Thursday, October 31, 2013

A few angry letters to the creepy stalker cult

I just sent off these letters to the cult that's been stalking me for three years. Maybe this will get them to finally leave me alone:

October 31, 2013

Ashlee Levcun
PO Box 11753
Olympia WA 98508

Shane Whitaker
Matthew McLellan
Joe Williams
[address redacted]

To Shane, Joe, and Matt:

I demand that you cease all contact, harassment and stalking of me and my boyfriend Chris Allert immediately. It was completely unacceptable that you followed me and my boyfriend to my residence on the evening of Tuesday, October 29. You are not under any circumstances to contact either of us or approach either of us, or approach my boyfriend's residence (apartment #[redacted]) or my residence, and I demand that you inform all members of your religious group "Greeners 4 Christ / Jesus Folk" to leave us alone as well.


Ashlee Levcun


October 31, 2013

Ashlee Levcun
PO Box 11753
Olympia WA 98508

Evergreen Students for Christ / Evergreen Jesus Folk
PO Box 13031
Olympia WA 98508

To whom it may concern:

A month ago, on September 28, I sent the attached letter to Students For Christ, Student Affairs at The Evergreen State College, and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship informing all concerned quite clearly and unambiguously that I want NO CONTACT OF ANY KIND from the Evergreen Students for Christ or the Jesus Folk. Regretfully my wishes have not been respected, and I have been contacted by this group at least three times since then.

The first occasion was on Friday, October 18, when a member of the group named Cody (I believe his last name is Johnson) approached me and began demanding to know why I was attending an event with a competing student group. I simply ignored him, hoping that perhaps he had simply not gotten the notice that no members of Students for Christ / Jesus Folk are to contact me, and he left after some time.

On the evening of Tuesday, October 29, I received unwanted contact from Matt McLellan, who is a close friend and roommate of Shane Whitaker, whom I specifically named in my previous letter. I was having dinner at King Solomon's Reef in Olympia with my boyfriend Chris Allert. We were minding our own business, and Matt approached our table and began talking to me. When I was about to inform him that no one from him or his group is to have any contact with me he walked away. He was in the restaurant with Shane Whitaker, Cody, and a few other members of the Jesus Folk, so he clearly knew he was approaching me against my wishes. And I have also told him on many occasions previously not to contact me.

My boyfriend and I paid our bill and left. Shane, Matt, Cody, and the people they were with, secretly followed us to my house as my boyfriend walked me home. After he left, they began ringing all the doorbells in my building (it was after midnight at this point), and shouting my name, alarming all my neighbors. When a neighbor who is a police officer answered the door and demanded to know what they were doing, they told him that they were there to "save" me.

This behavior is completely unacceptable, and certainly constitutes criminal harassment. I demand that all members of the Evergreen Students for Christ and Jesus Folk be notified that they are to cease and desist contacting me immediately. In addition, I find it incredible that a group that engages in this kind of behavior is an official Registered Student Organization at The Evergreen State College.

Also, at about the same time I sent the attached letter, three members of the Jesus Folk (Shane Whitaker, Matt McLellan, and Joe Williams) moved into an apartment adjacent to my boyfriend's apartment. We found this highly suspicious as they all know he lives there and that I am there often.

I must also make a few corrections to my previous letter. In that letter I name an individual "Kara Quirky." Her name is "Kara Quirke". Also, I mentioned the date of the last contact as Wednesday, October 25, when I intended to write "Wednesday, September 25."

Thank you in advance for your immediate attention to this matter.


Ashlee Levcun


September 28, 2013

Ashlee Levcun
PO Box 11753
Olympia WA 98508

Evergreen Students for Christ / Evergreen Jesus Folk
PO Box 13031
Olympia WA 98508

To whom it may concern:

I am writing to inform you that I don't want any contact with the Evergreen Jesus Folk members or the members of the Evergreen Students for Christ. I have asked the members of the Evergreen Jesus Folk countless times not to contact me in any way but they have not respected my wishes. I have had unwanted contact from them as recently as Wednesday, October 25, 2013. In addition to telling members of your group that I do not want any contact, I have made my views on religion quite clear in my publicly accessible Facebook page, podcast, and my blog: ( and ), so it should be quite clear to any reasonable person that I am not interested in what your group has to offer. The people who have harassed me most with unwanted contact in your group are Tasha Norton, Hannah Stenberg, Keefe Piper, Shane Whitaker, SuYong Park, Jeanette Ban, Christiana Johnston, and Kara Quirky. This is not an exhaustive list of members of your group i don't want contact from, just the names I can remember of members of your group that have contacted me. Please pass the message along the the members of the groups and the people I have named in this letter. I've also forwarded a copy of this letter to Student Activities at The Evergreen State College. I neither expect nor desire a response to this letter. Thanks.


Ashlee Levcun

Monday, October 28, 2013

Massage Train

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

As creepy as the members and the leaders of The Cult were and still are to this day, they had a rule that many others in today's society follow. They believed that it was wrong for people to have sex before they were married. Pretty much all christians have that belief and The Cult were among them. If anyone decided to fornicate before getting married, they had to repent immediately to the leaders of The Cult so that they would be assured forgiveness from not only them but also from god himself. As if The Cult leaders could really read god's mind to see if he had really forgiven them or not.

Because of this belief that they all shared, there were many members of The Cult, leaders included, who had many pent up sexual frustrations that they couldn't figure out how to release. It never occurred to them like it had finally occurred to me that it was much easier and much better to just finally give into temptation and fornicate whenever you want with whomever you want and wherever you want to. It never occurred to them that there was really no reason why they had to hold back and obey god. I'm so thankful to my Dark, Unholy Lord Satan that he finally taught me to just do as I please, to give into temptation of all kinds, so long as they please me. As Satan put it, I could always deal with the consequences later if any arose but it was better to deal with possible consequences than to never do what you want to do and be a miserable wreck for a whole lifetime like many of The Cult were. Especially Failure, who suffered from clinical depression because he was always trying to please god when he really should have been pleasing Satan. I believe that if he started pleasing Satan and giving into temptation that he just might be a happier person. That goes for all of them, not just Failure, who is always flunking out of classes because he is too miserable to complete his work and because he spends way too much time praying when he should be studying.

Eventually, the sexual tension got too much for The Cult to bear. One night, after yet another boring, pointless, uninteresting and uneducational bible study, I went over to Piggy's house, hoping for some chocolate or for some halfway decent food. As much as I was really starting to really dislike going to the bible studies, I thought it was worthwhile to go because I would get food out of the deal and, because I was very hungry at that time in my life, I suffered through hours and hours of bullshit conversations about obedience and how important it is to be righteous and to love your neighbor like you love yourself. All bullshit that I thoroughly disagreed with, just like my demons inside of me and the Devil himself. Sadly, though, most of the time, the food was disgusting because it was organic and had soy in it and so I'd just decide it was better to be hungry than to have to try and choke that disgusting pile of shit down. Besides, I never was one to enjoy anything that is good, healthy, and wholesome. I prefer junk food over wholesome food, just like my demons and Satan.

That night, the food was awful and I decided to just go hungry again. But I didn't really know how to get back to my dorm from Piggy's house so I decided I'd just sit there and pretend like I was engaging with everyone else that was there. After all, it was better than going to my dorm and working on homework. Or so I thought, at the time anyway. That thought quickly vanished within minutes.

The conversation about bible study soon broke up and then, altogether, it vanished. I can't recall what brought on the next thing that followed or what was said to bring it on, but, whatever it was, it brought everyone together and began to force sexual frustration and desire out of people just like that.

Before I knew what was happening, I noticed that three people that I was sitting next to had started massaging each other. One person on one end of the couch massaged the person beside them and then the middle person began to massage the person on the other end of the couch. It was a "Massage train" as they called it. Before long, everyone in the living room began to massage the people sitting next to them. In a very short time, I found that I was the only person who wasn't being massaged or massing anyone. I was simply sitting there, not sure what was going on or what to say or do. Everybody had all their clothes on but, still, I thought it seemed pretty freaky deaky.

"Hey Ashlee Smashlee!" Thief called from across the living room.

