Friday, June 22, 2007

Scriptures Of Saphireism

A bell rings and followers fall on to knees before me and begin the chants they have learned to honor me at this particular time of day. Men and women, barely clad, and well disciplined, kneel before me, as successes in the outside world, and worms in my world… very happy and loyal worms. This is my life; it is what I am all around made for.

To be worshipped isn’t something you simply work towards. I often correct people who call me “mistress”, by telling them “A mistress is a whore who entertains bored husbands, while their wife’s back is turned, I am a Goddess”. Traditionally this is a fair surmise of the term mistress… its literal roots. Today we more think of a mistress as a whore who pretends to be dominant over her “servants”. A mistress is something you can indeed work to become.

To be a goddess, however, is to be born a paragon of femininity. There is work, as any goddess should embody traits unique to them. We own those, they make us the goddess of something. I own the mind.

By now you have seen my picture. You have lusted immediately. I am physically flawless. Not just the bombshell “Barbie doll” cut-out… my look is exotic. I don’t conform to the status quo of blonde haired and blue eyed, and yet I match or exceed comparison to those women in every manner. I possess sharp and fierce facial features, when you see me you lust after the antithesis of what you are conditioned to call beauty.

Still, I was born with more than looks. My mind is a steel jawed trap. I am alert, teachable, and intellectually fit. My disposition was exploring the human mind, its potentials, and its failings. I absorbed much.

Then there was my sexuality. The part all of you most want to know about. Dark, exploratory, unique. I wasn’t drawn to the things most found themselves content with. I wanted art. I wanted the body, bound and contorted, still, in fear of more agony at an involuntary twitch, the mind in torment, and the soul in total submission to me.

I was blessed in my ability to suspend empathy and simply engross myself in another’s torment without softening to sympathy. In all this there are many who would come to me, worship me as they perceive a divine spark absent in the vast majority of simple mortals. A mistress gains adoring clients who tolerate pain for the promise of more simple gratifications to come, yet I gained worshippers who embraced my sadistic ministrations for nothing more than the promise of more agony to come. Here, they come to me, giving me everything, and expecting nothing.

They say something, however, about getting something no mortal can simply award to another. They are confident. For each, my involvement in their life inspires them to greater things. They are armored against heartbreak from their lovers, for it is easy to say goodbye to another, when you know I have accepted you into my world. When you become my bitch I subject you to horrors that make others shudder, yet you have learned to find pleasure in. Yes, my bitch, but more man than any who would say they are no one’s bitch.

So I watch on as my servants finish their chants to me, and bring a new Saphireist to face me. He is scared and trembling. He is naked and a film of sweat covers his body for he has seen all that I make other servants endure, and he fears his turn, he fears he will fail where they succeed. I watch this scared and trembling boy of 18, and I know from exploring the thoughts of my more accomplished worshippers, that what makes him tremble is my being.

He doesn’t know I won’t allow him to fail, he will accomplish and please. As a goddess, my greatest ability is to turn this boy into a man. I will train his mind, by conditioning his body.

For all my life people have served me. Compelled to, for all who encounter me know I am to be adored, admired and served. Had I been born farther east, I would have been taught of my 32 points of perfection, and raised as a child-goddess, a receptacle for the goddess Kali. Yet those children must surrender their divinity at puberty. That is when Kali begins eating her young, and humans fear that aspect forming in a mortal. Unlike them, I surrender nothing.



I am Kali, I am Lillith, I am Isis, and I am the Diabolic-Venus. I am the reason men kill each other over passions; I am what makes them explore new lands, and cross oceans. I am inspiration, and I am discord. I am not a mistress, I am a Goddess. Now a trembling boy will learn what it takes to be a slave and worship

me, and for it, he will be a great man.

GS

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