Murder phone sex Fantasies are such a fun, grotesque dance. Oh, the depravity! It is the only way I can truly cum. Both sets of lips drool at the sight of a bloody, pulsing cock. The sweet nectar of violence on my tongue brings me to life, and I know how much you love it too. Isn’t it music to your ears to hear the cries of a helpless, doomed little slut?
Maybe I am an evil bitch, but I do have taste, don’t I? I know you have been dreaming of a woman who is consumed by a hunger for blood. I cannot deny the intoxicating thrill I derive from this twisted realm. These pathetic little whores, so easily bought and broken, are mere pawns in our sadistic game. We’ll use them up, leave them a shattered, unrecognizable husk, and no one will bat an eye. They’re a dime a dozen, disposable playthings for our distinct appetites.
In my domain, there’s a never-ending carnival of carnage and depravity where snuff fantasies reign supreme. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, it’s a world of brutal, wanton pleasure. You have the opportunity to taste the blood of those helpless little virgins and turn them into proper victims! Because I need you to have the most extreme gore-slicked dick. My tongue aches to lick every inch, to savor the metallic tang of the Snuff Sex slave’s blood.
Oh, the sweet ecstasy of snuff! Let the screams of our little porn star motivate your cock to fuck harder. Pound your cock deeper and deeper. I need your cock to be soaked with the little bitch’s guts. Make me cum harder than ever. Don’t hold back, babe. I’m your goddess of filth, worshiped by the dark gods of vice and perversion.




