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Goth Teen Phone Sex Cutting

Goth teen phone sex

I’m sure you think that all goth teen phone sex sluts have razor thin scars and cuts all over their arms and legs from self harm and masturbatory mutilation, huh?  You think that every gloom and doom loving girl with a violently horrible home life can’t help but to hurt herself because it’s the only thing she knows, right?  That might be the case for a lot of these horrific phone whores, but not me.  I mean, I’m definitely a cutter, no doubt.  But you don’t think I’m going to slice myself up, do you?

Get real.  If I’m not doing a ritual or trying to freak someone the fuck out, I’m not cutting myself.  I’ve had enough pain and torture in my time, my price has long been paid.  I do love the feeling of slashing into skin and making tiny, bloody gashes everywhere, though.  Since I don’t dare tarnish my alabaster flesh with crazy little cuts and scratches, you know who I set my sights on when I feel like having a little cutting fit…  “Here, piggy-piggy-piggy.” 

Fuck pigs are great to use for taking out all kinds of aggression, you can do a lot with them.  They’re great to violently fuck, terrorize, abuse and snuff out, of course, but they also make for great canvases for any skin sketches you might need to get out of your mind.  The best is finding a goth teen fuck pig who kind of likes it, too.  Moans and screams sound great together.  After an intense round of torture sex with whoever, I like to carve out some lines or stars, write my name, shit like that.  “Please cut me” is always fun to cut into someone, it makes me laugh, like drawing “Wash Me” into the grime caked on a dirty car.  I don’t know, it’s basically like simple doodling to decompress from a crazy hectic day, only these drawings tend to be permanent.  As permanent as the fucky-piggy-fuck-fuck I’m using to create them, anyway.  We’ll just see where the cutting leads us.

 

 

What Are You Thankful For?

Gothic phone sex

 

Of all the things you have to be thankful for, is gory, grimy, filth filled Gothic phone sex one of them?  Do you give thanks for all of the rainy, depression filled days and nightly dreams riddled with nightmarish visions of death and violence that plague your very being, or are you only grateful for the few fun filled, sunny days and magical moments of joy that trickle down through the tragic parts?  You know that you couldn’t have one without the other, right?  Have a seat, let’s talk real shit this Thanksgiving.  No turkey, no stuffing, no pumpkin-fucking-pie, I don’t even have a table for you.  Just you, me and some talk that might be a little hard for you to hear.  You need it, though.

I’m sure you’re appreciative of all of the dumb shit you have in your life: cars, house, family, status.  People love having that shit, how it makes them happy, I’ll never know.  What I want to know is do you give gratitude for the little, darker things in life that people usually don’t think about.  You know, the parts of life that some individuals are forced to reckon with that you might not necessarily think about because it hasn’t happened to you in your sheltered, pathetically unaware existence.  Not yet, anyway.  We’ll see how our talk goes and where this conversation takes us.

Of all things, I bet you’re most grateful for your loving family, huh?  Loving wife, attentive parents, maybe a rugrat or two running around?  Family is what makes holidays great, right?  You’re oh, so thankful for the clan in your kitchen cooking up a storm so that everyone can stuff their stupid faces and get fucking fat and watch stupid football and blah-blah-fucking-blah.  Isn’t that right?  Well, are you thankful for having a father who didn’t beat and abuse you and come into your room every night to have his way with your tiny little body?  And are you thankful that your mother never chained you down and whipped you with everything she could get her hands on and violated your virgin hole with random objects from around the house?  Do you give thanks to your parents for not using rape and torture as punishment when you were frowing up?  Maybe you should.

How about your closeted whore of a wife?  Are you going to thank her for not gaslighting you, taking all of your money and driving you completely fucking insane?  She could, you know.  You men are pretty trusting of the women you let into your lives.  Look at us talking now, for example.  Do you really think it’s smart to let a feminine force like me into your life when you obviously have so much to lose?  Not your smartest moment, I’m sure, but here we are.  Anyway, your cuntbag wife could just pack up your crotch goblins and all of your possessions and leave, one day.  You should tell her thanks for not being a complete psycho and taking you all out with some sort of poison or just flat out blowing all of your heads off with a shotgun.  I bet she’s thought about it.  

