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To Teach A Lesson

How many times have you seen someone who just needed a good beating?  Perhaps it is someone that has cut you off in traffic, a rude waitress, or just a small human who is being annoying.  Would it not be wonderful, to take them some place quiet, where hardly anyone; if anyone at all; goes. 

After you get them there, they are still bitching about something or other.  You shove them inside the door, kick them in the ass and send them sprawling across the floor.  Before they can even get up, your boot is coming into contact with their jaw line just to shut them the fuck up.

You wait until I arrive, then we both wait for them to regain consciousnesses.  When they come to, you and I take turns doing all sorts of deliciously wicked things to them.  We let them scream, we let them beg, we let them spew swear words.  It doesn’t matter, actually, it is pretty much just fuel for the fire.  I can see it in your eyes, that gleam, that pure hatred. 

I tie their hands securely together, yank them over their head, put the hook under the rope, and leave them there for a moment.  I hand you various instruments for you to use on them.  Everything from your basic cane, to something much more devious; a Choke Pear. 

In the end it will be completely up to you if we cut their cries for help and pain off so they will never cry out again, or if you wish to keep them around for a while to teach them a life lesson they will never forget.

Jill In The Box

Hello little cunt muffin, I hope you had a good rest.  Although, I am sure you did not, being crammed into that restrictive box for the last 12 hours with hardly any air doesn’t sound all that pleasant to Me.  I am sure you were fine though.  How did you like being shoved under My bed?  Did you like when I stuck the violent wand through the holes by your feet to give you a little jolt now and then? I am sure you did. What’s this? Crying already? You are such a weak worthless tiny bitch aren’t you?

Why you were requested is beyond Me.  However, your new Owner will be here shortly, and I have to get you ready.  You will adore Him, I promise you that.  He is a sick son of a bitch that is for sure.  I am positive you will love every single game He will play with you.  I’m almost jealous over the whole thing, not that I would want Him to play with Me mind you.  I’m not into receiving pain, just dishing it out.  I’m jealous that He gets to destroy you little by little, until your insignificant body and mind snap like a twig.

Up we go, first thing first, let’s get  you bathed, you fucking stink like a used, rotted, bloody cunt rag that’s been sitting in the sun.  Is that what you are? A puss clot?  Now that you are all clean, I am going to place you across the bed so I can shove my fist up your tight asshole.  More tears?  For fuck sake!  I hope He gets here soon, or I’ll just finish you off Myself, I can always get another dumb play thing to replace you.

Gasp

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Does it burn?  Do you feel like your eyes are going to pop from their sockets from the pressure of trying to hold your breath?   How many times will it take until you give in?  You thrash, clutch at My hand, trying to loosen the tight grip I have upon you.  You will never break it, try as you might.  With each submersion you become weaker.  There is little time for you to fill your lungs with air, before being forced back under the water.

You look ethereal, your hair loose, floating around your face.  The light reflecting off the water, the pattern moving around you on the porcelain tub walls.  Each time I bring you to the surface it saddens Me.  It saddens Me to know that you will never get to grow up to do this yourself.  You held such promise.  You were excited, you said all the right things, acted the right way.  It was a game.  However, when the fun that I trained you up for began, you cried.  You are weak, pathetic, worthless, and dare I say, useless to Me now.

I thought I had my protege, I was incorrect in My summation.  However, now I know, that I will never try to bring someone under My wing again, it just ends in disappointment.  This is why I have to do this now.  You know too much, too many of My secret ways, too many of the tactics that I employ.  Now I watch as you gasp, choke and sputter, trying to gain that one breath that will keep you alive.  It will never come.  It is well out of your reach.  This is the very last time I will push you under.  My hands will clamp down upon your throat, you will remain pressed against the stark white porcelain until I see your eyes go blank.  Until I see your beautiful mouth open, until the water is at rest and you move no more.

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Trinket

The call to prayer split the early morning haze, bringing the faithful out of their beds and to their knees to worship.  People like I do not pray, at least not to the Islam god.  I opened the doors to the balcony and studied the sight before me.  The smells that met Me were a mixture of strong coffee, strong tea, spices, dirt and sea.  It was sweet, dank, salty, moist, hot, and pungent.  All the while holding within it the scent of a promise of a new shopping excursion to find Myself My first Turkish trinket.

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I stepped out into the already crowded street, only to find Myself besieged upon by the Street Vendors.  They will approach anyone whom they know are not Turkish.  They are annoying to say the least.  I told the first one loud and clear, I’m not buying anything from someone who smells like they live in a shit hole.  He made a face and scurried away.  I am pretty sure he said some not so nice things about Me, but I really do not care.  Almost shoulder to shoulder with the crowd I made My way to the Grand Bazaar.  It was still early, so I decided to lean against a wall to hone in on any potential trinkets.

Bloody Phone Sex

As the noise and crowd grew larger and louder I found Myself at a disadvantage.  There were just to many people around to pick out one.  I was sorely disappointed, until I remembered that a trip to Aya Sofia just might be the place to find what I was in search of.  Knowing that the driving situation in Istanbul is horrid, I walked.  I took in all the sites there were.  Dark eyes looked at Me atop veils placed over women’s faces, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by this.  Why should a woman cover up what is their beauty?  Not that it matters anyway, these people mean nothing to Me.  I opened the door to Aya Sofia and instantly it stopped Me dead.

