don't wear yourself out before the run. Besides, it's just Rio. He's one of us."
She threw open the door smiling at her best friend. Six feet of raw sinew and legs, Rio's stylishly tousled blond hair fell into sapphire eyes. His lush lips pulled back revealing a dimple-bracketed flash of teeth over a square chin. Totally hot... unfortunately, for her and female kind, he was also gay.
Today he wore a dark purple jogging set that had the word Juicy in silver glitter splayed across his cute ass. She would be happy if her own butt were at least half as firm and tight as his.
"So, are we ready to rip today?" His smile stretched from ear to ear, wispy puffs of mist curling into the chilly morning air. Rio leaned forward and gave her a loud kiss on her cheek.
"Rippin' ready, Blondie." She gave him a playful swat to his stomach, and then turned to her dog. "How about you, Tab?" Tabitha bounced around on her paws, her eyes bright with excitement when Emily baby-talked to her. "Go get your collar, girl,"
Tabitha's nails clicked on the hardwood floors as she scrambled away, doggie tags jingling. She disappeared into the kitchen for a few seconds then ran back with her red collar in her grinning jaws. Emily laughed. The collie's tail looked like a blur, and she couldn't sit still, making it almost impossible to secure the collar around her furry neck. Her whole body wagged along with her frantic tail, her golden eyes gleaming with barely suppressed delight.
"Silly girl," Emily chuckled, straightening. "Alright, let's go."
The autumn leaves swirled around the motley trio, cushioning their steps in a carpet of crimson and gold. Rio's nose turned red from the chill in the air. She could only guess that hers was just as bad, and running to boot. They headed down the wide driveway that lead out of her property to the road. There weren't too many houses on this road, just lots of tall trees, pines, and mountain views. Most of the deep green had given way to the tones of autumn, painting the world around them in vibrant fiery tones.
It was unusually nippy for late October. Soon, snow would blanket Rochester in the crisp white embrace of winter, turning the picturesque pond at the back of her house to ice. She smiled, remembering the snowball wars with the other kids from around the neighborhood, the silly snowmen her sister, Emma, and she would make in the front yard, and the smell of her dad's pipe and mom's blueberry pancakes Sunday mornings.
Her heart tightened, feeling joy at having come back to her childhood home. Even though her parents had passed away four years ago in an accident, she was grateful she had friends like Rio and Joyce in her life, as well as her sister, Emma.
* * *
Red Passion bowed his head as the slaves placed a wreath of flowers upon him. Once again, he was crowned winner in the interplanetary competition of Most Beautiful Pet. He looked at Night Moon, who'd won the rounds for Most Beautiful Whelp. Mistress Azana had ordered her slaves to place colorful ribbons in Night Moon's black hair. Next sun orbit, Night Moon would be old enough to compete at Red's level. Perhaps this would be Red Passion's last year as most beautiful pet.
He smiled at Night Moon, who grinneded back. Red knew their mistress would initiate the whelp into manhood that very night. She'd confided the secret to Red during their morning coupling. Red's smile grew wider. He couldn't wait to see the look on Night Moon's face when he buried his young cock into the Mistress. The whelp would probably spill after a few thrusts. Mistress Azana wouldn't beat him, though. She was not like her older sister, Mistress Betana, who beat Red Passion his first time for spilling too soon. He'd only been fifteen sun orbits, much younger than Night Moon.
Mistress Betana had whipped him, had her other pets sexually abuse him, and then shaved his red locks afterwards, leaving him in the courtyard without food or water for five sun cycles. Mistress Azana found Red Passion there, more dead than alive, and made her slaves bring him to her quarters. Since Mistress Betana had stripped him of his collar, Mistress Azana claimed him for herself.
The young mistresses' mother almost ordered him euthanized when she saw how gaunt he'd become. The twin suns had turned his creamy skin into a mass of boils and peeling, sun burnt flesh. He'd wanted to die too, from shame and humiliation, but Mistress Azana begged her mother to allow her to keep him as an experiment to see if she could restore his beauty—an experiment she managed to accomplish with her gentle hands and patience.
A commotion within the audience drew his attention. Fear gripped his insides, almost making him fall to his knees. He watched his former Mistress arguing with Mistress Azana, her long-nailed hands gesturing with jerking motions. Her deep red gown clashed with the soft blue of Mistress Azana's simple sheath. While Mistress Betana's voice boomed angrily, Red Passion could barely make out his Mistress Azana's dulcet tones.
He longed to listen, but the slaves were already escorting the pets away from the arena. His worry increased when he wasn't taken to the quarters of his Mistress' other pets. He found himself in an empty room, alone. No one came to bathe him or give him food and refreshment, not that he thought himself capable of eating at the moment. His stomach knotted in anguish.
Taking a deep breath, admonishing himself, he turned to gaze at his refection in the mirror that covered the far wall of the room. "Everything will be fine, Red Passion."
However, he still saw fear in his bright green eyes and the way his once rosy lips paled—a sure sign of his distress. He combed his blood-red hair forward, letting it flow over his shoulders the way his mistress liked. She'd let his hair grow until it reached his ass. The special oils and cleansers the slaves scrubbed his head with sped the process of growth, resulting in the glowing locks he proudly sported now, seven years after they'd been shaved off by his former Mistress.
The door behind him opened and he knew a moment of relief when Nolon and Ozno, his Mistress Azana's slaves, walked in. He almost leapt in joy into their arms, until he saw they were followed by Mistress Betana's prime pet, Kiss Of Pain.
Red Passion tamped down his urge to break into tears.
