Soooo.... I searched forever for the perfect head sculpt for my Red character (World of the Coinless Jason Scott OC) and I settled for the younger version of him right now. I still need to add the scar and blind eye but the head was a bitch and a half to get on and my kids were trying to grab him away from me..... that will be for later. I'll probably have to commission the older Red head sculpt from an artist. This one is based on the Boom! Comics version of Jason specifically the Francesco Mortarino style.
Takes place in Red's younger years before he grew the lovely beard and went completely batshit crazy.
In his grandiose opinion, the entire world was a stage, and he possessed a special talent for theatrical fuckery. The more elaborate a mind fuck, the more enjoyment Drakkon gleaned from it. He thought nothing of playing the long game, dragging it out months or even years before the wild conclusion. Money was no object so the tyrant might pay a king’s ransom, purchasing the most minute prop or getting just the right detail as if he were orchestrating a royal wedding.
Though no one would believe it given Drakkon and Red’s smutty escapades and proclivities in later years, this erotic kink might not have been discovered if it were not originally cooked up as a possumy sleight of hand to spread false information, to confuse his enemies, and potentially waste their time and resources.
And it was just…funny.
The whispered rumors started when the maids found a few smears of crimson lipstick upon their lordship’s pillowcase, left behind by obviously full lips, and the faint scent of a floral perfume…not the rose aroma of Lord Drakkon’s preferred bath oil, however. The soiled bedding smelled of a different blossom and, as they dared to press their noses to the fabric, they concluded it was honeysuckle.
Red, their lord’s strange and lethal human pet, sprawled before the hearth in his own fluffy bed, seemingly ignoring their brazen sniffing and puzzled whispering. He was the only other person (pet) that had been observed in these private chambers, and as this was still early years, was believed to be merely an attendant and guard.
The idea of keeping a human pet had kinky undertones, yes, but at this point, there had been no intimate caresses or displays of attraction before the palace staff. Things were ‘proper’ between the two given the shaggier man’s lower station.
“He’s had a woman in here,” Gertie murmured, folding the pillowcase so that the lipstick was prominently on top. “I know this shade…it’s ‘Scarlet Diamond.’”
The head maid was correct, the vibrant rouge from Cle de Peau Beaute and priced at over 100 dollars before their world went all out of joint.
“I’ve never seen his lordship with a lady on his arm, nor even giving one an interested glance,” one of the younger girls argued. “Perhaps this was just a bit of…fun?”
“But who is she?”
This sort of teasing went on for several weeks… more pillowcases marred with lipstick, rouge, or mascara…a few strands of long hair in a much darker shade than Drakkon’s own…the honeysuckle scent misting the bed clothes…
Then other small feminine clues were sprinkled about the tyrant’s bedchamber over the course of the month. It steadily grew into a game amongst the palace staff to ‘spot the Easter egg.’
A pair of black, silk stockings peeking out from under the bed, slipped off and kicked aside to where they lay unnoticed…
A sheer, ebony negligee mixed between the sheets and the emerald duvet, swatches of it obscenely stiff and crunchy…
The garter belt sticking partially from a bedside drawer…
In the bathroom, hung a scarlet-colored robe…a bottle of red nail polish beside the sink…one of a pair of lacy ‘kid’ gloves dropped near the clothes basket…more make-up streaked cloths and towels…
Other servants began to notice the subtle details as they spread slowly outward from the bedroom.
There were the pair of wine glasses beside the crystal decanter in the outer room, one ringed with the red lipstick and half-filled as if it were being daintily sipped upon…
One of the butlers tripped over a frilly ankle boot left near the chaise lounge…and as he lay face down upon the rug, he found an ermine stole that had fallen behind it and curled beneath the chair like a furry invading pest.
It was maddening… Lord Drakkon continued about his business as usual, running off menacing warlords with threats and sometimes outright violence, hunting the Coinless rebels…and generally being the same hateful prick they’d all come to know. Red silently shadowed him about the palace, on guard for signs of danger. He, too, showed no signs of anything being different.
However, the dictator was overheard ordering several new garments from across the ocean, from places that he still allowed to stand because they suited some need of his…Paris, Milan, Rome, Barcelona, Tokyo, and London.