Rape Phone Sex Fantasy

The early morning sun was streaming through the windows, casting magnificent colors upon the floor.  This was a Masterpiece, true, peaceful beauty, and then I saw My trinket.  She was gazing up at the dome, taking in all that it offered.  She was not paying attention to anything around her.  I stepped toward her and made small talk.  She explained to Me that this was the first time for her being in the city.  I asked her if she would like to join Me in My wanderings.  She accepted.

violent phone sexThe sun is now setting over the city of Istanbul.  I can hear the chattering of the people below, as they make their way home, or out to enjoy the night.  I open up the doors to My balcony, allowing the pungent smells to waft their way into the room.  I look down at the bed.  The sheets are no longer there, they have been wrapped around My trinket.  She was so trusting, so naive, so willing to try.  She failed. Now, as I stand here, watching the hot sun dip below the horizon, I can only wonder, if the same orange, yellow glow is making the blood upon my skin look just as breath taking as sunset which is painting the sky.

Embodiment Of Sin

Snuff Phone SexI am omnipresent, forever surrounding you with My siren’s song.  I am in the salt that collects in a tear as it run down an upturned face.  I am in the solemn words spoken as a lie upon your lips.  I am the finger on the trigger, the needle in the vein, the force behind the blade, the break in the bone, the bruise on the flesh,and the violent brutal thrust into the soft venues of the innocent.  I linger in the darkness, wrapping myself in it’s warmth, manipulating it to form those desires that you crave.

I make the illusion real.  I embrace your inner secrets, reveling in them, letting their deviant waters rush over Me.  I am the glory you feel, then the guilt that you live with.  I am the other woman who awaits your arrival, I am the jealousy that burns within your core when you find you have been wronged.  I spread My wings over all who wish to tarry under them, then I withdrawal them leaving you fully exposed.

I am the smoke that clouds your judgement, I am the nudge that pushes you over the edge, I am the ache you feel in your gut.  My tendrils wind their way around your very soul, squeezing, pulsating, crushing until you break.  I am patience personified.  I have no reason to rush, in the end you will give in, you always do.  Perhaps one more time, then I will stop, that is what you tell your already addicted self.  This is a false thought that gives permission to perform unspeakable acts of your primal whims. 

No single solitary human is out of My reach, My will is more powerful then you could ever imagine. I will give you everything you could ever want to you freely, yet the price you will pay in the end will be more than your meager attempts at absolution can afford.

This is Me, this is what I am, this is My embodiment.

 

Sacrificium

Once a year a celebration takes place.  One in which I am honored to be a part of, as not many are.  We conduct this gathering to insure each and every One of Us protection throughout the coming year, so that We may continue Our work in the Name of The Ancients, and no I am not referring to the Christian God.  The Ones I worship are the Old Ones, from a time long past, whose dogma has been pushed under the carpet as it is considered barbaric. 

This year it was the task of Another to obtain the Sacrificium.  For one year, it is ordained that the Sacrificium must be kept safe, to be trained up in it’s foretold duty at the next celebration.  It is not to be taken lightly.  From what I have been told, the year with the Sacrificium is tedious.  You must spend each free second working with them.  They need to memorize the words to use, the proper etiquette, the proper mannerisms, how they are to address Those in attendance.  For the first few months, this would be a bit irritating to say the least.  However, by the time of the Celebration, they are ready.

They are dressed in what some would consider a Baptismal Gown.  They are pure, they are innocent, and they help to insure that We have a Blessed year.  This year, it has been told that the Sacrificium is particularly special.  They have made rapid progress in their preparation.  I am looking forward to this Celebration with great anticipation.  When We raise them up in Our hands to hold them before They who perform the Holy Act, the thrill that courses through Me is unlike anything else I have ever experienced. If you do not know what “Sacrificium” is, it is the term used for a “Blood Sacrifice.”

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Quiddity

Shhhhhhh.  Drift, let go, float among the silent souls, be at peace.  Take nothing with you, do not try to hold on, fore there is nothing of you left here.  The time you spent with Me has come to fruition, there is nothing more.  Scraps of you are all that remain, pieces of what your essence was: your quiddity: has run it’s course.  I helped it along, to mature, to grow rapidly, to teach you what you were born to do.  You were born to be torn asunder, to be pain’s mistress, to hang onto hope, then witness it crash to the cement when you realized that hope had forsaken you.  Shattered, broken, twisted images are all that remain, they too are starting to darken aren’t they My sweet.  How ragged your breath is, wet sounding, short, your mouth gasping toward the sky in one last valiant effort to survive.  Do not fool yourself, do not allow your light to go out with this lie in your head.  I will help you once more, I will give you one last kiss upon those crimson stained lips tinged with a purple hue. My fingers will slither around your delicate throat, My grip will tighten, your wide eyes will flutter closed, and your quiddity will be released into the atmosphere, to fade into nothing.