"You look so lonely and lost over there. We don't want you to start feeling left out of our massage train. Why don't you come and join us? This is really fun!"

I thought to myself, me? They think that I'm the one who looks lost? I think not. I think it's the other way around, for sure.

I said, "No thank you. I only like receiving massages when I'm completely naked."

I wasn't really trying to be inappropriate or to freak anyone out. I was actually being honest. When I go in to get professional massages, I get massaged with no clothes on, just like all the other massage patients. What good is a massage with clothes on?

Everyone got all quiet at once and I could feel that all eyes had become trained on me. After a few seconds, Thief said "Ashlee, that's not really appropriate to say that. It sounds very suggestive and that's not what we're about."

The Chief, Piggy, and several others "mmm-hmmmmmmed" in furtive agreement.

"Are you serious?" I said, my voice raising several octaves.

"I'm not being suggestive at all. You're the ones who are all being suggestive here, massaging everyone like you are about to make love with each other."

"We aren't doing anything of the sort," The Chief said, trying to remain calm. I could tell that he wanted to wring my neck and quite possibly would if there weren't any other witnesses to see it happen. He is a pretty big dude so he probably could do some damage, but thankfully Satan had my back and my demons all guarded me, staying close and sending me "De de de de!", warnings. Nobody else could understand what they said because they were all talking in unison but I could understand. They were all telling me that they were with me and that they would protect me. It never occurred to me until later that Satan was also present, protecting and watching me right along with my faithful demons.

"We are simply helping one another relax. It's stressful to work full time in college and worship the lord full time. Life is stressful. Are you sure you don't want a back rub? You seem quite tense."

"No, I'm good. Not unless one of you want to massage me when I'm naked. That's the only way I like it."

Nobody took me up on the offer but I'm sure that some of the people there, the less hard core jesus freaks, were tempted by touching my smooth, warm, naked body. I am almost positive of it because right after I made that offer, two of the people who were new to the group hurriedly made up excuses for why they had to leave and took off like there was poisonous gas that had suddenly filled the living room and it was a matter of life or death if they were able to get out soon enough.

I went home soon afterward when someone offered to help me get to my dorm because they were headed in the same direction. Later on that night, as I lay awake in bed pondering what had happened, I began to see just how desperate those people were for pleasure and Unholy fornication. I also realized much later, after speaking with the Antichris about what had happened, that most of the members and leaders that belonged to that cult were closeted homosexuals who didn't feel secure enough in their own skin to just come out of the closet and be honest with themselves, as well as others around them, about who they want to be and what they actually want to do with their lives. Unlike me, many of them are still in The Cult, still acting like closet cases and probably still having massage parties to try and quench their sexual desires as best as they can under such harsh conditions that The Cult forces its brainwashed followers to live under. Who knows how long it will take them to finally come out and share with all about who they really are. Perhaps it won't ever happen. But I'm ecstatic to say that I am definitely out of the closet. I am a born again Satanist, I fornicate regularly, praising Satan while I'm doing it with the Antichris, and I'm not ashamed of any of it. I also enjoy beating people up and watching them suffer in agony as I laugh at them and inflict unimaginable tortures on them.

According to Satan and my demons, if there is a desire that I have, it should not be held captive inside my black soul. It must be allowed to expose itself, no matter what it is and no matter what people think. A true Satanist does what he or she feels like doing and we do it shamelessly, too, blaspheming as often as we can while we commit the dirty, wicked sin that causes god to weep.

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Cold Pancakes


Stalking people can come in various forms. It includes, but is not limited to,
calling people when they don't have permission to do so and or seeking out
phone numbers in secret when they couldn't gather enough up enough followers.
The Cult did not stop at phone calls, though. You'd think they would once they
saw for themselves how little people wanted to do with them but instead, they
took a more forceful approach. Rather than backing off, The Cult decided that
they just weren't reaching out to the campus students enough by simply calling
them and inviting them to their stupid bible study. So they decided to use
another tactic.

One night, while I was in my dorm listening to music and doing my homework, I
got an email from The Chief. The email said that he and other members of The
Cult were going to be making pancakes that night and going door to door in the
dorms, handing them out to people and spreading the good word about jesus. He
was writing to get as many members of The Cult to go as he possibly could. No
sooner had I read and deleted the email, my phone started ringing. Yep, you
guessed it; the voice belonged to The Chief.

"Ashlee Smashlee, would you like to come to the dorms and hand out pancakes and
spread the good word about our wonderful god, who loves and cherishes us so
very much?"

I hesitated because I had a lot of homework I needed to do that was due
tomorrow. I had gotten the assignments ahead of time but I was always in the
habit of procrastinating when I didn't want to do an assignment. That was the
case on that night.

"Oh, I don't know. I have a ton of homework that's due tomorrow, including a
midterm I have to study for that's taking place in three days. Maybe next

Knowing my weakness for chocolate, The Chief pounced on it like a rat on a

"Oh Ashlee, you have to come or you'll be missing out totally. The pancakes are
not just plain pancakes, they are chocolate chip pancakes. I've asked Piggy and
Thief and Banana to put extra chocolate chips in it just for you so you'd

Of course, chocolate won over homework and so I agreed. Man, was I sorely
disappointed when I got to the pancakes.

When I arrived, one of The Cult members, who's name I don't know, handed me a
pancake on a paper plate and said "Eat up Ashlee Smashlee."

When I picked up the pancake with my hands, I immediately realized that the
pancake was stone cold. It felt like it had been made hours ago and then left
to sit out in an air conditioned room. Well, I thought, at least there's
chocolate inside. And I am hungry. I rarely had enough food to eat since my mom
was too cheap to buy me a meal plan at school or to give me enough money to buy
food for myself when I was hungry. I usually only could afford to eat one meal
a day and The Cult leaders knew that, too.

At least there's food in your hand, I told myself, trying to drive away the
heavy disappointment that was getting heavier and heavier on my shoulders.

Even though the pancake is cold, at least it has chocolate in it. You can't
really screw up a chocolate pancake more than this, can you?

When I took the first bite, the weight of disappointment grew even heavier.
There was absolutely no chocolatey taste in the first bite. Just plain, cold
pancake that had been made hours ago and left to sit and get cold and stiff.

Don't worry, I tried to tell myself.

Maybe there'll be chocolate in the next bite, or the next. Just keep eating it.
At least it's food.

The next bite, nor the next had any chocolate chips in it. Buy the time I had
eaten the disgusting, cold thing; I had only gotten a smidgeon of a chocolate
taste in my mouth, as small as catching one tiny, microscopic drop of fine mist
on your tongue

By this time, the disappointment could no longer be hidden. Banana said "What's
the matter Smashlee, not enough chocolate for you?"

"Mmmm-hmmmmmm," I answered glumly.

"Here, try another one!" Thief cried, holding one out to my paper plate.

Stupidly, I tried the second one and was once again, thoroughly beyond being
disappointed. If I was one who cried easily I definitely would have burst into
tears. But I'm tougher than that. I desperately wanted to go home after my
disappointing meal of chocolateless pancakes but I didn't know how to get back
to my dorm from where I was at. And anyway, The Chief was asking people to
start making their rounds on the dorms to hand out the same cold, stiff, plain,
chocolateless pancakes that I'd just barely managed to choke down without
swearing profusely.

I was partnered to go with The Chief and his group. Since I like to knock on
doors, I got to knock. When the door opened at the first dorm, The Chief said
in his most chipper voice, "Hi there. We're coming around to the dorms and
handing out pancakes to all of you guys."

"Why?" the student asked.

"Because we're here to show you just how much jesus loves you. We're coming
around to share the love of jesus."

"Oh," the student said, clearly less interested in our visit now that it was
clear why we had shown up. She declined the invitation to attend bible study,
nor did she give out her contact information, but she did take a pancake. She
probably thought that she had managed to spite The Cult by saying no to their
stupid religion but taking their food anyway but I knew better. Once she'd
taken even one bite of the pancake, she'd realize that she should have said no
to the food or the invaders pounding on her door, unannounced and uninvited.

