Most commented posts
- Cannibalism Phone Sex: Why I love Fall! — 98 comments
- Snuff Sex with a Little Girl — 14 comments
- Make Snuff Porn, Don’t Watch It — 13 comments
- Snuff Porn in a Haunted Corn Maze — 13 comments
- Snuff Porn Cannibal — 8 comments
Mutilation phone sex is something I excel at. Nobody takes more time to thoroughly mutilate a victim like me. It’s because I get off on the torture. Although I do kill people quickly out of self-preservation, I prefer to torture for hours before I put some loser out of his or her misery. And I’m armed with all sorts of sharp instruments that make perfect accomplices for mutilating a body.
Last night, I just felt in the mood to fuck someone up. And in walked this vain drunk coed home for summer. She did not realize she entered a Goth bar. She started insulting my people and got herself kicked out. How does somebody that young become so mean. She started telling girls they looked like ghosts or a corpse pulled out of its grave. She said some mean things even for me. Although I might seem like a mean girl to my victims, I’m really a nice person. I would never insult somebody for their looks unless they deserved it.
I didn’t want to kill this girl. However, I wanted to explore some torture sex options with her. So, I followed her home. Normally, I might stalk my prey more, but I suspected that she lived alone in this little studio apartment in the bad part of town. Just some broke ass loser, girl who likes to insult others to make herself feel better about her pathetic existence. Most coeds stay with their parents during the summer break. But either this girl burned her bridges with her parents or she cut them off. Either way it didn’t matter. Nobody could save her now.
I broke into her apartment easily. Honestly, I think my kill shack in the middle of the wilderness smells better than her apartment. I used chloroform so that she wouldn’t scream for help. I needed to get the ball gag in her mouth and tie her up before she woke up. When she did, she found herself strapped to her coffee table, naked. Although she seemed awake, I don’t think she comprehended the severity of the situation. She still ran her mouth. Muffled but I could still hear, “you bitch,” through the ball gag.
I pulled out my knife and carved ugly on her forehead. It will leave a scar and serve as a constant reminder that actions come with consequences. I wore an executioner’s mask so she could not identify me and I never spoke. However, I don’t think she knows who I am. I blend in with the woodwork even as a goth girl in public spaces. And that’s because I know how to become invisible when I need to.
And I carved Cunt on one breast and whore on the other. Good luck explaining that to future lovers. This girl needed kicked off her pedestal. She felt too high and mighty for living in a studio apartment. Major attitude. However, I think I took a little bit of the fight out of her. Having a sick bitch carve into your flesh can feel exhausting. And I carved up just about every inch of her flesh. A one point, she begged me to kill her.
But I did not want this to turn into a snuff porn. This was revenge torture. Revenge for being a self-entitled little mean bitch. Now every time she looks into a mirror, she will see the scar in the letters UGLY. And she will be reminded of her ugly soul. Maybe that’ll force her to be nicer to others. I doubt she will show her face in public again. And she might go to the cops, but I don’t care. I feel safe because no doubt that little bitch made a lot of enemies over the years. Hopefully, I’ve slowed down her reign of hell.
Blasphemy sex makes my cunt wet. But I’m not religious at all. I don’t believe in God, and I don’t believe in the church. The funny thing is people ask me if I’m a Satanist all the time. But to believe in the devil you must believe in God because they’re opposites on the same spectrum. I can’t believe in one and not the other. So, I don’t believe in either. However, I do find it entertaining to desecrate a church. And kill some ultra-religious tradwife type.
That’s what I did this weekend. I found this trad wife influencer and did a little digging. I can find anybody’s IP address easily. That lets me find out all sorts of things. And I found out all sorts of things about her. Things completely against everything she preaches.
But I had no desire to expose her to her lemmings. I just wanted to kill her for her hypocrisy. Preaching to women that they need to be dependent on their husbands financially while she’s making over 1 million a year in endorsements and shit. Now I find her followers stupid as fuck if they can’t put two and two together. But if you cut the head off the snake, the rest die.
I wanted to make a religious snuff porn with her. A so-called good Catholic wife. Now a dead Catholic wife. My little film turned out brutal and bloody, of course. I nailed her naked body to the cross above the baptismal tub in the main church area. And I did this for a reason. When I plunged my knife into her soft belly, I cut up towards her sternum. And I filled that tub with her blood and guts.