Never thought about being grateful like that, have you?  Grateful for all of the unfortunate things that haven’t happened to you that, very easily, could’ve.  And they still could, you never know.  Your mom might choke on a turkey bone and keel over at the table, stranger things have happened.  Your whole family might just die in a fiery car wreck while you’re all out driving around looking at Christmas lights.  If that’s your path, then so be it.  Or maybe, just maybe, the whole time I’ve had you here, distracted by both my bold, naked beauty and my wide open, rabbit hole of a mind, I sent a few friends over to your house to have some sadistic fun with your beloved family for Thanksgiving.  Hypothetically, if I did send some sordid baddies over to your place to eat all of your food, fuck your mom, wife and tots in front of your dad before they baste his brain with buckshot, would you be more thankful if I told my friends to let the rest of your family live or If I had them just take out everyone in the place?  Be honest.

 

Home Invasion is Easy if You Stick to My Plan

Home invasion phone sex

 

One of my favorite types of terrorizing a helpless tramp is scaring the titties off of some dumb bitch who’s home alone and watching her get forcefully fucked by one of my brutal buddies with a little bit of home invasion phone sex.  Being a pervy accomplice to a peeping tom that’s ready to step up his voyeuristic game with a little B&E really gets my adrenaline going.  The asshole stretching sodomy and cunt fisting fuck action that follows gets my pussy juice flowing.

I always plan the whole thing out, you can’t trust a guy with this type of shit.  Sorry, but you guys are kind of morons when it comes to this stuff.  They say that most serial killers are men, I say that most serial killers who get caught are men.  Psychopathy doesn’t discriminate, everyone is susceptible.  We all go a little mad, sometimes, women are just better at pulling it off.  I find the fair little fuck pig we’re going to utterly violate, stalk her for several weeks to get her routine down pat then formulate our angle for getting inside of her place.

When break in night comes around, the guys are always super anxious and excited no matter how much I’ve prepped them on the plan.  You’re all a bunch of amateurs, but the anticipation on your faces is kind of cute, not gonna lie.  If you can keep calm, cool and collected it’ll go down pretty smoothly.  If you can’t control yourself and deviate from the plan in any way, I make no promises.  And if you get too weird and draw a bunch of attention to us, I’ll be out and on my merry way before you even know I’m not there anymore.  Follow my well formulated plan and you’ll be forcing your fuck stick into an unwilling babysitter butt or jamming your junk into some housewife’s slamhole in no time at all.  

I hope you can contain yourself long enough for us to get to that point.  I love it when dumb bitches are bent over taking it from behind while their faces are being forcefully pushed into my pussy.  Slut screams feel so good on my sadistic slit, I want that bovine to bellow and yelp all over my snatch while you show her what you’re really made of.  That’s the best part for me, don’t fuck it up by being overly eager.  Don’t worry, we’ll get in the house and you’ll get to cream some unsuspecting whore snatch and stretch out a never-fucked asshole before the night is through, I guarantee it.  You just have to stick to my accomplice phone sex plan.

 

Torture Sex on My Time

Torture sex

I have so many twisted freaks that come to me when they’re in need of some torment filled torture sex that I almost don’t have enough time to find all of the fuck pigs needed to satisfy their dastardly desires.  I’m not just here to provide the droves of delinquents who can’t get off without doing some damage to the flesh of a fine little female the fuckmeat they crave, I’m a pretty busy psychopath.  I got things to do.

Yesterday, for instance, I was stalking a family that seemed to be an utter waste of space to see if they’d be worth eliminating completely.  It’s been a while since I’ve pruned the branches of anyone’s family tree, I was really looking forward to seeing where that went.  I was in the frozen aisle of the grocery store tailing them as just another face in the crowd, as I do, when one of my clients saw me and approached and started talking really loud.  He was flapping his gums about things that should never be uttered in public places, making everyone in the place turn to look at us and see who was having such a conversation, my intended targets included.  So much for planning and staging that familicide.  

I stormed out of the store with him following close behind me, going on and on about how he needed to make a bitch hurt and the types of wounds he wanted to inflict on an incapacitated cunt.  Some things you just don’t talk about in public, loose fucking lips sink big fucking ships.  That was way too much for me, I knew I had to do something about him or he would bring my whole operation down around me.  I relented and told him to get in my van, I’d hook him up.

