Category: Snuff sex

Torture sex slave hangs there & we can do whatever you want

Torture sex slave hangs there, a helpless and exquisite decoration. I always pick the best toys for these depraved games. Her body is bound and completely helpless.

The chains she is in are tight enough; they cut into her delicate skin.Torture sex

The noose around her slender throat is just tight enough to remind her not to fight. She is at our mercy until we decide to snuff out her life in a gory spectacle of violent sex.

We circle her, our eyes roving over her trembling form, drinking in the sight of her agony. I lower her to my mouth and lick her pretty little twat. She tastes sweet; she might even be enjoying this more than I thought she would.

I pull her cunt off my mouth and lower her even more. Her cunt matches up to your hard-on. Man, I know that meat hammer is going to pummel the shit out of her. Show me what you got, Daddy, pound that helpless little brat into nothing. I know you will make her bitch cunt quiver!

Her pussy is a ruined mess, the delicate tissues stretched to their limits as we continue to fuck her senseless. We can feel her cervix as we ram into her, the wet squelching of your cock plunging into her shattered cunt music to our ears.

She isn’t going to last much longer, and unless you have a kink for stiffs, it’s about time we really show her what Snuff sex is all about.

You are going to fuck her, and I am going to stab her.

Each stab wound I make, I want you to stick your dick in until you explode.

All of that blood dripping down on me, making my skin young and perfect, is enough for my devilish pussy to cum. But we are a team, and I’ll hold off till you fill every hole of hers with your spunk.

Strangulation Phone Sex is The Ultimate Harbinger of Demise

I’m Geneva, and Strangulation Phone Sex is only part of killing me.  Just a sexy doll come to life. With long blonde waves, perky DDs spilling out of tiny pink tops, and a tiny waist. But it’s this ass so round and firm it begs to be wrecked.
First off, I love playing the ultimate fantasy fuck toy. Especially when phone sex turns deadly hot. Last night, a caller gripped me with his darkest craving: strangulation phone sex as the ultimate harbinger of demise.
When I answered, he started right off, “I want to choke you while I destroy that perfect ass, Geneva,” is a firm whisper. As this made me wet, I purred back, slipping into the fantasy, my voice breathy and teasing.

Strangulation Phone Sex Isn’t Just a Kink, It’s and End

He pins me face-down on silk sheets, my perfect body arched, ass high and inviting. Then his thick cock presses against my tight hole. With no lube, just raw force as he thrusts in deep.
And I gasp, feeling every inch stretch me, burn me, own me. Now his hands wrap around my slender throat. With his fingers digging in, squeezing tighter with each brutal pump into my ass.
All I can do is claw at the sheets, moaning how it hurts so good, how I’m his helpless doll breaking under him. Next, he fucks harder, slamming balls-deep, choking me until stars explode behind my eyes.
Now breathless, vision blurring—that edge of demise makes my ass clench around him. But I need more, “Tighter,” I beg, voice hoarse. Of course, he obliges, cutting off my air completely as he pounds relentlessly, my body shaking on the brink.
Strangulation Phone Sex
Just as black spots dance, he releases. Finally, his hot cum floods my ass while I shatter in the most intense orgasm. Really teetering on death’s door.
It’s true, Strangulation phone sex isn’t just a kink. In fact, it’s the ultimate rush, the harbinger of sweet, filthy demise.
Who wants to choke this perfect slut next? Call me—I’m already wet thinking about it.

Sex with dead bodies, a special treat for a good slave

Sex with dead bodies Sex with dead bodies is really intense! Lots of folks think snuff is just some conspiracy theory. But it’s not, and the motherfuckers who are into it are scary as hell!

They like to fuck, kill, fuck, in that order!

My Master is the scariest. He has a taste for all kinds of things, and cold, dead flesh is a passion. He has a lot of money and can make anyone disappear. The reason why I’m still alive is that I learned real quick what he expected. But he also refined my palette.