Before I gutted her, I let her know her sins. I called her out as a hypocrite. Told her I knew she didn’t make bread from scratch. She bought it wholesale. Told her I knew she didn’t sew her own clothes. And I pointed out that although she claims she makes nothing from being a tradwife influencer she made over $1 million last year alone making her one big fucking hypocrite. Her followers seem dumb. She amassed over 1 million followers. And I cannot find the time and energy to hunt them all down.
So, I killed their queen instead. And I watched her die slowly and painfully while bleeding out into that tub. Then I hopped in and bathed in her bloody entrails. I love bloody phone sex baths. They feel warm and provide the secret to looking young. At this rate, I might live forever. Drinking and bathing in the blood makes my skin baby soft. I’m not a satanist. But I am a sadistic bitch who hate hypocrisy and religion, and all the bullshit that comes with it.
Bloody phone sex seems perfect for a self-proclaimed gore whore. I grew up watching horror movies and gaining a strong affinity for bloody massacres. What can I say? I’m very visceral. I respond positively to the sight of blood. I love the feel of it. And I like the taste of it too.
Perhaps you could call me a vampire. I do love blood. Plus, I have the most fun after midnight. And summer is here so that means the bars become packed with college fuckers home for summer break. For the most part, I find the college boys and girls vapid and rabid. I don’t mean literally rabid.
But I think most people understand that college boys and girls are among the meanest folks around. Self-entitled mean girl behavior never gets rewarded. In fact, with me, it makes you a target. A target of my wrath. And I thought she might make a perfect snuff porn star.
Last night I met a vapid and very rabid coed. I tried to blend in looking less Goth like and more normal. I sat at the bar, watching these bitches in action. And I took personal offense to this blonde prissy bitch who started body shaming other girls in the bar. She’s nothing more than a bully. And she needed to die.
So, I spiked her drink and acted like her Uber driver. I read rooms extremely well. So, I knew she did not come with anybody. That seemed part of the problem. She lacked a wolf pack. So, I acted like her Uber driver and took her to my kill shack in the woods. Although during Covid, I built an underground dungeon extension to my house with a tunnel that leads out into the middle of the woods. I like to use this shack in the woods when I’m going to make a bloody mess.
The drugs kicked in during the Uber ride, and she passed out in the back of my car. Woke up, stripped naked and tied to a wood table. This cabin my grandfather left me looks primitive like the cabin in the Evil Dead movies. When this girl woke up, she immediately started spewing her bullshit.
So, I told her she was about to meet her maker. I can’t tolerate bad behavior. Perhaps it’s safe to call me a vigilante. I just possess a very low threshold for what I will kill for. And body shaming some woman publicly in a bar earned her the right to die.
Normally, I would prolong the torture sex. That’s part of the fun for me not just the bloody mess that happens afterwards. But everything that leads up to that bloody massacre, I enjoy too. However, her shrill voice annoyed the fuck out of me. I put duct tape over her mouth, but I could still hear her. So, I ended up cutting the torture part short and plunging my knife right into her belly button. And I pulled that knife all the way up to her sternum and watched her die as I held her entrails in my hands. I like to cut a bitch because it creates a bloody mess.
I hosed off her DNA. But I know one of those medical black lights will catch the blood splatter. These floors may look clean, but they’re all saturated with the blood of my victims over the decades. But the only thing ever left behind is a little DNA. Because I dragged her body out to the woods and let nature serve as my accomplices. Some folks just deserve to die. And that bitch was one of them.
Torture sex might be the only kind I enjoy. Although I am a far cry from a virgin, I’m hardly a slut either. I’m very picky about my sexual partners. And I do have a lot of rules. Rules that most girls don’t. But men can never follow my rules. Either they don’t believe me or they don’t think I will follow through. But I always follow through.
Obviously, being a Goth girl and a sadistic bitch makes traditional dating sites useless to me. And I never plan to marry or start a family. But I like to fuck every now and then. And sometimes I get tired of sex toys. So, I look for a good match on the Dark Web. There I can find some chat rooms and meet like-minded men.
So, when Dan and I started talking, he seemed like an equally sick pervert. He understood my rules. Or at least he said he did. They never do. But I keep trying because at least I know I will enjoy the snuff sex experience when I kill my mate. Dan lives an hour away. So, we agreed to meet last night. We went to my Goth bar for some drinks and then back to my place to fuck.
I made my rules clear to him. But as soon as the clothes came off, he started doing all the things I told him not to do. He used pet names for me. But I don’t like to be called honey, sweetheart, baby or any of that sentimental crap.
