Torture Sex is The Best Kind of Dark Pleasure

With Torture sex on my mind, I prowl the streets at night with hunger for the hunt. Then he catches my eye, muscular, dark hair, pale skin and oblivious. So I take to stalking him silently, through the alley behind the club. That’s when I strike, pressing chloroform to his mouth.

He thrashes wildly against me, cock hardening instinctively in his panic as his body grinds mine before he slumps limp. Then I drag him to my basement sanctuary.

Here I bind him to the chair, with brutality, leather restraints carving into his wrists and ankles until blood trickles.

When he wakes groggy; I smile and seize my pliers. Of which I clamp on his front incisor, twisting slowly until roots tear free with a wet snap. Blood gushes; he howls, the vibration rippling through me, soaking my cunt instantly.

Next, I yank each tooth methodically—molars crunching like gravel, canines ripping with fleshy pops—blood spraying my face and tits.

Which I smear over my hardening nipples, moaning as I lick the metallic tang from my fingers.

Torture Sex Drive Me Hotter Than Hell’s Deepest Core

Next, wire cutters. With these I pinch fingernails, snipping them off at the quick, then peel back the raw beds with deliberate twists. As skin tears in bloody strips; fresh screams echo as pus and blood ooze. Now I grind my thighs together, clit throbbing from his agony.

Box cutter in hand, I slice shallow grids across his chest and abdomen—flaps of skin peeling back to expose quivering fat. Making blood well thick; I finger the wounds. Then plunging my bloody digits into my dripping pussy, fucking myself slowly while he sobs.

Up next, the cattle prod, it hums alive. This I jab his thighs—flesh sizzles black. Then I shock his nipples until they blister. Finally, his balls and cock—watching it twitch and leak despite the burn.

Consequently, the odor of terror-sweat and scorched meat fill the air. This has my clit pulsing with every convulsion.

Finally, I chain him suspended, feet dangling helplessly. With my ritual knife gleaming, I carve deep into his stomach, guts spilling slick and steaming.

As I slice pectorals open, flaying skin from muscle, carving sigils into raw flesh while blood cascades.

Now his weakening moans fuel my dark ecstasy of Sadistic Phone Sex

In this final moment, blade to throat. Acceptance fills his eyes. And I slash deep—arteries erupt in scalding sprays across my face, neck, dripping between my breasts.

His twitching death throes trigger my release—cunt spasming violently, squirting down my thighs in profane climax.

Now I kneel in his cooling pool, fingers plunging into my soaked hole through the gore. Power surges; I cum again, screaming into the void.

This is my rapture, Gothic Phone Sex, – hunting, torturing, killing. The night beckons; I hunt forever.