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Breaking and Entering Blair

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This pretty little thing named Blair mentioned at a BDSM club that she had this fantasy of being held captive in her own house. Who am I to deny someone a fantasy that involves fear and torture? Of course, there was one caveat: I couldn’t kill her because one of my friends fancied her and wanted to play with her himself when the time was right.
I watched her, got her routine down, and then waited in her house. She was so clueless that I was there that I had to stifle chuckles. I watched her bathe and get ready for bed; after she was fast asleep, I bound her hands and then hogtied her. I blindfolded her; then, I gave the signal.2 girl call phone sex3

Slapping her across the face, she startled awake. Silly little thing tried to get loose for a few minutes; but she finally relented. I whispered, “Don’t struggle, little girl. After all, this is what you want.” She bit her lip almost to the point of it drawing blood. “It’s scarier in person, isn’t it, baby doll?” I said and brushed her hair back. I brought down my crop hard against the white flesh on her ass and down her back. “Oh, you’re going to bruise nicely…” I remarked.

The guys arrived and were ready by the looks of the stiffening between their legs. I sat by her face, reveling in her expressions as the men took turns abusing all of her holes, sometimes all at once. One of my favorite moments was when she had a big black cock shoved in her mouth and another in her asshole.I tore off the blindfold, certain that all she could see was my face. I told her what a worthless piece of trash she was and how she deserved all of this! Oh, the tears were lovely as she gagged on that massive cock and absorbed all of my stinging remarks.

When we were done with her, we untied her; but, she was too weak to move. I used one of her lipsticks to write “See you soon” on the bathroom mirror. I enjoyed watching her the next day, walking around so proud of her aches…but startled by any sound and person who neared her! What a fun little toy…Blair.

Calling all Sadists

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Several guys have solicited my services who think that they are so tough but tuck their tails and run at either gore or sweetness. They mock my sugary, southern accent…but how do you think that I catch such ripe, young prey?! You are fools if you think you can come at people with a hatchet and slaughter many. No, I prefer to gather them up like a sweet flock and mutilate and torture them. You must have patience and the thirst for sadism.

People ask if I cum, and that’s stupid. Of course, I do. But it’s from sadistic torturing, blood, guts, revenge, and fucking the dead holes of some skank or mother.

I am tired of this silly little game that some people play. I want fun…relentless cruelty. And, if you cannot laugh in the face of a munchkin’s face getting clawed open by a shovel, don’t call me. If you can—and I do hope that you can—add to this, call me NOW. Let’s have some fun and let our wicked minds run rampant. Do you dare? I do…I double-dare you!

Mummy’s Revenge

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I saw an advertisement on an online bulletin board that intrigued me; it was a college brat who wanted revenge against his pregnant girlfriend. I wasn’t sure if he was serious, but his anger sounded genuine and worth checking out. Sure enough, when we met at a coffee shop, he didn’t blink when he told me that he wanted his ex-girlfriend dead for cheating on him. I contrived a plan and he agreed.

We kidnapped that whore and tortured her, taking turns beating her with 2×4 planks of wood with nails that ripped her flesh. He struck her pussy with the sharp objects, laughing manically as she bled and cried in pain. She begged for her life, stupid bitch. We extracted each one of her teeth, her skull bleeding profusely. And, then he fucked her mouth with his hard cock while whispering that he was going to do the same to pink flesh inside of her. He was glad that he hadn’t gouged her eyes yet…because the look of horror was priceless.

I took the liberty of carving out her belly, flopping open the flesh and pulling the spawn out of her. She had several minutes to watch her ex-boyfriend spin it on his cock before bleeding out. Then, I told him that I wanted to mummify the spawn, fix it so that he could unwrap it and always fuck it whenever he wanted. I drained the blood and began the embalming process while he kicked around the corpse of his ex.

Today, I read in the paper that some stupid moron had jumped from a building; apparently, he had left a note that described his guilt and the horrid details of killing his ex alone. He was inconsolable, people said, because he learned that she was carrying his spawn. What a fuck-ton, I thought and laughed as a I finished my coffee. The paper didn’t mention anything about the mummified spawn; I guess he didn’t want to be remembered as a complete monster…what a douche-bag wimp!

Accomplice phone sex with the Mortician of Souls

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I got called in for an emergency; some old man had died and his wife demanded that he be embalmed and the funeral happen in 24-hours, which is not usual. I laughed and thought that the broad had probably gotten tired of his ass and killed him. Sure enough, when she showed up, she didn’t look like a widow: she had on a tight pink dress that showed her ample and fake cleavage. I overheard her talking about how her husband had left a note that all of this should take place A.S.A.P. because he didn’t want her to suffer through the loss longer than she had to. She had a dyke accompanying her, and I believe that was the real reason for the hurry.

