Sadistic Supper

A digital altar where love isn't just felt—it's tasted, torn apart, and savored in the marrow of the soul. Sideblog: thedominatrix.tumblr.com (18+)

[sadisticsupper]

The Taker

I tend to take too much, Demand too much, Become too much

So offer me less, and let me stay, For if I could I'd take it all away

Since to let me in is to always give and never receive As my sweet loving can either strengthen or deceive, So hold me carefully or I'll make you trust in make believe

Now that you know I do not play fair, I shall settle for what you can spare

[sadisticsupper]

Divine Violence

If I promise to mend you once torn, Would you trust me to leave you worn? To tear you apart until our insides align, To show you how my violence is divine

For in the agony, raw and bare, Lies ecstasy beyond compare

Would you trade your breath, your splendor, For the taste of ruin and sweet surrender?

[sadisticsupper]

The Unbroken

I wish I could have back the person I once was, back when youth had not yet slipped through my fingers. You deserve her—the unbroken version of me. The one whose love was pure, whose innocence was untarnished, and whose heart was whole. She could have given you everything I no longer have to offer. But she’s gone, and all that’s left is the barren shell she abandoned.

Can I truly love when I’m standing on the precipice of my own collapse? When my pain has grown teeth, and the slow gnaw of insanity devours what’s left of me? I had no choice but to sculpt my broken pieces into horns—gentleness was a luxury that left me used, bruised, and discarded.

Can love endure in a heart so torn? Or is it just another war to be sworn?

[sadisticsupper]

The Fruit of Her Eden

Eyes of an adulterer, sharp with intent, Lust glimmered within, unrelenting, unspent, A molten hunger, unspoken yet unmistakable, A craving so dire that he needs it tangible

Her lips, a razor blade, carved sharp and true, The fruit of her Eden—a venom he knew, Coursed through his veins, converting his creed, From skeptic to servant of carnal need

He then gagged, & Begged in dread

As she dragged his body ahead, Into her lair where He would die from behead

[sadisticsupper]

The Rot

My loyalty to you is brutal, untamed, It bites and burns, yet guards just the same

But it’s too late to stop—I’m on my way Raw and relentless with none to sway No cries, no pleas, no desperate scheme, Will sate the hunger for you in my bloodstream

For love has hollowed out my core, A decaying shrine to what I swore A violent, glorious atrophy, Built for the sake of you and me

So watch me rot, and bear the blame, Witness the wreck that wears your name

[sadisticsupper]

After too many shots

A: You want to make me bleed, don't you?

B: And you will let me, won't you?

[sadisticsupper]

My love has grown so sharp that the faintest graze of my fingertips would leave you writhing, trembling beneath the weight of what I cannot contain.

Could I ever leave you unscathed?

[sadisticsupper]

You need to starve me to obliterate me. Yet you chose to tear your limbs just to shove yourself down my throat, knowing full well I would only grow hungrier, greedier.

Can you really call yourself a victim when you're an eager contributor to your abuse?

Am I really the patron of your demise, or are you?

[sadisticsupper]

The Tithe

I yearn to bury my teeth to your skin, Until they screech, a desperate din, Grinding deep, down to the bone, Just like a sin you wish to atone.

You will beg me, “Please.”

Cease, or let it be, What will it take to give you release?

To halt or go, where will it lead— What is the path that feeds your need?

[sadisticsupper]

Naivety will be your undoing, as inevitable as the ruin my pride will bring upon me.

[sadisticsupper]

Enter me and be my savior. Let me show you how my system would recognize you as a virus then annihilate you as if you were a mere prideful man in the midst of a pack of hungry wolves.

[sadisticsupper]

Happiness has been stolen from me but maybe your lips can help me reminisce.

[sadisticsupper]

The Reforming

Contain me. Let me twist and reshape you, hollowing out every corner of your flesh until there‘s room for nothing but me; for I’m a contagion and you‘re my perfect host. I will infiltrate your structure and dissect you right from the inside out. And once you’ve become an empty shell of who you once were, I will feast on the remnants of your decay just so that you will live for me and through me—as without your veins humming my name, I am nothing.

[sadisticsupper]

I have to teach myself how to calm my appetite because I want to keep you close without having to swallow you whole.

[sadisticsupper]

I'm a lesson waiting to be learned and you're a terrible student fumbling through the depths of me blissfully unaware.

I should thank your parents for never sheltering you because now you're mistaking my fangs for loving hands.

How fitting, how cruel, that the only affection you recognize is the one that burns.

[sadisticsupper]

The Weeping Men

There’s something about men that stirs something dark inside of me, a hunger I can’t quite explain. Perhaps it’s the rigid control they wear casually, the way they seem to be so untouched, so unmoved. Their stoicism—how it hides every tear, every longing, like some fortress that can never crack. It’s in their repression, in their constant need to remain invincible, that I find the most potent allure of all.

How I long to render them vulnerable, to strip them of their ego, their false confidence, to reduce them to nothingness. And to watch them crumble, to see their pretense shatter, and then—and only then—to make them weep before me.

For if a man will not cry for me, then he is not the one I seek.

[sadisticsupper]

I am not yours to mend

I love when they think they can fix me, as if I’m theirs to mend, as if I’m not beyond repair, as if they don't need salvation, clinging to the idea that saving me might somehow save themselves, too.