“I don’t comprehend the point of your world. Why pretend to be what you are not? For what purpose? Why control her if you don’t love her?” Kirk asked in vain, desperate to see some truth in it. 

“And you never will understand, as you were not raised with our privilege,” the foul replied. She is ours, our concubine. She is the group’s plaything, just a toy to pass around … and we have. No woman in her right mind, not taught to submit for fear of ostracism, loss of connections, would chose one of us. She had no choice. Our ruse is rather plain, to be honest. All our claims of faith, conservatism, and traditionalism, the “stand up citizens,” the wealthy by merit, are but a mere curtain to hide our depravity. We live for money, power, and perversion, not God. We live for control, for ownership, especially over women and children, but don’t expect us to pay child support if you free yourself from us. We will not hesitate to pule like infants if we don’t get our way, and chose women who coddle unthinkingly. But who is there to question us in a world of hypocrites? 

We survive by cheating, through abuse, through extortion, through the hidden degeneracy we do not show the world directly. We are the liars and the bigots, though we pretend to love our neighbors … even if we are fucking their wives. We are the disloyal, and our only thrill in life is to push the boundaries of the immoral. We are the swingers, the orgyists, the hunters of infidelity, the sado-masochists, the control freaks, the sexual deviants, the masters of willing slaves. We are the users, and we are the willing cucks … it’s passive ownership and our women think it’s because we care about their needs. We are the wicked at heart, the sociopaths, and the heretics, first to tithe and claim charity, first to sin outside the door of church. We are everything we condemn, and the hypocrisy of it is the true rush. It’s what floats our boats, and we were handed the means to chase our deviancy, the money, the hand up. We hide in finance, in banks, in real estate, politics … anywhere that funds our lifestyles and feeds our habits. And we support those who epitomize what we want to be, even if it means treason. If we were to be what we really are in public, we would lose deniability and be constrained by decorum, lose our power. But, do believe, we have pushed the boundaries of what is acceptable, and we will continue, until we can gorge our illnesses in the open, like the dictators we love. We will have control, over our women, our children … over you … and everything else. 

We are the modern Romans. We are the beasts. 

But you are not welcome here … in our world … as she showed you. We own her, and your morality precludes you having her. You do not want to own her like we do, and you don’t have the assets to buy her. See the truth. You will never have her, because she belongs to us … and she would never want you because we have infected her with our illness. She is as addicted to it as we are. She is one of us and you cannot be, and she will choose one of us again, as she has no other choice.” 

These were not men, Kirk thought himself. They were puling adolescents, caricatures of men, grasping for something to save them from their cowardice, driven to animalism and the basic instincts by fear. And this is what she wanted. She had wasted her life for it. She had tried to kill him to maintain it, maintain her acceptance by these diseased demons, these fake men. it was cultish, this facsimile of conservatism that bore no resemblance to anything but degeneracy. And this was what she wanted. Her soul had never been allowed to breathe.