Welcome to High Society! I haven't posted in 5 years, but I have been messing with a spicy idea for a few months now. This story delves into the darkest corners of the psyche, exploring kinks, BDSM, and loveless agreements driven by thrill and possession. There will be drug use in this story as well as potentially triggering actions and words through boundaries being crossed, so please be forewarned. It is a dark, twisted tale that may offend some, but for those who have ventured through "A Soulless Demeanor," it promises an equally compelling journey. If you're into Swan Queen, Red Swan, and Red Beauty, this is your story. If you're familiar with Sarah Waters, I've been inspired by her work lately, specifically Tipping the Velvet and Fingersmith. I highly recommend them if you're into raunchy Victorian England, mind games, romantic angst, and emotional roller coasters
Please don't hesitate to leave a review! It's been a while so I'd love to hear some feedback. My writing is a little rusty.
Enjoy, dears!
"Fuck," Emma thought to herself as she zipped up her red leather jacket. It was windier than she had expected as her blondie curls whipped around. And the people. There were so many people. Emma hated new places and she especially hated people, yet here she was in an unfamiliar city far from her hometown. She had been ready to set sail on her ship of independence from her parents overbearing clutches, but now that she found herself in the throes of strangers, the towering buildings made her feel small and feeble.
Emma took another deep breath and continued her walk down the sidewalk, eyes avoiding everyone at all costs but taking in the environment around her. Earlier that year she had completed her associates degree in general studies at the demand of her parents.
Right out of high school her parents had thrown her towards high end universities but she fought them hard, demanding she didn't need a degree for what she wanted. She just wanted to make art, but art school was out of the question. They told her she could do that on the side, that art was only a side hustle and would never bring her stability, so as a way to satisfy their needs, she went to community college in hopes they would let her live quietly at home until she could get on her feet.
She should have known that wasn't enough. They continued to push her to select a field for study or else move out and get a job. Emma tried to appeal to them, to show them the art she had been creating, but they still wouldn't listen. That was chump-change. So she had a few commissions here and there; how could she guarantee there would be future customers? Where would she sleep then when she had no money for rent?
"They're called 'starving artists' for a reason, sweetie," her mother once said. Emma dug her nails into her palms just thinking about it.
In a last act of defiance, Emma took the commission money she had saved up over the years of living with her family and made a down payment in a city a few hours away.
It was a huge, gigantic, risky move, and if socially awkward Emma had a friend to talk some sense into her, she might not have been so reckless to move out so quickly. She hadn't even thought about the consequences of putting down on an apartment without even visiting it in person, so it was a gruesome shock when she found her unannounced new roommates: ants, cockroaches, and the occasional house centipede. The worst one of all were the jumping crickets. They made her skin crawl the most for some reason.
Sure, Emma had been a bit sheltered and privileged to put it lightly, but she was confident she could do this on her own. She needed to text her new landlord about it later and hope he'd take care of it promptly. She had been meaning to do it all week, but right now, she just needed to breathe and calm her nerves. Walking did that.
An artistic mural on the side of a building caught her attention. It was a splash of black and purple shadows with a regal woman's face in the center holding up a red apple. On it in script font read: 'The Queen's Gallery'. She took a pause and studied to face for a second with the furrow of the brow before continuing her walk.
After another set of blocks, her stomach began to rumble and as if on cue, she glanced towards a sign on the sidewalk with a cute, curious name : 'Mrs. Potts' Parlor'.
Inside, the atmosphere was calmer. A few people waited on the side for their orders while others were scattered across the room talking to each other or focusing on their meals with their phones. Emma hadn't realized the cashier had been calling out to her until a woman behind her gently nudged her.
"Oh," Emma said with an awkward laugh to the woman behind her, "sorry. I haven't been here before."
"You should get the caramel mocha latte. Sounds basic, but it's the best here," the woman said after Emma stared at the menu for a good few seconds, "If you're into coffee that is."
"Yea?" Emma said as she turned around to look at the woman fully. She had long wavy, brown hair and was holding a thick book in her hand.
Emma then looked back at the cashier who was trying their best to hide their look of impatience. After ordering, Emma waited off to the side before turning back to the woman who had spoken to her.
"What's your book about?"
The brunette's eyes lit up at the question, "It's a long study on fairytales and the history of where they came from. Particularly, it explores the psychological importance of fairytales and their darker themes, including the way they address deep-seated fears and desires."
Suddenly the woman's face grew warm as if embarrassed by her own sudden burst of passionate enthusiasm in her voice.
"That's really interesting," Emma said, "I've never considered the psychological origins of fairytales before. I'm Emma, by the way."
The person at the counter called Emma's order and then when she returned to the woman, Belle looked as if she was studying her.
"I'm Belle," the brunette said cheerfully, "Would you like to eat together? I'm on my lunch break right now."
Emma felt a surge of social panic mixed with an unfamiliar ease. Belle didn't look at her with expectations; instead, her eyes were warm and inviting, offering a possible safespace in the midst of an unknown city.
