Tis the season to make gangbang rape porn. My ass can handle most cocks. However, when men start using household items like my son’s baseball bat, I am in trouble. Last night began like any other night. I partied a little with a stash of coke I keep hidden from my husband. And I fucked my sons before bed. My husband is out of town golfing in Florida with some work pals. So, it was just me and the boys.
What I did not realize was that someone had been watching me for months. Pretty good stalker because I never knew I had one until he broke into my home late last night. At first, I thought this was like a home invasion phone sex dream. But I felt the punch to the gut when I stood up. A shadowy figure just said, “Hi Blair,” in a creepy tone as he sucker punched me.
This was not a dream. My gut instinct was to scream, but he muffled me with his huge hands. He tossed me on the bed like I was inconsequential. As he straddled me on my bed, he explained to me that if I screamed or tried to run, he would harm my sons. And he knew their names. He knew all about me, but I did not even recognize him. My heart raced from fear. I know to the outside world, I appear like a bad mom, but I love my boys.
So, I just laid there on my bed, silent and scared. He violated all my holes. But my ass got most of his attention. He admitted to being a fan boy. He informed me that he has seen all my ass rape porn videos. And he added that since I seem to love ass play, he wanted to test a theory that my ass could withstand anything. Even a baseball bat.
Although he lubed the bat, my asshole prolapsed from the impact of such a thick object. He forced his cock in all my holes until the sun came up. Even my prolapsed asshole, he tried to put back together. I laid in my own blood and shit mixed in with my assailant’s cum. I would have thought it was all just a bad dream, but I could not walk this am. Or shit right either. But my sons slept through it all. I did a little coke and now I feel right as rain.
I audition for snuff movies when I need cash. I always need cash. But sometimes, I can fuck for what I want. And if you did not know, what I want is coke. My husband knows I put way too much money up my nose, so he does not give me money to pay bills and get groceries anymore. If I need something, he pays for it or lets me use his credit card. No drug dealer takes AMEX. Maybe one day, LOL.
So, until then I need to be creative with how I earn my money. I make a decent living doing phone sex, but it almost all goes to my medicine. And what I make might support a family, but it does not support a coke whore. However, snuff porn brings in the kind of money I need to stay high all the time. Snuff flicks have become a successful side hustle for me.
But snuff is a dangerous game. I made a little flick earlier in the week for a guy with mommy issues. This was a homemade film. A private collector who hired me after I answered his ad. Apparently, I was the only MILF who responded. So, I got the job. I focused on the payout. He was willing to pay me 2 grand. I got half at the start and the rest at the end.
The guy playing my son was his son. Something felt off about this, but I needed the money. And like always, I let common sense go out the door. In the beginning it seemed just like rough sex with name calling. I get called a mommy whore all the time. So, this began like a vanilla taboo phone sex fantasy. Then the boy got violent. He slapped me, punched me and even kicked me. I began spewing blood out of my mouth and nose, but he kept kicking me. And Daddy egged him on.
After an hour or so, I was covered in my own blood and already swelling up. How would I explain this to my family. Not sure they will keep buying the mommy falls down a lot line. I thought the father and son might kill me but turns out this was some sort of therapy project for them. The boy’s mother left them, and I guess she did a number on them emotionally before she went MIA. Lucky me, I guess. Once again, the things I do for coke.
I am a gangbang rape porn star. Even on the holidays, the wicked get no rest. I did double duty on Thursday. The housewife and mother in me cooked a big spread for my family. But later in the night, I excused myself to do some early shopping. Since it was Black Friday, no one questioned me or asked when I would be home. I did not know when I would be home. I went on a quest to score some coke.
Although I knew better than to go to this one truck stop, I was desperate. All my regular haunts looked closed for the holiday. So, I was not scoring coke off any regulars in a closed bar. This truck stop is close to the trailer park in town. Seedy men hang out there. So do lot lizards. I put on some hot shorts and a tank top to blend in. They mistook me for a hooker, of course. Instead of fucking for cash, I fucked for coke. Before long I had enough to get though the week.
