Sadistic Phone Sex is The Best Finale For You

Sadistic Phone Sex with your sadistic queen, the architect of exquisite endings, I am Morticia. Understand, men don’t just submit to me; they surrender their last breath for my pleasure.

Tonight, you lie bound spread-eagled on my black silk sheets, cock rigid and leaking despite the terror in your eyes.

First, I trail a single gloved finger down your chest, over your trembling stomach, and circle the head of your shaft. Weakened, you whimper when I squeeze—hard—drawing a bead of precum that I smear across your lips.

Then, Breaking the silence, “Tonight,” I whisper, climbing astride you, “you don’t cum and live. You cum and die.”

Next, I sink down slowly, letting my tight, wet heat swallow every inch of you. Then your hips buck involuntarily, but the ropes hold you still. As I ride you with deliberate cruelty—long, grinding strokes that drag my walls along your length, milking you without mercy.

Sadistic Phone Sex is Your Means to an End

As I ride, my firm breasts sway above your face; I lean forward and smother you briefly, letting you taste the edge of suffocation. Undoubtedly, you’re close already. In fact, I feel it in the desperate throb inside me.

Finally, I reach for the silk cord coiled beside the bed. With a wicked smile, I loop it around your throat—loose at first, then tighter as I quicken my pace.

Instinctively, your eyes widen, panic flashing as the pressure builds. As I ride harder, pussy clenching rhythmically, forcing you toward the brink.

“Beg me,” I hiss, pulling the cord just enough to make your face redden.

“Please… Morticia…” you choke out. I yank it tight. Your body arches violently beneath me, cock swelling impossibly thicker as oxygen flees.

Finally, I grind down savagely, chasing my own climax while your vision darkens. The moment your final, frantic thrust drives deepest, I cum—walls spasming around you, flooding your shaft with my release.

That’s when you break. Your cock erupts inside me, pulse after thick pulse, even as your struggles weaken. I keep the cord taut, riding your dying spasms, milking every last drop from your twitching body until you go still.

Only then do I loosen the silk and lean down to kiss your cooling lips. “Perfect,” I murmur, still impaled on your lifeless cock.

“You came…and you died. Exactly as promised.” I stay there a while longer, savoring the warmth fading inside me.

Another beautiful snuff sex victim for my dark fantasies collection.

Who’s next? Kneel and beg, darling. Morticia is always hungry.