What Fuel Feels Like To A Narcissist
When I look at you and see the delight cross your face as you spot me across the room, I feel the flame of attention ignite inside me as the first sensation of power booms into life. I have learned that your smile, the widening of your eyes and your hurrying towards me is indicative of delight and happiness on your part. I feed from this allowing my eyes to drink in the fuel that emanates from your expressions. When I gaze at you beneath me, writhing against me, mouth open and flush of sensual desire spreading across your chest, the flames burn fiercer as I watch with such attentiveness the flaring of your orgasm. I study your reaction to our coupling, noting the detail of the way you twist your head, the slight flare of your nostrils, the flailing limbs. I watch and I absorb, committing your reaction to my memory as I avail myself of the fuel that you are providing for me. When I stand and stare at you, that baleful glare piercing you from my darkened ink-like eyes, I am savouring your trembling stance, the fear that you are trying to hide cannot be hidden as you clutch at the arm of the chair to steady yourself, your eyes welling with tears. I stand and I stare,my stare generating your fearfulness and at the same time absorbing the fuel that flows from your frightened state.
When I hear you call my name, that upwards lilt in your voice, the light inflection which denotes that you are pleased to see me, I feel the fuel embracing the fire inside me, allowing the flames to burn a little brighter and stoking the engine that provides me with my sensation of power. I do not feel delight,I do not feel joy, I will replicate the way you look in order to make you think that I feel them, but as I hear your fuel-laden words as they break upon my ears, all that I feel is power. Power than I cause you to feel so elated when you call out to me from another room or speak down the telephone to me on repeated occasions throughout the day. When I hear your shouted insults, the waves of fuel wash against my ears, emotion-laden labels which do not perturb me, unless I choose to feign that I do, in order to provoke you further. I hear the sound of birdsong, I hear the sounds of a cheering crowd and I hear the first strains of a piece of music that appeals to me, yet none of those things comes to close to making me feel the way I do when you shout, cry, laugh, scream, moan and sigh because of me. Your words of praise move me through the gracing of power far more than the strings of a famous orchestra. Your words of scorn generate a far greater reaction for me than the roar of a crowd as my team scores the winning goal.
When I taste, I taste so much more than the food in my mouth or the drink I have just taken a swig of. You bought me that drink and imbued within that mug of coffee or glass of beer I can taste your interest, your appreciation and your affection. Your empathic print is on all that you say and do, your actions and words are embodied in the cake that you baked for me. I tell you the slice you have cut for me is delicious and of course it is, you are an excellent baker, but what I really taste is the care and attention you dedicated to me as you made that cake for me. Every meal you place before me may taste of different ingredients but the one which always tastes finest to me is the emotion that you have imbued it with. Whether it is a lovingly prepared three course dinner or a slammed down plate of spaghetti bolognaise, the emotion you imbue into those meals always tastes better than the meals themselves.
When I smell that delightful fragrance I feel once more the power rising inside me as I latch on to the fuel that you provide to me. Your action in putting on that scent which I have told you is my favourite goes far beyond the pleasant smell of jasmine or sandalwood. The fragrance tells me how you want me to be pleased by your wearing it, how you wish to smell attractive for me and thus I am empowered by your action as my nose senses the fragrance. The smell of freshly laundered clothing or bedding, that clean scent is imbued with you caring for me, attending to my washing and the housework and once again the smell of this act of kindness, of affection and of caring provides me with the fuel that I crave. Even when I tell you that I no longer like a certain perfume you wear, in order to provoke a reaction from you, when you wear it as an act of defiance, you provide me with yet more fuel from this act which is encapsulated in the scent. When you stand fuming, cigarette in hand, the smell of the smoke contains your anger, your irritation and it smells as sweet to me as a blossoming rose might to you.
When I hold your hand and I feel your pleasure in me taking your hand in mine, the fuel flows once again. As I feel your skin beneath my fingers, I know that the emotions that erupt as I do so will fuel me further. From my lips against your lips through to moving inside of you, I feel as anyone would, but I feel so much more because I feel your emotion through my touch and your touch upon me. The emptiness that consumes me acts with the power of a huge black hole which sucks all the emotion you exude into me. When I feel your touch upon me, the fuel flows once again and you allow the simmering flames to rise higher because of the light application of your fingers on the nape of my neck. The pressure of your arms about me as you hug me tightly signifies the deep-seated love and affection which you have for me. It powers through me, invigorating and awakening, providing me with the power that I need to keep on doing that which I must do.