After Belle got her meal from the counter, they sat down near a window at a table. The conversation began as a simple exchange of introduction information. Belle was a librarian at a local branch nearby. She had lived in the city for years and kept mostly to herself. She never really found a lot of people to spark her interest; everyone always felt so plain.
"So, what kind of things are you into?" Bell asked, leaning onto her elbow, her intent to listen clear.
Belle learned a bit about Emma's background and how she had just moved to the city. Emma complained briefly about the infestation issue and watched Belle crinkle up her nose.
"Those jumping crickets are the worst," Belle agreed, "I hope your landlord gets that under control cuz that's no way to live."
"The rent is cheap, so it'll have to do."
"So art, you said," Bell brought back up, "You should check out the Queen's Gallery. They have some really great pieces in there, and who knows? Maybe you could ask about getting a job or at least get pointed in the right direction."
Soon enough, Belle regretfully informed Emma that she had to get back to work, but they should do this again. Belle wrote down her number and gave it to Emma before they departed. It felt strange to Emma to be elated over a budding friendship, but it was something she needed now more than ever. She hadn't really had any reliable friends due to a mix of her own social awkwardness, brashness, and her parent's overly protective tendencies to keep her locked down, but now that she was out on her own, befriending at least one person seemed critical.
The next day, Emma found herself wandering the streets again, but later in the evening. She saw a crowd of people leaving The Queen's Gallery, the energy seeming to draw her forward. Tonight was an art exhibit, and she happened to stumble upon it near the closing hour which meant there would be less of a crowd versus if she had come earlier.
Instantly upon entrance, the ambiance was set by soft classical music and the subtle scent of sandalwood, creating a space that was both inviting and slightly intimidating. This gallery was well known for its opulence and mystery much like the owner herself who kept her personal life well underwraps. The desk in the reception area was sleek and black marble with subtle gold veins, backed by a commanding avant-garde piece that had the same face of the woman on the mural outside.
The dark haired woman was once again depicted as a queen, enveloped in deep purples, midnight blues, and blacks. She was standing in a powerful pose, eyes locked on the viewer with an intense, beckoning gaze, with one hand gracefully extending a glossy red apple toward the viewer. Shadowy, thorny branches and distant castles were seen as vague silhouettes. Emma would come to find out that this was the owner — mysterious, powerful, and captivating.
There was a receptionist at the desk who greeted Emma with a warm smile, handing her a brochure about information on the art featured tonight. Emma took it and glanced at the words: 'Artwork featuring Ruby Lucas and Jefferson Hatter along with brief descriptions of their artistic styles — Ruby's work was described as bold and salacious, while Jefferson's pieces were noted for their surreal, whimsical nature, blending reality with folded it up, slipping it in her back pocket.
The gallery space was accented with deep burgundy and the floors were dark hardwood. Chandeliers and running lights lit the room and illuminated collections of traditional and modern artworks. In the middle were displays from the featuring guest.
Off in the distance, Emma spotted a long haired brunette with red streaks speaking to a guest, pointing at a painting. She was charismatic, her hands animatedly expressing something towards the point of interest. Their eyes met across the room and she gave a simple smile of acknowledgement. She had an edgy, young flair the blonde couldn't quite put her finger on. Feeling the buzz of still too much energy in the main exhibit, Emma decided to escape the crowd and explore other areas.
A section showcased historical art, focusing on powerful women from mythology and history. Another showcased abstract and geometric art that made her tilt her head at different angles and furrowed her brow.
In a secluded corner, Emma was surprised to find the erotic art pieces the brochure spoke of from Ms. Lucas's collection which was illuminated in dim red, purple, and UV. It was this section that Emma found herself studying in detail, the dark shadows contrasting with a pop of neon colors, thanks to the blacklights. There was an image of two women in a sensual embrace, their naked bodies accentuated with splashes of bright colors which made the woman look wet. It wasn't your ordinary display of even human desires. These images felt deeply primal and personal, but in a way Emma didn't understand rationally. The one that took her attention completely was of a restrained pale woman with intricate dark ropes. She wore a collar with a lock on and was looking upward with her eyes closed, surrounded by neon vines. A geometric design was behind her head which contrasted with the dark background. It was sensual and ethereal at the same time. This art was some of the most interesting pieces she had ever come across and it gave her a thrill to have the experience of observing them alone as it made her feel things she wouldn't have been comfortable admitting to another observer.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" said a voice from behind her. It was smooth and filled with a quiet authority, laced with a hint of amusement.
Emma turned to see a striking woman standing a few feet away looking awfully similar to the art piece on display behind the front desk. She had dark raven hair, pulled back in an elegant style, and was dressed in a sleek, tailored outfit that spoke of confidence and sophistication. Her eyes were a dark intensity, almost hypnotic, and they seemed to look right through Emma.
"Yes, they are," Emma replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a strange mix of awe and nervousness, unsure of what to say next. How long had she been standing there?
The woman stepped closer, her gaze shifting to the painting that had captivated Emma.
"Ruby has a way of capturing the most hidden and intimate parts of the human experience. It's not just art—it's a reflection of our deepest desires and fears."
Emma nodded, unable to take her eyes off the woman. "I've never seen anything like it."
