My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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Day after day, I stood before the mirror, preparations complete.
What was I waiting for? Even I didn't have an answer.
Then, finally—a man moved in.
For the first time in forever, I felt a flicker of excitement. Like a front-row spectator, I studied his every move.
And then I saw it.
Hidden cameras in the bathroom.
Spiked drinks. The girls he lived with, helpless under his control—threatened, manipulated, violated.
At first, rage burned through me.
But that rage twisted into something else—something electric.
Logic dissolved. I became an audience of one, utterly enthralled.
Life had meaning again. This was my private, depraved theater.
Then came Luna Valentine.
Not classically beautiful, but different. Stronger.
I knew instantly—she was dangerous.
A quiet voice inside whispered: She's going to ruin everything.
One evening, I sat frozen behind the mirror, watching Luna Valentine shower.
She had no idea about the camera overhead.
Her body was lean but sculpted—toned legs, small, perfect breasts.
Suddenly, I saw it: her portrait. Not like the others. This would be art.
No. Not just art. A masterpiece.
If I painted her, it had to be flawless.
There was so much more to uncover.
My pulse quickened. For the first time in years, I felt alive.
And I couldn't wait for his next move.
I needed to see Luna break. To watch her body betray her in terror.
When he muttered to the mirror, "Tonight's the night," I nearly laughed aloud.
That day, I didn't move. Didn't blink. Just waited.
Then—crashing sounds from the living room.
A struggle.
He dragged Luna into the bathroom by her hair.
My breath caught.
Yes.
He forced her down. She pulled a knife—useless. He was too strong.
But her eyes—God, her eyes. Pure fury. Despair.
It was beautiful.
My hands trembled. Ideas erupted in my mind like fireworks.
Then—five minutes later—the impossible happened.
Luna twisted the shower curtain around his throat and choked the life out of him.
"You monster."
What was I waiting for? Even I didn't have an answer.
Then, finally—a man moved in.
For the first time in forever, I felt a flicker of excitement. Like a front-row spectator, I studied his every move.
And then I saw it.
Hidden cameras in the bathroom.
Spiked drinks. The girls he lived with, helpless under his control—threatened, manipulated, violated.
At first, rage burned through me.
But that rage twisted into something else—something electric.
Logic dissolved. I became an audience of one, utterly enthralled.
Life had meaning again. This was my private, depraved theater.
Then came Luna Valentine.
Not classically beautiful, but different. Stronger.
I knew instantly—she was dangerous.
A quiet voice inside whispered: She's going to ruin everything.
One evening, I sat frozen behind the mirror, watching Luna Valentine shower.
She had no idea about the camera overhead.
Her body was lean but sculpted—toned legs, small, perfect breasts.
Suddenly, I saw it: her portrait. Not like the others. This would be art.
No. Not just art. A masterpiece.
If I painted her, it had to be flawless.
There was so much more to uncover.
My pulse quickened. For the first time in years, I felt alive.
And I couldn't wait for his next move.
I needed to see Luna break. To watch her body betray her in terror.
When he muttered to the mirror, "Tonight's the night," I nearly laughed aloud.
That day, I didn't move. Didn't blink. Just waited.
Then—crashing sounds from the living room.
A struggle.
He dragged Luna into the bathroom by her hair.
My breath caught.
Yes.
He forced her down. She pulled a knife—useless. He was too strong.
But her eyes—God, her eyes. Pure fury. Despair.
It was beautiful.
My hands trembled. Ideas erupted in my mind like fireworks.
Then—five minutes later—the impossible happened.
Luna twisted the shower curtain around his throat and choked the life out of him.
"You monster."
End of My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom book page.