AN: Warning, the reader will cut herself (not really of her own volition), but it might be a little too intense for people who are struggling right now. Be aware.

Melon sat back on his haunches, thinking.

"Guess another animal. But get it wrong." He demanded.

"Are you a house cat?" You gave a small chortle. It was a very wrong answer. Melon chuckled back, but then handed you the box cutter. As he gripped your fingers around the handle, he spoke.

"I bet this will feel good. Being in control of something that you caused might help. I think I need to teach you how to take control of your own life. If you're unable to control your emotions, your self worth and your external life, controlling physical feeling is something of a blessing." He took his shirt off, revealing a huge collection of melon leaf tattoos. "The pain and mark is yours, you have created it, nobody can take it from you. If attempt to cut yourself it WILL happen, there's no degree of uncertainty. Who knows if your stupid antler head was ever going to come and get you from that bar. But you know your intention when it comes to this box cutter. You know how it will happen, and the aftermath. There's a comforting knowledge in that, that at least you have total control over your body to inflict some degree of feeling on it. With a normal cut - say, cutting yourself accidentally with a lover's claw - is the total opposite of that feeling. It's shock, it wasn't expected, you weren't prepared for it and the pain, and you cannot control the situation surrounding the injury. The pain itself feels very different and much sharper. For many people this aspect of control becomes a sort of ritual for them; the preparing of the razor, the feeling before the cut, feelings after, the aftercare, etc, it's something that is all controllable and owned by you and only you." He began to purr. "By you showing me that you're getting off on me cutting you, tells me you're giving me permission to do it.  But if you do it, you don't need to ask anyone for anything. Pick the spot, even."

You looked at him and looked at yourself. Your arm hurt. Your jaw throbbed. Melon had a point, although none of this situation really could be your decision-- you were being held hostage at knife-point. So, you raised your shirt up, showcasing your soft belly, and right above the hip, you pushed in. And then you pushed in more. Then you dragged it.

"Woah, woah, there, Chrysocyon. Let's not end our game too quickly." He stopped your hand and pulled the box cutter away from you. "Good. Not too big. Now wasn't that easy? I didn't hear you moan though, so I'm a little disappointed in that... did you deserve that? Think of this as  emotional pain translated to physical pain. Are you punishing yourself for your own complicity? Do you deserve to be marked and feel this pain?"

"...I deserve it." You looked down and admitted quietly. "I let myself be in this situation. I came willingly."

"Good. Now what do you want me to do? Take control."

There was a long pause. Should you take the obvious route and tell him to let you go? Do you asked him to cut himself? What about call the police, or at least a friend to save you?