Not all consider Bree Gillean's work to be 'art'. Some call it 'exhibitionism' or 'pornography', even comparing it to fetish dancing. It might even be just that. But in Bree's mind, this is art. Her specialty is in her 'Pure Portraits'. During her public exhibitions she will take random 'volunteers' and reduce them to a splatter on a canvas, her perfect orgasm control ensuring that their clothing is pasted artfully with their cummified remains. Often this piece of 'performance art' will be accompanied by a few of her previous drier canvases for any interested purchasers... Though often customers are more interested in the videos she records of her private performances,and few purchase them for their artistic merit...
Oh, but there are other art pieces she sells in her studio gallery (i.e. her apartment). More experimental pieces made via performance. "One-Hundred Virgins" in particular, made from a unique form of paper mache: used panties from former partners, soaked in her cum and dried in shape to form a phallic statue. She claims to even remember every single girl who's passed through her studio (and by extention, through her), and can tell their stories just by picking out a specific pair of panties. She has more than a few of these unique artworks on display, ever eager to discuss them in great detail to anyone with an ear to listen.
Luckily, if her art shows don't pay off, there's always her day job to fall back upon. She works as a substitute teacher at several local schools, often finding there's little lack of work available. Teachers aren't exempt from prey status, after all, and fill-ins are always needed during the transition to a replacement. She tends to get along rather well with the high school and college crowd, the hormonal sort who are always eager for a teacher with no shame. And while she might claim otherwise, she does enjoy the spoils of authority, and the way it allows her to pick off a couple students here and there at whim, shorten their academic careers to feed her hungers. Sometimes for a demonstration, sometimes because she just needed a snack. She's rather carefree about it all, so it makes it difficult to blame her for the shrinking class numbers (besides, she might argue, it's just desserts for students who don't bat an eye at seeing their former teachers get devoured).
And when all else fails, there's always the club. When it's not art or academia, Bree loves to unwind at any of the random fetish clubs around the city, places that have a more personal connection to her past history. A couple drinks and a view of the stage show and she might loosen up enough to slip off her claims of pretention and give in to her vorish lusts. In performance, her vorish ways are art; in the class, it's about education; but after hours, on her own, she's just another horny predator looking to feel something live and squirming stuffed into her balls, churning down to her next load.
