Tortured Princess - (Larry Stylinson) -Discontinued-

Chapter one

"P-please d-on't hurt m-me," I cried.

The door swung open and a tall, muscular, curly, brown haired, green eyed man came walking in.

"I see someone is awake. I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up" he said, his voice deep and raspy.

"I-I . . . W-who are you?" I replied, scared.

He smirked, he walked over to me, "I'm Harry. You're Louis, right? If I'm correct . . . That's what you told me your name was last night when we met at the bar."

"Why d-id you kidnap m-me?"

"Well, princess, I wanted someone to have fun with and to torture. Basically, what I'm trying to say is . . . I wanted someone to be, like my living and breathing toy. A living doll, you could say?," Harry smirks and extends his hand out towards my cheek.

"Please don't touch me" I whispered, "I-I'm not a toy, nor a doll. 'M a h-human being."

He ignored me and began to caress my right cheek.

Tears began to form at the brim of my eyes, "s-stop! 'arry please! I d-on't like this!" I cried.

"Maybe I should just torture you instead, huh?" He questioned, venomously. Harry harshly grabbed my chin and forced me to look him in the eyes.

"Good boys get treated like a princess, bad boys get punished," he squeezed my chin, making me let out a whimper, "Got it?"

I gulped, "I-I got it. 'M r-really s-orry, H-Harry," tears fell down my cheeks.

"Since I own you, I feel like I should have my name on you to show that you're my property," he chuckled.

My eyebrows furrowed, "y-your name? P-property? O-own me?"

"You belong to me, now. As for my name, well I think I should carve my name into your skin," he let go of my chin and trailed his hand down my black-sweater covered chest.

I squirmed, trying to get away from his touch, feeling uncomfortable.

With Harry's spare hand, he dug into his back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a hunter's knife.

"What are y-you going to d-do with th-at?" I asked, scared.

He didn't reply to my answer, instead he brought the knife up to my chest. He tore my sweater off of me, using the knife to cut it off.

"Stop! What are you doing?" I cried.

He then cut off my black-leggings, he then pulled off my black-vans. Leaving me in nothing, but my thin, black boxers.

"Why did you do that?" I asked. Tears gushing out of my eyes, falling down my cheeks, as if my eyes were waterfalls.

"Because, love, I'm carving my name into you" he replied, coldly.

I gulped.

He smirked, darkly, "Let's begin, shall we?"

He pocketed his knife and left the room.

I let out a chocked sob.

A few minutes later, the door opened and in came Harry with a bottle of disinfectant spray and a cloth.

He walked over to me with a huge smirk upon his face.