I don't really know how to explain this one, it just occurred to me. Enjoy? :P

It always starts with an itch. Barely noticeable at first. You can just push it away, ignore it, hide it behind other thoughts.

But it grows. Becomes almost painful. Ignoring it becomes impossible. You try to distract yourself. Read a book, play a game, watch some TV. But the itch is still there. It can last for hours. You feel unable to concentrate on anything else. No matter what you're doing the itch is there, an ever-present feeling in the back of your mind.

It's worse when you're alone. Sat in the house, nothing to do to relieve the feeling. No-one to talk to, to distract you.

So you do the only thing that you know will help. Stop the itch. Calm your mind.

You cut.

You take the blade, and drag it through the skin. You hiss in pain and grit your teeth. Sometimes one cut is enough. Sometimes the itch remains until there are 10, 20, 30. Identical incisions in your pale skin.

Sometimes just the sight or smell or taste of blood is enough for the itch to fade.

The deep red shade, the way it trickles down flesh, the bitter coppery taste.

And finally, the itch is gone.

You feel relief. Shame. Disgust. Pleasure.

You can relax. Fully focus on the people and things around you, feel the way others do all the time.

But all good things must end.

And the itch returns.

It may only be minutes til it returns, or hours, or days.

But it will always return.

And I will always be there, ready to satisfy it.

To carve my pale flesh. To watch the blood fall. To smell it, touch it, taste it.

And he will always be there, to watch with his usual smirk. Eyes filled with lust. Watching until he can't bear it anymore and has to grab the blade from me. Run his long tongue down it's side, lick my wounds. Letting a low, animal growl emit from his throat as he tastes the crimson liquid.

He looks up into my eyes, see's the desire and passion barely masked by fear and pain.

He kisses me. Bloody lips brushing mine.

Now I can taste it too.

And I love it.

He knows I love it.

But it's alright.

Because he loves it too.