Blank Doll eats up.

There's a paragraph from I, Lucifer by Glen Duncan that I like alot.

Take torture, for example. What do you want from torture? You want the suffering of the victim, obviously, the bougquet of fear, the parfum of pain; you want the gradual revelation of the body's thraldom to physics, the careful journey back to the flesh's sovreignty over the spirit. You want his appalled grasp of the inescapable ratio: your motivation is pleasure; your pleasure increases proportional to his suffering; your capacity for pleasure exceeds his capacity for suffering; no amount of his suffering, therefore, is ever going to be sufficient...You want, too, his degradation in his own eyes; you want him to observe the dismantling of his own personhood, his astonished shift from subject to object. It's why the classier torturers force their victims into a relationship with the instruments of torture before those instruments have been torturously employed.: the whip is drawn caressingly over the shoulder or loins; the rods and prods, the ferruled canes, the probes, the nightsticks, the crops- must be kissed, fondled, or otherwise venerated by the torturee, as if they themselves were sentient subjects while he is a mere object of their intentions. You want him to see that in the universe you now control, in your universe, all prior hierarchies are void.

Ah.

C'est tout.