Sadist Quotes

“She released her grievances like handfuls of birdseed: They are there, and they are gone.”
― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

“Please, Sir, make it hurt.”
― Ella Dominguez, The Art of Domination

“The sadist desires to command and control. The masochist desires to be freed from the burdens of liberty. That is Socialism.”
― A.E. Samaan, From a "Race of Masters" to a "Master Race": 1948 to 1848

“Malevolence takes a bite out off your spirit. Just sitting with it, just talking with people who consciously and deliberately exploit others, feels like being beaten. Over the years, l have seen many therapists burn out and leave the field entirely. [Refers to treating sex offenders, p6]”
― Anna Salter, Predators: Pedophiles, Rapists, and Other Sex Offenders

“We can sit here and pretend to be normal. But I'm still a sick, needy masochist who uses you as a stand in for my drugs, and you're still a sadist.”
― Natalie Bennett, Mercy Bound Released: Complete Trilogy

“Masochism is the art of turning punishments into rewards.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Poems should be like pins which prick the skin of boredom and leave a glow equal in its pride to the gate of the sadist who stuck the pin and walked away”
― Norman Mailer, Deaths For The Ladies

“Such a brute should underneath all his braggart tricks, his viciousness, his vileness, be a coward. But I am convinced that he was not. Because even cowardice requires a certain degree of sensitivity, and a certain value for life.”
― Warren Eyster, The Goblins of Eros

“But it wasn’t mine anymore. It was his. I was his. Something in that flirted with the submissive I knew that lurked inside. How long had I waited and searched for the right man? One who could dominate me with more than just words? A sadist that liked the extreme side of life? That’s what I needed, and one with a darkness to match my own.”
― Alaska Angelini, Rush: The Extended Version

“Here the first of the things that happened, happened. The first of the things important enough to notice and to remember afterward, among a great many trifling but kindred ones that were not. Some so slight they were not more than gloating, zestful glints of eye or curt hurtful gestures. (Once he accidentally poured a spurt of scalding tea on the back of a waitress' wrist, by not waiting long enough for the waitress to withdraw her hand in setting the cup down, and by turning his head momentarily the other way. The waitress yelped, and he apologized, but he showed his teeth as he did so, and you don't show your teeth in remorse).”
― Cornell Woolrich, Angels of Darkness

“Once, in a three-day taping that included several sadists, the material was so overwhelming that both the film crew and I got sick - I with a sinus infection, and the entire film crew with a flu so severe they had to delay their departure from the motel. Our immune systems had weakened, I believe, from the beating out souls had taken.”
― Anna Salter, Predators: Pedophiles, Rapists, and Other Sex Offenders

“A 'sadist' of her kind is an artist in evil, which a wholly wicked person could not be...”
― Marcel Proust

“I like big men,” she said.
Her voice was raspy, like she had a cold. She came up to me and grabbed my arm. Her fingers hurt the muscles. I could smell her perfume. She came close to me. I thought I knew what she wanted. I tried to kiss her. She jerked away.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
She slapped me. She was strong, my cheek stung. She moved in, swinging both arms. Now she had her fists closed. She hit my arms and my chest. I tried to hold her.
“Hit me!” she said.
It was goddam queer. I held her arms, but she got loose.
She struck my chest.
She said: “Hit me.”
I hit her easy on the ribs.
“That’s right! That’s right!” She hit me a couple of hard blows. Her eyes were wild. She hit me a hard punch on the neck. I hit her in the belly. I heard the breath go out: ouf! It didn’t stop her. She kept coming in, punching hard.
I gave her one over the kidneys. She grunted and clinched with me. She bit my arm until the blood came. I slapped her. She put her knee in my groin. It hurt. I lost my balance, grabbed for her, and we both went down. We rolled around on the dirty floor of the shack, both panting. She was hard to hold, and every time she got loose she’d hit or kick or bite me. I got over her, holding her down on the floor. She looked beautiful and wild. She bit my arm again and I slugged her in the ribs. She moaned, and then struggled free. My hand caught in the scarlet shirt. The silk tore to her navel.
“Yes,” she said.
I got the idea. I ripped the shirt off her, she fighting all the time and liking it. I ripped at her clothes, not caring how much I hurt her. She squirmed on the dirty floor, panting. There was blood on her mouth. I don’t know if it was mine or hers. It tasted sweet. Suddenly she stopped moving.
“Now,” she said. “Now, goddam you. Now!”
Later we lay on the floor.
“I don’t understand you,” I said.
“It’s fun, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then what do you care?”
― Jonathan Latimer, Solomon's Vineyard

“Jacks had always considered himself more of a sadist than a masochist. He enjoyed inflicting pain, not receiving it. And yet he couldn't bring himself to leave the shadows of Evangeline's bedroom.

It wasn't an obsession.

One visit wasn't an obsession.

Jacks just needed to make sure she was still alive. That she wasn't bleeding. In danger. Unhappy. Cold. She was safe in her bed. She'd be even safer when he left her. But he was too selfish to leave just yet.

He leaned against the bedpost and watched as she slept.

He'd never understood why someone would watch another person sleep... until her.”
― Stephanie Garber, A Curse for True Love

“And that was something Gwen had on Zoey—she saw the shadow surrounding him, the one he so easily hid from everyone else. Perched on his lap, her pupils were big and her pretty mouth tense. She was afraid of him. But rather than scare her off, the fear lured her.”
― Amber Belldene, Blood Entangled

“You cannot really hurt a masochist.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“A sadist is he who blame others for his failure”
― Dr.P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar

“The more possessive you're, the more sadist you're.”
― P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar

“Has Orc shown up here?” But neither Caine nor Diana answered. Both were staring at Drake, who sauntered toward them, all his cockiness restored, no longer the ragged scarecrow who had wept when he saw the melted stump of his hand lying on the tile floor. “Drake,” Caine said. “We thought you were dead.”
“I’m back,” Drake said. “And better than ever.”
The red tentacle unwrapped itself from around his waist, like a python releasing its victim.
“Like it, Diana?” Drake asked.
The arm, that impossible bloodred snake, coiled above Drake’s head, swirled, writhed. And then, so fast that the human eye could barely register the movement, it snapped like a bullwhip.
The sound was a loud crack. A mini–sonic boom.
Diana cried out in pain. Stunned, she stared at the cut in her blouse and the trickle of red from her shoulder.
“Sorry,” Drake said with no attempt at sincerity. “I’m still working on my aim.”
“Drake,” Caine said and, despite the blood, despite Diana’s wound, he grinned. “Welcome back.”
“I brought some help,” Drake said. He extended his left hand, and Caine shook it awkwardly with his right. “So. When do we go take down Sam Temple?”
― Michael Grant

“bureaucrat: (n.) career sadist who uses red tape to immobilize victims.”
― Sol Luckman, The Angel's Dictionary

“I have always thought that the horrific sadist who concocted the escalating ladder of pain known as crucifixion, should have been the first one to try it.”
― Stewart Stafford