POWER (An excerpt from my first book release)

POWER

The year is practically over, my collection of white pets has grown tremendously, from London to Dubai to California. I have birthed in them this obsession with my evil, they are enthralled. Is it the presence of a powerful woman, my ability to take whatever I want? Their love of my cruelty against them? What made this web so tangled and inescapable? I still don’t quite know. This year has been remarkable, I’ve been flown out, white’s have given up their humanity, some have abandoned their luxury lifestyles, marriages have been ended, some have given their first blowjobs in the name of survival or for the sake of my capitalization, others have become homeless, lost their job and even abandoned their family for this life of cruelty. For what? Because it’s the only thing that boasts authenticity in their life. This is the most substance their existence has ever had and they can’t get enough. The vanilla life is dull, unfulfilling. These men go home and lay next to their wives, some may even actually be attractive, they may have a great sex life, but it’s never enough. For most they feel trapped, there’s the man they feel obligated to be, the pressures of maintaining the white superiority facade, but inside these men they don’t believe the lie that’s preceded generations, that whites are better. Nothing inside of them feels valuable, it’s why they need to be successful in their careers, to make a lot of money in order to cushion their emptiness, they lust for some placeholder and money is the only thing that seemingly fills that void. Truthfully, the empty, the inadequacy rots away inside of them and they long to feel something. They need to know what it feels like to feel. Being owned by me is the only thing that makes any sense in their life. I get it. I replay some of the scenarios With these losers, making a man eat his own feces, another who drank his own cum and then kissed his wife the same night, emptying one’s bank account through TeamViewer; all of these things have built me, this lifestyle has bred a new power inside of me, I radiate with force and confidence. I don’t mind that they are afraid of me, I’d rather be feared than lusted over. I wouldn’t mind castrating every last one of them, but the sight of all that blood would sicken me. This world of mine, it’s way deeper than a fetish, it’s a hunger, a hunger for evil, it’s so therapeutic. After I’ve done my damage, I feel healed from whatever demons are buried within my womb. But when I wake up the next morning, there’s just another demon to defeat. What does it mean to have power? It’s not about money for me, money does not make me feel powerful, it just affords me the ability to do whatever I want, when I want. Power to me is knowing that I when men go to sleep at night, my voice lurks in their head, some lust over my presence, not sexually but just for me to physically be present, and full of vengeance. Power is having these ‘objects’ of mine falling at my feet, desiring to gain acceptance. In some sick way, my evil towards them is validation, because they have to go on about their daily lives feeling like nothing but being treated by everyone else as some glorious being, when they’re with me, I treat them exactly what they know they are worth, nothing. Power is living, conquering, surpassing, even in the presence of countless obstacles, I am powerful. I am the Mean Queen.