But I am a greedy coke taboo phone sex whore. I should have called it a night when I had what I needed. However, my greed for coke, almost got me killed. Almost. But I am still kicking. The last cab I knocked on gave me coke and a lot more I did not bargain for. This black trucker appeared to be partying with a few other black truckers. He looked at me like a tall glass of water in the desert. I should have ran. But I am a glutton for punishment.
I got in the back of the cab and that trucker, and his friends explored their violent rape phone sex fantasies for me. Two cocks went in my ass at once gaping it so wide I will not shit right for months. They laughed at my gaped asshole. Instead of helping me, they pissed and spit into my ass. They fucked me for hours. I stumbled home smelling like an outhouse around 6 am in the morning. Luckily everyone was asleep. Just a typical day for a druggy whore.
It is always torture sex with my son. Sometimes, I think he is addicted to beating me as I am addicted to his coke. But he loves me. Why else would he keep me so high? We live in a transactional world. If my boy gives me a huge bowl of coke, I know I need to help him with a live stream. The holidays are approaching, and everyone needs money. Except for me. I just need coke.
My boy let me get high first before he turned on the camera. I do not mind being his punching bag. He loves to see me purple and blue. His favorite colors. I heard the chimes before he even through his first punch. I think my boy knows what the fans want. They love seeing a snuff porn star beaten black, and blue.
As my face came up from the bowl of cocaine, my boy punched me. Not in the face though. He would never damage my sniffer. But the rest of my body is fair game. The more he punched me the more chimes I heard. He even bounced my head against the wall. Although I did not feel much because of the coke, I heard the ringing in my ears. Perhaps it disoriented me a bit. But my dizziness could have been all the coke I snorted too.
The real torture involved my 4th hole. Until he fucked my urethra, I thought I only had three holes to fuck. Nope. My ass used to be his favorite hole. He has fucked my ass so many times, and so hard in the past, I can push out my prolapse on command. And although I did show off my prolapse for my son and his home viewers, my pee hole took the brunt of his anger. My 4th hole is my tightest hole.
Mommy is nothing more than a punching bag. But like I said, I never mind. My boy loves me. He gets me coke. If he needs to use me as his ass rape porn star, destroy my urethra and beat me, so be it. Being his punching bag does not mean he does not love me. Although I am still sore as fuck, my son gave me enough coke to survive a beating from Mike Tyson.
I enjoy taboo phone sex. As a dirty mommy, I do taboo things daily. So, when guys ask me if I am no taboos, I laugh. My life is taboo. I learned to love incest and coke from my mother. She would do lines of coke and fuck my brother when he was a teenager. When I got married and had boys of my own, I followed in my mother’s footsteps.
However, the difference between my mother and me is that I cannot control my coke usage. My mother only snorted coke a few times a week. I am more like a several times a day. I am rarely not high. Perhaps, that’s the reason I find myself in so much trouble. I like working on a snuff phone sex line though. My life experiences often mirror my caller’s fantasies. I would not thrive on a vanilla line.
Even though I enjoy mommy rape fantasies, I like the more hardcore shit. Dismember me, beat me, even snuff me out on the phone. If you get off, I get off. My caller last night presented me with a Saw like torture fantasy. He thought I would say hell no. But I said hell yes. Creative men with sick fantasies might be my kryptonite. Seriously, I love a torture fantasy.
My caller kidnapped me while walking home from a drug deal. Of course, he took me to his place and did awful things to me. I mean he did the basic things to me also. He fucked me and beat me up. But then the fantasy got wild. He took my limbs off with a hacksaw. Slow torture sex gives me a wet pussy every time. And I can be a screamer. Big cock or big knife, I scream either way.
What a wonderful and brutal death this caller gave me. But now you must up your game. Think you can be as creative as he was for our snuff call?
