Hush

 

hush

 

Hush. I don’t want you to make any sound. None at all. If you do you will spoil this moment. This is not a time for noise, of any kind. Yes, I admit I normally like you to be making some sound. Whether it is your words of admiration, your scream of terror, your murmurs of delight, your shouted anger or moans of passion. All the noises which you make for me are welcomed, so long as you coat them with your feelings. I do not care for bare comment, neutral and anodyne, that does nothing for me and may even harm me, but you won’t do that for me will you? You do not want to hurt me, ever, do you? You are not like that. Your kind are not like that, you care and you love and you give. No, no, stay silent. You have no need to speak. Just lie there. Be still. I want to allow my eyes to roam over your naked form as you lie there next to me, exposed, vulnerable. I know you are looking at my eyes, I can sense it. My gaze is not meeting yours at the moment though as I am allowing my eyes to slowly move across you. I regard your toes, pointing upwards, bare and free of varnish. You rarely apply such gloss to them but you do ensure they are clean, cut and presentable. I know you can see me looking at them. I know you are wondering whether I am going to lower my wonderful mouth to them and suck them or bite them. I am not going to do either of those things but you are uncertain. I can tell that you are because your apprehension is flowing from you and I am drinking that in. That tiny shudder you just gave was not from the cool air that permeates this twilight space. No, that was indicative of the apprehension which has taken hold of you. I know you are stood at a fork in your mind. I know what you will be thinking. I know because I make you think this way, why else would I do it? I do it for control. I control everything about you. You stand at that fork wondering whether I will lead you down the line to explosive pleasure or down the dark road towards hurt and pain. You have no idea which it will be because as you have come to learn these last few months, I am capable of both. Should you feel excited? Should you feel nervous? Which is to be? Hush now, do not speak. Oh I know that you want to speak, you cannot help yourself. You want to ask. Always the questioning isn’t it? Ask, question, query, challenge and so forth. Not now. You want the answer but you are not getting that answer. Not yet. I make a gentle shushing sound. Is it a noise of reassurance, that which the doting mother provides to the new born offspring or is the noise of patronising chastisement, treating you like a child? You do not know. How I revel in your confusion. I know you are looking at my face desperately looking for some kind of clue, some hint, some acknowledgement of what is going on in my delinquent mind. You are denied. My face is frozen, mouth set straight, brow neither raised or furrowed, eyebrows unyielding and then there are my eyes. You cannot see yourself anymore in them. I have stopped that for the time being. Usually you get to see exactly what you want to see in them. Whether it is joy, hope, love, passion, excitement, intrigue and so much more. You are only seeing what I know you want to see because I reflect from these eyes what is showing in your eyes. You do not look upon me. You look upon yourself. That has changed tonight. Now two impenetrable black orbs are all that you can see. The place where you usually lose yourself has become lost to you. You will find no succour for you there. You will find no reassurance or indication of what is about to happen. That is hidden from you now.

You make to issue a further sound and a shake of my head halts you. My fingers trace the red weal on your thigh, the pads of two of my fingers running either side of this mark. Another shudder and I can sense you are desperate to speak buy hush my dear, hush my love, this is not the time for speaking. I know you will wonder why my fingers trace this mark. Am I soothing you or reflecting on its origin? You have no idea have you? I allow my fingers to move upwards across the tender flesh of your thigh. Is it now that it will happen or will I wait? You lift your left thigh in anticipation and I continue to allow my fingers to drift northwards. I hear your intake of breath and know that again you are making so as to speak. My hand leaves your thigh and I place one finger against your lips. The gesture clear and unmistakable. The moment where you might have broken the silence passes and I wait and wait a while longer before I move my finger away. Your body beside me is ramrod straight as you are unable to relax, every nerve-ending alert and bracing itself for whatever comes next, whatever that might be. The outside of my hand brushes your soft cheek, your impressive complexion noticeable even in this half-light. A cheek that sometimes glows red from the consequences of my endeavours. Is it the glow of shame which will coat your cheek? Is it the surge of a passionate flush that will linger there? Or something else?

