#godhasspoken

[lordashir]

Abandonment...

Watching news about your disappearance used to give you hope. You never understood why I let you do it. Chained up in my lair you’d spend hours watching Dateline and 60 Minutes’ daring recountings of your case, the local news even took to playing a stopwatch tracking every hour you couldn’t be found over footage of search parties. But days passed, then weeks, then months. Gradually the news cycle moved on. The police began to suspect foul play. They dragged up your partner, exes, family but no one was ever charged. The world just seemed to… stop caring. They declared you dead, they stopped looking. They abandoned you. No one wanted you anymore. You had no one. No one but me. Was it wrong to want to feel desired, to feel loved? Would it be so wrong to love the only person who never let you go?

[lordashir]

Is it rape if you're begging? If your weak little brain is so broken that the pain feels good, that the blood and bruises of your brutal assault by an uncaring monster feel sweet and beautiful? You are smaller. Weaker. Dumber. You couldnt stop me. You didnt even want to try. That's not rape. You deserve this. You owe me this.

[lordashir]

Boots last night

[lordashir]

New offerings from a delightful follower, these lovely gloves which will primarily be for shooting.. and maybe some kidnappings.

[lordashir]

Social Suicide as Sacrifce...

Exhibitionism isn’t enough, I don’t just want you to be seen; I want you to be known. I want your perversion to be laid bare before everyone you know so that nobody will ever respect you as a person again. I want them to watch me brutalize you, to use you like a worthless fucktoy. I want to do things to you that are so terrible that they are forced to assume you must’ve deserved it rather than face the hideous truth that you wanted it. Never again would anyone ever be able to treat you as a human being, when they look at you all they see is an object. An object I’d used up and ruined until there was nothing left.

[lordashir]

Sensation as Worship

Subjecting people to pain and suffering is how I experience intimacy. I feel it in the hotness of your strung flesh, I feel it in the hardness of your swollen welts, I feel it in the wetness of your tears and humiliation. It's not enough to feel your adoration, but I must write it on your flesh so I can see how truly devoted you are to my worship.

[lordashir]

I chew big red and wash my hair with apple cider vinegar based shampoo so I smell like cinnamon and bitter apples when work doesnt make me smell like sweat and musk. Just in case you wanted that data.

[lordashir]

My Fallen Angel...

You are broken. Your seal has been sundered and your veil lifted. You have become filthy… fallen. My hand has touched you and twisted your body into a carnal instrument, rending your flesh and mind with pleasure. No one will ever see your personhood again. They will only see how you have been used. Your works will all be as naught, all former respect bid to you turned to ash as it’s laid bare to the world that you have embraced a new and terrible purpose. They will see you as worn out, broken in, chewed up and spit out, fallen… And you will cleave to me. When they shun you, I will embrace you. When they abandon you as no longer useful I will use you again and again. I have remade you for a purpose, my Purpose. You will be mine and no one else’s when I am through with you, carved like a Galetae for me and me alone.