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Tuam Memento Mori

Sadistic phone sex

Is it just me. or does anyone else think of Demons when you see, or hear Latin? Not a bad thing to think of after all, they are pretty cool when you think about it.  Now onto the topic of this blog, Tuam Memento Mori -Remember Your Death is what it translates to.  I like to think that when someone who I have helped pass over that they remember what happened, and that the fear, pain, and sadness lasts for their eternity.  Although I do not particularly believe in the after life, but hey, you never know.  

All those tender pussies, ripped apart between the legs of some little slut that was asking for it, and remembering me.  Those uppity bitches who needed to die because they cheated on their husbands, those fuckers who hurt someone and that person wanted pay back.  Anybody who I have had a hand in ending just floating around with the damage and pain still fresh.  I hope it makes their afterlife excruciating.  I hope that some how they are able to hold onto a little piece of me, like a loved one who wears a locket of a family member long gone.

However, the way I remember their deaths is with a sick satisfaction, a happiness if you will.  I relive every second of every screamed filled session, basking in the knowledge that I caused that pain and I have to admit, that does make my pussy rather wet.  Sometimes I go out and pick up someone to have a quick fuck.  I tend to freak guys out though because I will have them beg, or  plead, or scream for me, some of them will do it, other’s won’t and get scared.  I just think it makes it better when I’m riding them hard (I am always on top) and see them either get into it, or watch as they try to stop and I won’t let them and fuck them anyway.

Blood Money

 

Bloody phone sex

The call came in that help was needed.  I do have a few friends but not many, so when one of them calls to ask for help I go, no questions asked.  When I arrived he was sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette, his hand was shaking like crazy.  He didn’t look at all well.  I sat down next to him and asked him what was wrong.  He told me that his son had made a mistake, a huge mistake and that he was in the house.  As I got up to go into the house to find out just what the hell was going on he grabbed my hand, looked up at me and said, “I’ll pay you what ever you want, just take care of it.” 

Now I was very curious.  I walked into the house, it was dead quiet.  It seemed that his son had left, then I heard someone moving around upstairs.  As I got to the top of the steps his son appeared.  He was covered in blood, he had it in his hair, his chest, his under ware, legs, he looked like he just stepped out of a horror movie.  He just pointed into the bathroom.  I went in to see what was what.  There she was, crumpled in the tub.  I couldn’t tell where the actual wounds were, I stepped closer to sit on the edge of the tub.

She looked almost angelic with her blue eyes staring straight ahead, brown hair up over the lip of the tub, making a halo.  I traced my fingers over her face, she was still warm, I checked for a pulse but there was none.  I stood up, brought my finger to my mouth and sucked off the blood.  I turned to look at my friend’s son.  I asked him what happened.  He told me that they were having sex and he got carried away, he was choking her and went too far.  Okay, but why was there all that blood if she was choked? Plus it takes a lot of force to actually strangle someone, it isn’t like it is in the movies, it takes a while and a shit load of pressure over a long period of time, so his story was a bunch of shit, but hey, who am I to judge.

He went on to explain that after he realized she was dead he didn’t know what to do so he put her in the tub then decided that the best course of action would be to dismember her, clean up, then dump the parts somewhere before his Dad got home.  What this Einstein didn’t realize that it takes a lot of effort and time to dismember a body.  It isn’t like cutting into a piece of bread, especially if you are only using a knife.  I asked him if anyone knew she was there, he said no because he picked her up because she was hitch hiking and as far as he knew she didn’t even have a cell phone.  I told him to take a shower, put some gloves on, get a trash bag and put her stuff into it and go and put it in my car.  

I had to spend the whole night taking care of that damn mess.  I have no clue of who she was because he was right, no cell phone, I didn’t even find a wallet, just some money in her jeans, a few pieces of clothing in her backpack and some gear for doing Heroine, other than that she was just some chick who decided to fuck the wrong guy.  Something good did come out of the whole thing though, I made a nice little chunk of money.

