Sunday was bloody phone sex Sunday! I am a sick bitch. I like the sight of blood. A lot of blood often means a lot of pain. For you, not me. My knives are my best friend. I have over 1,000 in my collection. I have vintage knives too. My grandfather ran a private prison. It was eventually shut down by the feds because of his cruel and unusual punishment techniques. I take after him. He enjoyed inflicting pain on others. The difference between us is that I am not torturing incarcerated criminals. I like to make women, men and brats alike bleed. Not just the bad ones either. Granddad only tortured inmates. When his prison was shut down, I inherited everything the feds didn’t take. I have some knives and torture devices from the 40s and 50s and even earlier because he was a collector too. Grandpa had and old cabin in the woods complete with a torture chamber in the basement. I inherited that too. It is three counties away, a 2-hour drive. I make that drive weekly because it is my kill shack. I was there last night because I performed a ritualistic kill in honor of my granddad’s birthday. He would have been 90 yesterday. I picked up this female grifter. I had seen her in action, and she thought she could con me, but the joke was one her. I knew what she was before she spoke. Grandpa liked to make his torture fit the crime, so I tied her up and chopped off her fingers first. I took each finger with a different knife. She likes to pick pockets and boost gift cards, so I took her fingers and her hands slowly and meticulously. Lots of blood. Lots of screaming and crying too. Grandpa would have been proud because I tortured her for hours before I turned her into a snuff victim. She would have been caught eventually and put in prison. I saved the taxpayers money and had some fun. It was Sunday Funday after all.
Venus
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