Black Tangled Heart
Black eyes. Liquid, dark, nearly scary eyes stared at her. She turned her attention to the mouth, watching the cranberry lipstick being applied, smelling that faint cosmetic smell, Maybelline, Wet 'n Wild, Cover Girl.those chalky, makeup smells were the same regardless of brand. Her mouth turned upward into a small smile as the lipstick capped, the snap very satisfying. She dabbed at her lips, and rubbed a small bit of gray eyeliner away with her long fingernail. She turned away from the mirror, Steven standing behind her still, waiting like a faithful dog. His eyes were cloudy, blue, robotic. She laughed under her breath as she took a step toward him, running her hands through his hair. His gaze was unwavering as he extended his arm, spraying raspberry perfume above the two of them, the scent settling in her thick black hair.
"Sweet slavery," she said to him quietly. They pulled away, Steven staring at her with an intense regard. His hands passed over her, not touching her, fingers moving with her shape, like she was sacred, like he wouldn't touch her. He sank to his knees. "Victoria." her name passed through his lips, breathing. She nodded her head once, grazing his cheek with the back of her knuckles. He bowed his head, a surrender. Curls fell down onto his forehead, into his eyes. Thick eyelashes brought a boyish aspect into him, innocent, at her mercy. She placed a finger under his chin, lifting his face upward. "We will reach perfection," she whispered, leaning in, laying a kiss on him, lipstick leaving one of those cartoon shapes, a perfect heart in pink print, branding his skin. It shone just lightly, like a luster, soft light like the shine of chrome. His grin spread, a full blown smile, something dead in all of it. Slavery. He was mesmerized, abused my his own obsession. His hands shook as she dominated him, staring down, liquid bullets, the faintest trace of hazel tone lost to the darkness. Insanity, misunderstanding, creeping behind the orbs, grinning. Appearing malignant, breathing hatred, but just dark. Steven understood that line, between dark and evil, which bled to others. They simply didn't know as he knew, as he fell as her possession. She was misunderstood, not crazy. Dark, but not evil. She had a heart, which was set on herself and Steven and ambition, one which drove her to have her way. A drive to win, to be loved by herself and worshipped by her slave. Deranged, not insane. Narcissistic, not schizophrenic. In herself she was a concept unconceivable, with a presence undeniable. Fear rippled in waves around her, her darkness eminent, highlighted by tight pink wrestling attire. For this beauty, the grace of a countess, a queen full of elegance and capable of tyranny. Ice, frosty Aphrodite. For this Steven was entranced, for her power and beauty, and because she demanded it of him. Once he'd seen her he'd fallen, victim of mind games and tantalizing. And once she'd noticed this she'd played off of it, a seductress, enchantress, all but pointing a wand full of glitter at him to make him come. It hadn't taken much, only his own heart, his own desires. Like she had a preternatural power over the eyes and hearts of men. And he couldn't even bring himself to touch her, her body stinging his hands like a golden goddess, as he felt lost between fading emotion and mechanism, unable to control himself. Drawn to her beyond his own accord, a machine, yet feeling ultimately lower than her. The way a person worships God. Steven stood slowly, chained in her gaze. "I love you." he said softly. She smiled, traced his lips lightly with her forefinger. "Yes.you should."
Black eyes. Liquid, dark, nearly scary eyes stared at her. She turned her attention to the mouth, watching the cranberry lipstick being applied, smelling that faint cosmetic smell, Maybelline, Wet 'n Wild, Cover Girl.those chalky, makeup smells were the same regardless of brand. Her mouth turned upward into a small smile as the lipstick capped, the snap very satisfying. She dabbed at her lips, and rubbed a small bit of gray eyeliner away with her long fingernail. She turned away from the mirror, Steven standing behind her still, waiting like a faithful dog. His eyes were cloudy, blue, robotic. She laughed under her breath as she took a step toward him, running her hands through his hair. His gaze was unwavering as he extended his arm, spraying raspberry perfume above the two of them, the scent settling in her thick black hair.
"Sweet slavery," she said to him quietly. They pulled away, Steven staring at her with an intense regard. His hands passed over her, not touching her, fingers moving with her shape, like she was sacred, like he wouldn't touch her. He sank to his knees. "Victoria." her name passed through his lips, breathing. She nodded her head once, grazing his cheek with the back of her knuckles. He bowed his head, a surrender. Curls fell down onto his forehead, into his eyes. Thick eyelashes brought a boyish aspect into him, innocent, at her mercy. She placed a finger under his chin, lifting his face upward. "We will reach perfection," she whispered, leaning in, laying a kiss on him, lipstick leaving one of those cartoon shapes, a perfect heart in pink print, branding his skin. It shone just lightly, like a luster, soft light like the shine of chrome. His grin spread, a full blown smile, something dead in all of it. Slavery. He was mesmerized, abused my his own obsession. His hands shook as she dominated him, staring down, liquid bullets, the faintest trace of hazel tone lost to the darkness. Insanity, misunderstanding, creeping behind the orbs, grinning. Appearing malignant, breathing hatred, but just dark. Steven understood that line, between dark and evil, which bled to others. They simply didn't know as he knew, as he fell as her possession. She was misunderstood, not crazy. Dark, but not evil. She had a heart, which was set on herself and Steven and ambition, one which drove her to have her way. A drive to win, to be loved by herself and worshipped by her slave. Deranged, not insane. Narcissistic, not schizophrenic. In herself she was a concept unconceivable, with a presence undeniable. Fear rippled in waves around her, her darkness eminent, highlighted by tight pink wrestling attire. For this beauty, the grace of a countess, a queen full of elegance and capable of tyranny. Ice, frosty Aphrodite. For this Steven was entranced, for her power and beauty, and because she demanded it of him. Once he'd seen her he'd fallen, victim of mind games and tantalizing. And once she'd noticed this she'd played off of it, a seductress, enchantress, all but pointing a wand full of glitter at him to make him come. It hadn't taken much, only his own heart, his own desires. Like she had a preternatural power over the eyes and hearts of men. And he couldn't even bring himself to touch her, her body stinging his hands like a golden goddess, as he felt lost between fading emotion and mechanism, unable to control himself. Drawn to her beyond his own accord, a machine, yet feeling ultimately lower than her. The way a person worships God. Steven stood slowly, chained in her gaze. "I love you." he said softly. She smiled, traced his lips lightly with her forefinger. "Yes.you should."