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196 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 1, 2019
He looks up at me, his eyes shining, fucking beautiful. I slap him in the face, leaving another handprint on his pale cheek. Tears well in his eyes from the impact, and another surge of pleasure.
So. Fucking. Beautiful.
He strikes me again, and it scores the skin on my abdomen. I see stars for a moment. It’s like a blissful dream come true. I look down so I can see the blood and tears well into my eyes. It’s beautiful. He’s making me beautiful. He’s transforming me.
He promised me months ago that I would someday be his masterpiece. I ache for him to put me against his canvas and turn me into art. His whip will beautify me, and I’ll be a monument to his delicious cruelty. I yearn for it. I want it so badly that sometimes I get jealous of the people he’s already killed.
When I finish, a galaxy of multi-coloured spatters will create a pristine outline of the dying man’s frame. He will be preserved forever in negative, his blood and the paint showcasing the imprint of his body better than any chalk outline.