Luckily, I had one last fresh fuck pig, with skin so soft and smooth you could butter your bread with it, locked up in my dungeon of a basement that I was willing to let him use.  He’s always into whipping so I knew the exact tool to give him to make him blow his load pretty quickly.  I wasn’t wrong, he only lashed her about 50 times before his nut sauce was shooting all over that beaten beauty, soaking into her deep wounds and dripping down her body.  As he stood there reveling in his work while trying to catch his breath, I snuck up behind him, slipped a garrotte wire over his head and squeezed my hardest to make certain that he never would.  What can I say?  Don’t piss me off, Pal.

Yeah, I’ll provide all the pussy you want to punish, but I’m going to do it on my time.  There are people to stalk and kill, folks need to be framed for murder and I want to be the one to do it.  Kind of hard when I have to find a bunch of dumb bimbos, lock them up then watch guy after guy go at them and torture-fuck the spirit out of them while they hang helplessly on an almost daily basis.  If I don’t answer when you call or text you back, I’m not trying to deal with you at the moment.  Period.  Approach me in public and start talking all kinds of bullshit, I’ll turn your addiction into a snuff sex scene real quick.  You don’t want to be on my bad side, I promise you.  

  

Sacrifice for Samhain

Bondage phone sex

To properly celebrate Samhain, my little coven and I rejoice in a variety of rituals: nude nature walks, sumptuous feasts and, best of all, hole bashing bondage phone sex with a physical manifestation of death, itself.  Conjuring up some vile visitor from the underworld and letting it have its way with us is the best way to increase the power in our little triad of terror, not to mention the fact that demon cock feels amazing, so we do it every year.  And, like any good witch, we celebrate all three days.  

On the 31st, it’s a little witches’ ball with just the three of us and one lucky lad that we invite to be the recipient of all of our attention.  We drink and dance and play with his genitals until one of us ends up making him cum in our hands.  Then, we save it.  Every last drop.  But night one is only for handy work.

On the 1st, the four of us take a nude hike through the woods.  Every time we stop to rest, we take turns blowing our lucky boy toy until he shoots a sticky load in our mouths.  By the time we’re done walking we’ve all gotten some of his goop.  Then we saved it.  Spit it out into a canteen.  Day two is the day we use our mouths.

The 2nd is when things get really fun.  We start off with a daytime feast for the four of us full of food, wine and butt fucking.  I mean, you can’t spell “bacchanal” without “anal.”  Inevitably, sometime during the whole thing, usually between the food and the ass ramming, our simple boy asks who the fifth plate of food and wine goblet are for.  We just laugh at him and take his fuck hog as far in our rectums as we can and grind around on him until he fills our shit boxes with spunk.  You know what happens next.  We shoot that shit filled cum out of our assholes and save it.  We saved all of his seed for all three days for what happens next.

After the feast, it’s time for the sacrifice.  This is when the worm turns for our lucky stud.  He gets lured onto our sacrificial altar and strapped down so he can’t move.  After we each say our part, his throat is slit and he bleeds out, quick and simple.  Once all of his blood is collected, we can finally get to performing the great rite and increasing the power of our crazy little coven.

The dark entities of death we conjure are drawn to human bodily fluids and waste like moths to a juicy, stinky flame.  We cover ourselves in that boy’s blood and all of that spit and shit filled jizz he gave us before his demise and recite an invocation so we can offer ourselves to whatever awful being we decide to bring forth.  We don’t do it three times in one night, only one of us gets to be ravaged by a rotten wraith each year.  No high priestess in our coven, we share power.  So, every three years, I get to look forward to being tied up, covered in sludge and wailed away on by some ghastly ghoul.  And this is my year.  I can’t fucking wait!

 

IT Wants Willow

Rape phone sex fantasies

Every now and again one of my rape phone sex fantasies comes to life and I have the Deadlights forcefully fucked out of me by a demonically monstrous clown.  Getting raped by the physical embodiment of cosmic evil would mess most people up pretty badly, scar them for life if not flat out scare them to death.  Not me, though.  Somehow, I’m pretty sure that I’m the one who keeps conjuring IT up out of its hiding spot and I’m fairly certain that IT likes my style.

It’s no secret, I’m a little psycho.  I think the world has too many fuck pigs on it and very few of them are worth the precious air that they breathe.  It’s my duty to take out any and everybody that I don’t feel is worth the very space they occupy, but I absolutely have to scare the everloving shit out of them before I do.  I love it.  That’s also the very thing which, I’m guessing, makes IT love me.

