The raging desire needs to be fulfilled.
Its control over me is absolute.
The need to release the anguish overwhelms what I know is so wrong.
Collecting the objects I require the nervous shaking and mental anguish starts to subside, it has become a ritual, not just an action but a process.
The ritual has grown over the years, starting as a simple thing, but becoming regulated and exact, going a little further every time.
It’s like an addictive drug, I am unsure if it’s trying to achieve the bigger high, or to remember the sensations of the first time.
The more I give him the more he wants.
All I know is that I have to do it, I have no control, no say, I must purge the demon, release the beast, so I can sleep.
I have no desire to do this again, but no will power to resist.
I unplug the phone from the socket and go to the switchboard in the hallway, pushing all the little plastic controls to the off position. No disruptions, no interruptions, no light,
Nothing but me and the ritual.
Unrolling the stained dark rug in the middle of the darkened room, I begin.
The tall black candles in their warped gothic stands I place at all four corners of the square rug, my ritual tools in their rolled black cloth, I place near the centre.
The bag for after, at the outer edge, in reach but not part of the ritual.
I sit cross legged in the centre, wearing nothing, fully exposed for where I am about to take myself.
Unrolling the cloth that cover and protects my tools, I take in the sight of my salvation, one by one as they appear.
Lifting the matches I strike a single match and give life to one of the candles, then using it to share life with the others.
The objects of my salvation shine in the candle light; their shimmering form’s fully visible.
Laying my hands upon them I let my eyelids drop till I cannot see and begin to slow my breathing, the thoughts turn to the process, picturing every action I am about to perform, the detail explicit and the anticipation of the pain to come calms the demons within.
Allowing my body to fall into its fully relaxed state I can feel my blood moving within my veins, its pulsing about to be released, gently, slowly.
Opening my eyes slowly, I allow my hands to trace the outline of my first ritual item.
Its spotless stainless steel surface cool to the touch, the razor sharp edge glints as I lift it from its resting place. This eight inch weapon, that is the beginning of my salvation, weighs lightly in my hand, turning it slowly I marvel at its power, this simple piece of forged steel, the power to take life , the power to save, all here in one finely crafted piece.
The anticipation of the demon grows as the knife reflects the simple candle light across my face, its glow warms me because I know the demon is about to be sated, tossed aside.
Placing its point against my inner thigh, I feel the demon’s sharp intake of breath, as he awaits my pain. Holding it there the pressure against my thigh is a small reminder of how it will be after the ritual is done. His impatience grows, he knows I am resisting.
I shrug off the memories of afterwards and allow my mind to escape, cutting off the sensations, removing the emotions that will return soon enough.
Pushing the blade harder against my skin, I coldly watch as the skin gives way and allows the blade to penetrate. His sigh of pleasure encourages me, as I slowly, methodically draw the knife back, allowing the skin to part. The incision is neat, half an inch deep and four inches long. I gaze at the open flesh, admire its deep dark red color and await the pain.
It takes seconds for the body to react, its defense mechanism kicking in, the blood rushing to the wound, pooling inside the opening, the pain impulse catching up with the brain, screaming at it, the sweet sensation of the pain releases some of the Demons hold, creating a wave of pleasure that washes over me. The body hurts but the mind is ecstatic.
It is so sweet, to feel so alive.
Gradually the blood fills the wound and begins to overflow, the trickle running down my thigh and onto the dark rug.
Placing the knife back into its resting place, its job not over, I retrieve the vial of light blue powder, pulling on the small cork, I release the scent of the next part of the process.
His anticipation is absolute, I have his complete attention, even though he knows exactly what is about to occur, he can’t wait.
I cover the throbbing source of the pain with part of the vials contents, a light covering that slows the flow of fluids, mixes with it and they become one.
Sealing the vial I also return it to its right full place, ready for its next part of the ritual.
Slowing my breathing again, locking out the pain and pleasure that conflicts within me, I slowly, deliberately open the box of matches.
Selecting my next weapon of choice, I study the delicate timber fiber which is about to bring me closer to the salvation I seek.
Slowly drawing the head of the little stick across the rough flint it comes to life, stuttering, coughing and finally growing strong.
Holding it in front of me I stare into the small flame, teasing him, building his desire for the pain.
Slowly I lower it to my thigh, the flickering source of heat getting closer to its goal.
Gently touching it to the mixture of dark blood and blue powder I await for the ignition that will come. The mixture warms, I feel it, the strength of the warmth growing, causing such agony, His desperation slowly being sated.
Finally the heat is at its flash point, my body shakes with the intensity as the mixture bursts into a bright blue flame intense, but short lived.
As the searing, tearing pain accompanies the smell of burnt flesh, the mind lets go of its protection, allowing all the sensations to invade it.
The demon cries out in triumph as the torture of my body eases the desires of the mind.
The waves of pleasure that are released are too much too bear, the nervous system going into convulsions at the anguish of the mixed messages the brain is sending to it.
Pain equals pleasure, the more intense the pain the more intense the pleasure.
It’s how it is, and it controls me.
As I try to control my body, I focus on the fact that I must not lose conciousness, this is only a little of what needs to be done, this has only just begun. The demon must be sated.
The demon is me.
Michelle Whennan, about 1 month ago
Incredibly powerful