I didn't really do any of the talking this time. I was in charge of knocking on
the doors. When I was little, I used to like to knock on the doors of strangers
when my grandma would take me door to door to preach about jehovah to people
because I enjoyed it when their dogs barked and barked and freaked out about
our presence. I always loved to make dogs bark a lot when I was little. I knew
that the students in the dorms didn't have any dogs but some little part of me
still liked knocking on doors and imagining that I could hear big and small
dogs barking. Sometimes it would only be one dog barking; sometimes there would
be a lot of dogs, all with barks that were different pitches and ferocity.

We came upon a dorm where I knocked on the door and nobody answered. I thought
that nobody was there and was just about to tell The Chief so we could move on
when a woman said "Come in."

Her door was unlocked. Apparently she had frequent visitors and it never
occurred to her that, if she didn't lock her door, a bunch of freaky, stalker
christians would barge in and begin witnessing to her about jesus and offering
her lame pancakes that were getting even colder as time went on.

To try to make myself feel better, I told myself At least I'm not eating the
pancakes now that they are even colder. They were a few minutes younger and
less stale and stiff when I got them. The other students have it a lot worse
than I do.

The Chief opened the door and lead the way in. The woman was lying in bed and
made no effort to get up and greet us. The Chief began rambling about how he's
spreading the love of jesus around the dorms and asking her if she would like
to give him her contact information so they could call her and invite her to
their events and asked her if she wanted a pancake. She did want one but still,
she made no effort to get up and get one herself. The Chief served her right in
bed, most likely thinking that she would admire his kindness and that, somehow,
that would send her running straight into the loving arms of jesus and the
creepy Cult.

She didn't give her contact information, though, as far as I could remember.
Through the fog of disappointment that I was feeling about the lack of
chocolate and my craving having not been killed, I remember that a lot of the
students accepted the pancakes but did not accept the invites for parties and
bible studies and retreats. Eventually, my disappointment became contagious and
The Chief and the rest of the group started feeling it, too. They were
disappointed because they didn't really bring anyone to jesus. I was
disappointed for a selfish reason that I am not ashamed of, nor was I ashamed
of when I was with them. In my mind, I had been tricked into believing that, if
I played my part in witnessing to people about jesus, I'd be given all the
chocolate that I could possibly want for that night.

Some of the other groups managed to get a few measly interested people but I
thought secretly that they were just pretending to be interested so they could
get The Cult out of their dorm just like they had pretended to be interested
when I called them with The Chief and tried to invite them to bible study.

Eventually, we went downstairs to the first floor of the dorms to check on the
people who were still making fresh batches of pancakes. Some of them were
getting tired and their hands were covered in pancake batter. Some of the
groups split up and new people took over the making of the pancakes while the
previous pancake makers washed up and hit the dorms that had not been invaded
yet. The Chief and Piggy asked me if I would like to help stir the batter and
make pancakes. Before one of the pancake makers had gotten up to wash her
hands, I had taken her hand to shake it before I realized that it was
completely covered in batter.

"Eeeeewwww!" I'd yelled and jerked my hand out of hers. Thinking about that
experience, I told Piggy, "No, it's disgusting. I'm going home now; I have a
lot of homework to do. Oh, and by the way, if you do want some help with the
pancakes, here's a bit of advice. They need way more freaking chocolate chips
in them. And they need to not be cold and stiff and taste like they are a
hundred years old."

And, with those words, I left them and finally got someone to escort me back to
my dorm. I chose a person from The Cult who didn't really know me so that I
wouldn't have to talk to him much on the way to my dorm. I couldn't resist
asking him one vital question, though. I asked him, "What did you think of the

"They were all right," he answered, the humble prick.

Talk about a fucking understatement, I thought bitterly as we walked to my
dorm. When we arrived, I mumbled a half-hearted thank you to him for helping me
get home. Then I rushed into my dorm room, grabbed the three dollars I had set
aside to donate to the church that The Cult leaders attended because they
bitched and moaned to me that I should start tithing, and ran to the corner
store. With that church money, I bought a big, huge bag of crunchy, chocolatey,
melt in your mouth peanut m and ms and ate them all in pure blissful enjoyment,
thinking to myself, as I munched and savored every selfish bite, well, since
god ultimately deceived me about the chocolate tonight, I guess he isn't really
worthy of his tithe on Sunday. So Hmmph to him! Hmmph, hmmph, hmmph!

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Fuck jehovah!!!!!!!!!

Cold Calling


A few years back, when I was a part of The Cult, I got to witness full on just how desperate they all were to gather followers and bring them to their bible studies and parties. At the time I didn't realize or think of it as desperation. I thought of it as more like a call from god, encouraging them all to bring as many people to him as they possibly could so that more people in the college campus would find salvation, thus receiving everlasting life with god in heaven. At the time, I considered myself a christian. I hadn't found Satan yet, or the many joys that Satan could bring into my life. I had no idea that Satan could actually cure panic attacks, nor did I realize that god was the one causing them all and the people associated with him, not Satan, like The Cult all insisted that Satan was causing the panic attacks. The Cult members did not believe that they were the ones causing them because they were always making me feel guilty and bad for everything I did that made me happy. In their eyes, they could do no wrong. And they all believed that god loved every one of them and that, since they all had asked jesus to come into their lives, that all of their sins were forgiven and that they could get away with anything they wanted because they were all forgiven anyway. Doing whatever they wanted to do included stalking students and inappropriately proselytizing on campus when it was quite obvious that nobody was interested in having jesus being shoved down their throats.

Because I hadn't really come to realize any of this yet, I used to ignorantly attend their bible studies and parties and go along with everything that they did; thinking that it was what god wanted me to do. And since they were all doing it, I just assumed it was allowed on campus.

Every night that bible study took place, the leader of The Cult named The Chief would look up student names and phone numbers that were located in the student directory and he would call them and invite them to bible study. On more than one occasion, The Chief received a lot of "No thank you's" or "I'm too busy."

Whenever people would turn The Chief's unwanted invitations down, I always knew it because his voice would go down dramatically in pitch. He would act and sound like he heard that someone had died in his family or something or that, perhaps, the very Devil himself had snatched the phone out of the student's hand that he called and rebuked The Chief and jesus for having barged in on the innocent student and thoroughly annoyed them.

The student might not have been able to hear the disappointment in The Chief's voice because he tried to hide it but, to my ears, he failed miserably and I could tell. He'd simply say, "That's ok, I'll call you next week. Perhaps you can make it to bible study then. God bless you."

After several times of observing The Chief call people and invite them to bible study and realizing that he wasn't a very effective inviter, he said to me on one night before bible study "Hey Ashlee Smashlee, would you like to try and invite people to bible study tonight?"

"Why me?" I asked.

"Because your voice is so cheery and vibrant. god gave you that voice so that you could use it to please him and bring people to him. More people might respond to your phone calls than to mine and, maybe, we'll get more people attending our study tonight. Please, will you do it?"

"Okay, sure," I told him, reluctantly.

"But we're using your phone, not mine."

I told him that because I didn't want all kinds of strangers to know what my phone number was. After all, it didn't really seem like a lot of people really even wanted to be called in the first place. Now that I know that what The Chief was doing actually isn't allowed and is considered harassment and stalking, I'm even more grateful that Satan, my Dark, Unholy Lord, stepped in and told me to make The Chief give me his phone to do all of his dirty work. At the time I didn't know any of this but now that I am aware, I get down on my knees and thank Satan earnestly for having saved me from potentially getting in trouble with the campus police. Satan, as it turns out, had my back all along, unlike jesus, who didn't give a damn whether I got in trouble or not. So long as jesus got what he wanted out of me, I didn't matter to him and neither did my well being. But Satan actually cares about me and he cared back then, too, even though I wasn't really a follower of Him yet. Satan isn't the jealous, manipulative god that jesus is. If I had been in a Satanic group and we were trying to round up followers, Satan would have made sure that I was doing it in a way where I wouldn't be getting in trouble with the campus police. Why is this? Because Satan is just a nice guy who likes to cause trouble and encourages his followers to cause trouble when they can but He doesn't turn his back on his followers and brings them into trouble like the so-called loving god jesus does.