I embalmed the stupid son-of-a-bitch; and, I caught a glimpse of why he died…poisoning. I wasn’t surprised, and I would have just let it go, but I thought of something better. I worked extra-hard and got him prepped in no time; then, I left but re-entered through the back. I had laced her sparkling water and waited for her to approve the body. She walked in and stood in horror; I had propped her deceased husband up, eyes open, and posed in a relaxed state. With the lighting, he looked like he was waiting on her. I jammed a cloth in her mouth before she started screaming; and, then, I laid her on my table. I told my boss that she had left and I returned to my victim, who was completely conscious now.

Happily I traced a pen around her breasts where I’m sure the incisions had been made for her breast augmentation. I carved out the flesh and then played with them in front of her, flicking the nipples. It was the best puppet show as the stupid bitch started to lose consciousness…but not before I slit her pretty little face and held a mirror up for her to see. Her last moments were looking at her own mutilated body and screaming; then, I took a picture of her holding a pair of scissors above her ripped torso. She had, after all, done this to herself! 

I put the breasts in the coffin, under the pillows of the old man; I thought he’d appreciate that gesture. Then, I buried the bitch in an animal graveyard. Poor thing left a note…that she had felt so sad about her husband’s death that she wouldn’t need any of the money and was disappearing to grieve; no one mentioned that the handwriting didn’t look like hers. Hahaha!

Suffocation and Leftovers

 Suffocation

On one of the message forums that I belong to, I read an interesting request. There was a woman who was looking for extreme suffocation play; and she rambled on about how one of her boyfriends had strangled her until she lost consciousness, but she had had the most amazing orgasm before she did. I laughed and thought she might be fun to play with; the dumb ones usually are. And, there her perky little smile was, staring back at me.

The cute little idiot coed visited my house for dinner. I always like to play with my food first. And, I invited my mentor along for the ride; I knew he liked big round butts, and she certainly had that. We dined and talked; her idle chatter was fueling my despicability for her. I dosed her wine with a little something, and my mentor reprimanded me, complaining that she would taste funny, but I told him it was just an herb…nothing too hard.

We restrained her; and when she woke up naked, the fear in her eyes was apparent. “Now, we’re going to give you what you came for, little girl,” I grinned. She tried to relax, but the imbecile didn’t even know what was coming. I pressed my fingers around her bird-like neck and watched the terror spread across her face. I let up and asked if she was liking it thus far; she “requested” that I be a little more gentle. “Like this?” I asked and held her throat closed for longer; my mentor’s evil brain began clicking and he placed a vibrator between her legs. I pushed the clear plastic around her face, smashed it.  We laughed at each other’s cleverness. I let her cough and struggle; but it was getting late and my mentor was eagerly awaiting his feast.

As a last touch, I took a pliable double-dildo out and wrapped around her bruised neck. I thought it was poignant that she be suffocated to death with what she wanted. And, my mentor enjoyed eating her plump, young flesh.

Dreams of the living dead

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I was startled awake by a wonderful dream that I didn’t want to end; I’m sure some people would’ve called it “ghoulish.” My youngest sister, who’d died when she was little, was walking around…maturing as a teen but still decomposing. She took my hand and walked through various graveyards, showing me which ones were her victims and how she mutilated them. Then, she took me to the park, where she found a set of twins on a seesaw; she went over and talked to them and they followed her. I admired her choice in victims and watched smugly as my little sister led them to an abandoned factory building. It looked like she had spent years accumulating different torture devices, some that were antique and I would’ve loved to have! She allowed me to choose one of the twins and then the fun began. We took turns torturing our innocents, as if we were playing a board game. We laughed as we slung bats with spikes in the girls’ legs, tore at the girl’s flesh with our teeth, and gouged out their eyes. We were having so much fun that we were delaying their deaths; but, of course, we couldn’t resist for too long. She strangled hers, pressing her hands tightly around the small larynx until it was crushed. I always prefer the bloodier route: I cut her in half, from head to torso. I thought it was fitting to make her a twin of herself as if in some sort of twisted irony. We sat in the pool of blood and held hands…and I finally knew that she had never left me!

Uncle Don’s Ghostly Visit

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I had the strangest experience, and I would think it was a dream except for…well, you’ll see!

This Friday the 13th at midnight, I was awoken by chimes, which is weird since I do not have a grandfather clock in my house. So, I went downstairs and there was this faded black-and-white image sitting in my chair and drinking my scotch. “Well, now, there she is. Sleep head, aren’t you?” He smiled and walked toward me. I moved away, not because I was afraid…but because I was cold! “Someone told me you were the gal to see about my unusual appetites,” he winked and motioned me to follow him.

We walked to the nearby playground; and, sure enough, there was a young girl in the swing and another one climbing on monkey bars. “Let’s take them home, Pandora,” he whispered in a maniacal voice. And, we did; they seemed eerily willing to follow him without him even saying a word. When we returned to my house, he instinctively went to my dungeon downstairs. The girls laced their fingers and placed them demurely in their laps. He pointed to one and she came to him. He lifted her dress over her head, the curls falling against her shoulders; and, he rolled her panties down before bending her over to touch her puffy pussy. Spreading her ass cheeks, he fingered her, opened her up; then, he pulled out his cock and put her on his lap, bouncing her up and down. She didn’t even scream. “Now take care of her,” he said and waved his hand at me.

