Speaking With Demons

NSFW- TRIGGERS GALORE Thoughts that lurk in the mind of a sadist.

[whats-caged-inside]

Ashes

Sometimes it can be really fucking hard being me. (I know ... Wahhh right?) I know it's hard to be anyone. But recently the difficulty has really bared it's teeth. I've been in a relationship with someone for 5 years. Those 5 years have been riddled with mistakes. Mistakes that have burned us both. I've come a long way in those years. I've grown up a lot. Become more self aware. And been able to admit that I mess up. It hurts because I don't want to mess up. I don't want to be such a horrible partner. And there are so many times that I have wanted to just walk away to protect her from me. I think the thing that keeps me from doing that is my genuine desire to be better. To see myself be able to learn and move on from those mistakes. It seems, though, as if it has got to a point where simply being me is a point of contention. Where the fact that I have these other parts of me creates issues in our relationship. She knows I enjoy the freedom of being allowed to do what I want.. with who I want. And even though​ I don't NEED it. Even though I don't even think it's necessarily a good idea for me... The fact that any part of me would like it is dangerous to her. I've hurt her so much.. so many times. There's a fucked up part of me afraid that I won't ever stop. That the monster in me will always find a way out. No matter what I do. It's crazy making. Even as I write this I just want to scream out of frustration. I want to go to a club with a bottle of tequila and a duffle bag full of toys and find someone to unleash all of my tension on. I want to indulge in everything that I know I shouldn't because of how angry and exhausted I am with life. Anywho... If anyone actually reads this shit, maybe you can relate? I think many of us have that destructive part inside. And lately I've been literally at war with mine.

[whats-caged-inside]

I just found out there is going to be an 8th Saw movie next October. Much excite... The story is bland.. the acting is sub-par... but those devices. Those deliciously evil traps... The demon is pleased.

[whats-caged-inside]

Limits

My monster would eat you if I let it. But it knows how to behave for me. My limits are the limitations of the human body. I won’t break you, because I want to keep playing. I won’t ruin you, because despite the snarling beast in the back of my head telling me to keep going, I want you to enjoy this… as much as someone can enjoy what I’m about to do to you.

[whats-caged-inside]

Quick FYI to my followers. I will almost always follow back, but my main blog is myrmexthemiraculous. Much love to all who follow me.

[whats-caged-inside]

Two Stomachs- (A.K.A Journal entry #3)

I often find it incredibly difficult to explain my sadism desires versus my sexual desires. It seems to me that a majority of people in the BDSM scene couple it with sexuality. It's almost like a sexuality of its own.. gay, straight, bi, pansexual, then "kinky." I'm sure most people can understand the desire for sexual release as a "hunger." A feeling we get in the pits of our stomach that seems to ache with its need to be satiated. So, I thought that perhaps it would be easier to explain my desire to hurt someone as if I have a second stomach. Imagine sitting down at Thanksgiving and stuffing yourself with all your favorites. Eating turkey, or goose, stuffing, casseroles, and all of that until you felt like you would explode. As you sit there, contemplating the pumpkin pie and whether or not you would have any self respect left afterwards, you realize there's a part of you that feels like there isn't even enough food left on the table to satisfy yourself. That's the other stomach. The other hunger. And it might feel like you could cram the whole damn bird down your throat, but the problem is that turkey goes somewhere else... it feeds something else. That's the other stomach. The other hunger- and it wont shut up unless it gets what it wants. The good news is, I'm not a terribly picky eater. I can usually satisfy my needs with some good brutal sex. But sometimes I do struggle with the urge for something deeper.. darker.. and more voilent. Something akin to really... really wanting some good chocolate. Not just some fucking Hershey's, but the real Belgian shit. Those are the days when I feel the demon the most. That's when it growls the loudest and I can't even look at a people without hearing its voice rasping fantasies of cruel depravity. Sometimes it's hard to deal with. Frankly, there are times when I feel like I'm insane. It's as if I am watching my humanity pour through my clenched fingers like sand and all I can do is pray there is some left in my hands at the end. And I have some moments where I just want to throw the sand and say fuck it... unleash this thing and watch the horror unfold. That's usually when I find myself playing Mortal Kombat all evening or binge watching Friday the 13th... it's pretty cathartic to sit on my couch, wrapped in blankets and root for the maniac.

