I decided to do two different plots with the same beginning. They're both very, very harsh stuff about a boy I call Josh (and which I write about often) and his father, set when he was twelve, from his father's POV. You're warned, because the man has rather… dark thoughts.

PLOT 1: "Perfect"

He looked at him. His son was perfect. Flawless, creamy, pale skin, hairless all over his young, lithe but still muscular body only he was allowed to touch; the long, silky, shiny straight black hair which brushed with its tips the thin waist; the flat, hard as a rock stomach. The great, almond-shaped eyes with their long, thick lashes and their golden iris; what he loved the most because of the way they filled up with tears each time. Perfect he was, as he lay naked before him, only wearing that black leather collar that marked him as his for whatever he pleased to do with him. He'd created him and he was his property, his toy, his slave, his slut.

He awakened him and used him once again. He took advantage of him whole. Lips, teeth, tongue, mouth first; then his hands, his voice too as he made him beg endlessly for mercy and then beg again for his favourite thing. Tell him he liked what he was doing to him. Then using his hands, his spread legs, and his hole. He used his chest and back as covering them with bites. Then he left and let him sleep.

He often wondered how much he could spoil that perfection, because it often tired him. Making every inch of the lovely pale skin blue hadn't helped; bruises always healed. Then he came up with an idea.

Josh! –he screamed, and his son came creeping on his knees, loosened hair covering his back and brushing the floor with its tips. Then again, so boring perfect.

He held an object in his hand. A little dagger made of silver. So beautiful and even more as he slid it over his son's right shoulder. When no skin was left, he went down his arm. Josh yelled in pain as he destroyed the once flawless skin slowly, and then changed arm and started again, only to do the same thing with his thighs and legs. Then he was chained and he whipped him until no skin was left on his chest, stomach, back and arse. When he was done he held the silver dagger once again and marked the kid's cheeks.

These imperfections would take a longer time to heal.