He was dead before I finished fucking him. My first preacher in five years, I fucked him in the ass with a handmade pinewood strap-on. He choked to death on deacon's dick and puke.
Who would've thought his deacon could've gotten hard for that? Maybe it was the Viagra I force-fed him. Maybe that's what gave him the heart attack. Any which way about it, I had a blast.
My name is Maya and I like to fuck preachers in the ass with dildos. As you might have guessed, I also like to kill them. Manipulating ministers into killing themselves has brought a sublime peace to my soul ever since I was fifteen. But I've recently discovered the coarser, more immediate pleasures of brutalizing the fuckers to death.
Honestly it's the suffering they go through before they die that makes me happiest. This was a hard fact for me to swallow. After all, I'd taken such pride in the suicidal mental anguish I'd causes all those preachers, teachers, politicians and state troopers over the course of fourteen years. I had a "long dark night of the soul," for a few weeks; after all, fourteen years was a long time to do the job in a less than optimal fashion. But I got through it okay.
Of course, that's not really the point. The point is that after I took photos, I drove to Flagstaff and had a chocolate coffee at Macy's, the hip-ster-ish coffee place half a block from the railroad tracks that run through the middle of town. I uploaded the photos onto the internet from a thirty-dollar plastic camera-phone. Then I cleaned the phone with a baby wipe and set it on the track.
I got a couple of weird looks when I laughed as the train passed by and I'm sure a few people have talked about that by now. I can't go back to Flagstaff. Not without color contacts and a dye job.
After I uploaded the pictures, I sent the link to local police in two cities and the sheriff departments in two counties. I sent them to the Arizona State Police, the FBI, and Homeland Security. I sent them to CNN and C-Span and The 700 Club. Then I dashed off a couple of press releases, anchor-texted the links with the words "Youth Minister" and "Jesus Saves", and sent them out to PRWeb.com and a couple of other online PR distros.
I used the preacher's credit card and spent a couple of grand on premium distribution services. Then I pre-loaded a Google Ads account with enough money to drive ten-thousand people to the press releases whenever they looked up the terms, "Jesus Saves," "How to get saved," and "John 3:16."
For my grand finale, I sent the links to the holy-boys' families and to their congregations' email lists. I also sent it to several other church lists I'd collected. All in all, I knew I'd reach at least 15,000 of the right people, even if the news outlets never picked up on the news.
Which they did. With vigor.
Then I rented a cheap room with orange carpet and masturbated three times.
Next time I'll do the same thing--except I'll let the fuckers live. If they won't--can't--feel regret over the thousands of minds and hearts they've mangled, maybe they'll live in regret and horror over how I've mangled their bodies. Maybe I can even make them deny their "savior" on camera. My panties would be wet for a fuckin' week.
My name is Maya Babalon and I like to kill preachers. I love to brutalize youth ministers. And I live to wreak vengeance on all the assholes of the world.
I am thirty-four years old. From age 15 to age 29 I seduced preachers, youth ministers, and the occasional teacher, law enforcement officer, or politician. Then I used blackmail to either push them into a suicidal corner or else do some dirty work that only they, for whatever reason, could do.
During that time, I travelled across the U.S. and trained several cells of young men and women to dig for dirt on ministers, teachers, and other public authority figures. You've already seen their work in the news, and I'm not just talking about all the Roman church pedophilia cases. Then I tried to lead a "normal" life for five years.
It didn't work out.
Now I travel across the country brutalizing these fucks in a way I never have before. I only give you my name because it is already out there; looks like I got a little sloppy on my vacation.
If my name is going to be known all over the country, then it should be a name that strikes terror into the adrenal glands of all those who would ruin the hearts and minds of minds of the young. If you are a preacher, a youth minister, or anyone who teaches the innocent to themselves--whether you use the Bible, the Koran, or Das Capital--be aware that somehow, someday, I or my army will find you. And we just might leave you bleeding through your asshole on a hotel bed.