[whats-caged-inside]

The Whore on the Floor- Sadist Seuss

There was once was a whore

Who laid on my floor

“I want more”

“I want more”

Cried the Whore on the Floor

So I smacked

And I cracked

And I wacked

and I racked.

I whipped as I quipped

While she slippity slipped

Over and over I dippity dipped

Her face in the toilet

Drippity dripped

But still….

“I want more”

“I want more”

Cried this Whore on the Floor.

So I gagged her with a ball

And tied her to a wall

Then fucked the floor whore

with a fucking fucksaw

She bucked as it fucked

And squirmed as it burned

She sounded as it pounded

Like she had finally learned

But still…

“I want more”

“I want more”

Cried this Whore on the Floor

More she cried and more indeed

I gave the floor whore more

I made the floor whore bleed

I bled her as I lead her

using a leash to lead

And I strained her as I claimed her

Making this floor whore my steed.

I pulled on her reigns

Made her feel pains

She rasped

And gasped

Rasp

Gasp

Gasp

Rasp

I beat that fucking floor whore

I fucked her whore ass

Made the floor whore choke

Yes I watched as she broke

And THEN!

“NO more”

“NO MORE!”

Cried the broken floor whore

“But tomorrow ….. AGAIN!”

Such a good little whore….

Who lay on my floor….

Always…

Always…

Wanting more….

[sunshiine-lollipop]

jumpin on da bandwagon bc there is so little dialogue about violence against sex workers. assaults & deaths are frequently ignored by the authorities due to the nature of our work, and any reports that do go through are greeted with scepticism: “if you didn’t want that to happen to you, you shouldn’t have chosen to do porn/stripping/escorting, you brought this upon yourself.” OUR JOB IS NOT A FORM OF CONSENT. our videos, photos, performances, and clothes are not a form of consent. sex work is one of the oldest industries in the world yet everything that happens inside of it is treated as taboo and dirty. if you don’t have respect for girls in this industry, stop watching porn, stop reading nudie mags, going to strip clubs & brothels, because you do not deserve to consume from us. sex work culture is constantly appropriated by “edgy” celebrities whilst genuine SWs are still being raped & murdered. so fucking disgusting that in 2016, “no” STILL doesn’t mean no. on the day of my assault i was wearing a pair of mom jeans & an XL sweater; I was not fucking asking for it 🖕🏼

[whats-caged-inside]

@daydreamerotic

[whats-caged-inside]

The Demon Speaks

The following entry is a bit of free flowing writing. It is meant to be an exercise in artistic expression. There will be lots of triggers in here, so read at your own risk. If you only knew what I think when I look at you. Skin so soft, perfume tantalizing my senses, those lips curled in a coy smile. You have know idea what I am. What's inside me. The whole time we're talking about your favorite bands there's a third voice in our conversation. One only I hear. And when I say I love your skirt, it says "Rip it off." When I say your makeup looks lovely, that other voice whispers about how much better it would be smeared across a pillowcase. Running down your cheeks with tears. When I think to myself "She has a lovely voice" my dark companion begs to hear it hoarse and cracking- whimpering and begging. That voice is whats caged inside. It's the culmination of a lifetime of anger and violence. It is the spirit of depravity summoned from the abyss by the preachings and ministrations of a patriarchal society. It is the hunger aching inside of me to be unleashed on soft, pliable flesh. It's a savage thing. A thing that doesn't want to stop at bruises, but to find itself slick with blood as it beats and fucks some poor soul to exhaustion. And I am the cage. I am the safety net that protects all of these delicious looking sheep, as they roam around me in blissful ignorance, from a creature that would just as soon eat them as rape them them... maybe both at the same time. There are some days where I feel like the bars are thinning. Like the demon has nearly torn its way through. I can hear it breathing in my ear. Feel it hot on my skin. I can feel it's claws raking against my ribs from the inside. It wants to feed.