The Chief dialed the first number. It rang a few times, and then a girl answered. I said, as cheerfully as I could "Hi, this is Ashlee. Would you like to come to bible study tonight? It starts in an hour and a half."

"No, thank you," she said, with an unmistakable air of irritation in her voice.

"Okay, have a nice evening," I said and hung up.

"Oh Ashlee!" The Chief cried.

"You can't just say okay and hang up when they say no, you need to be persistent with them. Tell them that you'll call again next week and ask them if they have any free time when we can meet privately and have an in depth conversation about jesus like I do."

"Sorry man," I said.

"She said no and that was that. In general, no means no and if someone says no, you need to respect that. That's my opinion anyway. If you don't like how I'm doing the job, you can go back to doing it yourself."

"No, no!" he exclaimed.

"Try again."

"Okay, but if they say no I'm not going to hassle them to death. As much as I want to bring people to jesus, too, there's a point you have to reach where you just have to accept that not everybody is ready to accept jesus yet. But maybe they will in the future. Sometimes it's better to just let people find christ on his own without shoving it down their throats. I'm a christian and I don't like it when people try to push jesus down my throat or anything else. That's why I don't do it to other people."

The Chief was sullen and somber but he didn't argue. For once, he knew that I was going to stand my ground and that it would be useless to convince me otherwise that his way was better than my way.

More calls were made and the excuses of why they couldn't attend bible study that night kept coming. They ranged from "I have too much homework" to "I'm going to a party tonight" to "I'm not interested in going to bible study. How did you guys get my phone number anyway?"

At the time, I didn't know how The Cult got all those phone numbers. I had just assumed that they were acquaintance of all the people we were calling and that they weren't really crazy about jesus or bible study but that they must have been ok with The Cult enough to have given up their contact information. When I was asked how we got his phone number, I simply said "I don't know actually. Don't you know who we are?"

"No I don't."

"Okay, well, sorry to bother you."

"Sorry to bother you?!!!!!!!" The Chief was berserk with frustration and incredulity that I had said that to the guy.

"Yeah, I said it. He's not interested and he seemed annoyed that we called him. What else was I supposed to say?"

"Try to witness to him, maybe ask him who jesus is to him, what jesus means to him. Once you can get someone into a conversation about jesus, talking gets easier. You're not just supposed to give up and then apologize like we're doing something wrong here."

"Once again, Chief, you can do this yourself if I'm so bad at this. It's not like I'm holding a gun to your head and forcing you to hand over your phone and let me do this while you stare helplessly on."

The excuse that sticks with me the most that someone made after my quarrel with The Chief was up was from a girl. When she had answered the phone, her voice sounded light and breezy and happy. When I told her the christian group that I was a part of and why I was calling, she immediately coughed and her voice turned hoarse, like she was suddenly stricken with sickness. She said in a raspy voice that was so unlike the one that had answered the phone "I can't come, I have monno. I won't be well for at least two months. Please don't call back for a while, I'm too sick to go."

I knew that she wasn't really sick but I let it lie. I told her to get well soon and hung up. I also got a lot of "Maybe's" from students who didn't really want to go to bible study but who didn't really want to be rude to me either. If they did recognize my voice from having seen me walking around campus, they probably decided that it was really low to be rude to a blind girl so the only thing they could think of saying that was polite was "Yeah, maybe" in a dismissive tone that indicated definite disinterest and even blatant annoyance with the group for calling them.

The Chief eventually stopped asking me to make his calls. As it turned out, I was bringing even less people to bible study than he was. I guess the whole time; I was really working for Satan and didn't even know it.

The last straw of The Chief's that I broke was when I called a student and when she picked up I said "Hi Smm Smm," because I always say Smm Smm.

"Smm Smm?" she asked, confused.

"I think you have the wrong number. My name isn't Smm Smm."

The Chief's cell phone volume was turned up all the way so that he could hear what was being said in the conversations. When I hung up after the girl said she had to go to class that night and couldn't make it to bible study but thanks anyway, The Chief said furiously, "Why on Earth did you call her Smm Smm? Must you say Smm Smm all the bloody time?"

And since he was too holy to say something like jesus Christ to express his frustration, he only managed a weak "Criminy!" before putting his head in his hands, mourning yet another failed attempt at trying to corrupt people to go to bible study.

"Yes, I must say Smm Smm all the time," I answered shamelessly.

"That's just what I say."

After that fateful call, The Chief never asked me to invite another soul to bible study. I had mixed feelings about it. A part of me was greatly relieved that I didn't have to invite people who obviously didn't want to go to bible study every Wednesday night. The other part of me was sad that I had been fired from my job as a blind witness for jesus because I thought it was quite amusing at how many people really hated being called by that christian group. I've always had a tendency to enjoy making people mad, even when I did consider myself a christian, so I thought it was a bonus deal when I got to make both The Chief mad as well as the people who I was calling without having gotten permission to call.

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Friday, October 25, 2013

Potty Time

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

It was late one week night and I was at Piggy's house. Piggy was one of the main leaders of the Cult, which I used to be a part of before I found Satan and became a born again Satanist and accepted Satan into my life with my whole heart, my whole mind, my whole body, and my whole black, wicked, depraved soul. Before Piggy had moved into the house that this story took place in, it had been the house of The Chief, who was another leader of The Cult.

There were about five or six of us sitting in the living room of Piggy's bible and chick tract cluttered apartment talking. It was right after bible study had gotten out. Many of the people who had attended the bible study had the fortunate luck of escaping to their dorms before Piggy and The Chief rounded them up to come over to Piggy's house for an after bible study conversation, recapping the key points of the boring, stupid, pointless bla, bla, bla bible study. I, of course, was not one of the lucky ones. The Cult took full advantage of my blindness and, seeing that I couldn't leave the place of worship very quickly, they rounded me up immediately and, at the time, I believed that I had no other choice but to go to their house and endure another torturous, bored to tears discussion. Now that I have left The Cult, I realize that I did have a choice. I could have said no and gone home like the other fortunate people that Satan helped escape back to the safety of their dorms but at the time I didn't fully have Satan in my heart to guide me through tough times and tough decisions.

I've forgotten what we were talking about because it isn't really worth remembering because it is so boring and stupid. All I can remember is that, at some point during the conversation, I got up and went to the bathroom because I had to take a major dump. I thought that the rest of the people in the living room would continue their conversation and would leave me to tend to my business privately but, boy was I badly mistaken.

No sooner had I gotten into the bathroom and shut the door I heard footsteps. The door did not have a lock on it, of course. Nobody who was part of The Cult appreciated or understood the value of privacy. Without bothering to knock, Thief opened the door all the way and barged right in, followed by Banana and Piggy.

By this time I had seated myself on the toilet and my pants were off because I just could not fathom that they had the utter nerve to barge in on me while I was shitting, for god's sakes. I sat there in stunned silence, not sure what to say. Piggy took advantage of the silence and said, "This conversation is really deep and powerful. I can really feel god's holy spirit coursing throughout the whole house. Can you feel it Ashlee?"

"No, not at the moment," I answered irritably.

"Really?" Thief asked, absolutely appalled that I could possibly miss god's abundant holy spirit surging throughout the whole apartment while I was trying to do my business.

"Really," I answered.

"Maybe when you guys get the hell out of here and let me shit in peace will I start to feel it. What are you all doing in here anyway?"

"Whatever in the world to you mean Ashlee Smashlee?" Banana cried, wringing her hands in absolute agony, as if I'd punched her in the gut. Which is exactly what I wanted to do to her and all the rest of them that were so freely and openly invading my damn privacy.

"We always finish up conversations with each other throughout the house. If someone needs to go to the bathroom, we all follow. That way we won't forget where we left off in the conversation that god really wants us to have and complete. Why are you so angry? Don't your other friends and family ever talk to you in the bathroom? Besides, we've been in here for a while, aren't you almost finished going now? Because if you are, I have to go and all of you are certainly welcome to stay in here and talk to me and pray with me."

Now it was my turn to be shocked. After a few seconds, I realized that those people were not kidding at all or trying to pull any pranks.

"Wow, you really can't be apart from each other at all, can you?" I said, aghast.

