Tyrant Stalker (Tyrant Dynasty 2)

"You hurt yourself," I hiss. "You hurt yourself all the time. But you won't, not anymore. Now every time you want to cut into your skin, you're going to cut me instead. We'll see how quickly we break that nasty little habit of yours."

"P-Please," she manages, her voice breaking. "I don't want to do this."

"Are you sure?" I taunt her. "Are you absolutely fucking sure you don't want this, Dove? I thought you'd be eager to punish me. After all, you hate me so fucking much, don't you?"

"I..." She's getting confused. I can practically see the cogs turning in her brain as she tries to come to terms with her own thoughts. "I do hate you."

"Then fucking cut me." I kneel down next to her, grab her hand holding the knife by the wrist and gently press it against my cheek. "It would be so easy, Dove. You can take it all out on me, I won't punish you for it. I'll reward you. Now fucking cut me."

"N-No," she shakes her head vehemently, but I force her hand to dig the knife's tip into my skin. "No, Nox!"

"Yes." I grin at her through the pain. "Do it. Think of what I did to you. Think of how I ruined your life. All the things you missed out on, because of me. What I did. How I wrecked you. Ruined you. Took everything from you. You didn't want it, did you, Dove? Now is your fucking chance. Get back at me, little bird."

She lets out a yelp and pulls her hand back. The knife clatters to the floor and a droplet of blood runs down my cheek.

"Pathetic," I tell her. "You can't even bring yourself to hurt the man that took everything away from you, can you, Dove?"

"Yes, I can," she hisses. "I can. I will. I can."

"Promises, promises," I smirk. "So full of it, Dove. But I'm not buying your bullshit. You're gonna have to try fucking harder."

"I hate you."

"I know you do. So, take the knife."

Her eyes go to the bloodied blade on the floor. With shaky fingers she picks it back up and glares at me.

"I'm just trying to help you, Dove," I say, with a gentler tone. "I'm trying to help you heal and get better for me, so you can continue being an excellent slut."

"P-Please."

"Don't be weak right now," I demand. "Come here."

She comes closer, holding the knife in her shaky fingers. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You have to," I tell her, gentler than I thought I was capable of being. "It'll help you deal with everything that's happened. Place the blade on my cheek."

She raises a trembling hand and rests the cool blade against my cheek.

"Good girl. See how well you obey? I need you to listen to me, Dove. I need you to hurt me. I need you to cut me. I want us to wear matching scars for the rest of our lives. I want everyone to know we did this to each other."

"You're sick," she whispers, but I don't reply. And when her eyes find mine, I know everything I can't put into words is staring back at her. I can only hope she's strong enough to go through with what she must do to find some closure from the fucked up shit I've done to her.

"Please, Dove." I never fucking beg, and the words feel alien on my tongue. "Cut me. I want to be like you."

She lets out the smallest whimper. Her fingers go to her own scar, touching the surface, as if trying to memorize the exact way I cut her. I'm about to speak again, encourage her to do it, but she doesn't need it. The blade sinks into my skin, tearing at it.

"Good girl," I hiss through the pain. She looks strong right now, not like the fearful little girl I've got her pegged as. "Keep going. Make me look like you."

She doesn't say a word. I can tell she's concentrating now, focusing solely on her fucked up little task. The knife hurts as it carves me, but I'm too turned on to pay it any mind. She doesn't stop. When it's over, the bloody knife clatters to the ground once more and she covers her mouth with her palm, unable to believe what she's just done.

"That felt good, didn't it?" I hiss, ignoring the searing pain in my cheek. "You got back at me now, Dove. We don't owe each other anymore. Now I can use you as hard as I fucking want without any repercussions, isn't that right, little bird?"

"I can't b-believe I-I did that," she stutters, closing her eyes firmly.

"Look at me," I demand. "Look at what you did. I deserve this, Dove. You had to get back at me. I know how good it feels, I've been there too, little bird. Let it fill you. Let it overtake you."