Now I look at your eyes and this is when I begin to derive the true benefit from this enforced silence. My eyes convey nothing. Yours tell me everything. They flit back and forth, scrutinising my face for some kind of signal, some kind of sign. I am not transmitting. I am only set to receive and receive I do as I drink in the earnest anxiety flooding from your eyes. I see the attempt to mollify me as you allow those beautiful, expressive eyes to reach out to me. I see the look of apprehension cut through the attempt as the nervousness returns. You are obedient now. Remaining silent, my repeated exhortations, soft and low, for you to remain silent have been heeded. Now you are trying to speak to me using your eyes and you are doing so magnificently. The lack of noise, the absence of speech, now makes the emotions in your eyes a hundred times more intense. I absorb those feelings which flood from your eyes. I drink them in, consuming them for my own benefit. This is why it works so well. Complete control of you as you lie there, still, unmoving on the bed, slight and occasional tremble from your limbs as you wait in conflicting anticipation for what may come. What will it be this time? How will I deal with you? There can be no spoken protestation, no elucidated request for confirmation, only this continuing silence, punctuated from time to time by my hushing you.

My eyes remain locked on yours as my left hand once again begins to glide about your body. The lightest of touches which glides from throat, to breast and to stomach. Back and forth moves my hand, like some wizard commencing the gesticulations for his spell-casting. My spell is already working as you remain frozen, barely daring to move, only allowing your chest to rise with your breathing and your eyes to dart left and right, still probing, still seeking those answers.

Hush my darling, hush my dear, hush my love.

My hand rises and then clamps over your mouth.

Your eyes widen. Fear and excitement fighting against one another and all the while giving me what I need.

Hush.

Now it begins.

 

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Bound

bound-2

 

One of our central aims when we have targeted you is to bind you to us. During our seduction we create this magical place and invite you and only you to inhabit it with us. We build a fantastic place and place you on a pedestal in the centre of this artifice. It is very difficult for you to realise this is a fallacy and even harder to do something about it. Every day, every hour that you remain close to our influence allows us to create more ties, more connections and increase the extent that you are bound to us. We make you feel fabulous, worshipped and loved. The dizzying, whirlwind nature of our passion is unlike anything else you have known and you readily accept it. It is of course not informed consent. You have no idea what we are, but nevertheless you accept all of this wonderful treatment. You allow us to permeate every aspect of your life. We draw you into ours and make you feel special and privileged for being allowed to do so. Consider how we penetrated your every network so everywhere you turned we were there.

We knew all your friends, we ingratiated ourselves with your family and got to meet your colleagues. We knew all the places you liked to go to and introduced you to some additional ones. We made sure we knew every favourite thing of yours, from books to plays to food. Your wine rack became stocked with the types of wine you preferred, your wear the jewellery that was bought for you after careful solicitation of what you deem pretty and I occasionally arrive bearing a new book from the stable of authors that you enjoy to read. Bit by bit I invade your life and as our relationship progresses at light speed, the gradual, creeping advance of my influence has actually gained more than a toehold. It has spread across your territory like some formidable weed that cannot be held back, covering and smothering. My clothes hang in the wardrobe, I have my favourite chair at your house, you now buy the cereal that I prefer to eat in the morning even though you think it is just a mouthful of sugar. You now wash my socks, my songs populate the iTunes playlist and the bathroom is testament to my occupation with the bottles, razors and accoutrements mingled amongst yours. You cannot fail to see my influence all around you, but you welcome this and from it you gain a great happiness. From dating, to staying over, to co-habiting and on to marriage, this inexorable march of sudden and frantic seduction, although this is only ever apparent with hindsight as at the time it was the right thing to do, results in our lives entwining as I wrap my tendrils around your life and drag you tight against me. So many links, connections, lines and ties between you and I.

These ties keep you in place despite the abuse that is to come. It is sudden and bewildering but you will not give up easily. Not only did you say those vows, you meant every word and we know this. You will not let what we have built up crumble to dust. Admirable as your fortitude may be, you may as well stand on a beach and command the tide to halt its own unceasing advance for all the good you will do. This will not stop you trying though. We know this. The ties are many and they are tight so you will not run for cover at the first administration of a silent treatment. You will not down tools and walk away when the shouting continues long into the night. You do not pack a bag and leave it in the hallway, sitting on the stairs as you wait for us to return, late at night, from whatever tryst we have been engaged in. You keep going, bound to the hope that everything will be good once more, that the golden period will return. You hang in there, you battle, you demonstrate misguided resolve as we lash out time and time again, drawing the negative fuel from your distress, dismay and disarray. You will not let go. The connections are too many. Our behaviour is reprehensible as we open up front after front after front against you, leaving you confused and crushed. We twist, blame, push and pull yet you will not waver. No matter how many times we knock you to the floor you keep coming back for more, dragged back onto your feet by the ties that bind you to us.