The woman smiled, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. "I'm Regina Mills, the owner of this gallery. And you must be new here."
"Yes, I am. I'm Emma," she managed to say, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by Regina's presence.
"How does it make you feel?" Regina asked.
Emma felt her cheeks warm and she laughed awkwardly, "The painting?"
"Indeed," Regina replied with a nod.
Emma took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "It's... captivating. There's something raw and real about it that I can't quite explain. It's like it speaks to a part of me I didn't know existed."
Regina's smile widened slightly, her eyes never leaving Emma's face. "That's the power of art. It reveals truths we often keep hidden from ourselves."
Emma nodded, feeling an unexpected connection with Regina. "I guess that's why I'm so drawn to it."
Regina tilted her head slightly, as if appraising Emma. "You have a keen eye for beauty and depth, Emma. This kind of art – It challenges us, pushes us to confront our innermost feelings. Not everyone can appreciate the layers within Ruby's work. I'm delighted you found something meaningful here."
Emma smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "I am too. Thank you for creating such an incredible space."
Regina gave a small, graceful nod. "It's my pleasure. I've been going around making my last rounds. The gallery will be closing in half an hour."
They shared another intense, unexplained gaze before Regina continued, "Since you seem to resonate so strongly with these, I'd like to extend an invitation to join me and select others for a private after-event gathering. I enjoy hosting safe spaces for more…alternative…minds to mingle and network without fear of judgment. They can be quite the experience."
"I…" Emma's voice caught in her throat. Why did she feel so nervous all of a sudden?
"No pressure, my dear," Regina added, "If you decide you wish to join, you can find me at the end of the night."
With one last smile, Regina turned swiftly and left Emma to her decision, her mind racing. The invitation felt like a turning point, an opportunity to dive into a world she was a stranger to. She glanced back at the artwork, feeling the pull of its raw intensity and the promise of uncovering something new within herself.
As the gallery began to quiet down with the departure of the last few guests, Emma wandered through the remaining exhibits, her thoughts constantly returning to Regina's offer. The abstract and geometric art, the historical pieces of powerful women, left her feeling anxious and excited.
When she finally decided, the gallery was nearly empty. She made her way back to the main hall, where she found Regina waiting, composed and radiant. Emma took a deep breath and approached her, feeling a mix of nerves and resolve.
"I've decided," Emma said, her voice steadying as she met Regina's gaze.
Regina's smile was bright, but her eyes held that same hypnotic, almost territorial intensity. "Excellent. Follow me."
Regina led Emma through a discreet door at the back of the gallery, down a dimly lit corridor that opened into a private lounge. The area was lushly decorated, with velvet couches, soft lighting, and a select few guests already mingling, their conversations a low, pleasant hum.
The atmosphere was notably different, but Emma couldn't quite put her finger on why. It felt more intimate, more charged, like stepping into a different world altogether. As she looked around, she noticed familiar faces from the art world, as well as a few that seemed out of place yet oddly fitting in this eclectic mix.
Regina led her to a corner of the lounge where a group had gathered around a low table, deep in conversation. Among them, Emma recognized the brunette with red streaks she had seen earlier, now animatedly discussing something with a tall man who must be Jefferson Hatter. Their presence exuded a charismatic energy that drew Emma in.
"Emma, I'd like you to meet Ruby Lucas and Jefferson Hatter," Regina introduced them with a graceful wave of her hand. "Ruby, Jefferson, this is Emma, a new admirer of your work."
Ruby's eyes lit up as she extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Emma. What did you think of the exhibit?"
Emma shook her hand, feeling a bit starstruck. "It was incredible. Your pieces are... intense. They really made me think and feel things I didn't expect."
Ruby grinned widely, almost wolfishly. Emma tried to stand steady as she noticed Ruby's eyes looking her up and down taking her in. Ruby studied her face as she asked Emma and what was almost a purr while leaning towards the blonde, "and what kind of...feelings...did they invoke?"
Emma felt heat rising in her cheeks once again and despite the darker lighting of the room, it didn't go unnoticed by Regina or Ruby.
"Don't be shy," Ruby tease, "you're around friends."
Emma hesitated for a moment, her pulse quickening under Ruby's focused gaze.
"Your art," she began, voice slightly unsteady, "I felt... a sort of raw desire I'm not familiar with."
Ruby's smile deepened, her eyes glinting with mischief and understanding. "That's exactly what I aim for—unmasking hidden urges, bringing them to light in their purest form."
Jefferson, observing the exchange with a sly grin, chimed in, "Ruby has a knack for peeling back layers, revealing the carnal beneath the conventional."
Watching the interaction unfold, the raven haired woman added with a smooth, seductive tone, "Art can be a doorway to exploring the depths of our psyche, the wild and untamed parts we're often afraid to confront," Regina turned to Emma, her eyes piercing as they were earlier when they first met. "Art is not just to be viewed, Emma. It's to be experienced, felt on every level."
Ruby leaned in closer, her voice a husky tone, "Tell me, Emma, do you often let yourself explore these... primal urges, or do you keep them caged?"
Emma's laughs nervously again, "I wouldn't even know where to start."