[whats-caged-inside]

I fancy myself a romantic Sadist.

[whats-caged-inside]

Journal Entry #2 A.K.A Bring the Violence

So, I already established things got a little rough at home. My dad's explosive temper turned everyone in the house into a target. It wasn't your run of the mill kind of beatings either. When he lost control, all bets were off. Being hit with a belt was a god send compared to when he spiked a cut peice of firewood into my brother's thigh like a football. Or when he cut a tree down with both of my brothers in it because they didn't want to go to church with mom. I wish I were making this shit up. Hell, my family actually laughs about it when it comes up at holiday dinners... yeah... they try to make light of his abusive behaviors. If we can laugh about it I guess that makes it all okay. I suppose the alternative is to look at him as a violent sadistic animal who assaulted everyone living with him. I used to refer to him as The Source. As in, the source of all anger in the world- and that he passed his "gift" onto his children. Some of my fondest memories of my childhood were him teaching me to use anger to play sports. He used to preach that playing football was the only time I'd ever get to "let it all out" and that it's the best opportunity to just "lose your mind." This was such a deep belief of his that I later found out he was encouraging my coach to aggrivate me. He told my coach that if he wanted me to score touchdowns all he needed to do was make me mad. So they did. I was taught that to win, meant I had to be angry. I was encouraged to use sports as a means to unleash all the pent up rage I had from being abused, on top of stereotypical teenage angst. Violence became my only true outlet. Hurting someone else became the only way I could feel alive. I even began enjoying pain myself if it were all a part of "The Cause" of satisfying all of those savage urges that were instilled in me. Break some knuckles on a helmet? Tape it, and let the pain become fuel for the anger. Twist an ankle? Tape it and keep hurting others. Get a concussion in the third quarter? Make the other team suffer for it. Some people's dads were proud of them for good grades. Mine celebrated any time I injured another player. The happiest I saw him was when I was throwing myself into a frenzy and trying to break someone else in half. He was proud of his boy for being as much of an angry sociopath as he was. What more could one ask for right? So that's how the seed got planted that grew into me being a sadist in the purist form of the word. When I hurt someone else, it isn't just feeding some sexual kink. It's satifying an itch that I've been scratching since I was just a kid. From the first moment I swing a rod, a flogger, a belt, my hand, or anything else... im bathing in the wash of absolute release. Like a man finding an oasis in the desert, I drink in the screams and tears of my partner. I savor every gasp and twitch. Every flinch when I so much as raise my hand to wipe sweat from my brow makes the demon in me grin like a wild lunatic. BDSM is more than just satisfying our dark urges though. It's the connection forged between two people satisfying each others dark urges. In my humble opinion, that kind of exploration demands forging a level of trust and respect far beyond what most relationships can ever achieve. It doesn't even have to entail romance, as I personally don't need romantic love with my masochistic partners. For me, I can just as much be satisfied seeing them as a comrade. Some people have sparring partners at the gym... as I have had sparring partners in my living room- bound and gagged, bent over the couch and shrieking themselves hoarse as we feed each other's desires. That connection, I have found, is actually even more satisfying than hurting strangers on the other team ever was. And it is my respect for that connection, and my respect for the art that is sadism that makes the exploration truly fulfilling.

[darknessindarling-deactivated20]

My D/s Isn’t Perfect

My dash is full of beautiful women kneeling peacefully, perfectly composed men holding a drink, and proclamations of the things “true” Doms/Daddies/Masters do.

“True” Doms never lose their cool, get sick, feel cranky, need time off, cry, or ever disappoint their subs… 

But mine he does. 

“True” subs are never defiant, disagreeable, grouchy, bratty, defensive, pouty, or misbehaved.

But I am.

Real D/s has depth. It has problems. It has bad days. We don’t publicize the days it feels impossible, where one or both of us is tired/cranky/hungry/stressed out, and definitely not when BOTH of us feel that way.

Sometimes I can’t find my surrender; I feel defensive, sensitive, self-righteous, and victimized. You don’t see how I sometimes struggle to kneel in front of him, swallowing my pride and biting my tongue. Or the times I check out, switch off, tune out, just get through my tasks and purposely not feel a thing.