The first time I saw him was a couple days after I took out a dozen drunk dipshits drinking themselves into a belligerent stupor down at the pub.  Quick hatchet job, complete bloodbath.  I was still reveling in the excitement when a stupid looking clown showed up on my doorstep.  He said his name is Pennywise the Dancing Clown and he was there to help me celebrate then pulled out his prick and started waving it around at me.  I said “Wrong house, Bozo.” and shut the door, but when I turned around, he was standing in my foyer.  Color me intrigued.

His mouth opened wide unveiling row upon row of sharp, pointed teeth and a bright light shined out from somewhere deep inside of his throat.  As his jaw extended out further, he slowly crept closer and closer, trying to stoke up some fear in me before he did whatever he was going to do to me.  Eat me, fuck me, turn me into a weird clown demon, whatever he had planned, Pennywise wanted me to be scared while he did it.  It didn’t work.  I reached up, honked his nose and said “Neat trick.” then slapped his schlong around a little.  

Ever fluster a cosmic entity?  It’s pretty fun.  When revealing himself to be a beast of unknown origin didn’t succeed in scaring the piss out of me, he got a little mad.  That’s when IT started manhandling me and telling me he was going to fuck the fear into me.  Now we’re talking.  I had never been violated by a violently crazed clown creature before, it seemed like it could be a good time.  Hell, I’ll try anything once.

I got bent over, twisted around, pinned down and forcefully fucked by that crazy creep.  Pennywise pole feels great, he really knows how to ram it in there just right.  Every now and again he’d mutter something to himself about turtles or mention his brother and really wail away on me, that was amazing.  I love being hammered so hard that it feels like that cock is going to rip right through me.  That demon definitely did not disappoint.

Since then, I noticed that he comes around every time I do some real damage and take out a bunch of fuck pigs all at once.  I dig it, sometimes IT appears to me as one of the people I just killed and he hate fucks the holy hell out of me while shifting into various victims of mine.  One time he thought he was going to shock me by becoming my dad while he was pounding away at my perfect little pussy.  I didn’t sweat it, I just clawed his eyes out again like I did years and years ago to the real McCoy, only this time, I made him keep fucking me while he screamed in pain.  Cathartic as hell.  I don’t know where he comes from but one thing I know for sure is when he comes around, we fuck.  We all fuck, down here.

 

Haunted Willow

Gothic phone sex

I’m haunted by all of the spirits that got trapped in my house of horrors during all of the cum and blood filled rounds of torturous and treacherous gothic phone sex.  I can’t get away from them, they’re always around to make my life a living hell.  Probably because of the horribly sadistic and violent ways they died here in my happy home.  

I didn’t snuff out all of them, but I definitely facilitated their fucked up finale’s.  That’s enough to keep their focus on me for my foreseeable future and potentially the remainder of their afterlives.  I knew what I was getting into when I started living the way I do, there’s a lot of dark shit that goes along with my lifestyle.  I didn’t know I’d have so many pissed off ghosts literally living with me from it all, though.

In my opinion, all of the little fuck pigs that get fucked to death under my roof are lucky.  When you die, wouldn’t you love to go out while you’re getting banged?  A lot of my victims get to live out that fantasy.  Or die out that fantasy, as it were.  How many people get to take their final breaths while they’re being forced to have multiple orgasms?  Don’t all whores want to die while they’re cumming?

I’m not going to stop, these spunk covered specters don’t scare me.  They annoy me.  What are they going to do to me, they’re fucking dead.  I’m going to step up my witchcraft game and clear them out with my own will, just like I did with their lives.  In the meantime, I’ll keep adding more cum covered ghouls to the group.  

 

Necrophilia Phone Sex Time

Necrophilia phone sex

It’s the time of year when the real fucked up freaks come crawling out of the woodwork for bloody, viscera filled necrophilia phone sex.  That means I have to get busy amassing all of the cold bodies I can so my craven customers can have something to blow their hot loads inside of, something that will actually let them fuck it.  

I guarantee that none of the mangled meat I provide for your depraved pleasure will complain that your cock is too big or that you’re fucking them too hard.  I’m pretty sure they won’t laugh at you if you have a tiny little micro-cock with a spit fire hair trigger, either.  I mean, I wouldn’t expect any sparkling conversation or charming banter or anything like that, but you probably don’t want to talk to it much, anyway.  Just fuck it while you beat it up and cut hunks of flesh out of it, huh?  I can tell, I see it in your eyes.