So here is this helpless little slave, way younger than me, and no one will look for her. My Master doesn’t need an island for his girls because most of them end up in the incinerator.
He likes to play Doctor. So, as his helpful nurse, I have her splayed out on the slab.

She’s crying, cold and naked. She knows it’s just a matter of time before he is done with her. When he records his Snuff sex sessions, he likes to draw it out, and it’s already been hours of playtime with her.

He cut off her clothes and inspected every inch of her naked body. He got really hard when he stuck a whole bunch of needles in her.

Then he made the order. I had to insert a special speculum into her. It’s a terrifying piece of equipment. There are these little sharp spikes that stick out on the outside. He designed it himself. So when I put it in her pussy, those little spikes dig in her flesh.

I open her up with it, blood gushing everywhere. She has passed out, trying to escape the pain. But when he sticks his dick in her with that speculum, she screams herself awake. I think it’s the blood loss that killed her. There was so much of it just pouring out of her.

Since she was dead, he made me ride her. I ground my pussy on her bloody gash. I hate to admit it because of how evil it is, but I come so hard when I am scissor fucking a corpse, and so does my Master!

Torture Sex is The Best Kind of Dark Pleasure

With Torture sex on my mind, I prowl the streets at night with hunger for the hunt. Then he catches my eye, muscular, dark hair, pale skin and oblivious. So I take to stalking him silently, through the alley behind the club. That’s when I strike, pressing chloroform to his mouth.

He thrashes wildly against me, cock hardening instinctively in his panic as his body grinds mine before he slumps limp. Then I drag him to my basement sanctuary.

Torture Sex

Here I bind him to the chair, with brutality, leather restraints carving into his wrists and ankles until blood trickles.

When he wakes groggy; I smile and seize my pliers. Of which I clamp on his front incisor, twisting slowly until roots tear free with a wet snap. Blood gushes; he howls, the vibration rippling through me, soaking my cunt instantly.

Next, I yank each tooth methodically—molars crunching like gravel, canines ripping with fleshy pops—blood spraying my face and tits.

Which I smear over my hardening nipples, moaning as I lick the metallic tang from my fingers.

Torture Sex Drive Me Hotter Than Hell’s Deepest Core

Next, wire cutters. With these I pinch fingernails, snipping them off at the quick, then peel back the raw beds with deliberate twists. As skin tears in bloody strips; fresh screams echo as pus and blood ooze. Now I grind my thighs together, clit throbbing from his agony.

Sadistic Phone Sex

Box cutter in hand, I slice shallow grids across his chest and abdomen—flaps of skin peeling back to expose quivering fat. Making blood well thick; I finger the wounds. Then plunging my bloody digits into my dripping pussy, fucking myself slowly while he sobs.

Up next, the cattle prod, it hums alive. This I jab his thighs—flesh sizzles black. Then I shock his nipples until they blister. Finally, his balls and cock—watching it twitch and leak despite the burn.

Consequently, the odor of terror-sweat and scorched meat fill the air. This has my clit pulsing with every convulsion.

Finally, I chain him suspended, feet dangling helplessly. With my ritual knife gleaming, I carve deep into his stomach, guts spilling slick and steaming.

As I slice pectorals open, flaying skin from muscle, carving sigils into raw flesh while blood cascades.

Now his weakening moans fuel my dark ecstasy of Sadistic Phone Sex

In this final moment, blade to throat. Acceptance fills his eyes. And I slash deep—arteries erupt in scalding sprays across my face, neck, dripping between my breasts.

His twitching death throes trigger my release—cunt spasming violently, squirting down my thighs in profane climax.

Now I kneel in his cooling pool, fingers plunging into my soaked hole through the gore. Power surges; I cum again, screaming into the void.

This is my rapture, Gothic Phone Sex, – hunting, torturing, killing. The night beckons; I hunt forever.

Gothic Phone Sex

Suffocation Phone Sex Breaking In Holding Pillow Over Layla

Suffocation Phone SexPlease, stay on the line… I think I heard the window in the kitchen shatter and my heart is beating so fast I can feel it in my throat. I’m just laying here in my thong, completely exposed, and I know exactly what’s coming for me. This wasn’t supposed to happen tonight, but as the footsteps get closer to my bedroom door, I realize my Suffocation Phone Sex fantasies are about to become a brutal, terrifying reality. 

