Flies

My girl

Her hands wouldn't move. Blake was bound and shackled by coarse means of confinement - ropes and chains about her wrists had her conserved in the role of the static and obedient little doll she would remain, waiting on her cruel tormentor's command. She jerked and writhed with the little energy that still remained in her frail body, but her hands remained behind her. The stench of ammonia burned in the air and brought tears to both their eyes; Blake opened them, and her master forced them shut.

Her heart palpitated, fingers clenched, breathing regularity collapsed as dust filled her failing lungs and choked her as she whimpered. His fingers rested firmly over her eyelids with one hand as he worked with the other, where the hell am I? Oh my god I can't breath, I'm going to die, this is it.. That's the man, I knew i didn't make it up. Why does he have a camera? His fingers hurt, why are they on my eyelids? He's going to blind me. What's that rattling? I can't move, everything hurts.. Where are my clothes? 

Distorted rattling halted while his grip loosened over her face, yet he was no less in control as he clutched her hair violently in his bony fingers and lifted her right eyelid with his thumb. Blake could see... Yet she wished she couldn't. What played before her eyes made her desperate and weak in her constraints, jerking her head away in madcap manor before realizing the agony it would cause to her fragile little skull where he held her without leeway. Screaming was of no use when every heedless gasp filled her cavities with pain and particulates that only further punished her already mishandled throat - he'd had her in his grip so tightly just a few hour prior, or was it nearer than that? Every wound, every bruise, every cut felt... fresh. But a body so untouched and pristine was too much for his bent mind to resist, even if Blake wasn't as young as he preferred. As young as the others...

The disk neared her eye and gleamed dully under harsh but flickering halogen lights, that burned her retinas none the less. An eye cap. If it hadn't been for the morbid documentaries she so often watched with Hannah, she would never have recognized what it was, yet she would have trembled at the sight even in such innocent naivety without the knowledge... Spikes veil the eye caps' surface and clutch to the eyelids of corpses and hold them closed, keeping them from the sight of miserable onlookers staring at what they have become, but also were in life - dull. Did he want her eyes shut, or did he want her blind..? The air thick with labored breaths had become too much for tired eyes - vision blackened, tears swarmed, Blake choked:

"I'll close them! I-I swear! I'll do whatever you want s-sir! I-" His crying hostage spluttered and couldn't help but spit her words into the shadowed face she feared, only a few inches from hers. She coughed and choked which misted his skin, but he'd almost seemed to relish it. His dark eyes scrunched into a pleased expression for less than just a second, though it passed like days to the fragile girl who opposed him, yet dropped again just as quickly. The figure released her eye from its agony before snapping her skull closer to his own. Skin grazed dying skin, hers flushed and ruined, bruised and damaged, innocent and violated; his cold and seemingly anemic. Clean shaven for the occasion. Hairs stood on end against his breath creeping over her, nearing her lips that trembled like the rest of her body as he kissed her, eyes wide open. His tongue tasted metallic, just like blood ought to taste...

The lips that violated hers were warm where blood had trickled over them and his teeth had sank into tissue - the thrill of photographing every new toy for the first time had made it somewhat of a habit. Lip biting wasn't the only abuse he was willing and able to inflict, though it was near only a fraction of his forms of self harm - which in Blake's world had only ever correlated to weakness and fear... Which in a way was true of him, yet it was the weakness of those less powerful, less willing to comply that lead him to relieve his arousal with wounds laid on each of them. However, he was sharp enough to realize wounds upon his own anatomy spawned easier opportunity for escape, so he'd learned to savoir the taste of his sweet crimson nectar on his tongue and only do so on occasion. This one was special. His first documentation of Blake, a more mature and somewhat vintage plaything for his taste, but one he adored none the less. He recoiled and wiped his mouth, then her eyelids with red stained fingers.

"Good girl," he praised her coldly in a relentless deep voice, velvety despite the thickness of the air. "Be still, darling." He pressed his lips to her ear. "Don't ruin my pictures again,". 

Her lips trembled violently like they had under colder airs while she tried to utter a response that would please him, just say okay, apologize, beg him to let you go... If you don't you know you'll die here, kidnappers always kill the girl once they've gotten what they want on TV, oh god there's no use he won't spare you..! Darling..? Just give him what he wants, maybe he'll make it less painful, right?!  His hands snapped viciously around her jaw with such force her teeth penetrated her tongue and filled her skull with blood inside as punishment for trying to speak.

"I didn't ask you to tell me, I already know you'll be my obedient little doll.".