Not Hate/ poem

[Kinnik]

More of a poem than a story. Sorry




Not hate, not really.


I've been accused of hating women. But I dont, not really.

I love them.

On their knees. Naked and begging.

I love them sobbing, bent over their own kitchen tables, legs spread,
taking my cock in their unwilling cunts.

I love them gagged and bound, tear filled eyes wide with fear watching
me as I cut their clothes away, gooseflesh covering their smooth skin.

I love their low moans when I first slip my belt from it's loops and wrap
it around my fist. I love the sound they make behind their gag when I strike
them. I love to see them flinch in anticipation before the belt makes
contact and cry in pain after.

I especially love them wet with sweat and cum, exhausted from fear,
desperate from useless struggling, weak from repeated assaults on their
battered bodies.

I love it when they bargain, promising things that are not theirs to give but
mine to take: Sex, pleasure, compliance, silence. I love it even more when
they figure this out and break, ashamed of their helplessness.

I love it when I find the thing that humilliates them the most and turn them
into mindless fuckmeat. Deafeated and finally aware of their proper role in the
world. When they stop thinking they're people and become cattle, chattel, nothing.

Everything has a place and a purpose. I don't hate the nail I strike with a
hammer, the steak I had for dinner or the toilet into which I urinate. Why
would I feel any different about women?

[Grm]

Expressive words Kinnik
aesthete
Grm