Bruises

I want his body covered in pink flesh wounds and a bloody red and in the blue and violet of bruises and that all in contrast to his wonderful pale skin with that cool greyish-blue tone. I want to abuse him. I want to hurt him. I want him to beg. I want him to look like a mess. My mess. My beauty. I want him to look at me, with tearful eyes, pleading so hard. Fear in his eyes.

I wanna touch the bones, sticking out from beneath his skin. Touching them with my own cold fingers, as I wonder how it might feel for him. How the cold feels for him. How warmth feels for him. I want to hurt him, to abuse him. It's like a need.

_________________________________________________________________________

He was like a prince, a prince of darkness, a prince of evil, a prince who liked to hurt others and who was skilled with a knife.