Are you in the mood for violent phone sex? Many men are on and off the phone. The holidays bring out the worst in most of us. And some men just need a punching bag. Of course, I understand that some men need a punching bag year round like my stepson. I am here for the part-time and full-time abusers. It is the life of a druggy whore.
Soccer mom by day and punching bag by night. That’s the story of my life. Although I am a pain slut, sometimes guys take it too far. But I never have any say in it. I do it for free coke no matter what the cost to me. James got rough Friday night. I can barely move still. My husband thinks I fell down the basement stairs doing laundry. I needed to explain the bruises somehow that would not draw his suspicion.
Although I love my husband, he does not know me at all. He thinks I am a soccer mom. I am that, but I am a druggy whore more than anything. James knows I am a druggy whore. And he knows I will do anything for coke. So, he baited me to his place to party. I was not thinking snuff sex. All that was on my mind was cocaine. Mommy’s little helper, LOL.
You would think I would learn by now. I mean coke takes me down the darkest allies in the world. However, I know James. We party together often. He’s never laid a hand on me. Of course, we fuck. But he has never hit me. That all changed Friday night. I said something he misunderstood. Hell, I still do not know what I said. But it pissed him off and like a powder keg, he exploded.
With one wrong comment, I became his punching bag. And once he got a taste for beating up someone who would not fight back, he wanted more. I curled up like a ball on the floor, but he kept punching me and kicking me too. He told me it felt cathartic. So, he got out all his pent-up anger at the world on me. He compensated me with more coke. But this taboo phone sex whore feels like a truck ran over her two days later. The things I do for drugs.
Killer phone sex calls leave me dead or most times wishing I was dead. I am an anything goes woman. And I do mean anything including extreme torture and snuff. Billy calls me at least once a month. And I thank the powers that be it is not weekly. I know it is fantasy when a guy calls me for snuff, but he loves detailed, slow torture sessions.
Last night, I lost my limbs. But he only took a little at a time. Billy and I go back to when I first started phone sex. I reminded him of his whore mother. And he hated his mother. If you guys try to call me and I am tied up for hours, it is like Billy taking his sweet time dismembering me.
It started with a toe. Then it was a finger. And back and forth until he cut off all my fingers and toes. Just my toes and fingers were enough torture sex for me. But Billy had only just begun to enjoy our time together. He enjoys the pain and torment. The longer he can prolong both, the harder his cock gets. I cry, plead and beg for him to stop, but that only turns him on more.
He took my ears and my tongue too which was a first. Why? To prove that I am both deaf and dumb. I cried on the phone. I got so fucked up on coke that it seemed like I could feel that kind of brutal pain. Once he removed my ears and my tongue, I could not prepare myself for the pain that came next. I am a seasoned pain slut, but he used a chainsaw on my legs and arms.
And he started hacking off small parts of the limbs first. He did not just take the limb off in one motion. Not his style. He enjoys prolonging the misery. And he did. I am sure in real like he makes real snuff porn. The man seems too sadistic and too knowledgeable about dismemberment for this all to be fantasy.
Although I enjoy accomplice phone sex calls, I do not get them much. Most men I meet in my personal life and my phone sex life just want to abuse this red-head whore. So, any chance I get to help some guy abuse a little slut, I take it. Just means less time abusing me. Ralph offered me coke and weed to help him fuck this little twat that lives next door to him.
I told him Halloween might be the perfect time for us to kidnap a sweet little whore and he agreed. I lured her away while she trick or treated with her little schoolgirl pals. Even though I dressed like a witch, this little angel could tell I was a mature woman. She did not fear me. Honestly, I felt bad. As a mother I struggle with the accomplice role. But in the end, I would sell my soul to the devil for coke and weed.
I took the little angel to Ralph’s home. She never saw my face. I wore a mask and hid my red hair. And Ralph sported a Hannibal Lector mask so he could explore his rape phone sex fantasies with this little girl. Since she proved feistier than either of us expected, I gave her a shot of smack. Just a little. Not enough to kill her. Just enough to subdue her and cloud her memory. I gave her a get out of death card.
