Desires Without Borders

 

The monsoon spell hit the already fetid earth very heavily. Floods had already devastated the curves of her cheeks since his departure. But this new news, that he had procured another, more amenable to his disgusting desires, despite her stark obedience to his commands had brought about a fresh dilating cloudburst. The degradation, humiliation, enslavement, she had accepting willingly. Just one servile request and she was thrown out like a used rag. Not that she complained of being a rag. That was her stature anyway, but the fact that she felt that the stains on her body, in her body meant something more than a stain on a rag. How had she been deceived by the violence inflicted upon her, she never realized. And she did not even know, who might replicate the same, once she goes out into the world, out of her master’s palace.

Smernov had treated Russia like his bitch. He had degraded her for her sweet squirts of oil. He had sucked upon her Uralic minerals. He had pounded her populace for armies. He had inflicted upon her such violence that the grasses upon her steppes stood to be harvested. But now she had requested democracy? That is when he realized that she had to be cast away. Not locked away behind a gilded cage of assured prosperity, but behind iron bars. Cast out of the Kremlin, where he had used her, abused her, pleasured himself and where she had obeyed every whim. Russia had always needed a strong hand. From Ivan Grozny, to Peter the Great, to Catherine (of course she enjoyed women), to Lenin, Nikita and himself. A few days without him, and Russia would realize that she is falling apart. Till then, young Ukraine had regained her virginal beauty…

It was time to fire the loins, the forges of Donbas.