Do you think he would be pleased to meet you? Do you think he would forgive you? You can’t possibly imagine you would be friends.
You are his god. And you know how he feels about gods. Don’t you? Voyeur.
Oh, yes, I know. I know you enjoy spying on him while he sleeps. While he struggles. Suffers. You watch him bleed and claw and writhe in the dirt and you thrill to it. You think I can’t hear you? You think I don’t know you discuss what you want to do to him next, as if he’s your toy?
But who am I to judge? Go ahead. Get off on it while he cries. Savor the sound of his screams and whimpers. Hm, and we can’t forget his begging, can we. I’m hardly about to disagree that pain looks good on him. Maybe even that he deserves it. Do you think he deserves it? Is that part of the pleasure for you—or is it that you think he doesn’t?
Either way, you just can’t get enough. You’ll be back. I’ll see you next week, listener.