The Taste of Them

Snuff phone sex

Copper.  That’s what it tastes like.  Thick, metallic, crimson, and beautiful. That’s how they taste afterward, but before then it is a much different story.  Sweat, salty, tangy, the fear is just divine.  I have seen you, your mouth pressed against those bald pussies.  Pressing in as deep as you can while they beg you to stop.  You tell the how good they are being, but it really doesn’t matter what you say, they know what you are doing is wrong.  Sometimes they cry, but you like that don’t you.  I know I do.  

You touch their face, hovering over them, blocking out the light, obscuring your face.  You press one finger to your lips shushing them.  Their eye wide, hopeful, you begin to spread their legs as wide as you can get them.  The screaming starts, high pitched, as you press your cock into that tiny little space.  Of course you cannot get it all in, but you try.  How dare she be such a slut, teasing you day after day.  Wearing those little dresses, tight little leggings, she knew what she was doing.

She was just waiting for you to make the first move, and now all she does is pretend not to want you.  You just have to be a little bit more … persuasive. You go deeper, you feel something tear, but you don’t care, she needs to learn.  She needs to learn not to tease then not put out.  Better she learn now then later, this will be your good deed for the day.

She gasps for breath as you start to pound into her, then you see her look at you, you see hatred in those big eyes.  You stop, you realize she lied to you, she didn’t want to be with you, she was just like all the rest of them.  You thought she was different, but she wasn’t.  This just makes you angry, and it should.  Little bitches like her shouldn’t play with people’s emotions.  You get up as she collapses sobbing for her Mommy.  Her Mommy is probably a slut just like her daughter.

You grab your pocket knife.  You get back between her legs, she starts to beg again, that just makes it worse.  You can’t help yourself, you plunge back into her as the blade sinks into her tender flesh.  Now her screaming is more intense, you bring the knife to your lips, smearing the crimson liquid before licking it off.  She tastes amazing.  You want more.

You shudder as you watch her blood spill slowly down her titties, soft pink nipples that are barely there  take on the color of her blood, you lean down to suck it off of them.  You explode inside of her, you bring the blade to her pretty soft neck, you slice over her throat, cutting, slitting her jugular as the hot warm blood spurts all over you.  You look down at her face, her eyes go dull.  You toss her out like the lying trash she is.  Pity, you had hoped that this time she wouldn’t be one of those teasing whores.  Luckily for you there are plenty more out there, and you are determined to find the one of your dreams.

Feeding The Trees

 

Snuff phone sex

Everything thrives off the death of something else.  Death is a necessary part of life.  Even vegans kill things, but veggies do not have a face, so they eat them, I hate to tell them this, but killing is killing.  However, you can make killing fun.  It doesn’t have to be a fucking somber time.  The lead up is sometimes more satisfying than the act it’s self.  All that planning, the stalking, making sure you have the right equipment, finding a place to play, then to dispose of the lifeless fuck-rag. All of it gets my cunt wet just thinking about it.

Having a place to take the prey is critical.  Spare of the moment shit always backfires, that is how people get caught.  Nothing is worth rushing over.  Taking time is what makes the experience worthwhile.  Instilling fear is the first thing, the unfamiliar, the brutality administered over a long time, erratic in it’s timing. It throws them off, making them on constant alert, it is exhausting for them.  Placing them in a place with no outside light, no outside sound, no way of knowing time, that will break anyone.

Once you get them at that point, right at the tipping point, you bring them back.  Showing care, kindness, regret, you gain their trust, then you start all over again.  The emotional as well as the physical pain is a must.  Make it last, days, weeks, months, but never ever hold onto them longer than that. The day arrives where you simply must do away with them.  They become tiresome after a while, and you will crave something new.  They are bruised, even fucking them has lost it’s fun because they just slip away into themselves.  What fun is that?  No screaming, no crying, no protesting, just dead weight. 

