A Slave hangs bleeding in the abysmal deep. Listen carefully to this Slave as he expresses his darkest phantasms deleriously:
“He never deemed me worthy of his sickening presence despite the frantic efforts that I made when I was younger. notwithstanding the countless nighttime rituals I performed He always seemed to reject me, while I had read about sorcerers being able to summon Him. I always imagined that this sinister evocation would unleash a blast of dark energies. How else could one imagine this for He represents a multitude of forces that have been developing through the aeons.
Such a force, which cannot be signified, would never present itself good-naturedly or gently, but would erupt violently like a volcano. A most sublime spectacle which does not strengthen the ego but would destroy it. I would expect to be surrounded by a darkening gunge of bad smelling incense that, just like a snake does, coils around me as if there were numerous tentacles that explore my body; a sense which is erotically stimulating, but at the same time I would become aware of the smell of blood. The tentacles that caress my body have minuscule barbs scraping my skin. Masochistically I’d endure the Pain as deep inside my desires come to the surface: a craving for Pain and Death, to be subjected to His Will and to be crushed like an insect, but also a desire for Pleasure, an extra-human joy that, if only temporarily, liberates me from my wretched existence. Liberate me! Lord, why hast thou forsaken me.”
Von S, 127yf