Eye of the Camera
Cameras. Pftt. They watch everything she does. Recording every inch of skin into the memory. Glaring, watching as if in judgment as she rolled around on the pile of her clothes, reaching positions to flatter herself. But then, she saw there was no judgment inn the voyeuristic camera. It enjoyed it all.
She grabbed her left breast and took the knife he had left on the nightstand. She slowly carved a superficial heart into her breast. She showed the camera the beads of blood; they came slowly to the surface in the order of penetration, unfolding like a flower bloom before the man who watched on the other side. The heart came to be, bead by bloody bead. Then, she kissed her art and smiled at him through the lens; blood staining her lips.
Come taste she said with her eyes.
Her captor rose from his seat and switched the camera off. Then, he paused in the doorway, returning to flip it right back on. He knew what she was doing. She was trying to manipulate him, lull him into some fantasy; doping his mind with her sex and here he was, walking right into her hands. He grinned to himself as he unlocked the door to the room his prize had lived in for the past two weeks.
Immediately, she dove at him, knife still in her hands. He chuckled as he flung her aside and watched the knife clang against the cement floor and spin a half circle. She was so cute. So predictable. He grabbed her by the hair and led her back over to her bed.
"Get dressed," he commanded and she merely stared up at him, tears in her eyes now. Her eyes were reddening quickly as he continued to stare at her. He arched his eyebrow and nodded towards her clothing.
Carefully, she put her clothes back on and sat on the edge of the bed again, staring up at him. He moved towards her and she flinched violently. Cute and predictable, he grinned. He stood directly in front of her, so close that she scooted back on the bed to avoid their legs touching one another's.
"You no longer have the privileged of being unclothed," he said with a hint of anger.
She hadn't wanted to be naked in the first place, but then she realized she felt a mourning. She lowered her head a little but raised her eyes to keep him in her sights. She didn't trust him. You don't trust someone who abducted you off the street. She shook her head to herself.
"What is it?" He asked, his voice booming over her head, stunning her slightly.
She answered with a heavy sigh, closed her eyes, and then shrugged. Her eyes met his again. The light inside of them wasn't entirely gone. He would keep her as long as there was light. Nothing good happens when the lights of the eyes go dark, he knew this well. He sighed himself then, and caressed her cheek with the knuckle of his middle finger.
"Now, I do believe I am entitled to a taste of that," he said.
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