You aren’t here for my TV or my purse; you’re here because you know I’m just a helpless, sexy slut who’s been begging for a real man to come and take what he wants. The door kicks open and the light from the hallway spills over my bed, showing me the silhouette of a predator who’s already decided I’m his prize. I try to crawl toward the headboard, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps, but you’re too fast. 

You lung for me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand while the other reaches for the pillow. You don’t want to hear my excuses or my pleas; you just want to hear me struggle. Before I can even let out a real scream, you slam the pillow down over my face, snuffing out the sound and leaving me in a world of muffled, hot darkness.

I’m fighting for air, my lungs burning as I claw at the mattress, but you’re already ripping my lace aside. The moment you force your way inside me, hard and uncompromising, my whole body arches in a mix of pure terror and a sick, addictive heat. You’re breaking into me just like you broke into my house, stealing my pussy while I’m literally fighting for my next breath.

The weight of the pillow is crushing, forcing me to focus on every thick, heavy thrust that sends a jolt of electricity through my starving nerves. I’m a total mess, a gasping toy beneath your weight, and the more you cut off my air, the more my body betrays me by clenching around you in a desperate, suffocating grip.

Every time I think I’m going to black out, you press harder, driving me closer to an edge I’ve never touched before. By the time you finally pull the pillow away and let me gasp in a lungful of cold air, I’m completely ruined, my body shaking and my mind gone. You’ve taken everything I had to give, leaving me breathless and used on the sheets, just a slut who finally got exactly what she deserved from a man who doesn’t take no for an answer.

A Snuff Phone Sex Valentine’s Day I Did Not Ask For, But I Got It

snuff phone sexPerhaps you could say I enjoyed a snuff phone sex weekend. Many men wanted to explore their violent fantasies about mommy for Valentine’s Day. Nobody gave me flowers or candy. But they did give me bruises and sore fuck holes.

My stepson wanted to live stream a Valentine’s Day edition with his redheaded stepmom. Since he blackmails me and bribes me with cocaine, I never have much choice in the matter. He gives me the best blow. However, he makes me work harder for it than any of those other drug dealers or snuff film makers. While the camera rolled, he said some silly little Valentine’s Day poem about turning his mommy black and blue. When I saw him put a bunch of oranges in a pillow sack, I knew what came next.

A good beat down came next. He said batter up and the tips came in. Then he started beating me black and blue. You would think that a pillowcase full of oranges would not hurt, but it feels almost as painful as somebody punching the crap out of you. We heard a crack and then I could barely breathe. For a moment, I thought uh oh I’m making a snuff porn, and I will die accidentally on Valentine’s Day. And although he broke a rib at least it didn’t puncture my lung. But he didn’t stop beating me even after he cracked my rib.

My Stepson Beats Me Black and Blue But He Gives Me the Best Blow

Likely, most of my ribs he cracked in the past. It’s painful. But they heal with time and rest. Clearly, he needed money. And since I am his cash cow, I came to the rescue. Truth be told I needed a bunch of blow to keep up with my two biological sons and their 10 friends that spent the weekend with us. To be a gang bang mommy whore requires a lot of cocaine. The kind of cocaine only my stepson can provide.

At least my boy let me do lines of cocaine in between every beat down, because honestly, I didn’t feel any pain until the cocaine wore off. But he did leave my body battered. Black and blue. I came up with a lie that I fell down the stairs. Blamed it on the dog. My husband believed that I tripped over the dog because he thinks he married a typical suburban housewife. But he really married a druggie whore who stars in snuff movies so she can get cocaine. And he has no clue that I’m his first son’s cash cow whore.