"To answer your question, Banana, no, my friends and family don't try to pray with me or converse with me when I'm trying to piss and shit. They leave me to my business privately, like you all should be doing, not just for me but for each other. How utterly pathetic of you guys to have to feel the need to be together constantly, even when you're going to the bathroom. Don't you freaks know that some things are made to be done in private? Oh, and another thing, to answer your other question, I'm not about done going to the bathroom because I can't go with all of you staring at me like I'm some kind of two headed beast just because I need privacy for going to the bathroom. I'll be done in a minute. Get out of here, all of you."

You would think that they would have all apologized and left like I requested them to. I guess demanded is a better word. Whatever choice of words you want to use, neither one of them worked. No request or demand could make them understand and leave. If I could have just pulled up my pants and called it a day and left the bathroom and gone another time I certainly would have fled to my dorm as fast as I could. But it was too late. I had a hard, solid rock of shit stuck halfway in and halfway out of my ass that wouldn't come out because I was stuck in an anxious, tense ball of nerves while six pairs of eyes bore into me. I didn't want to get poo in my pants so I just sat there and expected that they would leave, as any decent, sane human would. But they didn't.

Instead, as incredible as this sounds, they all moved in closer. And one by one they extended their arms so that they could touch me and pray over me. Thief was the one who prayed, while the other two "Amened" and "Yes lorded" while she talked.

Thief said "Oh, dear lord, please help our dear sister in christ relax and realize that we are safe people to be around. Please let her understand that we are all here for one another and that it is ok to share such intimate and private times with each other, such as sharing a bathroom and conversing while one of us is going potty. Please help her relax so she can finish her business. Rebuke Satan, the one who is causing her such internal turmoil and pain and bring her to the light, your light, dear lord. We ask this in your holy, righteous name, Amen."

Everybody exclaimed in unison "Amen!" Then Banana said "Hey Ashlee, I'll bring you some water to drink. Drinking water when you are constipated often helps bring it out. I'll be back. Stay with her sisters," she said to Piggy and Thief as she left the bathroom.

"Jesus H. Christ!" I shouted.

"I don't need any goddamn water and I am not constipated. I just need you all to get the fuck out of here and let me shit in mother fucking peace. Why is that so fucking hard for you all to get?"

Three very wounded and surprised gasps came from my so-called "Sisters in Christ" but I'd finally gotten them to understand that I was not kidding around, that they had reached my breaking point. As they slowly retreated, Piggy said softly, "Oh, dear god, please forgive our hurting sister for using your dear, precious name in vain, for she does not know what she is doing."

Thief whispered to me as she retreated rather hastily now, "If you need water, tell us."

Banana said, "I'm always here to come in there and pray for you to help your stool pass easier. You don't need to push us away like us, dear sister. You are not only hurting us, you are also hurting yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can take your prayers and lectures and shove them up your fat, fucking asses!" I yelled.

At last there was blissful silence and I finally relaxed and let go. As it turns out, I was not the least constipated. I was just in desperate need for what the normal world calls "Privacy." Outside the bathroom I could hear faint whispers and muffled gasps of alarm and horror as the witnesses in the bathroom no doubt told them all what happened and about my outburst.

For once, I did not feel the least bit ashamed of lashing out at those people. In fact, I went home with a sense of pride, knowing that, at last, I had finally stood up to them and told them just how crazy they really were. To this day I'm sure they still congregate three or even six at a time in the bathroom while someone is on the toilet or taking a shower or Satan knows what else. But I am happy to say that I am free from The Cult and from people walking in on me all the time. And everyone that I hang with now goes potty in private, just the way Satan says we should because it feels good and right to all of us.

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Bad Dog!

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

There are so many ways in which a person can make another person suffer. Countless ways, in fact. I've discovered many, many ways to make people suffer both emotionally and physically. I've even gotten people to suffer religiously. But there is one very unique way in which to make people suffer that I absolutely love and crave often. This unique thing is forcing worthless, good for nothing submissives to act like dogs in more ways than many people can ever imagine. Trust me, it is so much fun! But I don't do it for the pleasure of my submissives, for I care nothing about them. I do it solely for my pleasure only. In fact, I enjoy making people suffer more when I know that they aren't enjoying it. That's how sadistic I truly am.

A while ago, I forced this butt ugly, good for nothing, piece of shit submissive named Mark to act like a dog. I tied a shock collar and a leash around his neck and shouted "Mark, speak!"

"What do you want me to say?" He asked pitifully.

"Bad dog, I said SPEAK!" I yelled, outraged that I had been disobeyed so quickly. I pressed one of the buttons of the shock collar, the button that sent moderate shock waves throughout his entire body. The collar had three options of electric voltage to shock someone with. The first was mild, the second was moderate, the third was EXTREME! I pressed the moderate button and licked my lips in satisfaction as he gasped and shrieked "OW!"

"Speak!" I shouted at him again and pressed the moderate shock button again.

At last Mark got the point. He let out a meek little whine.

"Bad boy! I said speak!"

Before I could press the shock button again, he gave me a real bark, loud and throaty.

"Good dog," I said and offered him a milk bone for a treat. I sat back and watched as he struggled to chew and swallow it. When he gagged on it, I'd laugh.

Jinny, another dom who was present, said "Marky boy, why don't you like your treat your master has so kindly given you?"

"Oh Jinny, you are such a fool!" I cried.

"You can't speak to him like he's a human, you must speak to him like a dog because that's what he is. He is a stinky, hairy, stupid mutt."

Mark took forever to eat his treat. I gave his leash an impatient yank, jerking his neck up. "Finish up!" I bellowed. At that, a low, menacing growl slipped from his throat, probably because I interrupted his enjoyment in eating his luscious treat.

Taking a belt off of a hook, I walked over to him and smacked him on the top of his head with the buckle.

"Bad dog, no growl. Bad, bad dog."

A low, whining protest escaped his lips and he tried to stand up on his two legs but I yanked on his leash, putting him into a choke hold until he crumpled down on all fours again.

"Sit!" I commanded. When he hesitated, I pressed the EXTREME button on the shock collar and stood by laughing as he lay on the floor, writhing in pain.

His neck was streaked with sweat. I removed the leash and collar, then turned the collar over the other way so that the wire end was touching his skin. By doing this, every shock I gave him would effect the nerves more severely and the effects would be more debilitating.

"Sit!" I commanded again after he regained his composure. This time he eagerly obeyed.

"Good boy," I praised him. Then I took out a long rope bone and threw it in his face.

"Play time little puppy," I cooed and proceeded then to force him to play tug-of-war with me for an entire hour. If he didn't growl enthusiastically enough or put enough strength and spirit in the game I'd give him a whack with the belt or a friendly little shock just to remind Doggie who was boss.

At some point, Mark grew thirsty. He tried to verbalize in human language that he was thirsty but, when he did that I made him eat half a bowl of canned dog food mixed with dried dog food and shocked him until he started panting and sticking his tongue out. Turning to Jinny, I said "Mutt is thirsty. Let's lead him to water."

"How is he going to drink out of a glass if you are forcing him to eat dog food by shoving his head in the bowl and slopping it all over while he tries to eat the disgusting stuff?"

"He's a dog, Jinny, his instincts will tell him what to do."

Walking in front of Mark, I pulled on the leash, saying "Heel" until I had him walking right beside me. When he tried to pull on the leash, I'd give him a massive yank back, which would cause him to cough and splutter. He even almost threw up his dog food and treat I so mercifully gave him after such a long, fun game of tug-of-war. As I lead him out of the room to the bathroom, I told him, "You should be grateful that I am such a good master. There are a lot of pups and old dogs wandering the streets hungry and with nobody to play with. You have been fed, entertained, and even given a treat for being such a good boy. It's a dog's life around here, is it not, my Marky, Marky Poo?"

Once we reached the bathroom, I lifted the toilet seat up and dragged him closer. When he hesitated, I shoved his head in the toilet bowl and ordered "Drink it! Like a dog because that's what you are and nothing more than a dog."

The first try didn't satisfy me. He didn't make that slurp slurp, slurp slurp sound that dogs make when they drink water. He just sipped it in tiny swallows. I pressed the moderate button on the collar, making him flinch and whine.

