The house that I grew up living in was hardly a house at all, it was a palace. Enormous, ornate, expensively furnished, beautifully lavished, and bought at a price that an average person couldn't afford if they were given ten lifetimes to save for. It was a castle of luxury, excess, and affluence... and for ths overwhelming majority of the time -- it belonged to me, and whoever else I thought worthy enough to occupy my domain with me. My parents put no restrictions on what I could do, who I could have over, or what demands I could make for my own personal satisfaction. They were simply too busy (my father was the owner of several car dealerships, and my mother was a physician and real estate investor) to do anything besides ensure that I sat upon the throne of this castle that they had built for me with my power unchallenged, my freedoms unlimited, and my wishes catered to at all costs.
When I wanted something, it was mine. When I made demands, they were met. When I was displeased, the only questions that were asked were in regards to how my displeasure should best be eliminated -- and displeasing me would always come with an earth-shattering wrath which I made sure was felt by anyone who I thought was responsible for violating me by bringing me anything other than veneration and servitude. I would make the earth quiver in fear when I felt that anything, or anyone, had a higher position of authority than whatever it was that I wanted.
But I'd always get what I wanted. At any age, and without exception. If I had to bring the flames of hell to the surface of the earth with my furious, merciless, and unmitigated wrath, then so be it... As long as I got what I wanted, the flames would eventually settle, I'd sit back down on my throne, and the diamonds on my tiara would go back to sparkling with the elegant, unadulterated, glistening brilliance that possessed my very soul, and was reflected in my cocky, dismissive, arrogant smile. Until the time came for me to, once again, soothe myself in the satisfaction that comes with making other people suffer...
I learned at a very early age, that punishing other people for anything that I felt they deserved, no matter how small or unreasonable it might be, brought me so much pleasure, power, and peace -- that it would have to become a part of my entire identity if I was to be treated, with no exceptions, the way that I knew I deserved to be treated. When I reached puberty, I made a statement to myself, that anything besides reverence, respect, loyalty, veneration, and unquestioning servitude would not be accepted, nor would it ever go without consequence.
Was I just a selfish, spoiled, entitled, over-priviliged brat? Absolutely fucking not.
I was simply recognizing the way that I deserved to be treated, and I was never going to make any exceptions, under any circumstances.
If I ever was truly all of those things, then I can proudly declare that I am all of them today as well -- except now that I'm an adult, I've become a seasoned manipulator, a shameless sadist, and a princess who may have outgrown her tiara -- but still sits high upon her throne, where she looks down upon the hordes of unworthy creatures whose very existences deserve to be punished until her lust for cruelty is satiated -- holding no questions about her own blatantly obvious superiority... and absolutely no fucking thoughts about apologizing to anyone for who she is, or for what she does.
My younger self got a taste of the blissful sensation that came with demanding to be treated with the highest level of respect and obedience that humanity could offer her. If she only knew the hearts she would break, the lives she would ruin, the homes she would wreck, and the disastrous trauma that she would leave in her wake as she walked the trial paved by the bones of her victims... she would be proud of who she became.
If only I knew how much power, control, laughter, elation, freedom, dominance and primal rapture that comes with being a cruel, heartless, sadistic bitch who punishes not only for justice... but mostly for fun... then I would have started long before I did.
I am a sadist, plain and simple. I say this with absolutely no fucking shame whatsoever, and my only hope is that I may learn to deceive better, plot better, become more creative in my schemes, and to simply take better control of this raging inferno of desire to punish, exploit, and humiliate -- one which swelters incessantly in the depths of my soul, and sets fire to anything that attempts to extinguish it... so that I may continue to brighten my world by bringing darkness and despair to the world's of others.
FUCK YES
