It never ceases to amaze me how many men and women have killer phone sex fantasies. The problem is not everybody reads bios or blogs. And others are just dip shits who think that because they paid for a service, they can do whatever the fuck they want to me. Repeat with me. Venus is not your submissive fuck doll. I don’t possess a submissive bone in my body. Plus, I enjoy being cruel, especially cruel to assholes and dip shits.
When Oscar called me, he simply needed an accomplice. He wanted to work out some of his sexual frustration for his cock teasing neighbor girl who likes to jump on the trampoline in a little bikini during the summer. Seems innocent enough right. But in a skimpy little bikini, things slip and expose jailbait parts to perverted neighbors. Men cannot be expected to be behave under such circumstances. So, they call women like me for violent fantasy phone sex.
No harm in roleplaying your violent fantasies. As of now, nobody regulates our mind and our fantasies remain just that, fantasies. And folks never get arrested for a fantasy. But Oscar turned out to be a dip shit. He thought since he didn’t get to fuck the little girl next-door, he could fuck me. But I’m so dominant that I don’t even let losers phone fuck me. Oscar did not realize he lived near me. Honestly, I’ve never talked to somebody in my city. Let alone somebody literally only six blocks away.
Be Careful Men, I Come for My Callers Too
So, Oscar got a surprise. He woke up from the dead of sleep to see the woman he called hours earlier, straddling his body holding a knife to his throat. He rubbed his eyes like this might be some bad dream. And I told him this is no dream. I came to exact revenge. And I told him this could have been prevented. In the moment I wanted to slit his throat. But I decided castration phone sex might be a better reminder that his actions come with consequences.
He told me on the phone, that if I didn’t let him force fuck me, he would demand a refund. Nobody blackmails me. And nobody tries to force fuck me either. Not my fault some of you are too stupid to remember how to breathe. But for Oscar, he got a lot more bang for his buck because I took his balls. I removed them with a very sharp knife. He bled everywhere. And I plopped them into a jar of formaldehyde with his name and offense against me on the label. My collection of severed testicles seems vast. But I have been collecting balls for decades.
Now I doubt I likely will never do a call with somebody who lives that close to me again. I’m still amazed that it happened. I’ve certainly thought about it with other callers many times before, but the distance prevented me from doing it. Perhaps some people, including law-enforcement, might find my measures extreme. However, men like that only escalate. Someone needs to neuter them before the bodies rack up. So why not me?
Venus
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