Medical Fetish Phone Sex Gets Cured By Layla As Your Nurse

Medical Fetish Phone SexHello there, my favorite patient. I can see your heart rate spiking on the monitor from the moment I stepped into this private exam room, and we both know exactly why you’re sweating. Medical Fetish Phone Sex was just the beginning of your treatment, but now that I’m standing over you in this tight white uniform, it’s time for a much more hands-on approach to your condition. 

You’ve been a very sick boy, obsessed with the dark, heavy weight of my busty titties, and I’m the only specialist qualified to cure this filthy disease that’s been pulsing through your veins all day long. Lie back and try to breathe while I prepare the first stage of your therapy. 

You’re addicted to the way I command you, and I’m addicted to the way your body reacts to my cold stethoscope against your hot, desperate skin. This Valentine’s Day, I’m skipping the traditional bedside manner because a patient as depraved as you needs a much more aggressive dose of Nurse Layla.

 I can feel your fever rising every time my skirt brushes against your leg, a symptom of the raw lust that only I can alleviate with the proper application of pleasure and pain. I’m going to start by examining exactly where it hurts the most, gripping you with my latex covered hands until you’re begging for mercy. 

You aren’t just here for a check-up; you’re here to be completely dismantled and rebuilt by my touch. I love the way you look up at me, eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and absolute worship, as I explain exactly how I’m going to drain the cum from your ballsack. My voice is the only medicine you need, a low, sultry hum that vibrates in your chest and tells you that you belong entirely to my clinic now.

Don’t even think about moving until I give you permission. This “cure” requires your total submission to my medical expertise. I’m going to use every tool at my disposal to make sure you never forget the way it feels to be handled by a professional who knows your darkest secrets.

By the time I’m done with you, your “disease” will be replaced by a permanent craving for my authority. You’re lucky I decided to take your case baby, because no one else would be willing to go as deep into your fantasies as I am. Now, hold your breath and get ready for the most intense physical therapy session of your life… Nurse Layla is ready to begin.

I Belong in Snuff Movies, That’s What Men Tell Me

snuff moviesSo many people think I belong in snuff movies. Although, I’ve made a few, I honestly try to avoid the snuff world, believe it or not. I survived nine days snowed in with my family. Surprisingly enough, I successfully traded enough cocaine to last for the blizzard.

But yesterday the weather felt great. For once, it did not feel like single-digit weather. And I decided to go out and see if I could score some more coke so I could watch the Super Bowl with my boys and their friends. Plus, I think I experienced some cabin fever. I just needed to get out of the house.

I went to this little dive bar first because I thought I could party with some old blue-collar workers. They love to share their coke. Although I’m talking about a bump here and a bump there. It’s not like I would walk away with a huge bag of coke. This bar appeared safe. But then I saw him. And I almost pissed myself.

I saw a snuff porn director who I’ve worked for in the past. The last time I did, he sent me to the ER, with a broken arm and a fractured ankle. Not to mention all the bruises. But when I went to the ER, they all assumed my husband beat me up. I never confirmed that, but I never denied it either. Once he saw me, I could not escape. I think I pissed him off with polite pleasantries. He pushed me into a single stall bathroom. And I tried not to panic.

Sometimes, I Wonder if I Will Dying Trying to Score Blow

He pulled out some coke from his pocket. And I should’ve known better. As soon as I got a taste of his excellent cocaine, he started strangling me. Hard. I thought he might crush my windpipe. He held me against the wall with his hand on my throat. And I heard him unzip his pants. Strangling felt like the least of the evils. He wanted to explore his rape phone sex fantasies with me.

The music sounded so loud outside, combined with all the talking. I didn’t think anybody would hear me scream. But he kept his hand on my throat the entire time so I could not truly scream as he forced his cock in and out of my pussy. At least he let me get high first, I thought to myself. Maybe he didn’t want me to feel the pain.

He fucked my pussy hard. By the time he finished, he released his grip on my throat, and I fell to the ground with a thud. He spit on me and called me a whore. Tossed me a little bag of coke to get me through game at best. Now I have a ring around my neck from his hands. And I still don’t have enough coke to get through another week.