Then one day you remove yourself from our toxic influence or in some instances you are removed. Those ties remain but there is an elasticity which allow you to escape us. To be taken away from the acidic words and vicious schemes. The insults, the violent rages, the isolation and the denigration may have been halted. You may no longer be subjected to being spat at, your hair pulled, your money withheld, your social interactions curtailed and your self-esteem trampled underfoot. You may have escaped the daily devaluations which came at you in so many different and unedifying ways but your ordeal is far from over.

You may not have our furious face shouting into yours anymore. You may not be sat cowering behind a locked bathroom door as we pound on it demanding you come out. You may not lie crying in a bed made to feel empty by our absence. You may not stand outside the study seeing the glow of the monitor within, under the door and wonder who we are engaging with online, that knotted sensation in your stomach inducing sickness. You may have escaped many of these manipulations but the ties that bind remain.

The bond we have created with you is so strong, so deep and so far-reaching that every day you will feel a vast void at being parted from us. You will excuse the abuse as you hanker for those golden days. You will feel like something has been ripped from you by our absence. Even though you know how terrible we have acted towards you, you will still suffer that sense of illogical loss. Every day feels empty. You wonder what we are doing, who we are with and whether we are thinking about you. You see our presence all around you still, people still ask about us, you collapse on to your bed burying your face in that t-shirt we kept under our pillow and you still smell us on it. You drink deep of the scent, hoping the nagging pain will recede, that somehow you will be magically restored to where we once both were, when we were happy. Your run your fingers over the tub of hair wax which we left and you remember watching us as we carefully applied it. You cannot bring yourself to discard it, clinging on to these reminders of the joy that once abounded in these walls. You pass the bookcase, touching the spines of the volumes we bought for you, the words and letters all further reminders of our presence here in this house. You miss us you miss us so much, you shouldn’t do, not after what we have done. Not after the vile treatments you have suffered. It makes no sense that you should feel this way but you do. You ache for us, the ties that remain are still being pulled and yanked, even though we are not there with you. The searing pain rises as another reminder appears, the tie still strong. Unlike an umbilical cord which provides life, your cord to us continues to pain you. When will this end? When will this agony recede and be replaced by something else? Would it now not even be better to feel nothing? To be numbed and anaesthetised so you do not have to endure this ongoing pain.

The bond we create with you is so powerful, so deep and so long lasting that it is often the aftermath of the ties that bind that hurts more than the abuse itself. That is how dangerous we are.

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The Super Empath

THE SUPER EMPATH

 

It is well known that our kind target those who have empathic traits. Just like those of my persuasion operate on a spectrum, those who exhibit empathy do so as well. There are those we might regard as the “normals” those people who have some narcissistic traits and some empathic traits. As ever, when I use the words empathic and empathetic I state them with reference to certain traits such as empathy (clearly), honesty, kindness, decency and such like. I do not use the words in the sense of being in tune with the world and the environment. The normal are in the centre, possibly leaning one way towards my kind or the other way towards your kind. It is extremely rare for a normal to be ensnared as primary source because put simply, they do not cut the mustard. Their emotional responses are not sufficient, their empathic traits whilst evident are not sufficient to either bind to us or provide us with the fuel that we need. Such a person would easily pass a homeless person begging, a person crying alone on a bench or somebody who had fallen off their bike and injured themselves. They are self-absorbed but not to the degree that our kind is. They will help if they really have to, but they do not go out of their way to act in a way that causes harm to anybody else.

Thereafter come those who are empaths. Empaths are always targeted as primary sources. They often fulfil secondary roles as well. They are rarer in a tertiary source position since if they are an empath, they would be better suited to either being a primary or secondary source. We would not want those empathic traits to go to waste. The empath has a good range of empathic traits those of honesty, decency, having a strong moral compass and being a good listener, just to list a few of them. They may not have all of the empathic traits that we look for, but they will have several and exhibit them in a concentrated form. Thus this person would look to donate to a charity, hand a wallet in that was found in the street, help a stranger who is in distress, sit and listen to somebody who has problems and acts of a similar nature.

Next comes the Super Empath. This person is not a co-dependent. Both the Super Empath and the co-dependent have many, if not all of the empathic traits that we look for and they have them to a stronger degree than the empath. For example, both might take the homeless person under their wing and take them to a shelter, maybe even house them themselves for a period of time. They would try and locate the person who had lost their wallet in order to hand it back in person rather than say hand it in at a police station first. They will listen to the person with problems and then offer practical solutions to resolve those difficulties. The co-dependent gains validation from such acts through giving and has to do this to an excessive degree even when it goes beyond what is good for themselves, such is their inherent addiction to the act of giving and selflessness. The co-dependent may not actually be that strong an individual (they are in the sense of the abuse that they can soak up) but they are not strong as they have no identity to assert, they must form one through self-flagellation, giving and not taking. They are masochistic in nature, driving themselves to the point of collapse and illness because they lack the strength to escape and the desire to do so from the clutches of our kind. Lesser Narcissists and Mid-Range Narcissists hook up with co-dependents especially because they give, give and give but do not fight back. They challenge themselves, blame themselves and always make excuses for their abuser.