A silver, spiked collar adorned Kiss Of Pain's neck, and trails of blue-black curls flowed over his shoulders and chest. Kiss folded his arms, muscles bulging over chiseled pectorals, the slit of his pupils growing narrower in his amber eyes as they locked on Red Passion. He'd come in second place after Red Passion. From the glower he wore, Red knew it was a position he did not appreciate.
The slaves came up to Red silently, none looking directly into his eyes. Ozno wiped Red down with a cloth as Nolon watched.
"What happened?" Red Passion searched the slaves' solemn faces. "Mistress resolved the issue at hand, right?"
Kiss laughed with a twisted sneer, drawing Red's wide eyes to his snake-like fangs.
Ozno began to cry, throwing his arms around Red. "I'm sorry, Red Passion. Truly I am."
Nolon eased him away, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. Red Passion gasped, staring in bewilderment when Nolon began to remove Red's jeweled cock ring and collar. "It'll be alright, Red. You're the perfect pet."
Red Passion's fear hit ten-fold as the familiar warmth of the collar left his neck. Ozno and Nolon kissed his cheeks and hurried out of the room, leaving him with Kiss.
"How pathetically touching," Kiss said, his voice laced with contempt. His upper lip curled, baring his fangs. "If you think for one moment I'm going to allow you to replace me as prime pet, you're horribly wrong."
Red Passion covered his genitals, suddenly feeling very exposed.
Two more of Mistress Betana's pets came into the room. Red remembered Love Bite and Black Thorn, the same pleasure pets who'd held him spread-eagled after Mistress Betana whipped him, so Kiss Of Pain could sodomize him.
Red Passion shook his head, taking a step back. "She'll beat you if you ruin me." Even as the words left his trembling lips, he knew they were foolish, a childish attempt to instill fear into one incapable of feeling it.
"But she sent us to beat you, Red Passion." Kiss stepped up to him and caressed his face, even as Red's tears began to drop. "Mistress Betana would never dream of allowing your soiled cock to enter her now... after it's been in every orifice of her own sister."
Emily stripped off sweat soaked clothes and stepped into her shower. The hot spray felt good against her clammy skin. With a sigh, she grabbed a bar of soap and began to lather herself. She let her hands trail up from her waist and stopped at her ribs, with a thoughtful frown. They felt more noticeable, less padding over bone. With a smile, she let her slick hands slide up to cup her breasts—the only part of her body she was actually proud of. Taut round flesh filled her hands to overflowing, her thumbs running over the erect tips of her rose kissed nipples. She bit her lip, feeling the pleasure echo between her legs. Of course, as she lost weight, they'd most likely begin to sag.
Emily looked down at her breasts with a shrug. Nothing was perfect.
A naughty smile tugged at the corners of her lips—nothing, except the painting of the beautiful man she was working on up in the attic. She'd named him Red Passion, because she'd used that very color to create ribbons of long hair trailing down his perfect torso. Naturally, men didn't wear their hair that long anymore, nor sported that particular color—unless they were Goths and into vampirism. She'd used the color on a whim wanting her fantasy man to look exactly like... a fantasy—someone that couldn't possibly exist, someone who wouldn't hurt her.
Emily, leaned against the cool tiles if the shower, imagining Red Passion sweet and sensual. Closing her eyes, she pictured him there in the shower with her. She could almost feel his long fingers running over her wet flesh, his tongue lapping the water trailing down her curves. She pictured him cupping her breasts in reverence, before fusing his mouth to a nipple and sucking like a famished babe.
Her moan startled her. She felt her face flush with embarrassment as she slapped her hand over her mouth. Rio was just on the other side of that wall in the guest bathroom. What if he heard her?
She finished showering and threw on clean sweats. Down in the kitchen, she was surprised to find Rio already whipping up a healthy lunch for both of them. Emily smiled, slipping onto one of her wicker stools at the black granite counter, and watched Rio sauté chicken in her skillet. His blond hair was still damp from his shower, and he let his blue plaid shirt hang open, showing rippling muscles perfectly delineated under his snug t-shirt. She knew he was gay, yet her mouth still watered. Emily was a sucker for good masculine physique, and hadn't been with a man since...
She closed her eyes, refusing to allow herself to keep dwelling on her failed marriage. That was done and over with. Must look forward now. No looking back, just forward. Think good things.
She opened her eyes again, took a deep breath, and smiled, loving the way the early afternoon sun poured in through the windows that lined the back of her kitchen. Framed by the hunter-green Priscilla curtains, nothing but red and gold covered trees swayed in the gentle breeze, loose leaves fluttering like butterflies. Her gaze fell once again on Rio, who was humming to himself and swaying side to side, immersed in the tune in his head.
Emily's grin widened, warmth tugging her heart at how sweet he was.
"Well it's Saturday night." Rio suddenly grinned over his shoulder, switching the jut of his lean hips the other way. He looked almost flirtatious. "What's on the agenda of social activities?"
Her heart fell, knowing what was coming. He and Joyce had been trying to get her to go out for the past month.
"Oh, I don't know, Rio." She sighed and looked down at her hands clasped on the counter. "I was thinking of doing movie night again at home," she shrugged, looking at him from beneath her lashes, "like last week."
Rio rolled his big blue eyes with a shake of his head. "Baby-girl, at this rate, I'll never get laid before the end of the year. Come-on, let's hit the city this weekend. We can stay in my uncle's condo in Manhattan. He's off in Greece somewhere with his current squeeze and told me I was welcome to use the condo whenever I liked."
"I'm really not in the mood for partying." She lied. She was just terrified of running into her soon-to-be ex-husband, Mark Gianello.