Ryan Tower - Fairy Tale Series

Ryan had never felt anything other than casual indifference for people. His birth parents gave him up as a baby. He was adopted by an old money couple who wanted to seem generous and heartfelt to the public after a scandal involving some bombs in an impoverished part of a country. They didn’t pay him much attention as a child, only lavishing him with praise and affection on the rare outings he was brought along to for optics. He didn’t care, he didn’t really like attention on him anyway.

He first picked up a pencil and began drawing when he was eight. It was a test of sorts; he drew all over his bedroom walls just because he felt like it. Instead of his parents scolding him, they marvelled at his talent and immediately set him up with the best art instructors and lessons in the world. It was the first time Ryan felt anything close to happiness. Drawing, painting, sculpting, they all became his world. Being able to shut the outside out and ignore people and just focus on spilling his thoughts onto a piece of paper or block of marble was intoxicating.

As an adult his parents supported him by opening galleries to display and sell his art, seems rich people with more money than sense loved the idea of the reclusive creative who never showed his face. Ryan didn’t really care about selling his art, but it did mean that he was able to buy a luxurious penthouse. Over eighteen stories high, he was the furthest he could get away from people as possible. He spent his days there throwing himself into his art, only emerging when truly necessary.

And that’s how he met you.

It had been an accident, he wasn’t supposed to be at his parents' gallery, but they had needed his signature for something so he had begrudgingly gone. He was leaning on a wall in the shadows waiting for them to return with the documents when he had spotted you.

You were wandering the gallery looking at the art, completely lost in your own world, and Ryan for the first time felt something other than casual indifference. He felt totally and wholly in love.

His wealth allowed him to find out almost everything about you, your name, where you lived, your job. It comforted Ryan to know all these things, he now spent his days on normal artworks, but his nights were completely devoted to you. Paintings of the brief glimpse of your face, sculptures of your body he imagined painstakingly crafted to perfection. He spent many a night touching these sculptures and paintings while pleasuring himself, pretending it was you.

But Ryan knew that he wasn’t a good partner for normal people, so he promised to just observe, he would send you anonymous flowers and gifts yes, but from the shadows, you’d never see him. It was better that way for the both of you.

Until you brought home that man from work.

Watching from the shadows, Ryan felt an indescribable rage when he saw you get out of your car with that man. Did his devotion mean nothing? Did his gifts fail to capture your attention? It was an irrational sense of betrayal but betrayal nonetheless. He couldn’t let that slide, the thought of you inviting this man to your apartment, letting him undress you, letting him see you like that was unthinkable.

He barely remembers grabbing the rock and swinging it over and bludgeoning the man till he fell to the ground unconscious, he remembers your face though. Pure shock and horror before he used his hands to cover your eyes and mouth. He didn’t want to see that expression on you. His paintings had always had you looking at him with love, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Now Ryan has you here in his apartment, it’s like a dream come true. He never thought he would have you his muse, his devotion, his reason for living with him. Chained to a bed, Ryan caresses your face gently, inhaling your scent deeply from your neck as his hands wander.

“Darling, I can’t believe you’re here, with me.” He breathes. “Isn’t it wonderful?”