In fact, when any man calls me that I want to puke. And then I want to start stabbing and slicing his flesh. I also have a very clear no spooning rule. That’s the kind of shit for a girlfriend not a fuck buddy. Especially not a sadistic fuck buddy like me.
So, Dan not only lost his dick and balls, but he also lost his life. I hide a knife under my mattress for such encounters. Some people call me a black widow, but that doesn’t fit. I’m not marrying these guys and killing them for their money. I’m more like a praying mantis who bites the head off her male lovers after copulation. So, while riding his dick, I reached for my knife that I store under the mattress, and I sliced his balls off while his dick remained inside of me.
He bled all over my sheets. But I did not mind. I love blood. I’m a gore whore. So anytime I can enjoy bloody phone sex I go for it. I hopped off his dick when I sliced his balls off because of course, he went limp. Sort of like cutting the head off a snake. Now, of course I could’ve just left him a no ball wonder, but he deserved to die. He didn’t take me seriously. And he didn’t listen to my rules. I don’t take shit from anyone.
He learned the hard way. And he lost his balls and his life for not paying attention. Of course, I never expect them to pay attention because men think with their little heads. But I go along for the ride because it’s just another excuse at justifiable homicide.
I can make your violent phone sex fantasies come true. Well at least I can make them feel real. I have enough killer experience to craft a realistic scenario, so it feels like you are either my snuff star or my snuff accomplice.
And I never mind serving as the accomplice. Although I will never be your victim, I can be your partner. But sometimes I kill my partner. My young protégé, I rescued. Originally, she was supposed to be my victim. Her uncle wanted her dead after she stood up to him about no more diddling her behind closed doors. She grew into a teenager and wasn’t going to take his shit or abuse anymore. So, he hired me to kill her. But instead, I decided to kill him. I made sure to get the money upfront. So essentially, he paid me to kill him.
And now I have a young protégé who I can mold into a mini me. My grandfather taught me that killing was OK, but I needed a code much like Dexter. And this girl didn’t fit the code of deserving snuff sex. Now I’ve killed my share of young girls and women. I do not have affinity for too many people. But this was a fellow Goth girl, and I just couldn’t do it.
I kill any man who preys on Goth girls. And the funny thing is a man hired me to kill a Goth girl who comes in to the club I frequent. Club might be an overreach. A dive bar. But it is a cool place where Goth people feel safe. That is until non-Goth people come in there and create a scene. And I remember this guy. He got tossed out on his ass by the bartender. Although he did not get caught spiking drinks, he did grope girls, kiss them against their will and things like that. You can’t do that in any bar.
I don’t think he realized who he hired. We met on the dark net, so he knew nothing about what I looked like. But when he showed me a picture of my favorite bartender, I knew I would need to kill him instead of my target. So, I insisted on meeting face-to-face before I did the murder for hire. Told him it was for security reasons so I could verify identity and collect my money. Half upfront and half when I finish the job.
But at his place, I gutted him like a pig. Sunk a knife into his belly button ran it all the way up to his sternum then watched his guts spill out onto his coffee table, like some horror movie special effect. I could’ve taken my time with him, but his neighbors might hear the prolonged screaming.
His little bruised ego wanted to kill a woman for kicking him out of a bar when he groped female patrons. How self-entitled do you have to must you be to get your panties in a bunch over that. I know this might seem funny coming from a self-proclaimed killer bitch, but men just want to solve their problems with violence. I’m not going to take out just any woman. And especially not a woman I know personally.
Well, I’m $50,000 richer. I could be $100,000 richer but even this killer phone sex babe has limits. I don’t kill people I know for one because cops will always consider you a suspect. And two, I’m not going to kill anybody I know unless they egregiously offended me. And this Goth bartender/owner of my favorite bar never annoys me. But it does feel good to take money from a man and then kill him instead of the victim. Some men just make themselves easy targets for me.
Castration phone sex is my specialty. I received the nickname the wicked butcher over a decade ago. Although most men, I castrate for free, some actually pay me. Can you imagine how pathetic a man must be to pay a woman to mutilate his balls. So, I take their money and leave them without their testicles every time. Most men don’t even realize they should not have their balls in the first place.
Sam begged me to take his balls. A young guy too. Usually, the men who want me to castrate them seem much older. Mostly P men who know they will eventually get caught and murdered in prison. But they seem too weak to do it themselves. Sam does not like little girls or little boys. However, he does enjoy pain. He hired me for extreme cock and ball torture sex.