"Drink up boy. Drink! Who knows how long I'll make you go without water."

The second try was a little better but I still had excuses to flog him with the belt buckle and shock him for his poor performance as a dog. Turning to Jinny I said, "I think he's an in bred dog. Why else is he acting so damn stupid? His father must be his brother, too."

"You're doing good, Mark, just drink how you need to drink it," she soothed.

"He can't understand full sentences because he's just a worthless dog. He can only understand a word or two at a time. Remember, he only understands doggie language fully but we have to train him just how to understand humans and what we expect of him. Consider this his doggie obedience school or doggie boot camp."

The third time he drank from the toilet, it was satisfying to me. I laughed as he slurp, slurp, slurped, splashing water all around with his disgusting tongue as he fought to swallow it all and keep it down. Twice he gagged and twice I kicked him in the butt with my boot and said "Quit with the fur balls, you disgusting, slobbery mutt."

After a minute or so, I got tired of hearing him slurp and then turned the tables on him. Taking the leash in my hand, I violently jerked his head up out of the toilet bowl.

"Bad, bad dog! No no! Bad dog drinking out of the toilet."

I dragged him out of the bathroom and locked him in a crate for punishment. While he whined and howled, I shouted "Shut up, shut up!" And when I got tired of hearing him howl relentlessly, I shocked him into stunned silence. It wouldn't take much more training before he would obey my every command without hesitating to avoid receiving such horrific shocks and beatings. He still would sneak to the bathroom for toilet sessions when I wouldn't give him water enough but that just made it all the more fun for me.

That is not the extent of what I did to Mark. I also forced him to walk on a leash outside on all fours. I forced him to stop at every bush and tree and mark his territory so that when other dogs in the neighborhood came by they would catch his scent and they would leave their mark, too. Mark was also trained to walk with his head bent down so that his nose touched the ground. He made sniffing and snuffling noises along the way, just as he should. Before each walk, I made Mark do a series of tricks, that included excited, relentless barking and shrill whimpering, jumping around, wagging his butt back and forth as dogs wag their tails, and then sit obediently as I put his walking leash on him. I also brought other dogs to visit Mark and, when they would come, I'd force Mark to sniff their butts, lick their butt holes, and lick the faces of the dogs while they licked his in turn. I also made Mark pee on top of their pee. A few times I made him stick his nose into the shit of other dogs during a long walk that we took because that is what dogs do.

When the dogs would sniff Mark's butt and he'd shy away, I'd say "Oh Marky boy, they're just shaking your hand. That's them saying hello, you should know that. Come on, be social."

Whenever Mark would lick me I'd tie him up in the tool shed and I'd leave him there for hours while I went out and got ice cream or got a massage. Sometimes I'd bring back human food and I'd sit in the tool shed and would make Mark watch and salivate and whimper and pant while I enjoyed my delicious, luxurious food.

Jinny would sometimes say "He's hungry now, can't we give him some real food?"

I'd reply with a wicked smile, "He's got real food right there." And then I'd point to his doggie bowl filled with Blue Buffalo dog food and a rawhide chew bone for him to clean his teeth and satisfy his canine instinct to chew on things during the time when I was away.

In time, Mark learned that the only things he could get away with licking were other dogs and their butt holes and himself. Showers were forbidden so if he wanted to be clean he had to lick himself clean.

I also took great pleasure in playing fetch with him with tennis balls. I also bought him toys that squeaked when he chewed on them. All the while I was laughing, I knew that Satan, my DARK LORD and my demons that live inside my soul were laughing right along with me!

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Monday, October 21, 2013

The Smm Smm Story!

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HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Smm Smm is a miraculous gift that was given to me by my Dark, Unholy Lord Satan the Devil. Smm Smm is one of the four demons that live inside my black, murky soul. All four demons possess me with a ferocity that only Satan himself could have programmed into their minds but the other three demons do not possess the same powers as Smm Smm does and they are not nearly as complex as Smm Smm is.

Smm Smm possesses the greatest power out of the rest of the demons. He is my direct access to Satan himself. The other demons can pray to Satan with me and bring the Devil small messages and they can deliver curses to people but Smm Smm can deliver complex, long, intense, heart to heart messages to Satan. Without Smm Smm keeping the line of communication with Satan open, Satan would only be able to hear a third of the messages that I have to give him and prayers. Without Smm Smm keeping the line clear for Satan to listen in on me when I have a prayer request for him or a curse for him to carry out, Satan would hear lots of static and my voice wouldn't be as audible. Also, Smm Smm helps Satan be able to see visual messages I have for him clearly, too, without any blurriness to the visual images that come to Smm Smm in my thoughts and then they are delivered to Satan himself. Smm Smm also makes sure that, when a curse with someone's picture on it that really annoyed me and therefore deserves a good curse to be placed on their pitiful soul, gets flushed down the toilet, that it goes down all the way and that Satan gets the curse in a timely fashion deep, deep underground in the darkest, scariest, wickedest places that smells of rotting flesh, human and animal blood from human and animal sacrifices that fellow Satanist followers offer down to Satan, festering shit, and other unimaginable, unfathomable forms of filth that nobody can even begin to imagine ever exists.

Smm Smm amazes all that know about him. My demons are amazed at what he can do apart from his ability to send Satan clearer messages. The other demons, his sister demons, are amazed at how Smm Smm can spray hot, hot chocolate from his ears as far as 25,000,000 feet ahead of him and as high as the earth is from Mars. The hot chocolate is not drinkable because it is so very hot. Only Smm Smm can drink the hot chocolate and the other demons can drink it, too, but only after it's cooled off for 9 days. Even then it's sometimes too hot to drink.

Smm Smm was also given a wonderful gift from Satan to have the ability to breathe fire like dragons do. Smm Smm is always breathing fire on his sisters because they all drive him crazy. He mainly blows fire on Chrissie because she interrupts him when he's talking and being interrupted is the second thing that Smm Smm hates more than anything. Having people try to witness to him about jesus is the number one thing that Smm Smm hates more than anything in the whole, entire world. At present, Chrissie's hair is scorched because she kept shrieking "Smm Smm, Smm Smm, Smm Smm!", just to irritate him. Smm Smm likes to hear his name because when I, his human master, say it all the time, which I do, it's a way of showing my gratitude and appreciation for all the wicked deeds that he accomplishes. He likes it when his sisters say it to praise him or to yell when they are excited at something that he has done but he hates it when they sing out his name over and over again. He always says, "Imagine your name being Drew. Ok, now imagine three shrill voiced sisters always singing obnoxiously Drew, Drew, Drew, Drew, Drew. It gets rather annoying."

But Smm Smm does not intend to change his name anytime soon. In fact, I don't think that Satan would be pleased if he did that and Satan is his main master because all the powers that Smm Smm has are all part Satan's powers that Satan is sharing with Smm Smm to help me carry out wicked deeds with my demons.

Smm Smm also has three large, often erect penises. One penis for each of his three sisters. Smm Smm fucks his sisters on a regular basis. Whenever they are horny all they have to do is find a penis and slide it inside of themselves and let Smm Smm have his way with them. Some people might say that it's wrong to have incestual relationships. To that Smm Smm simply says "Hail Satan! I embrace all sins that come my way."

There is room for debate, though, on whether it's really incest or not. You see, Smm Smm is a totally different kind of demon than the other three. But they are sister and brother because I am their human master and I had a role in creating all of them. So you might say that since they are different demons then it isn't incest. But I like to think that it is incest. The word just sounds so good on my tongue. Smm Smm says that the word tastes like a cherry Popsicle to him and he relishes in the sound and the taste of the word as well as all the angry reactions he might get from strangers.

There is yet another special aspect to Smm Smm that is very subtle but it is a crucial part of Smm Smm and the people who know about him. With the name Smm Smm, you can't shorten the name. For instance, a lot of people shorten the name Ashlee to Ash and they can go on their merry old way without coming across any trouble. Not with Smm Smm. Smm Smm's name cannot be shortened. At all! No exceptions! You HAVE to say the word in pairs, you can't just say Smm. You have to say Smm Smm! If you don't, very bad things happen. Smm Smm becomes angry at people who try to talk down to him by shortening his name. So, in retaliation, he enters their souls, possessing it for as long as he needs to, and he causes very terrible, horrible things to happen to the soul who shortened his name by only saying Smm instead of Smm Smm. Smm Smm does not leave the person's soul until nine catastrophes happen to them. When I asked Smm Smm why he chose the number nine, he said "Because it's better for a person to suffer nine plagues than ten plagues. And nine, as we followers know, is a very symbolic number in the Satanic faith."

