Page 13 of All He Takes
"No, no, I-"
"Look at me."
She looked up, her beautiful eyes meeting his.
"You're a pretty girl, aren't you? So pretty."
"Please," she sobbed, tears running down her face, "let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone. Just let me go."
"Oh, I won't let you go," he told her sweetly. "I'm going to keep you here."
"Please," she begged, "don't hurt me."
"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you, doll. I just want to take some pictures. You won't even notice the pain."
"No," she begged again, "no, I won't let you take pictures of me."
"Oh, we'll see about that," he grinned, and raised his camera.
"You see, doll," he explained, "you're such a pretty girl, and you're going to be so beautiful in the pictures I take. You're the subject of my photography. Aren't you happy? You should be."
"No, please--I just want to go home, please..."
But he wouldn't let her go home. Not yet. Not ever. In fact, he was going to dress her up like a model. Smiling, he went over to the locker and pulled it open to reveal many dresses for her to choose from.
"Ah, so many pretty dresses for my pretty doll," he laughed. He pulled the door open and gestured for the woman to come forward. Obediently she stood and walked toward the open locker. Slowly, one by one, he held up each dress and waited for her to shake her head no, then threw it back into the locker. She was crying now, as he threw dress after dress back into the locker. Then he smiled wider and held up a small pink one. She nodded meekly and he pulled it out.
"Oh, this one is perfect!" he exclaimed, holding it up to her.
"Y-yes," she stammered, "it's lovely."
"Let me help you," he said, and pulled a pair of scissors from his pocket.
"What--what are you going to do?" she whimpered.
"Oh, I'm just going to make some alterations to this dress," he said, and cut a hole in the front of her dress. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut off the sleeves. He pulled the dress over her head, then cut off the skirt.
"Oh, my--you're lovely," he cooed.
He loved the way it looked on her, and he knew she'd look even more beautiful in it than the other models.
"There we go," he told her. "Now, you look like a girl."
"Please," she begged, "just let me go. I don't want to be here anymore."
"Oh, you'll be here for a long time, pretty girl," he told her, gently stroking her face.
"Please, don't touch me," she begged.
"Oh, but I have to touch you. I have to touch you all over. I have to touch you where I want to. I have to touch your pretty, pretty face."
He ran his hand across her cheek, and she backed away, as far as she could go.
"Please, don't hurt me," she pleaded.
"Oh, doll, you're the most perfect subject for a photoshoot. You're so pretty, and you're so scared. I love it. I love you."
"Please, don't hurt me."
