The Sadist

Suffer for me and let me hurt you. Let me wallow in your pain and drink your tears. I have an urge to be a bad man. I want to feel your fear. I want to do all those things you hate. To mark, bruise, welt and cut your body for the beauty I perceive. I want to see you cry and hear you cry out. Beg and plead, it won’t help you and it only excites me further.

Why? Because I’m the sadist.

It’s not punishment because you haven’t done wrong. It’s not revenge because you’re a good girl. It’s not that you’re worthless because I rate you very highly. It’s not for failure because I haven’t asked anything of you. You don’t deserve what I want to do in any way, shape or form. But I’m going to do it anyway.

I do it for fun. I do it because I can. I do it because you let me. I do it because it excites me. I do it because I want to. The power, the control, the reaction, the taboo, the sheer jot if it.

I make no apology or excuse or reason or justification. I’m the sadist.


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