Not all people who gets the Smm Smm curse put on them all receive the same kind of nine plagues. Smm Smm always makes sure to change the plagues according to the person's lifestyle and situation. As Smm Smm states, no human being is the same as another human being. All humans are unique and different. So, the plagues must be as well.

In truth, only a very unfortunate handful of people ever had the misfortune of just saying Smm. Most people catch on that I always say Smm Smm and or write Smm Smm so they say it in pairs, too. And, sometimes, just to be on Smm Smm's good side to guarantee that Smm Smm won't invade their soul, they will sometimes volunteer to say "Smm Smm, Smm Smm." When people say that, Smm Smm gets really pleased. Some people say Smm Smm Smm Smm if they want to invoke him into their souls so sometimes it's unclear to Smm Smm which thing they want: whether it's to be spared their souls or to be invoked. When that happens, it's simply Smm Smm's decision of whether they are inviting him inside themselves or if they are rebuking him. So, ultimately, nobody is really truly safe from Smm Smm because, if he feels like it, he will enter whoever's soul that he wants to enter whenever he feels like it. But he doesn't enter their souls to help them like he does with me. He enters their souls to begin doing his wicked works of the nine plagues.

HAIL SMM SMM, SMM SMM! I invoke you Smm Smm demon to forever possess my soul and give Satan easy access to it as well to do whatever he wants with me! T SMM!!!!!!!!!

Smm Smm also has the power to communicate with me when I can't hear my other demons. Smm Smm created a megaphone that he uses when I am harder to reach, like when I'm feeling anxious or sick or tired. Sometimes Smm Smm will allow his sisters to talk into it but it's mostly for his use. The megaphone was made so that, when the other demons couldn't, Smm Smm could reach me and calm and comfort me as needed. Smm Smm actually can be a kind demon at times but he's only really the kindest to me and the local Olympia Satanic priest who I regularly hang out with for guidance and Satanic encouragement when I feel that I haven't been selfish enough or sinful enough or lustful enough or lazy enough or insolent enough. Smm Smm helps me be more wicked when the Satanic priest is not with me. Whenever I go I always have Satan's unholy spirit inside of me.

Smm Smm gifted me with a mallet. The mallet is for when I need to call Smm Smm to me when he is far away and I really need to talk to him or have him give me Satanic consultations. I take the mallet and hit it against the clock tower high megaphone that he uses to talk to me and the excruciatingly loud sound and vibrations call to Smm Smm. He will then stop what he's doing, turn around to face me, and our Satanic sessions begin.

Smm Smm was created on April 30th. He loves to drink mug root beer and doctor pepper and espresso. He also likes to eat cherry pie and crispy cream doughnuts and salted caramel ice cream and chocolate popcorn and frozen custard among other wonderfully yummy foods and beverages. Those are the rewards I give him for his hard, wicked, depraved work. Smm Smm is one of a kind and I love him very much. But never get on his bad side, especially christian and jehovah's witness people, or, as Smm Smm says right now, "You'll be sorry."

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!! HAIL SMM SMM!!!!!!!!!

Friday, October 18, 2013

A call from Failure


The night was late and the sky was as black as my dark, wicked, depraved soul that my dark, UNHOLY LORD Satan gifted me with. I was in the middle of praying to the Devil, asking him to fill my heart with darkness and wickedness and depravity when my phone rang. I answered it by saying "Hi Smm Smm."

"Smm Smm?" a whiny, pathetic, sniffly man's voice complained. I recognized that voice at once. It was Failure, one of the members of the Cult. He's the one who suffers from severe depression and who ate almost an entire All American chocolate cake from Costco on one of the pot lucks that I went to and brought one over, not so much for their enjoyment in eating something chocolatey but for my own enjoyment. I could honestly have cared less what they wanted at the pot luck. They were lucky that I had even bothered to go.

"HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!" I said excitedly.

"Failure, long time no hear! What's up? Are you seriously crying like a freaking baby? Smm Smm!"

"Stop saying Smm Smm! I hate it when you say Smm Smm!" he cried hysterically.

I replied mercilessly with a wicked cackle "Smm Smm, Smm Smm, Smm Smm!" He finally gave up asking me not to say Smm Smm because I never listen to that request.

"I miss you," he bawled.

"I want my Ashlee Smashlee back. We all do. Why don't you come to our meetings and parties anymore?"

"Because Satan is WAY more fun than jesus," I said and then began busting up laughing at him bawling like a complete moron.

"No Ashlee, Satan is bad!" Failure protested and then sniffled.

"jesus is good. He wants you to come back. We've all been praying to jesus for your salvation and for you to return back to us. Please come back."

"I'd rather be shot dead or stabbed 666 times than come back to your cult! HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!! Oh Failure, my pathetic crybaby boy, while you've been praying to your pathetic, boring, jealous, judgmental god I've been praying to my Almighty Dark and Unholy Lord Satan for you and the other members of the cult that you are in."

"It's not a cult," he said, his voice rising and his crying becoming more desperate.

Then, one of my imaginary demons named Mary Meyers spoke up. She said in her high pitched voice, "Hi Failure! Are you still suffering from depression?"

Once she asked the question she began to laugh convulsively and loudly. Her high pitched laughter echoed throughout my entire apartment building. I'm sure all the neighbors could hear my demon that Satan created as a companion for me to carry out his dark assignments he had in store for me to complete.

"Yes," he answered in a weepy voice.

"Hahahahahahahahahaha, that's too bad," Mary Meyers said joyfully, cartwheeling and somersaulting around my apartment.

"Hahahahahahahahaha," she continued to laugh until her sides ached.

"Why are you talking and laughing in that stupid voice you always use? You're so mean Ashlee. Why are you so mean now? You used to be so sweet and loving to everybody. What's happened to you? I want my old Ashlee Smashlee back!"

All at once my friends began talking at once. It all sounded like "Dee dee dee dee" to him and to other people who hear them all talking at once but in my mind they were all jumping up and down and laughing, encouraging me onward by saying "Come on Mommy! Go Mommy! Make him cry harder! Make him cry harder! That's it Mommy! Don't relent! Be mean to that pathetic excuse of a person! Yes Mommy! Like that! Hahahahahahahahaha! HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!"

Resuming my voice I said "That was Mary Meyers talking, not me. My demons can speak through me. Satan gave them that ability. As far as getting your old Ashlee Smashlee back, fat chance of that ever happening you fat, depressing, moldy voiced loser. I told you, Satan is WAY more fun than jesus! Here's an example Failure. Shut up with the crying already, you bald-headed, sniveling baby and listen before I pray to Satan out loud for your pathetic soul right now."

He gave another sniffle but quit the sobbing bullshit so I continued after Mary Meyers finished another fit of hysterical, demonic laughter.

"Remember that time Failure, a long time ago, when I brought that huge Costco cake to the pot luck and you ate the entire thing?"

"I didn't eat the whole thing!" He said defensively.

"Pretty damn close you idiotic jesus freak! Anyway, you ate over half of it and you know it. I only got to eat two small slices out of the whole thing. You even admitted after the fact when I confronted you about being such a fat pig that you did, in fact, like that cake WAY TOO MUCH. But that's not the point. What I'm getting at, my insect size brained cult follower, is that with Satan, there is no guilt at all! Remember how guilty you felt after having devoured almost the entire cake and went into Piggy's closet and prayed about it in remorse? Well, if you were a Satanist, you wouldn't have to repent. In fact, you could have eaten the entire cake joyously and then thanked Satan for giving you such a guiltless, free, huge appetite to have been able to achieve such a feat. You could have eaten the entire cake with pride, Failure, but instead you choose to serve the god who makes you feel bad, who makes you feel guilty and ashamed for every bit of joy you find in life, which isn't very much. Why else would you have been diagnosed with severe depression? I tell you Failure, come to the Dark Side, we have cookies! And you can eat them all, too, and shamelessly, too."