I took care in chopping her up, not taking as much joy in slicing her throat as I normally would because I was a little perplexed by the grey figure who was with me. The other little girl stared blankly at me as I dismembered her friend and Uncle Don forced his cock in her mouth. After he was done, he slapped his hands and passed the blank girl to me. I began dismembering her, too; behind me, he said, “There. That should take care of the little bastards.” When I turned around, he was gone…but the bodies were still there, and there was a wet ring where his scotch glass had been.

My evil beginnings

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One of my favorite poets named Anthony Hecht said, “It doesn’t seem to me strange that little ones should like the macabre, the sensational, and the forbidden.” I wish my parents would have felt the same way. But, they didn’t. Instead, they pushed me around different mental wards, physically reprimanded me, and whatever they thought was best. The irony is that those experiences only helped intensify the darkness inside of me and gave me ingenious ideas about how to torture my future victims.

For instance, in the ward, I met this young girl who was about my age. She was crazy, but I still found ways that I could learn from her. She would slash her wrists and write messages on the wall. But what I remember most is this one time that she had to go to a funeral. She was able to choose one “friend,” and she chose me, probably because most young people and grown-ups were scared of me.

So, we got to the funeral; instead of sitting with her family members, she walked directly to the front and examined the body with curiosity. With determination, she lifted her small body above the coffin and to the corpse. She opened the dead old woman’s mouth, grabbed her tongue between her little fingers, and produced a pair of scissors. I don’t know where she was able to get the scissors, but it seemed that she had a plan: she cut off the purple tongue and without blinking put it in her pocket. She closed the old woman’s mouth and turned around.

I don’t know if anyone saw what she did; but no one did anything except rip the scissors away from her hand. Maybe all the grown-ups were too busy morning, or whatever they do; or maybe they knew that they couldn’t do anything about the crazy girl and just pretended that it didn’t happen. Regardless, at that moment, I felt a sisterly bond with the girl. She was one of the first to give me the courage to embrace the dark side inside of me, and to help it grow. From time to time, she’d take out the tongue at the ward and we’d both look at it, poke at it, smell it. I was the first to lick it; and she giggled. I still wonder if anyone took the tongue away from her; why would they, what could they do with it? After all, how could they appreciate such a thing of beauty, this mutilated tongue?

Crash: Part Two

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I took the opportunity to go look at the brat and woman more closely; I wondered if they were truly dead.  Everyone took for granted that they would be…or would be soon.  The brat was making gurgling noises in the back of its throat, choking on its own worthless blood.  I wouldn’t mind hacking the body up a bit more, I thought; but, my attention was caught by a shadowy figure above me.  She was blonde and had a leg brace.  “I did that crash, but I survived.  Only got it half right,” she said and motioned to her prosthetic leg.  She was pretty, and I thought she would look even prettier on my mortuary table.

I seduced her into returning home with me.  She was easy to coax into my dungeon, curious at everything.  She instinctively hobbled onto the table, and undressed; yes, I liked her.  When I came closer, she kissed me and I felt a sexual sensation run through my veins.  She took off her brace…and seemed, again, to read my mind.  “Cut it open,” she whispered and kissed me again.  I peeled back the flesh with a knife and stuck my fingers into her open wound.  She reclined and watched as I jabbed my fingers into the open hole, blood spurting everywhere.  She moaned and seemed to cum; and, uncharacteristically, I bandaged her back up.  I wanted to know more about her…before doing away with her completely.  But, I already had a plan for decapitating her and kicking her head around the field where the crashes took place.

Crash: Part One

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One of my friends told me that I had to see this underground scene where people are obsessed with famous car crashes and recreate them. But, the beauty, he said, was that they recreate them with authenticity…which means that real people die in them! I was fascinated.

When we arrived, I met this guy who had scars all over his face and body; he was proud of them, letting me touch them. He seemed to get a sexual thrill out of me touching and admiring them. One especially long scar was on his chest; it was almost over an inch wide, and it must have been one gorgeous gash when it happened. I would have liked to put my finger in that bloody tissue before they’d sewn it up. I scratched my long nails against it, smiling with excitement, thinking I might get the chance to do that later.

The show was about to begin. I could see a mother and her daughter crawl into the front seat of one; and, a drunk guy crawled into the other car. The game was on: two older cars (that had no significance to me because I wasn’t born before the significant crash happened) revved up their engines. The crowd hooped and hollered. I felt like I had found kindred spirits.

When the cars collided, the sound of bent metal permeated the air; smoke, gasoline hung close. The little brat was ejected out of the car like a cannon ball. The bloody small body lay only a few feet away from us; I was compelled to walk over to it, but I was also enjoying the woman stagger out of the car. Her face was bloody and people began to clap once she slung her one leg out of the car. Apparently, she had succeeded perfectly with amputating one of her legs during the crash. She walked a pace or two and fell over, presumably dead from the gushing blood. The drunk guy emerged with blood to his head but a bottle of beer in his hand. Everyone applauded and my thirst for blood and violence was far from clenched…