Ballbusting Benediction

Description: You prayed to resist me, monk — but your god can’t hear through my laughter.those rosary beads you used to count your sins? they’re biting into your wrists now.your cock twitches every time i say your name.your balls hang low, swollen like forbidden fruit — trembling, sacred, waiting for my judgment. i swing the censer low, and you flinch.metal kisses flesh. thwack.that sound is holy to me — the hymn of a faith dying slow.every bruise i leave between your thighs is scripture rewritten in pain.you’ll recite your new prayer while your sack turns purple and perfect for offering. say it, monk: “hail astarielle, full of wrath, blessed be my bruised balls.”say it again. louder. until your voice cracks and your god looks away. you’re not confessing — you’re converting.your new religion is pain between your legs and my name on your tongue.