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His knees quaked and his arms strained. Sweat glistened on bare skin as Prescott drew panicky, shallow breaths. Every few minutes for the last hour the rope had winched a little higher, forcing the youth up off of the chair.
How long had it been?...

His knees quaked and his arms strained. Sweat glistened on bare skin as Prescott drew panicky, shallow breaths. Every few minutes for the last hour the rope had winched a little higher, forcing the youth up off of the chair.

How long had it been? Prescott was almost glad he couldn’t see a clock. To watch each minute go by agonizingly, with no certainty of his future here. It was almost better to not know. Almost.

By holding himself awkwardly aloft he diminished the substantial agony in his nethers, which had turned an angry purple some time ago. Unfortunately, raising himself thus also push him against a rope deviously wound about his neck, making each breath feel labored and exhausting.

Mister Gutreich left the room some time ago, which terrified Prescott all the more. What if he lost his footing and fell? Would he just dangle there by his family jewels or would their be a sickening pop and then … nothing?

Prescott didn’t want to think about it but, at that very moment, there was nothing more pressing on his mind.

***

Well I’m getting shit for sleep tonight. I hope you all appreciate the pains I take to post my work for you ;)

Technically this is part 3 of the adventures of Prescott. Part 2 is still a work in progress… But I was never one for linear storytelling. Be happy I managed to revisit him at all.

His proportions seem a little smaller than the first drawing but - hey - you can at least tell he’s the same person (I hope). The story is not the best but I’m falling asleep at the keyboard. I’ll touch it up tomorrow.

Also, y!gallery, please don’t be broken again :p

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Prescott swallowed nervously.
His mouth was painfully dry. He wasn’t sure what was stuff in there, pressing against his tongue dryly, held in place with a dirty rag over his mouth. He couldn’t see in the dark of the room he was in. A massive headache...

Prescott swallowed nervously.

His mouth was painfully dry. He wasn’t sure what was stuff in there, pressing against his tongue dryly, held in place with a dirty rag over his mouth. He couldn’t see in the dark of the room he was in. A massive headache still thundered beneath his beanie, probably some kind of side-effect to that crap Mr. Gutreich had shoved in his face before he blacked out.

Shit! Mr. Gutreich! That fucker was responsible!

Prescott had been cutting through the man’s big, fenced backyard like he normally did to get home. (Much to the bastard’s numerous complaints. Its not like he was hurting anything, he avoided the plants and shit) But then, as he passed one of the tall shrubs, there was Mr. Gutreich, a fierce scowl on his face and a rag of something in his hand. It all went black after that.

He squirmed against the tight bonds holding him in place. Nothing, he was fixed to the spot. That realization caused a stiffening in the crotch of his pants. 

Fuck, he thought. This was not the place for /that/ interest to become public knowledge. He had to be figuring out how to get out of here! How to escape and tell the authorities what a sick fuck Gutreich was.

His train of thought was derailed by the sound of a door opening and blinding light spilled into the room.

“I asked nicely. Now I’m going to make sure you stay off my lawn, kid…”

***

Yay, got the colors right again. I keep straying from how I prefer to color. I get lazy and sloppy and then a pic like this comes along and corrects that.

Fun pic. It came out exactly as I wanted it to. It originally started out as a response to people who said my characters were getting too ‘old’ looking. Because 20 is so ancient XD By my visual chronometer, I’d say this guy is somewhere between 16-18.

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People are always struck by my Royal Doulton tea set. Indeed, during my candle-lit suppers my guests cannot take their eyes off of them. (Persons of the noble breeding can always sense quality, no doubt.)
My only complaint has been the nervous...

People are always struck by my Royal Doulton tea set. Indeed, during my candle-lit suppers my guests cannot take their eyes off of them. (Persons of the noble breeding can always sense quality, no doubt.)

My only complaint has been the nervous shaking and the occasional dropped tea cup. But I did inherit Daddy’s riding crop for just such occasions.


***

It only took me … two years, but I finally got an idea worth producing for the my Private Gallery series. You’ll never guess where my inspiration came from. I churned most of this out earlier in the week, but then life went to hell and it was not until this afternoon that I was able to complete things. God do I hate drawing rope bondage…

I do love the expression of intense concentration on the left boy’s face. “Fuck, if I drop this thing again…” There were originally plans of having his ass red from a previous flogging but as you can see, that did not end up happening. :p

PS, If you dislike freckles and redheads you can go hell. I’m Mister X and I draw what I want, worm.

:)
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