Taboo phone sex is one of life’s little pleasures, like somebody’s dying breath, or watching the light go out of someone’s eyes, or even the last echoing beat of a heart. You know, the little stuff. Now I greatly enjoy living comfortably, but this economy is so shitty that I have only a few ways that I accomplish that. One of those is by marrying quickly, and killing slowly. There’s nothing that I love more than torturing a spouse to hell. I don’t mean that in a little cutie way, like getting on their nerves. I mean skinning them alive, disemboweling them, leaving them for starving rats to finish off. I literally mean torturing them to hell.
I always pull out their fingernails first, pluck out their hair so their skin is raw. Then, I take my favorite Louisville Slugger, play the xylophone on the rib cage. Oh there screams are music to my sweet sadistic little ears. If I’m still feeling exceptionally twisted, I’ll skin them slower than I normally would, cutting off a pinky here, or a thumb there. And spraying them down and some orange juice, just a gentle acid. The sugar from the orange juice attracts the Flies, the flies lay their maggots on their skinless bodies, burrowing into their flesh.
I wish I could continue telling the story, but unfortunately I have a wet little problem in my princess parts but talking so sadistically has brought to life. Better go masturbate myself, but hopefully it’s you getting me off after a kill next time.
Indigo
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