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A sample for you all”

For
six months Richard absorbed himself into making the painting at his cabin home.
During which so little was heard or seen of him that locals began to wonder if
he still breathed, but it was nice that he was no longer a nuisance to anybody.
It was strange, despite his love for his daughter, not once had he tried to see
her. Those who did check on him said that Jennet had already placed a curse on
his soul. For when he had his brush in his hand, he forgot everything else but
his work.

He
worked so feverishly without ever seeing the sun that he fell ill and the
doctor was fetched to see him. While it is easy to believe that his illness was
due to exhaustion and lack of taking care of himself, others say he was plagued
by demons and foul spirits; the work of Jennet’s wickedly mischievous hand. They
believed this because he asked the doctor to sit by his side while he rest. He
complained of bad dreams as he requested from the doctor, “have all the
shutters drawn as though it were night, and don’t let anyone or anything come
inside.”

To
this, the doctor was puzzled. Who would come to visit him, especially now in
his state? However, he followed the request, knowing the man needed his rest.
Everything was fine until the voices spoke in an incomprehensible way. Little
by little, the words broke in to resemble the moans of a rape victim
underwater.

“How…Come
to me?… Where am I supposed to go?…What are you saying?…Where? To
Hell?…What is this place?…What are you doing to me? Ahhh!”

The
doctor tried to observe Richard’s face in the gloom. He saw him gasping, and
his pale, wrinkled face sweating. His tongue moved to make disconnected words
as though something was tugging at it.

The
scared doctor saw a shadow move next to the unfinished painting. He tried to
shake Richard awake but he refused and continued speaking his dream. “Give
me my daughter. Where are you taking her? No, she is mine, you can’t have her. Come
into the forest…You will become what you deserve…Lost forever. Monsters! No,
not by her! She cannot have me too.”

The
doctor became ever more fearful, and later would claim he saw painted images
move and swirl on their own upon that great canvas covering the cabins north wall.
There weren’t any details for him to describe from the terrible secrets of
paint. Nonetheless, he felt something more than paint stirring on the canvas.

He
grabbed the water used to wash the brushes and splashed it over the moaning form
of Richard in his bed. This brought him out of his mumbling state, causing him
to sit up. For a moment he stared at nothing with eyes full of dread and mouth
gaping. Then he returned to his senses and said, “It’s alright doctor, you
may leave me now.”

The
doctor against his professionalism did not protest. He was quick to leave that gloom-ridden
cabin and hoped he never had to return.

That
wasn’t the worst of it. A month later, Richard began to ask for assistance in
his work. Locals wondered how he could afford such a thing as his
advertisements offered good pay to any young woman who was willing to model for
him. None would take his offer, not at first, due to the terrible man’s
reputation and the implications that he probably was in need of a nude girl. No
woman of modesty would do such a thing for this man, and none of Jennet’s girls
would have anything to do with him to begin with.

Eventually
his demands caught the attention of those outside the town. He must have been
swindling the poor folk, as surely he could not have had the money he advertised
to attract such clientele. A young prostitute from Dodge City had traveled all this way to pose
and perhaps later see if she could find employment from her highness on the
hill. She would not return to pose a second time, and left town almost as
quickly as she arrived.

Richard,
while moistening a brush, had her strip down. When she was completely naked,
Richard with a strange scowl said, “I’d like to see you like a spider in a
web. I’m sorry but you should let me do what I want.”

His
new employee didn’t know what to think of the setup he had waiting for her. An
elaborate web, much like a spiders, was created out of cord. Richard proceeded
to tie her there, binding her hands and feet tightly against his creation, then
he produced more cords to wrap around her body, the cords were wrapped tightly
and dug into her skin uncomfortably. The weight of her body, as she hung down
against her restraints, caused the cords wrapped around her breasts to squeeze
them until the bulged like swollen balloons. She whimpered and whined, but
Richard would not listen and began painting her likeness upon his massive
screen. He became entranced with his work, and the more she struggled and
pleaded to be released, the more feverishly he painted her. Sometimes he walked
around her to take small sketches of the different angles in which the cords
dug into her naked flesh, relishing how her skin molded against her tight
restraints.

She
began to scream when the spiders were brought out from a wooden box Richard
produced from a nearby shelf. They were pulled out one by one and placed
daintily on her skin. They were large spiders, unusually so, that moved very
slowly with hairy legs that tippity-tapped their way across her. At first, she
tried desperately to get away, shaking against her bonds. This only excited Richard
and he sent out to paint her again, carefully and quickly recording her shaking
motions that caused the cords wrapped around her thigh to pull upward and dig
into her snatch.  Richard excited by
this, reached into his box, placed the largest spider on her pubic mound, and
then shoved two fat fingers into her cunt. He strung the cord like a guitar
string, letting it slap painfully back between her pussy lips.

She
shook hard against the constraints, but he had bound her well. What rapid
movements she could produce didn’t do much to rid the spiders from her body.
She screamed and pleaded for her release. Richard did not listen and after a
time even gagged her to make her quite. For hours he kept her like this as he
painted away, or walked around her taking his notes and sketches, sometimes
slapping or pinching her. All she could do was hang there uncomfortably as she
watched and felt the spiders crawl all over her naked flesh.

She
was afraid that he would do far worse to her. Even if she was a prostitute, the
idea of being raped by this man very much crossed her mind. To her horror, he
had something more monstrous in mind. He planned to put one of the spiders
inside her. She let out a muffled scream but he only smiled and pressed his
brush against his lips.

Suddenly
a loud crash was heard, and the whole cabin shook, particularly the north wall.
It was though something was slamming against it from the outside. Causing the
lanterns to sway dangerously, and caste eerie shadows throughout that gloom-ridden
place. Then she heard the great ghostly neigh, as the kicking thumps grew
louder.

“Disastrous
beast, Richard scowled. He put his brush away and went outside, hollering and
shooing away whatever was beating on the cabin walls. "Get away you damned
mule. Go back to your whore up on the hill and leave me alone. My sketch is
ruined and it’s your fault, now get! Get, I say.”

The
neighing of the beast was loud and terrifying. It was like no horse she had ever
heard. Yet, it had saved her, for when Richard returned, his mood was foul and
he had lost interest in continuing her horrifying ordeal. When she was cut free,
she cursed his name and fled, and as I said before, she left town within the
day. Some say it wasn’t just because of the awful little man and the things he
had done to her, but for the images she saw painted on that hellish screen.

She
saw herself in minute-to-minute detail painted on that massive, roaring canvas.
She was bound in roaring flames made out like a spider’s web that seemed to
stretch the whole canvas. The flames had an organic feel and thickness that
grabbed her like cords. She could feel them burning into her skin, slapping and
violating her. They squeezed her breasts until her nipples popped out like
pointy spear tips. She was moaning and writhing in anticipation to the great
monstrous spider that was descending upon her. Its monstrous cock, a series of
pink cones interlinked together, was lurching out of its abdomen.

She
recalled the worst part of it being the sense of realism to it. While confined
in that horrible cabin studio, Richard was painting a mirror reality. She felt
this demonic spider looming above her somewhere, truly descending down to
ravage her in his web. Yet, the image of herself in Richard’s painting was not
afraid of what was coming. Where she writhed in uncomfortable torment, her
mirror self moaned and smiled as the lucid flame licked her breasts. She saw
her terrible doppelganger smiling back at her and inviting her to play. That
frightened her most of all.

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