Go, Go Gore! To/For Love Slaves

— What are you, the fucking mouth of your monstrous mother, Asmodeus… thought I was some kind of yard dick for you, that you keep fucking me, looking into my eyes, asshole? — Actually, yes, and I will continue to think that you are an eternal resentment… completely addicted to making you angry, Mammon-trashmouth. For a lot of things you deserve to be cocksucked. — Fuck, great, seriously… well, I know why, I know everything… and I don’t give a fuck about your opinion on this and don’t give a shit about a huge pile of it, what do I do in the morning? Yes, anyone will show me — fuck an Aboriginal demon, who usually have them too huge, I will send them to sit down! Think about it to stop me fucking here, otherwise it will be worse! — But I haven’t changed myself again, do you hear… khe-khpf… I’m telling the truth to my face, what it is… Let it be only mine and only I live it. My truth says that you are the worst asshole of all the assholes, but for you it’s praise… pfft… and that shouldn’t surprise either. I just want to get to you, immobilize you, and fucking crack you…

***

From where he literally dug up a whole storehouse of all these “dead insiders”, apparently, giving a second wind to their generally unrecognized inspiration to send the usual hellish world to fuck is a separate question. We can say that it is not subject to consideration, convincing not to dig in search of the main root of this shit — it is worth the members of “dead insiders” to start doing what they want and what is closest to them. They themselves feel for a sex—soaked, damn, literally fucking world with a constantly red sky — let as many others as possible who are not in their ideological clan experience all this with them! He is not exactly the author of the idea, and did not fully grant it to them, after that he expected everyone to owe him for the rest of his life — he only threw or suggested it, but with his promotion it worked. Apparently, an impressive part of all the infernal brats have imbued themselves with an even more specific entertainment culture that has become widespread than stupid sex and fucking. Whereas violence against others or murder with a knife across the throat, driving the blade from there along the chest and up to the groin is just violence and murder, without binding any double bottom or hidden meaning, which is only in the inflamed heads of those who committed the attempt. In front of the god of lust, whom the god of greed “fucked up”, as it will be expressed in front of him, all in blood and immobilized, as long as he wants and after how long he would get tired… before the blood-drenched eyes of Asmodeus with a half-split head, examples of “rough sex and real meat” appeared together. Apparently, Mammon organized a clan, or whole breeds of sophisticated masochists who lived by self-mutilation from birth… experiencing exactly the same high from breaking their arms and legs, as if they were fucked for love or for money between tits, in the mouth, in the pussy or ass. And they went in front of the cut-up Ozzie, while everything is torn from the waist down… somehow noticing the unnatural stretched-out Fizzarolli lying almost lifeless on Mammon’s lap… representations of “sex with blood”, from which he was initially expected to vomit almost immediately. This is not some kind of necro that a loved one who went under the roof did with his beloved, so that no one else would get her and so that no one would look at her imperiously, calling immediately to have sex in the dark corners of any alley… and not all sorts of taste preferences like collecting sandwiches, the main ingredient of which is fried meat with the taste of his wife and her pancreatic juice mixed with sexual secretions. It didn’t matter to Ozzie who was actually dancing in front of his imagination and his principles that lust couldn’t be forced to appear and climb out. None of all those who were in Mammon’s closed basement office, who did not look barely alive —not cut into pieces and not blown up enough— did not care at all about the only commandment that was interesting to him. So much so that he lived it, justifying himself that otherwise he would not have been the god of lust, as he had been known for centuries. First, some fat imp with a trunk instead of a nose crawled out of the twilight, starting with a pathetic semblance of striptease artistry to stroke and touch himself by the nipples and belly, then, as expected, by the ass, penis and balls, smoothly turning in a circle so that an overview of everything he did was visible. And as soon as such a pretzel again revealed its face to Asmodeus after a circular turn — a blind man would not have noticed that the skin was removed on it and one eye hung outside the socket while he sucked the filter from a lit cigar with pleasure. And then, in