Yeah, I’m talking to you.  You wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t like the idea of shoving your cock into a permanently immobilized pussy and pounding away on that cadaver cunt until your heart’s content.  Something about being able to dissect a dead body while you drive your dick as deep inside of it as you can flips that sick little switch in your brain and fills you with ecstasy even before you ejaculate inside of that corpse.  The jizz is just the icing on the bloody, flesh covered cake, isn’t it?  

 

Demonically Evil Phone Sex

Evil phone sex

Freaks call me up for evil phone sex because I really let my dark side out, and when I open the floodgates, the torrents of damnation and despair that flow out of me let them tap into their most wretched, vile selves, too.  They say misery loves company.  One fucked up, fright filled call with me and I’m sure you’ll agree.

I don’t just juice your junk while we dream about degrading some street whore before decapitating her and using all of the shit that drains out of her head as lube or talk you through taking some poor, helpless teen out to the middle of nowhere and torturing her before I make you fuck her until you split her in two.  Cool conversation, and all, but I go much, much deeper than that.

I’m in your loins before you even call, I get into your head within minutes of speaking with you and I infest your soul as I take you down avenues of abuse, onto various pathways of punishment and down dark alleyways of anguish and agony.  Once you feel my dark presence way down in your gut, you’ll never be the same.

There will be pain, there will be tears, there will be blood, there will be cum.  I’m going to exploit every bit of torment and sorrow your pathetic soul has ever experienced.  If you caused someone any grief or suffering, I’ll know.  If someone berated or beat you and made you feel empty inside, I’m gonna find out.  My dark side will drag whatever it is that makes you sick in the head out of you, and when it does, I’m going to make you blow your load all over it.  Sadistic phone sex doesn’t even begin to cut it.  Phone fucking with me is downright demonic.

 

Real Goth Teen Phone Sex Means Real Pain

Goth teen phone sex

 

All of these little goth teen phone sex bitches who think they have dark souls because they had a rough life need to get a fucking clue.  And I’m going to give it to them.  Those gloomy girls need something to cry about other than mommy and daddy not giving them as much attention as they’d like.  So, as it goes, I’m going to give them some attention that they’ll definitely hate to ensure that their dim outlook on the world is well founded and that the crocodile tears they love to cry are filled with pain.

Imprisonment works wonders for making a tragically gothic styled girlie feel the bleakness of their bland and boring daily lives.  I keep them locked up for a couple of days without any contact with anyone, even myself.  48 straight hours of solitude in a dim and dingy basement is living hell for a teen slut.  No texting, no social media, no parents to get into some weird, angsty fight with.  Just their completely naked, stripped down selves in an empty cell.

When I finally show up in their cold little prison, they always start crying and pleading with me to let them go.  Always.  I tell them that I will in due time but they aren’t ready to be released yet.  I’m not lying to them, I mean it.  I like the potential in them, they just need some help realizing it so they can live a truly melancholy life of gothic misery.  I want them out there in the world spreading their little bits of misery to everyone, but first, they have to learn their lesson.

When I strap them down, they fucking lose their shit.  Those mere moments of freedom between the cell and the Saint Andrew’s cross I lock them up on for proper torturing purposes gives them a glimmer of hope, but the iron shackles locked tight around their ankles and wrists rips it away instantly.  Sometimes they get violent and try to bite or headbutt me, it messes with them so much.  I get it, I don’t blame them a bit.  But I can’t be getting knocked out by some random slut’s oversized forehead or what have you, so I encase their cabeza’s in a big heavy skull mask.  Cools their jets instantly.

From there, I shove a fat black dildo that I attached to the end of an ax handle deep into their counterfeitly catastrophic cunts and take them through whippings and beatings with various tools and implements.  Wooden spoons and stinging nettles are a pretty fun flogging combo.  For me, anyway.  I’m also fond of taking handfuls of thumb tacks and throwing them at my captives as hard as I can.  Leaves really cool marks and sometimes I even get some to stick, it’s pretty fucking funny.

As promised, when I’m satisfied with my work and am certain that they’ll never forget the time they spent with me, I take them out to a completely random location and let them go.  What they do and where they go from there is up to them.  I like to think that they go on to spread real pain and suffering throughout the world instead of the fake as fuck, woe is me grim and gothic phone sex shit that they did in the past.  We’ll see.