A backless evening gown in royal purple and dripping with diamond ropes where they would dangle across the bare flesh all the way down to the curve of the lower back…
A fur lined cloak and muff…
Corsets crossed with ribbons…in laces, silks, and leather…
Day dresses and petticoats in all manner of colors…
More lush robes, garter belts, teddies, bustiers, and lingerie…
Fitted bodysuits and ballerina-esque skirts…
Stilettos, thigh-high, calf, and ankle boots, ballet flats, kitten heels, and gladiator-style sandals…
Locked boxes that no one could figure out…
Though some of the hornier Sentries spun yarns about lubrication, sex toys, and bondage gear so that they inspired plenty of material for their spank bank as they imagined what Lord Drakkon and his mysterious ‘lady friend’ might be doing in his bedchamber…
And no one missed the arrival of velvet-lined tray containing glittering necklaces, earrings, bracelets, chokers, hair clips, rings, and belly chains…
Drakkon acted indifferent as the mysterious gifts arrived, only pointing a gloved finger at the staircase leading to his rooms before dismissing the couriers on their way.
When a page claimed that he heard the clip of a lady’s heels upon the stone floor that echoed down to where he stood in the great hall, all the others strained to see if they might catch it whenever they cleaned or traversed the cavernous room. Some swore they did, but others couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a figment of their imagination.
The first glimpse of Lord Drakkon’s ‘partner/mistress/concubine/Lady’, whatever title she bore, came one snowy afternoon to a Red Sentry standing in the courtyard. He happened to catch what he thought might be a coquettish giggle. Like most of the others of his ilk, he was always on the lookout for female companionship, whether the woman in question wanted it or not not being a consideration, and he turned about to see where she might be hiding.
He could see no one about on this frigid, blustery day, a flurry of swirling flakes pouring from the sky.
“Peekaboo, cutie pie…I see you…” a lilting voice teased from somewhere above where he twirled in the gathering drift. “I do so love little games! Can you find me now?”
Craning his neck, the guard scanned the towering stone walls of the palace, seeking the owner of that breathy, cooing voice. It took a moment, and he had to strain his eyes to see through the darkened gloom of the arched windows…
But he thought he caught a graceful, sweeping movement.
Then he saw her lovely face, or rather, part of it…
She had a pile of dark ringlets piled atop her head in jeweled clips, a few escaping tendrils framing the black and silver butterfly masquerade mask that covered her eyes. A form-fitting blouse with feminine ruffles hugged her upper body, but he could tell the woman was shapely.
Her deeply red lips curved in a flirtatious grin, standing out against the white powdered skin of her cheeks, chin, and jaw. Teeth playfully bit the full lower lip and the mysterious beauty wagged a gloved finger at him.
The Sentry realized he’d been gaping openly at his lordship’s…whatever she was…
“Shame on you,” she scolded. “Take care you don’t earn a spanking…”
Lounging in his easy chair near the hearth, Lord Drakkon snorted, nearly choking on his warmed cider.
“Cute…” he managed when he finally cleared his throat, beckoning her to him.
“Ta ta, foolish Sentry!” she called, blowing a demure kiss before turning from the window and grinning widely. “How’d I do, master? Are you pleased with my performance?”
“Oh, yes, darling…very pleased. They’ll be in a frenzy about this for weeks! It’s already driving them mad that they find all our clues, but never the ‘lady’ in question!”
The full skirts swished as Red approached, kneeling respectfully before the tyrant’s knee, head bowed as he’d been trained.
Drakkon studied the top of his head, the mop of curly hair from the wig nearly the same dark color it used to be…
Before…
His finger gently glided under the pet’s chin, tipping his face up.
“Look at me…”
Red did as commanded, blinking through long lashes and the curved eye holes of the mask. The make up and powder covered the scar quite well, and it was easy to miss the tell-tale milky whiteness of the blind left eye when taking in the whole gorgeous picture.
‘I always thought that Jason was rather pretty for a guy…’
The pet’s smile turned bashful.
“Do you find my appearance pleasing?” he whispered, shocking Drakkon with his seeming boldness.
Until…
“If I don’t look like your type, your enemies might question my authenticity…”
Letting out a measured breath, the dictator sighed sadly, his fingertips still oddly stroking the clean line of Red’s jaw.
“You, my lovely bauble…my Trinket…” he murmured. “You are perfection…”
