Desecration” is the raw, unrestrained echo of Dripping Sin—where the first piece hinted at blasphemy and ruin, this one rips away restraint and bares the filth beneath. It is the same worship, only stripped of softness, leaving nothing but depravity, brutality, and the ache of being wholly undone.

Drag me down, Sir,
into the pit where light dares not go.
Spit in my mouth,
split me open,
make me choke on every inch of your cruelty.
I am not here for tenderness—
I am here to be torn apart.

Bend me over the altar,
fuck the holiness out of me,
let my screams echo like hymns in reverse.
Force me open with your hand, your cock, your fist—
make a ruin of my body
until I am nothing but a leaking hole,
a blasphemy dripping across your floor.

Mark me with bruises that spell your name.
Brand me in welts,
paint me in filth,
press me into the rot of my own desire.
There is no redemption here,
only degradation—
a cunt baptized in spit,
a throat gagged with cock,
a soul stripped and shackled in chains of your making.

I want to drown in your seed,
stink of your sweat,
drip with every vile part of you
until even hell spits me back out.

Make me crawl,
make me beg,
make me confess,
make me choke on the truth of it—
that I am only your whore,
dripping, broken,
made to wear the weight of your sin.

And when I am left trembling,
slick, ruined,
eyes rolled back in the rapture of my undoing—
whisper it into me:
Slut.
Mine.
Owned.

And I will thank you
with a mouth full of sin.

Copyright © Wynter Rayne 2025. All Rights Reserved.