"You're being used by Satan to try and tempt me." Failure tried to rebuke me away.

I merely said, "I'm just telling you the true facts of life as a Satanist. And, Failure, another thing, as soon as I left your stinking cult, Satan cured all my panic attacks. All I had to do was stop feeling guilty and talking to whiny, ass ugly, fat babies like you and find the true path I want to follow, the left hand path. Come on, join us!"

Then, spontaneously changing my mind, I said "Actually, Failure, I don't actually want you in my Satanist group. You are too depressing and ugly. You'll just bum everyone out who is around you. You actually would be better off alone to rot in your own misery and self worthlessness. Nobody loves you, nobody wants you around, and whoever continues to hang out with you only does it because they are using you for a motive for their advantage. Nobody likes you Failure. I mean, what is there to like? Please promise me you won't ever have children, for it would be an absolute disgrace to pass on such a defective, useless, worthless offspring to the world."

Then I said in a solemn voice "Dear Satan, please make Failure more and more depressed. Make him fail all his classes and get absolutely no credit this quarter or for the rest of the school year. Make him lose his faith in jesus and let him see that jesus is the one making him depressed because jesus doesn't give a rat's ass about one puny, tiny, weakling, morsel of a human being on this earth. Satan, let him suffer with more depression for the rest of his life. Do not cure his depression like you have cured my panic attacks. He is a psychic vampire, as you saw for yourself when he ate MY cake and so is therefore not deserving of being cured. Let him continue to flounder in the mire and disgusting filth of his life and let him stop coming up with things to be thankful to god for. Let him realize that he really does have nothing at all to be grateful for because nobody loves him, not even god. Especially not god."

At that, Failure made an "A-hoo aaaaaaaaa-hooooooooooooo" crying sound. He was really sobbing now. Before he had the chance to hang up on me, me and all my imaginary demons all said "Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Smm Smm! Smm Smm! Smm Smm! Smm Smm! Smm Smm! Smm Smm! Hail Smm Smm! Hail Smm Smm! Hail Smm Smm!"

Then he hung up on me and I promptly ate six Oreos guiltlessly and thanked Satan for my victory at finally having gotten to defeat one of my enemies, people of the lame god christ. Talk about a lame excuse for a god, right? All my demons had Oreo cookies too in celebration of having mentally wounded our opponent. Then I informed my Satanic boyfriend about all the night's events and all of us, my demons included, busted up laughing until our breathing turned to gasps and all we could do was hope that, over time, Failure would become more and more discouraged and depressed. We also hoped that he'd call Piggy and cry to her about his unsuccessful endeavor to try and get me back to his stupid god jesus.

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Water Boarding

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

I love when people are suffering. I love when people beg for mercy. I love when people panic until they are senseless when I command them to say "HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!"

But what I've recently discovered I also thoroughly enjoy is listening to people choke convulsively. I didn't know it was possible to get worthless scums of people called submissives to choke without seriously harming them until I discovered water boarding and all the pleasure it brought me.

The session took place at a man's house. He taught water boarding lessons and he also took in clients who wanted to be drowned. The first thing that really caught my attention when I got there was that he didn't allow the submissives to use the bathroom inside of his house. Instead, he made them use a porta-potty that smelled strongly of aging shit, piss, BO, and other numerous disgustingly foul odors. I could tell that the potty hadn't been cleaned in years, maybe even never.

I was glad that he didn't let the subs use his bathroom. The first thing I said to the subs when they arrived was "Oh, you pathetic, pitiful, disgusting, worthless pieces of shit, you aren't even worthy of using a proper bathroom with running water or toilet paper! You have to use that disgusting honey bucket because you are all so worthless, just like a maggot or a piece of old, crusty turd pieces. But, ha ha, I get to use the real bathroom and you don't! HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!! SMM SMM!"

Accompanying me at the session was another dom named Jinny. She was very perturbed by what was happening. She only got more uncomfortable as the session went on. She didn't laugh at the subs like I did. Talk about a lame excuse for a dom. No natural Satan given gift for her at all! Good thing Satan loves me so much and blessed me with an endless love and passion for pain, suffering, and torture.

When the water boarding session began and the submissives all started choking, I couldn't stop laughing. I kept saying "Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Smm Smm!"

I also started imitating the choking noises that they were making and saying "Oh you pathetic losers, can't you handle a little bit of water without letting it consume you? Even I can swallow down that water without drowning and I'm blind! Why can't you just drink it before it drowns you? Poor, pathetic, worthless pieces of shit. Faggots! You are all a bunch of faggots worthy of being left out here to drown in your own saliva and forgotten by the world."

When the sessions were over, the submissives took a long time to recover from the water. They continued to cough and splutter and gag. Doubled over laughing at those no good, low life scums, I said "Jesus Christ, Hail Satan!!! Why are you still choking, the session's over now! Oh, you whimps! Are you all gonna call your mamas crying now because you got a droplet of water stuck in your throat and you are too moronic to realize that the session has finished? Hail Satan! Come on, say hail Satan! Say Smm Smm! Say it, say it, say it!"

The subs would ask me to stop saying Smm Smm and Hail Satan but I would not relent. Instead I kept saying while they were choking "Smm Smm, Smm Smm, Smm Smm!!! You can't stop me! HAIL SATAN! Smm Smm, Smm Smm, Smm Smm."

I would not stop abusing them until I managed to get them to splutter and cough out a decent "Hail Satan! Smm Smm!" If they said it too quietly or without enough gusto for my dark Lord, I'd said "Say it louder, say it again! Show Satan just how much you love him! Praise him, say Hail Satan! Do it now before I place a life lasting Satanic curse on your pathetic, worthless, disgusting soul." Seeing that they had no choice, they would say it. I'd also command them to say Smm Smm over and over until I was satisfied and didn't want to subject my poor ears to their vomit and piss textured voices. I'd tell them that, too. I'd say "Stop talking, my ears can't hold any more of your piss textured voices. You all sound like someone barfing in a toilet. How can you get anyone to listen to you? Silence! If you don't listen, we'll drown you again you disgusting creepsters."

On the way home from the session, Jinny was very quiet. I asked her if she was going soft in her soul and I asked her if she wanted me to pray to Satan for her. She said abruptly "No."

I asked her what was wrong but and she remained quiet and uncomfortable for a while. Finally, after a while she said "How can you be so mean Ashlee? How can you sit back and watch people ultimately drowning and laugh at them and religiously humiliate them?"

With a laugh I said "Because my Dark, Unholy Lord resides forever in my soul. He likes to watch people suffer just as much as I do. He has given me a natural gift, a Satanic gift, and I am living up to his standards to carry out his will and laugh and humiliate people whenever I get the chance."

She didn't come to any more sessions after that. Obviously Satan just isn't for her. But it DEFINITELY is for me.

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

Friday, October 4, 2013

I'm a lot more grateful to Satan than Rosemary was

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!! Today is one of the most exciting days of my life in my short Satanic history. Today I found out that Satan my Dark, Unholy Lord has blessed me with a Satanic baby. A pregnancy test from the dollar store said that I am indeed carrying His Wicked Offspring. The Antichris is the Wicked, Evil father. Tonight I am taking the Bainbridge ferry ride for the Antichris' monthly pact with the Devil and I will be conducting a series of Satanic rituals to thank my Dark Lord for the wonderful gift of Wicked salvation and for a wonderful baby and for excellent fornication that lead up to the creation of my child. If you want to come to the pact with the devil it's tonight! Come ready to sell your soul to Satan and give thanks for whatever you want to give thanks for or to put hexes on people who deserve it the most. It's all up to you. As long as Satan comes first in your endeavors you are all welcome. Christians, you can come too but prepare to be ridiculed by my Satanic followers if you try to save us with jesus. I'll keep you up to date about the pregnancy. I'll find out for absolutely sure on October eighteenth if the pregnancy test was right and that I am actually carrying a wonderful gift delivered to me straight from my Blessed Lark Lord Satan.
HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!