One piece at a time you take from them.  Keeping them alive by cauterizing wounds and cuts.  You bury those chucks of your prey deep, no animal will find them, no people will stumble across them, the only thing that knows that those juicy piece of flesh are there are the trees, and they are grateful for the nourishment.

Do Tread On Her

Killer phone sex

 

Upscale society bitches really piss me off to no end.  I abhor every damn thing about them.  It isn’t the fact that they have money, it is the fact that they are so damn idiotic.  That much stupidity packed into such a small space is mind boggling. I don’t care if they have companies, I don’t care if they are a CEO, bitches with that much money have no idea how the real world works, even if they came from dirt poor families, they forget.  Most of these flesh puppets never even have to work, they are born into a world where nothing matters to them but themselves.  Not that I give a shit for others either, but it is different with them.

If I could, I would take one of those cunts to a secluded place, and keep them there.  Every day I would do something a little more violent, although to them breaking a fucking nail would be the worst possible thing that could ever happen.  I can just imagine me standing over them, them begging, pleading, offering me money, blah blah blah.  I don’t need that shit, I can make my own money.  Me spitting into their face then taking a nice long piss into their mouth, before kicking them in their head to make them shut the fuck up.  

After a very long time of playing with them, starving them, violating every orifice I could with what ever I could find, leaving pretty bruises all over their once flawless skin, I would begin the life ending act.  Would I use a knife? No.  Would I hang them from meat hooks before gutting them? No.  What I would do is stomp them to death.  I would start at the very bottom.  Break those toes beneath the weight of my foot, crack the knee, watch the patella  disintegrate before my eyes while they scream in pain.  I am pretty sure the little shit would pass out at this point, so I would drink, watch some netflix, and wait until they regain consciousness, then get back to it.  

I know that by the time I reach their sternum that they will have figured out that I was working my way up their useless body and that they would soon be just some floppy dead cunt tossed into a lake somewhere. I might even prolong the agony.  I usually don’t like begging, I hate it actually, but to hear them beg for their shallow lives right before I crush their skull in could actually be fun.  Then after they were crushed, broken, bruised and of course dead, I just might have to take some time to play with my magnificent pussy a few times before dumping them like the true pieces of trash they are.

A Kiss Goodbye

Sadistic phone sex

Those lips, those pouty, full, perfect lips.  Soft, warm, untouched, parted ever so slightly.  This isn’t a princess in some fairy tale, this is prey in a nightmare of our making.  I run my fingers lightly from the ankles up the leg to the shattered pelvis, up the small incisions in the stomach placed there to induce a scream or two.  There were more than usual since she decided to try to be brave, keep it all in, the pain, the fear, show us that she couldn’t be broken so that we might give up.  That never happens though, we always finish.

My hand moves up across those barely there breasts watching as her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath.  They are tender to the touch, she flinches back slightly, she has no fight left, no energy, no hope.  I watch as bruises start to form, turning from red to that lovely deep color as the blood pools below the skin.  Traveling up her clavicle, broken, fractured as a matter of fact. I study the sheer white of the bone protruding from the skin, jagged.  Up to the nape of the neck, already yellowing bruises forming from fingers pressed tightly into her flesh.

Then up to that mouth.  I brush my thumb over it.  Thinking back to how it looked slipping up and down your hard cock.  Her cries being stopped from the manic thrusts which press your throbbing head into her throat time and again.  I stand at the top of the table by her head.  Looking down at her I notice that her eyes loose focus,  she knows what is coming, she is trying to slip away into her safe place to pretend this isn’t really happening. Oh, but it is.

The table wobbles slightly under your weight as you spread her legs to make room for you.  I toss you the ropes that have been previously tied to the legs of the table, you wrap each one around her thighs, tossing the unused portion back to me so that I can secure it to the legs as well.  The rope digs in, I can see her skin being pinched, the lower part of her legs turning pink, then red.  The circulation is being cut off, she moans, her eyes go blank, one single tear trails down from the corner of her right eye to splash on the table.

