Godlessness

         I sat against the windowsill glaring at the scabbing flesh atop my fresh tattoo. Like bonito flakes on hot rice the skin of my bicep stood on end, blackened by the oozing blood and ink. I had never in my life felt so empty, and I had experienced my fair share of existential crises. This wasn't how I envisioned myself to be at the age of twenty years old, or perhaps it was, and rather, I just hadn't experienced what I had hoped I would have by this point in life. Very recently I had become deeply lost, scarcely remembering who I was, not due to any sort of lapse in memory, but because of an utter lack of fulfillment of my hopes and dreams. Since a young age I had wanted nothing more than a life of servitude. Of course, this dream is never far out of reach in a capitalist society such as our own, but ,my desire to serve was much more specific- I wanted to live every moment in service to a worthy, and dominant woman.

         Masochistic and submissive men do not belong in human society. Even the most hideous, socially inept man will succeed in a conquest of love if he puts his foot down and plays the role of capable, dominant male, whereas if he lets slide the most subtle hint of unassertive behavior he becomes no longer desirable. It is simply biology, it can't be helped, and yet somehow men such as myself slip through the genetic cracks and are brought into this world without consent and forced to live a life in character. I have, through cunning and chameleonesque techniques courted lovers, and we have made love that time after time is thoroughly disappointing. "Do whatever you want with me." "Use me." "Choke me." The repetitive monotony was almost nauseating.

         I thought at one point in my life that I may be gay. After all, the feelings I had could be organically satisfied by a man, however there were always two glaring issues: the first being the simple fact that I could muster no feelings of attraction or arousal towards another man, and the second being my disgust towards any acts of stimulation to a man's anus. Most 'submissive' men in the real world tend to enjoy pegging. A more humiliating and grotesque act I could not ever imagine, and you might say, "Is it not a part of your dream to be humiliated?" and you would be correct in this assumption, however I am a man greatly dedicated to aesthetics and to beauty and there is no more silly, and disturbing image I could conjure in my mind than that of a woman strap-on-fucking a man.

         I do not wish to portray myself as homophobic in my prior assertions. I find nothing wrong with homosexual intercourse, there can be abundant beauty in man on man coitus, what bothers me deeply are heterosexual men who enjoy being pegged and who desecrate the genre of 'femdom' with their disgusting and embarrassing fetish. There is never under any circumstance good reason for a woman to pleasure a man's asshole. It's vile, it's ugly. Instead, my desires revolve around orally pleasuring woman to the point of physical exhaustion and mandible dislocation, slavery, violence, verbal degradation, and general superiority of the female over the male. Such a life is unfortunately not more than fiction.

         So disillusioned with life had I become that I found it difficult to even masturbate. I could not focus on one person, on one scenario. This predicament was concerning, I had managed to deny myself even the most simple pleasure in life and I couldn't even understand why. It was then, laying against my windowsill that through much self reflection I determined the cause of my subdued libido: I had yet to find a real worthy focal point for my affection- somebody deserving of worship.

         I had sought all throughout my sexually mature life a subject worthy of devotion. Crushes, girlfriends, strangers on the train, and never once had I been able to imagine such a life as I had dreamed of having with one of these women. The closest I had ever come was with my earliest high school crush, a petite girl with a brunette blunt cut. Something in her bubbly attitude and stiff gait infatuated me. (cont.)