Anticipation

Crave me, carve me

It stung where the handcuffs were digging into my skin. Unknown never really cared whether our encounters left permanent marks or not. Actually, I think he quite likes the idea that I would wear these marks that he made. Even if they weren't by his own hands... even if that mark was the red cut left by the handcuffs; he was the one to put them on me. I'm basically his canvas to paint on as he wishes.

Usually, I have a blindfold on because he told me that when they take away your vision, the other senses heighten. And as much as I don't want to admit it, I realized that it's true. When you can't see anything, all things come as a surprise. Every touch, every word, everything. It just makes everything feel so intense.

At first, I was scared. But, to be honest, I'm trusting Unknown more and more every day. He said I'm growing on him, so... he surely wouldn't kill me, would he?

This time, though, he didn't cover my eyes. He said that he wants me to see everything that he does to my body.

He brought a little boy with him today. I've been watching him rummaging through it for quite a while now. He seems to be looking for something and judging by the frustrated sounds that he occasionally makes, he can't find it. He keeps searching for a few more minutes before letting out a happy little noise.

"Fuck. Finally!" He turns over to face me, holding a small metal object in one hand while smiling brightly. I swallow hard as I realize what it is. A scalpel.

With long, measured steps, he walks towards me. His expression turns darker with every stride of his legs. But the grin is still in place.

"You've always wanted to know my name, haven't you, boy?"

I nod quickly. Of course, I do. I've been spending all these months with a man whose real name I don't know. In my head, I always refer to him as 'Unknown' because that's what Seven used to call him. Many times, when I got braver, I asked Unknown to tell me. But he never did.

"Speak up, I can't hear. It's annoying when you just nod your head, you know."

Even though it hurts to talk, I do.

"Yes... yes, I do." I manage to croak out, barely audible but he still seems satisfied with it. Unknown chuckles and climbs onto the bed so he's straddling me. I gasp as he lowers himself and sits in my lap. Again, he lets out a giggle at my reaction.

"If you're a good boy..." He grinds down onto me and I bit my lip. I'm already half hard and the pants I'm wearing start to feel awfully tight. "I might give you a reward."

Fighting the urge to raise my hips and seek some friction, I nod. He grounds his own hips again and clicks his tongue. He wants me to speak. He must know how much my throat aches. Maybe this is just another source of twisted amusement for him. I don't care though. Is he wants me to be a good boy, then I'll be a good boy.

"Yes, I promise... I'll be good."

His teeth are showing, he's grinning so wide.

"That's my boy." He brings the blade to his finger and cuts it carefully. Then lets some of the blood trickle down before bringing it to my lips and smearing it all over them. "Keep quiet now. If you scream... Well, you remember the pathetic little fairy tale about my mother."

I gulp, trying to cease my trembling.

Unknown searches my face for a second before bringing the knife to my chest. I close my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek to keep the sounds in.

"No, no, no, open your eyes for me, moron." He whispers and, unsurely, I do. That's the moment he chooses to push the scalpel into my skin. I flinch but keep my eyes fixated on the red liquid that starts to flow from the cut.

With fluid motions, he moves the knife, carving some kind of pattern into my chest. The blood smears around the wound and makes it impossible for me to make any shape out.

Warm tears prickle my eyes as he pushes the edge of the metal in again. The next time he does this, my tears are flowing freely.

And that is when I realize: he's writing something across my chest. The word begins on the right side of my chest and continues towards my heart.

I haven't made a sound yet and by the fourth letter, the pain begins to dull into a warm feeling. My head feels hot and dizzy and my vision is a bit blurry. I'm not close to passing out, but not completely conscious either.

It takes me a few moments to realize that he's done. He's carved the last letter into my skin. I don't know if I've made and sounds or not, but at this point, I really don't care.

I distantly see him leaving the bed and returning with a first-aid kit. He takes his place in my lap again and opens the white box. Unknown takes out a small piece of cotton and soaks it into something that I assume is fertilizer.

I hiss as he drags the wet material over my wounds but he doesn't seem to mind. The fertilizer stings but it's not unbearable. When he's done cleaning me up, he takes out a roll of bandage and ties it tightly over my chest. Then, he leans in and kisses my forehead while unlocking the handcuffs.

"You are such a great toy, aren't you?" I whimper at the praise.

After my hands are freed, he plants soft kisses onto each one of my wrists.

"Rest up now, moron. You'll receive your gift tonight." I feel his warmth leaving me, then the silent sound of things being packed away. As soon as the door of my room closes, I drift off to sleep.