Castration Phone Sex

Castration Phone SexLast night it was brought to My attention that I have never given even the slightest view of My ass in any of My pics.  Since the phone call started out with Me smothering this person, I thought it only fitting to show a picture of My perfect ass.  There you are, I hope you enjoy it, it will be a long time before it is seen again. 

Now, onto what this is really about, which is one of My all time favorite subjects, Castration.  Not just your every day surgical castration mind you.  This has a specific twist to it.  Last night during the aforementioned phone session, as I was pushing the weight of My full self down upon an uplifted face so I could cut off the breathing, I began to run My nails over this person’s ball sack.  Far be it from me to leave it at that.  I took it one step further. 

I keep My nails sharp, you never know when you might need a weapon, and good strong nails can come in handy if need be.  I pressed first against the underside of the thin skin, adding more and more pressure until it ripped.  Then, I went onto the other side of the sack.  I applied steady, hard pressure until once again, the skin gave way to allow Me to bury my nails inside.

He started to thrash about, which made me grin.  I wanted to do more then simply give him a cause to get stitches.  I wanted to obliterate the very existence of his testes.  I crawled between his legs, lowered My head, exposed My teeth, hooked the skin on my eye tooth, and pulled back.  The fragile skin pulled away, ripped, tore, and ended up just being a flap over the objects that poured out.

I saw what I was looking for, I lowered My head into the muck.  I came up with one mother of pearl colored testicle in My mouth. I looked at him before popping it between my teeth and spitting it upon his chest. Then I went back for the other.   This one I kept tightly wedged between My teeth as I started My ascent up his body.  By this time he was shaking, his breath was shallow and rapid, the pain was washing over his face.  I hovered over him, pressing the testicle to his mouth.  I instructed him to open up, he did so, both him and I together bit into it, it was immediately decimated, which made this the most glorious kiss I have ever experienced in My life. 

Welcome To The City Of Sin

Snuff Phone Sex

They come here.  Lost souls from all over the world.  They think they have it bad at home.  Step-Daddy touches them, Mommy let’s it happen.  Blah, Blah, Blah.  They always think other people give a shit, nobody gives a shit.  I am certainly not going to shed a tear because Daddy fucked you.  He has a dick, and dicks are made for fucking holes. It’s a fact, so it’s nobody’s problem that you don’t like it.  However, what I do like about this whole mess your life has become is you ran to the one place on earth that I will find you.

Welcome to Sin City My sweet morsel.  You will see things here that will make your home look like fucking nirvana.  You will have things done to you that will push you to the very precipice of suicide.  How can it get worse than that?  Sooner or later, you will run into Me.  I will plaster a fake ass smile upon My face, one that will almost make Me retch in disgust. Then I will put my arm around you, and tell you what ever you need to hear until I see that look on your face, that small sign that you are starting to feel safe with Me.  Finally, someone is here to take you away, listen to your stupid sob story.  I will take you under my wing, I’ll even allow you to stay in a suite with Me for the night, fatten you up on room service, pamper you, spend the next day shopping with you.  This is when your happiness starts to set in because I have not asked anything in return.  We will check out, we will get into My Bentley, then as we cross the Oregon boarder, we will stop for the night in some backwood piss hole.  I will act disgusted by the accommodations, instruct you to unpack while I go and see if there is cleaner room for us.

As I leave the room and you start to unpack, you start pulling out instrument, after instrument of sharp steel.  I step back into the room, brushing dark liquid from my rain coat.  Your eyes widen as you realize what it is.  I put on a cheerful smile, taking a few steps toward you as I speak, “The management and I did not see eye to eye, I have work to do, and I do not need any witnesses.” With those words I grab your throat, pressing my nails into your soft skin, I tell you how pathetic you are, and that the only way out of your disgusting life is for Me to release you from it Myself. 

Sin

A Blessed Yule

I do not celebrate Christmas. I celebrate Yule, which so happens to be December 21st of this year. It has always bothered me that “Christians” took our Holidays and tried to turn them into something other then what they really are. Alright, it more than bothers me, it pisses me off to no end. However, since I cannot change a wrong that is vastly believed to be a right, I will just continue to celebrate the Winter Solstice the Proper Way, by Celebrating Yule.

Tomorrow night, I will have a Bonfire behind my house. There will be six others joining me for my celebration. These are women who follow the same practices of Paganism that I myself follow. I have always though about combining my love for the macabre with this Holiday. However, that would make me like the Christians, taking something and warping it to suit my own needs. I am a lot of things, but a hypocrite I am not.

Since I am just writing about it, and not actually doing the act it’s self. I will share it with you. I have always had this image of a beautifully dressed young sweet thing. Holly in her hair, gown of gold and red gossamer clinging to her body in the cold night air as she approaches the Bonfire. She then is Blessed by those in attendance, then walks into the fire as we sing a Yule Song. She offers herself up to The Holly King to ensure a victory over the Oak King in this days battle. After this is done, we drink, dance, and make merriment until the offering is fully done, then we feast.

I think that is much better then going to the mall to sit on Santa’s lap to tell him you want a toy, don’t you?

Blessed Yule To You All,

Sin

(Below you will find one of the many Yule Songs sung on OUR Holy Day)