I love fantasy phone sex. Not the typical kind of fantasy stuff either. I like violent shit. I want rape fantasies and extreme age play and even snuff. I spent my youth being abused by daddy and his friends. Then I spent more than a decade owned by a capricious and violent master. When I gained my freedom, it was at the expense of young girls. Initially, I felt guilty. Two dozen teen girls later, I felt conflicted. After almost 100 girls later, I felt pleasure and gratitude. Pleasure in leading young, innocent girls to their demise or servitude, and gratitude that it was no longer me. I aged out. I would have been a snuff porn victim. Master kills his slaves once they no longer fancy him. Sometimes, he sells them to sex traffickers. Either way, I was not going to have any freedom. I was desperate. I have always had a strong will to survive. The shit I have been through would lead most women to kill themselves. Not me. I am scrappy and resilient. I made a deal with master. One he could not refuse. Now, I work for him as a freelancer. When he needs young teen sluts to abuse or trade for drugs, he pays me to be the merchandise handler. I find the girl he wants and deliver her to him or his partner. I proved useful when I brought him 100 whores over a year in exchange for my life and my freedom. Even just bringing him a slut 4 times a year, I would not need to work, but I like my taboo phone sex line. I love talking to men even more perverted than me. My private life has at times been brutal. But what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, right? And, what doesn’t kill you, makes you a sadistic cunt too.
Cassandra SPS
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