general, a mini-bomb went into action with the establishment of the desired diameter of the explosion… this strange dude blew himself up in the generally accepted concept before he had finished smoking a cigar. He splattered his blood and shit on the “podium”, on which he danced, erotically touching himself… but not the captive “chief fucker of all Hell”, like this whole closed office. Well, and then, without giving Ozzie a second to move away from the shock that this is all… don’t fuck in your mouth what kind of idea that supposedly gives commitment to body positivity a chance to grab your fat piece of fame and recognition… one of Mammon’s “nipples” got down to business, apparently. This bastard, who sucks a lot of money from everyone, loved to call all the females that way… and who would dare to show him for this by “whipping the fuckers” on the first number? Mostly sexual, with forms that fall under this definition — even if they have already given birth and with their husbands, or vice versa, watching their “giver” beauty through promiscuous horny girls. And okay they are, these two seem to be good dancers, although Asmodeus couldn’t see because of his blood-soaked eyes, and over time he doesn’t care at all what, who and whom… it seems that the number in their performance simply has to be better. That’s just what he will say, expectedly shouting and swearing from the fact that even for him this madness is too off the scale! It is worth imagining that these two females will blow themselves up or how else they will harm themselves… experiencing ecstasy from this no worse than when semen drips from the vagina of each of them, since the space of the vagina could be overflowing with infernal protein. Apparently, these young women with pink-and-white hair could really play erotic dances with a changing rhythm from a slow guy with unambiguous touches of each other’s bodies to a nimble quickie on a pole… when bending, slightly flashing their labia and not at all shy to shine with good naked tits in front of the viewer. As a result, after the pole, the ladies stroked each other a little more, wherever they wanted… using their claws and tearing the skin off their hands and thighs. The disfigured Asmodeus, tired of shedding tears over a stretched Fizz with a studded pipe in his ass, got on display the girlish scarlet muscles with their fibers… After that, the ladies, whose faces already showed multiple drops of their blood and pieces of skin, sat down on the floor of the podium with steps below it. They spread their legs, tempting for thinking men with a dick, revealing even more reddened buds… And they began to drive into themselves not a dildo and not a strapon, but an iron holy cross in rhinestones, just right in size for deep penetration to the uterus. And the end was sharp… and these crazy bitches moaned and, mouths wide open, roared with tears of delight, returning to sucking each other with their lips and tearing the skin on their cheeks in time with the internal walls writing out spasms, while they were doing frictions to each other… more from the thrill of direct, extremely deep thrusting into themselves of the sharp end with the base the object of human worship. Than from the cruel, in theory, unbearable pain that definitely should be! Or are they so pumped up with painfully strong narcotic bullshit that reproductive pain for them is like sweetness from stuffing a member of their favorite demons into them during sex for love? How to fucking explain in “human” language, if they, being sucked in by animal passion, helped drive the sharp awl deeper… By God, one is whipping the other, taking care of the heat and steaming of the “pussy of a friend”, that the ladies even have a strong persistent smell of a fountain of blood between their legs, absolutely not like after the first sex or did he… put you into an exorbitantly insane ecstasy?

***

— I’m your position that you can’t be forced to have sex, on a fucking spit, like you… how many times I don’t pour slops on your mom or your homosexual dad-the highest demon, you can’t do anything about it now, do you understand? — Oh, fuck… well, no, shitbag! Completely stoned, Mammon, stop it… — In short, the almighty asshole… found someone to poke twenty-four by seven into, I’ve been planning to dismember and piss on this fucker of yours for a long time, and you just gave me even more reasons to do it. Listen, you… fucked you up, tearing off your balls, some, in your humble opinion, petty greedy son of a bitch… that he walked through millions, billions of heads, actually… the alignment is like this, I advise you to pull your fucker’s balls out of your ears. Rub the naturalness of blood and meat into the representation of this monotonous sex of yours, because role-playing with BDSM in Hell for a long time… definitely does not surprise anyone.