The sting of your hand as it slaps my face, punishment for another of my transgressions as I sought out the touch of another outside our relationship, will hurt my face, I am after all human in the physical sense at least. The sting that you have left however is readily dwarfed by the surge of power I feel inside me at your emotion-filled violence towards me. Touch me, stroke me, hold me, strike me, push me and pull me, it all amounts to a connection between you and I that sends the fuel flowing from you to me. When I no longer tolerate the affectionate and intimate touches, I crave instead for the terrified grab of my arm or the defensive shove to keep me away from you. I may no longer want you to hold my hand, kiss me or place a delicate hand upon my brow, instead I will welcome the physical manifestation of your anger, your frustration and your fear.
Everything that you say and do will be absorbed through my senses, what I see in you, what I hear you say, what I taste, what I smell and what I feel from your touch, they all provide conduits for me to gather fuel. I am a vast machine which is sucking the emotion from you through all of my five senses in order to try to fill this immense emptiness inside me. You make my senses come alive, albeit it for one purpose and this happens in a way that causes the sensations you feel from the use of your senses to pale by comparison. You truly fill up my senses.
14 thoughts on “What Fuel Feels Like To A Narcissist”
Well Mr.H this is so intense. I’m going to read this over and over until my thoughts can become words. I do want to say Love is powerful! Just saying.
I know there is a chapter in one of his books that expands on this even further. If you like I can go through them and see if I find it, I’m pretty sure it’s in one of the first books.
I hope everyone had a great holiday.
This Christmas was the best christmas I have had in years. I had a court order with the Lesser Narc that made him comply, and the Midranger complied with my wishes to showcase his generosity to his new supply. After the kids spent christmas eve and Christmas morning with me, I met the narcs at the mall to do the christmas children exchange. It is interesting how after reading about narcissism and fuel, I can pretty much asses how fueled a narcissist is by looking at their face, and looking at their eyes. The Midranger looked very well fueled, and the Lesser looked depleted. The Lesser who always gives me problems, has suddenly decided that he will be out of town all week, next week, to seek fuel from a long distance relationship. So I am happy to ring in the new year Narc Free, atleast temporarily, and hopeful for things to come.
I’m so happy for you
It truly was a merry Christmas for you and looks like your new year is going to be just as good
Just goes to show how damaging narcs are when you compare the difference and they’re out of the picture …..finally peace !
Happy New Year lovely ….here’s cheers 🍾🥂….To no narc !
Luv Bubbles xx 😘
Thank you, Bubbles. I appreciate that! I hope you have a fantastic 2020 new year!
Fantastic to read, I’m glad you had a lovely christmas! Your point about being able to gauge the levels of fuel a Narcissist currently has based on their expression is an interesting one, I would have to pay more attention to that. I do remember however that a lot of Narcissists start fidgeting and developing anxious ticks when the are short on fuel, many turn to alcohol. It makes me wonder if any Narcissist has ever run out of fuel completely and what that “endstage” would have looked like.
I wish you and your children a fantastic new year!
My absolute pleasure lovely one
You’ve done so well for yourself under the circumstances
I only hope it continues for you precious
Sincerest best wishes for 2020 ANM and to your family
Luv Bubbles xx 😘 🎉
Isn’t it amazing what u can actually witness with awareness. It’s like an old experiment. A dangerous one for that matter.
Glad you had good Christmas. Enjoy your Narc-free New Years and best wishes for 2020.
Thank you! I hope you enjoy yours as well.
ANM—I’m glad you had such a nice holiday and have had some legal victory.
This article really hit home. I couldnt read all of its just so upsetting and heartbreaking.
Sending big bear hugs to you my sweet 🤗
Please try not to let it get you down too much
My emotions are up a bit as well, this is why the support here is a lifesaver
Stay strong Pati, just one step at a time …..you’re doing great !
Bubbles xx 😘