You rub your dick over her swollen cunt, sore, red, raw.  You press in, another moan from her, you start to move, more tears, her eyes begin to focus on my face.  I can see the pleading in them, yet those lips do not move to protest, more tears, she knows it will be better for her soon, she will be helped so that she can slip away, but not yet, you aren’t done but you are close.  I lower my head down as your noises become more guttural, the table legs slightly scraping on the floor, filling the almost empty room with bangs as you pump into her.  I put my lips close to her ear, waiting for you to cum, I whisper “Goodbye fuck rag” just as you release your hot sticky jizz deep into her. I then place one last kiss upon her lips so I can taste her last scream as you finish her off.

Green Eyed Monster

Snuff phone sex

“Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretense of keeping it alive.” ~ Havelock Ellis

I very much enjoy seeing jealous feelings in others.  I myself do not get jealous, there is nothing for me to be jealous of, I don’t like people enough to be jealous of them.  However, when that ‘green eyed monster’ rears it’s head in others, oh, how spectacular it can be.  Watching as people spiral down, seeing the depression set in, the obsession, the crazy, the whole delicious thing.  Granted, not all people fall all the way, but there is always that one, that one that goes above and beyond all others.  How is it that you can supposedly love someone so much that you kill them because they no longer love you? That is fucking hilarious!

Knowing that right now there are men and women out there who are plotting the death of someone that they state they love so much that they can’t be without them.  I’m crazy, I admit that, but those that I am speaking of are in a league all their own.  Perhaps I don’t understand it because I don’t love.  Let me rephrase that, I do not love people, I have never loved anyone, never will.  I think I am incapable of it which is fine.  I am not missing anything.  If I want to get fucked I go and get fucked, but other than that I really don’t want to be with someone day in and day out.  That would be horrid. Anyway, let us get back to it.

The best part of this whole jealousy thing is, that only one of the two know what is going to happen.  There is the jealous one, and the one who has moved on.  Can you imagine how shocked they will be when they find themselves in danger? Maybe it will be a simple gun shot right to the head.  Or perhaps some torture will be involved, dismemberment, evisceration, skinning, and so on and so forth. All because the person you loved, no longer loves you. Just once, I would really like to take part in one of these killings.  I wouldn’t want to get involved, but I sure as hell would want to watch. I want to see that dragon take it’s victim by the throat and bite down.

By the way, killing someone with a gun is a pussy move.  If you are going to kill someone, put some flair into it for christ sake.  It might be the only chance you ever have of taking a life, so make it your opus.  

Little Pig, Little Pig, Let Me In

Snuff phone sex

We are either Wolves or pigs, one preys upon the other.  All those not on my level I consider pigs.  Some say pigs are smart, cute, majestic, and are wonderful creatures.  Pigs are nothing more than food, grunting, and worthless.  Their only defense is their squeal, they have no real power.  Fat Sows and Hogs taking up space, rolling in dirt, snorting, just disgusting things. At least that is how I see them.  That is how I see 99% of all the people on the face of this Earth.  Young and old alike. 

Imagine, scaring the shit out of some babysitter and her piggies.  How much damn fun would that be? Knocking on the door, wearing a wolf mask, just yelling Little Pig, Little Pig, Let Me In! Oh how those piggies would squeal, but little do those piggies realize but wolves hunt in packs.  The distraction at the door means the other wolves can sneak in the back, grab all the piggies and I can just walk into the front door. 

What happens to pigs when they get to be the right size?  They are butchered.  No emotion, no thought given to the other pigs watching, just gutted, cleaned, chopped up and then consumed.  The biggest pig goes first.  Oh how those little pigs would yell, cry, beg, maybe even piss themselves as they watch the biggest, strongest piggy get killed.  That pig was supposed to protect the little ones.  Now with the sow gone, what is going to happen to them?  Such wonderful, vile things, that is what.  Wolves of the world unite and get your piggies because the Hunt is beginning.