Bloody phone sex spares the wicked and uses the weak

Bloody phone sex Bloody phone sex hails the Dark Lord! Hail Satan, may this little slut with a bald pussy and flat chest.

I know how to pick them! I like long blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles. Sometimes I like to make it hard on myself and grab a feisty one!

See, the more they suffer, emotionally and physically, the more power the Dark Lord gives us!

Hail Satan, baby, put your cock inside her mouth and face fuck her till her lips turn blue. We’ll give her some air because we don’t want her to die too fast.

I need my knife play!

Our sadistic fantasies come alive when I pull out my knife. Hold her down while I slice away at her soft, fresh skin. Satan, watch me defile her little cunt with my blade. Every shriek of torment, every bead of blood that falls is all for Satan!

Do you want to live forever? Have a hard dick and super strength? Then help me ruin this little brat. You know you will love the feeling of a tight, tiny hole! It’s even better when she bleeds!

I won’t stab her too much. I need you and your hard cock to seal the deal. To align yourself with the Prince of Darkness, you must fuck her bloody cunt to death! The torture will turn into Snuff sex, and you will shoot your load at her last breath!

You will pump your cock hard and fast, covering your cock in her blood. Now that we have her spoiled, I take my knife and slice her neck wide open. We both shower in it and hail Satan!

Be My Bloody Phone Sex Valentine

bloody phone sexDo you want to be my bloody phone sex valentine. The most romantic thing a man can do for me is offer himself up for me to butcher. I don’t possess the traditional need for men that most women do. I don’t need them for my financial independence because I make my own money. And I don’t need them to fuck me because that’s why they make sex toys. Plus, I don’t need men to do things for me because I’m a capable woman who can do it all by myself.

So, the only thing men can offer me is their body and soul to destroy. Perhaps, some people might call me a succubus. Personally, I don’t mind that comparison. I’m a sick bitch. But I’m also an island who needs nobody to survive. I just like to kill simps, losers, and assholes. The world will never miss them.

For shits and giggles, I put an ad out on the dark net looking for human sacrifices. And my inbox flooded with guys wanting me to choose them. Maybe they didn’t understand what snuff porn sacrifice meant or perhaps they understand that they contribute nothing to this world and thus do not deserve to continue breathing.

I picked Eddie. And I do my research before I agree to kill anybody or kill with anybody. Stone cold killers, like me, understand the risk we take. First, I need to make sure I’m not being set up. I also like to prepare blackmail material in case somebody tries back paddle.

Some Men are Too Weak to Off Themselves, So They Call Me

Eddie lives a pathetic existence. Tons of social media accounts with very few followers. Never married. Likely still a virgin at 48 years old. No real money of his own; he inherited money from his grandpa. I even found his Tinder profile showing off his little shrimp dick. And I doubt anybody ever swipes right on him.

Couple hours of research and I determined Eddie would be my bloody valentine. He showed up at my place with a bottle of red wine and flowers. Who makes romantic gestures to the woman they paid to kill them. Dumb ass. I took my time torturing Eddie. But somebody else’s pain becomes my aphrodisiac.

I tied Eddie up spread eagle naked, of course. And then I showed him my knife collection. I carved him up with my knives. I carved loser and my initials into his flesh. And I put a castration band around his useless little balls. Plus, I even sliced his little dick off. He’s not using it anyway.

Are You Strong Enough to Be My Bloody Valentine Sacrifice?

This loser paid me $50,000 to end his life. He wanted to be my bloody valentine. And he got what he wanted. No more rejection. No more lonely existence. And no more days of wishing himself dead. He lacked the balls to kill himself, so he paid somebody to do it for him.

Perhaps he had bigger balls than he thought. Before I tossed his body to the wolves, I removed his balls as a souvenir. Castration phone sex after the fact. When you remove the balls postmortem, they do not bleed, and they stay perfectly preserved for a few hours. Just enough time for me to stick them in a jar of formaldehyde.

Eddie knew his life was worth worthless. He just took up space and air. So, he gave himself to me willingly to torture and kill. Are you strong enough to be my bloody valentine too?