Wednesday, January 27, 2016

pussy-whipped.

hi, this is the queen. once upon a fairy tale we kept heterosexual men on short leashes because heterosexual women in heat were more likely to long after these men, these things they seemed unable to have; women were more likely to throw change at these boys. this is how power-hungry women and their boyfriends made their livings. together. holy matrimony.
it is important that you pussy-whip. keep my legacy alive- i am the queen of the whip. without pussy-whipping, i'd consider taking all your boyfriends from you like how some people kidnap fucking children for game. i'd surround myself with your former pet dogs, sniping the collars of their leashes off of them, tossing them into whatever fucking pit of fire i want.
your dogs would frolic. you might not like that.

my informal name is pussy and i'm wetter than anyone else. my smell brings people into my voracious pit of hunger. i am a huge green plant.
i lose friends as if they're dead of a sudden. so much for indifference toward death. it turns out i keep losing friends to their choices in life. often, a pussy junior is keeping them tight on a leash; sometimes not even that tight, but some males are really just that fucking spineless.
army of pussy juniors? you are everything to my friends i keep losing to life. you better treat them nicely before you send them to the guillotine where they will return to their voracious hunger. in their death, they might eat you alive.