Ralph wanted to snuff the brat, but I explained that would bring more heat on us. Essentially with one shot, I fogged her memory making her an unreliable witness and I subdued her so her screams would not result in a noise nuisance call.
Ralph enjoyed fucking the little slut I brought him. And I enjoyed watching him fuck her. I am sure it felt like torture sex to her, but at least she got to live. I know a few men who would never let her live. However, I bet you are one of them. Sometimes, little sluts need snuff sex.
Snuff porn on Halloween? Most men say yes please to that. And most women say no thank you and run for the hills. Not me. I am not most women. I am dumb. Not so much dumb as desperate. I guess I am desperate for companionship and attention. But mostly desperate for a fix. And I discovered early on in my drug fueled states that violent men, abusive men and sadist men know how to take advantage of desperate druggy women like me.
Take Michael for example. I met him at a bar on Saturday night. He wanted to party back at his place. I knew he wanted to fuck me. But I did not mind fucking him if he gave me coke or cash to get coke. I did a line of premium coke off his dick in the bar bathroom. So, I knew he had the good stuff. And he knew why I went back to his house with him.
Since we went to his home, I did not think he was a snuff sex kind of man. Usually, men who mean me harm do not take me to their place where I might leave a DNA trail. But Michael saw me only as a piece of meat. A bar skank no one would miss. And he told me about his urges. This guy resembled Patrick Bateman. Appeared normal on the outside, but harbors dark thoughts about people, especially women.
When he told me I resembled his mother, I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble. I swear every fucked up abusive mother out there must be red headed like me. He pinned me against the wall and began to choke me. His strength amazed me. When he held me against the wall with only one hand on my throat, I tried to kick him away from me. But that only pissed him off.
He tossed me across his living room, and a lamp shattered on my head cutting me. As I whimpered and cried, he came over and began kicking me screaming things at me like I was his mother. Although I tried to crawl away from him, I could not. He was too strong and fast for me. When he turned me into his ass rape porn star, I thought he might let me go. But no. He had only just begun abusing me. He held me captive all night beating me, fucking me and calling me names.
When the sun came up, he let me go. Since my eyes swelled up and I could barely see, I could not drive home. He tossed me some coke and warned me about going to the cops. I sniffed some coke to dull the pain and called an Uber to get the fuck away from him.
Halloween brings out the bloody phone sex fans. Do you like it bloody, graphic and violent too? I do when it comes to fantasy. But in reality? No thank you. I do not like to bleed but I do not always have control over the matter. What am I saying? I never control anything in my life because I am a druggy whore.
When I got an invitation to a Halloween party, I did not think twice about it. No clue it might be a trap. When I arrived at the address, something felt off. The building had an ominous feel. Like I got serious horror film vibes. But I am not usually final girl material. Maybe the final whore. But never the hero of any story.
I knew this could be a snuff porn I walked into, but whoever invited me promised me drugs. When I heard a spooky voice, I instantly felt like I might be in a Saw flick. As I navigated this house of horrors, I needed to dodge trap doors and other deadly things. I could hear screaming. Female screams. I was not alone in this house. But I knew I would survive. I had to survive.
When I stepped on broken glass, I screamed too. Then I felt hands around my throat. I pulled a piece of glass from my foot and jabbed the arm around my throat. When the grip loosened, I ran. I mean I ran like Micheal Myers was on my heels. My feet looked like bloody stumps, but I made it to the end of the labyrinth. And my reward appeared to be a big bowl of coke.
A man stepped out from behind a curtain like the all-powerful Oz and told me I made it to the second level of the game. Who has this macabre man? He did not look familiar to me. He told me the second maze promised me even more coke if I survived. Although I knew this was fantasy phone sex, I knew I could still die.
But I wanted more coke. Unlike the Saw movies, I did not compete through sick games to survive. I competed to score coke. And I lost a few pints of blood in the process.