The Super Empath is also a giver but whereas the co-dependent is masochistic in this giving, the Super Empath does so from a position of strength. They hold their ability to empathise, to heal, to fix and impart goodness as a great gift and one which ought not to be abused. They are drawn to our kind less because of the co-dependent’s need to seek validation of identity through a narcissist, but more because they are initially attracted to the apparent emotional output of the narcissist. The false strength which the narcissist exhibits at the outset of the seduction, the confidence, the apparent satisfaction with his self, that he appears comfortable in his own skin, at ease with others, capable of lighting up a room and so forth is a huge attraction to the Super Empath because that person actually sees something of themselves in the narcissist when the narcissist is seducing. That is not to state that the Super Empath is a narcissist. Far from it. But the Super Empath is just as engaging as the narcissist and thus there is a mutual attraction. The Super Empath is also more challenging to the narcissist and therefore is usually the recipient of some Mid-Range narcissists and most often the Greater Narcissist. This is not because the Super Empath is awkward or reticent but rather she will be forthcoming with her empathic traits once she feels that they have been earned. Accordingly, the narcissist must put the extra miles in, in terms of seduction to ensnare the Super Empath. This person needs to be coerced into sharing the fruits of their empathy but once that trust has been earned, once the gate has been unlocked the benefits are huge. The Super Empath shines with empathy, glows with decency and pours forth delicious fuel.

This continues during devaluation. The empath and co-dependent are easier to “break” in terms of causing negative fuel to flow. The Super Empath is made of sterner material and will resist the negative machinations of the narcissist at first. This may result in the narcissist dis-engaging if he does not feel able to impact on the Super Empath and seeking fuel elsewhere. The Greater knows who he has ensnared and knows once again he must unlock the fuel source, this time negative, of the Super Empath and once it is done the tidal wave of fuel is to be enjoyed. The Super Empath will remain, wanting to fix the narcissist, exhibiting again the same empathic traits of others on the empathic spectrum, but again being made of sterner stuff, their descent towards numbness and malfunction is far slower than that of the empath. The Super Empath will keep providing the fuel but deteriorates at a slower rate. The risk factor however with a Super Empath is that their own personal integrity is greater than the empath’s and very much greater than that of the co-dependent and consequently of all these three classes of empath, the Super Empath is the one more likely to make a bid for escape and thus leave the narcissist with a cessation problem.

The challenge of unlocking both positive and negative fuel proves an attraction for the right type of narcissist because this allows him to assert his superiority and enjoy the challenge. The reward is magnificent. Excellent fuel and such that deteriorates at a much slower rate. The downside is the potential for the Super Empath becoming “aware” of what is happening, becoming unwilling to dedicate further energy to staying with the narcissist to fix and to heal and thus escaping. The Super Empath requires fairly careful management by our kind, but the rewards always mean that this person is a challenge which is often accepted.

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Confessions of a Narcissist

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By understanding how we act and think, you build your cool, hard logic. This is a completely necessary act of self-help to bring your emotional thinking under control and in turn, maximise your ability to secure freedom from the narcissist.

This collection of books will furnish you with unrivalled understanding and include bonus material.

Read to understand. Understand to Counter. Counter and become free.

US e-books here

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The Dictator

THE DICTATOR YOUTUBE.jpg

This morning I met with members of my inner circle. All of them to a man are yes men and women, drawn from my most loyal lieutenants. Take him, the head of my secret police who is engaged in eliciting information about those I must repress. He conducts himself with an enthusiasm that borders on the evangelical, chasing down those who must succumb to my regime, extracting information about them through a variety of means, his network of assistants, spies and snitches all positioned to assist in achieving my greater glory. I half-listen as he reels off the latest intelligence that has been gathered about a dissenter who remains a thorn in our side. She seeks to resist the imposition of our will. Apparently she believes that she has viewed the truth about my regime. It is all lies of course. I turn to my Chief of Information and Truth and receive his report as he sets out a seven-point plan to crush this upstart. He issues his words with the fervent belief that I installed in him when I recruited him. When was that again? I cannot remember. He has been in that position for such a long time that I struggle to remember who even held the post before him. His eyes flash with enthusiasm for the smear campaign that he has devised in order to demolish the credibility of this dangerous opponent who is intent on spreading malicious lies and malcontent about our most glorious and benevolent regime.

