Ya know, in my experience, people in positions of power often enjoy the act of relinquishing control.
I used to know this guy; real high flyer.
For a living, he was chief executive for one of the biggest blue chip organisations on the planet.
Fella was big fucking time, for sure.
Through his daily practices, he was in a position of absolute authority; a God in his own world so to speak.
To look at the fucker posed a large and looming figure too. When he entered the room, he brought with him an aura and overbearing presence that was simply impossible to ignore.
Everyone looked up to him, everyone revered him, and being the sanctimonious son of a bitch he was, he basked in the reputation that duly preceded him.
Despite the sphere of influence this prick held over others in his day job, he had a very different, somewhat submissive side to his character that he preferred to keep under wraps.
When his day shift had ended and he’d had his fill of ordering everyone else around, there was nothing he’d enjoy more than stopping off at one of his favourite vice dens to be gagged, beaten, chained and dominated.
Ya know something, Deathnote, when I see you there all dressed up in your leather suit and barbs, I can’t help but be reminded of that sordid old acquaintance of mine.
Just like that sleazy motherfucker of time gone by, you stand in the middle of the ring as if you’re the head fucking honcho.
As if you fucking own the joint.
With you, you carry that little notebook around like it were your own personal filing system, and like him, you use it to capture the names of lesser people of whom you boss around, control, coerce, and exercise your sovereignty and strength over.
As for your form and foreboding frame, it only serves to bolster your macho image, doesn’t it? Whilst your proclamation to be the God of the New World gives your selfdom even greater repute.
But while your alien tongue may well talk a good game, Shinigami, your appearance and outward exterior says something else to me.
People in positions of power often enjoy the act of relinquishing control, Deathnote, and come our seedy encounter at Fuck The World, I will enjoy whipping every last ounce of it out of you.
You see, Author Death, when you enter The Head Snake’s lair to get your grubby fill on Monday night, you will soon find out you have bitten off more than your gimp-mouth can chew.
I’ll bend you over my knee like the bitch you are and serve you a big fetish sandwich.
I’ll remove my belt and tan that unearthly hide of yours like it’s never been tanned before.
And when all is said and done; when you’re finished rolling around in the ring, writhing in pain from your contemptible fantasies, you’ll look up to the skies and see the one true God of this world.
Of the new world.
Or any fucking world.
And his name?
Viper fucking Roberts.
And a-fucking-men to that.