the image of a docile sacrificial lamb and the pop culture idea of the perfect victim. do you get what I'm saying

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the image of a docile sacrificial lamb and the pop culture idea of the perfect victim. do you get what I'm saying
let me serve you, console you, instruct you, lead you, rule you
INTRODUCTION & WARNINGS
Hello there, my name is Rosemary. I use she/her pronouns.
This is a dark kink side-blog for curating content that reminds me of typical pulp gothic romances with historical, supernatural and psychological horror elements. This blog will include disturbing themes and imagery, so please block and leave if you are uncomfortable or disapprove. You are responsible for your own experience on Tumblr. If you don't want to engage with these topics, leave this blog.
This is a side-blog, so my features are limited.
CW List, Tag Directory and Links after the cut.
Oh, pet. I need you in my hands. I want to show you how truly wonderful you are. I want to clasp my hand around yours and lift you up. Open your heart to me and let me mould you in my love. I will make your eyes shine forever; always trusting, never doubting.
When I kiss your cheek, you'd know have been good for me. When I bite your lip, you'd know I'd have done it for good reason. Each lesson marked on your skin, deep enough to reach your spirit.
Trust me, pet. I know what's right for you. I've known it all along; you were made for things better than what you believe in. Believe in me. Let yourself sink into my hands and I will make you as perfect as you are in my eyes.
if you give someone the privilege of feeding you, you also give them the ability to starve you
I have no strength to force one's hand, no power or influence to sway one's outcome. just my virtues and my integrity and my belief and my ability to love. to some that is limiting and so meaningless but to the ones who don't have it, it can be something so endearing and precious.
the flowing full-skirted gowns, the bare feet, the free hair and the brightly lit rooms. it's all because its supposed to be a dream. a light, playful traipse through fancy rooms you barely get to go into. like a child sneaking into their parent's study.
Despite the horror and the hopelessness, there was always desire. A wish to remain unhurt and even wanted, perhaps desired. Simply because of the fact that she existed. That she could be used.