All of them sit around me, members of my cabal, hand-picked in order to carry out my will. I know they revel in their positions of privilege and that they too jockey with one another for position in order to receive the favour of their Most Illustrious Leader. I glance at the immaculately dressed lady whose countenance is positively glacial. She is my Minister for Demagoguery, charged with devising those repeated slogans and campaigns of popularity, irrespective of cost to those who oppose us, in order to maintain my hold on the country. I know she is in love with me. They all are, in their own way and she wants to sit at my left-hand. I should imagine she will launch a takeover bid and oust the First Lady of Prime Supply. I switch my gaze across the table and wonder what the Head of Fuel Procurement would make of that if he knew that she would usurp both his latest find and his function in delivering the finest supporters from my legions of beloved citizens. Still, it does no harm to keep them all vying for my favour. My eyes sweep around the table, the keen and obedient faces all looking to me for approval, a sign of acknowledgement, a nod of agreement or a smile of pleasure at what they have suggested in order to maintain our most glorious rule. The Minister for Total Adoration sitS staring at me, her face representative of the ministry over which she presides. She organises my supporters to provide their oft and repeated parades, rallies and demonstrations of blind loyalty, all part of maintaining my facade of popularity and devotion. I realise that the room is silent as all eyes look to me, awaiting my decision on what the Chief of Information and Truth has just painstakingly detailed in order to crush the rebellious individual. My mind was elsewhere but I have little doubt that his plans are effective. They have always proven to be in the past and will continue to do so.

“Execute it,” I say quietly. The Chief nods and makes a note in his expensive-looking notebook. I sense the simmering jealousy from the others sat around the gilded table at the approval he has just obtained from me. I will ensure they all receive their moment of approval however, feeding them the titbits that they require in order to maintain their absolute loyalty to me.

Sometime I wonder how much of what I dictate to them they actually believe or whether they harbour desires to be in my position. Surely that thought crosses their mind from time to time. I know it would mine if I was them, but then I am different to them. I am the Most Illustrious Leader and it is because of my unrivalled skills and abilities that I hold such a position and why they do not. They could not do what I could do. Could they?

Each and every day I am the beast of prey which they admire. I must at all times maintain a show of strength, so they remain committed to the maintenance of our glorious regime. There can be no weakness demonstrated. A cold, hard edifice of savage decisiveness which tells them that they chose the correct side to support. There is so much to do. So many reports to receive, so many decisions to make, so many targets to track and watch, assess and monitor. The Minister for Observation and Perusal has proven to be a key recruitment in my ongoing work of identifying those who will best serve me, from the many millions who exhibit potential. I must have the best because I am the best and this inner circle is charged with enabling my machinations to be effected and for total and absolute hegemonic control to be exerted over the masses. I know the trouble-makers, the seditious splinter groups, the treacherous traitors who need to feel the smack of firm government to keep them in their place. It dismays me at times. I invite them into the illustrious headquarters of this most powerful of regimes and deliver to them every grace and favour that they could ever want let alone imagine, yet they still turn against me. I have yet to understand why. Even my long-standing Head of Torturous Devaluation is at a loss to explain why certain of my recruitments fall. Still, it does not trouble him as he relishes getting his hands on them and exposing them to the latest malevolent manipulations that him and his ministry have devised. Their Room 101 is far worse than the one they may have read about.

Remaining on top of this vast empire remains a task suited to only the greatest and that was why I was chosen. I must watch, decide, act and govern. Each and every day, I must demonstrate that I am in control. I know the liars and turncoats spread lies that I find the whole charade exhausting, that I have lost my appetite for threatening and destroying and that it is only a question of time before the whole edifice comes crumbling down. Thankfully the Minister for Best Presentation is always able to portray me in the best light so when the occasional fatigue of this relentless operation does seek to make itself apparent, it is beaten away through the judicious application of trickery and fakery. I thank my own personal god that it is the case otherwise who knows what succour my opponents would gain from seeing such weakness come to the fore. Would they be bold enough to implement a coup d’état and have the despicable desire to unseat their Most Illustrious Leader? Sometimes I wonder if they will, but I never mention it to my inner circle. They must always know that I am strong, impregnable and omnipotent.

The trouble is that one day I might not be and that might be when they take me outside and shoot me.

Then again. That might be a blessing.

For them.

And me.

9+

Read and understand all about narcissists from the best source possible. A narcissist himself.

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