The First Of Many

Torture phone sex

There we were.  Just you and I, and our special guest.  I will never forget how they looked as we waited for them to wake up.  I also remember how your cock jumped when I slapped her down on the floor of the van.  She was knocked out cold.  I even took a moment to pull her tiny t-shirt up and run my tongue over those puffy nips, before climbing into the passenger seat so we could take off. 

Once inside I had to almost laugh because you were extremely excited.  You just kept walking over here, messing with your belt trying to get your zipper down.  The fact that your hands were shaking made it possible for me to step in to shoo you away.  You had wanted this for so long that I didn’t want you to waste it.  This one would matter, it would be your first.   I wanted you to take your time, enjoy it.  Go too fast then you would look back with regret.  I didn’t want that for you.

We drank some beers in silence.  Then those eyes fluttered opened, the look of panic on her face made your dick grow again.  I went over and whispered in her ear, telling her some of the things that were going to happen to her.  The tears started, I licked some of those salty drops from her cheeks while looking at you.  You downed another beer then got up. 

She was tied so tightly to that chair, the sound of those chair legs scraping around the floor as you made her scream will live on in my memory forever.  The abuse to the flesh was amazing, I didn’t think she would survive it, she did though.  Then we moved her to the sofa where she was made to scream again, over and over until I had to stop her screaming once and for all.  You thrusting into her, violently as my fingers slipped around her throat.  I wasn’t sure which you enjoyed more, the sound of her neck snapping or the unbelievable orgasm you had.

Bath Time Killer phone sex

Killer phone sex

Babysitting is not my thing.  Killer phone sex is.  However, if you combine the two, one could have a real fucking great time.  When I was younger I would; on occasion; babysit the brats two streets over.  I hated them.  Their big eyes, their tiny bodies, their dimples, their high pitched little voices.  All of that shit.  I remember the female had these fluffy pink footie pajamas that I used to have to put on her after she took her bath.  The male  had fluffy blue ones.  Why? Why do this? Stop dressing your vaginal discharges as fluffy things, fluffy things get eaten. 

Once, their parents went out of town for three days.  I had to be in that house with them.  Sure the money was good, but having to deal with them and their happy selves was almost more than what I could bare. One night while I was giving Ginny her bath she slipped, banged her head on the faucet pretty hard, then slipped into the water.  I had to grab her.  She started to cry and bleed.  Just a little cut on her forehead.  Nothing major, but any cuts to the head area will bleed like a son of a bitch.  I was mesmerized.

One tiny drop went into the water.  It swirled around, grew tendrils, floated downward, then dissipated into the water. I still remember that.  All of a sudden I had the urge to reach up, grab her Dad’s razor, slice her throat, lay her down in the tub and watch the dance of the blood mixing with the water.  It made me feel calm.  It made me feel horny.  I imagined these huge billows of red blooming from the wound, turning the clear water into a red heaven.  All the while she would be floating in it, her eyes wide open, her hair splayed out above her like a halo.  Her soft, warm body turning paler, her lips becoming a perfect shade of bluish purple while her gaping neck wound continued to release the precious liquid that had kept her alive up until now. 

Then I thought how nice it would be to grab her Brother only to do the same thing to him.  Both of them, forever perfect, floating, their bodies bobbing in synchronization.  Me getting into the tub with them after there was the barest sliver of life left, humming them a lullaby as they drifted off into the warm long sleep. I would sit and caress them, bathe myself in their bloody bath water, relishing every second of it.  I would take my time, use their bodies to pleasure myself while they still twitched, barely alive, until they just stopped bleeding. 

I didn’t do that of course, I mean I would of been caught pretty damn quickly.  This is one of the defining moments that helped create my love of death, the love of hurting little things, and the love of killing.