My Master has done all of the things that the internet says he’s not supposed to. But for me, by showing me his vulnerability and allowing me to love him through the messiness, that’s what makes him REALLY a true man.

This is the dynamic I’ve always dreamed of and fantasized about and I consider myself lucky to live it 24/7 in real life with a partner that I adore. I truly believe we make one another better in this dynamic, living out our chosen roles.

But it’s far from perfect. And I actually think we’re both better for the struggles. I’ve found an incredible amount of growth, transformed my life, and found deeper levels of intimacy, connection, desire, and communication than I could have ever imagined in the trials we’ve had together.

It’s not what you see on Tumblr, but it’s real.

[kitkatsub]

Reblogging because I know there are quite a few people here on tumblr that have these same feelings/thoughts. We are human, not perfect and as humans our D/s dynamics cannot be perfect.

[consort-of-the-queen-deactivate]

For broadcast, because CHURCH! 👍

[whats-caged-inside]

This shit needs engraved on a wall somewhere.

[whats-caged-inside]

Sadist Soul

This is an older poem I wrote that I wanted to share. There’s a beast that I hide raging inside Pounding the walls of his cell It whispers to me, it begs to be free To savor the pleasures of hell I deny myself and feel so hallow The ache inside I fight to swallow If ever I break and seek my release The darkness and I would finally know peace I pray that my eyes help hide the lies That no one knows of my soul For down in the deep the monster I keep wanting us both to be whole Touching skin I revel in sin Fully consumed by desire That first taste of blood Such a decadent flood lighting my hunger on fire. No longer denied, the call I now follow Passion and violence, tonight I will swallow When her body meets mine I’ll have my release Tonight is the night I find my peace

[whats-caged-inside]

Journal Entry #1 a.k.a Hello

So, for anyone reading this, I have decided to start an introspective journey through my thoughts and desires around BDSM. That said, I think I'll begin with a little bit about me. I was born in central West Virginia, and raised for the first half of my life on a mountain in the middle of nowhere. The town below had population somewhere around 1000 people, including the dog, and came with one grocery store, one doctor, one pharmacy, 2 independent video stores (i.e. not blockbuster), one movie theater (which burned down), one gas station, and one Dairy Queen. It was a thing of poe'dunk beauty. I had a moderately large family, with 3 older siblings. And we always had dogs. Fascinating stuff I know... One of the earliest memories I have of my time on the mountain is of my mother, gasping and choking, eyes wide in terror as my easily enraged father seized her by the throat and bent her backward against the oven screaming something incoherent in her face. He then turned, slamming his fists down on the little kitchen table. The force of impact caused his dinner plate to explode like a porcelain claymore, sending food and shrapnel everywhere which ended up cutting my littlel hand. I remember vividly looking down at the stinging wound and watching the fist rivulets of blood well up to the surface. Then, I ran. Later on I found the two talking quietly by our pool. Mom assured me things were okay and not to be afraid of Dad. Needless to say, the abuse was not a one time deal... and it didn't only extend to her. So, yeah, I'm a statistic. I grew up in a violent home. The story is much longer than that, but I think it's enough for a first entry. Between then and now I developed a lot of dark sexual tastes. I've been active on and off in the BDSM lifestyle mostly the past 5 years, but there was a lot of online stuff that happened as a kid. Ill get into that another time. As it stands I am a violent sadist, who enjoys degradation, humiliation, and pushing the limits of not only my partner's mind and body but my own. BDSM is a sacred exploration to me. It is an avenue to create and experience connection with someone that reaches well beyond the surface and delves into the depths of who we are as people. It is a chance to allow the demons that were birthed in the chaos of our traumas to mingle. Caressing each other and speaking in their infernal tongues of what it means to be trapped in their own personal hells. BDSM is not just a fad. It's not just a fun time, or some raunchy sex. It is a rich, and deeply rewarding lifestyle. And I strive to learn the best ways to live it safely, sanely, and consensually. Truly, Me