Some rich tech, bro guy. Any he visited me this weekend so I could remove his testicles. But I did more than remove his nut sack. I used a sounding device with icy hot in his urethra which made him scream for mercy before the party started. However, we already agreed ahead of time that no matter how much he paid for mercy I would give him none.
Just a rich weakling. He thought I might go the chemical castration route. No fun in that. I used a scalpel to remove his testicles. And I removed the skin too. Gave him an extra layer of pain he never experienced before. I take my job as a wicked butcher seriously. And if a man pays me to castrate him or mutilate his junk, I do it in the most painful way imaginable. Be careful what you ask for, men.
For a pain slut, he kept passing out. Between his screams and his tears, I found myself wanting to kill him. And I could’ve. He paid me in advance. I always make them pay upfront because I can’t necessarily get money out of a corpse. So, sometimes I do end up killing these losers. But Sam just wanted to explore his medical fetish phone sex fantasies. I mutilated his junk. And that includes skinning his testicles before removing them. Sometimes men need to be careful about what they asked for. As a wicked butcher, I bring pain beyond most men’s comprehension.
Most snuff movies are fake. Total bullshit. But not the kind I make. I make real snuff films. Most of them I make for my spank bank collection. Although I do not film every kill, I do film most of them. Many years ago, I purchased an old-fashioned cam recorder. No Internet access so no risk of uploading anything to the cloud that could get me busted. My grandpa taught me when I’m making home movies or I want to take some pictures, that I need to go old school analog. So, I use a vintage cam recorder for my movies and an old Polaroid camera for my pictures.
And last night, my protégé and I watched some of my movies. I wanted her to see how I progressed with age. She could see some of my awkward quick kills when I first started out as a murderous bitch. And now she can see how I kill without even batting an eyelash. It’s not that I was ever squeamish about murder, I just lacked the knowledge of how to prolong the torture sex.
My whole movie collection proved quite educational to my protégé. She even took notes. I’ve trained several women in my life. This girl appears to be the youngest. And the most natural. She seems to be the one most like me. Just pure evil. Although her uncle did molest her for years, her killer instincts always existed. Her uncle hired me to kill her while he watched.
She got older and threatened to tell if he did not leave her alone. And he decided she was a liability that he needed to take care of for his own self-preservation. But money is not everything. I saw potential in her. But I kept his money and I kept her alive and now she’s my mini killing machine.
For hours, we watched my whole movie collection, and she watched how I torture a man’s cock and balls, especially if he’s also a predator. I go harder on the predators. And I usually let them live with a constant reminder that they will never force fuck anybody again. My little protégé decided she felt ready to practice her castration skills, so we made a list of boys she knows that do not deserve to keep their nuts.
When you castrate a man, you never need to worry about them going to the police. They keep what you did to them a secret because they don’t want to answer the question of why a woman would do that to them. Yes, I have castrated men just for pure shits and giggles. But many men, I castrate are sexual predators. Men who do not deserve to keep their balls or ever enjoy an erection again. When you castrate a sexual predator, they soon realize being neutered is better being force fucked by black men in prison every day.
So, my protégé and I will use the brat offenders’ list to find some cock and balls for castration phone sex practice. She can learn how to make a man suffer using known offenders in the neighborhood as practice. Sort of vigilant justice, with an educational spin. And once I feel confident of her castration ability, we will work on her list of schoolboys who need neutered early in life. Double trouble her and me. We’re going to make the world safer for young girls one set of balls at a time
You can admit your murder phone sex fantasies to me. I have them too. And I have them in droves. Every day that passes, I meet some jackass or some cunt I want to slaughter. And sometimes I enjoy an accomplice for that or sometimes I’m doing it solo. However, yesterday I killed with my young protégé. I’m grooming her, but not for the reason most perverts would groom her. I’m grooming her to be the kind of girl who can get away with murder.
I see so much of myself in this young girl. Full of anger and promise. I just need to teach her how to harness that anger. Normally, when somebody shares a history with a person who ends up dead, that person with the shared history becomes a suspect. That’s why I advocate using surrogates when possible. But sometimes a person just needs to die that much
This douche bag from her school deserved killer phone sex maybe even more than anybody else I’ve ever killed. My protégé told me about this boy from school who tortures animals, films it, and then shows it to a few classmates. Although I plan on going after the boy who enabled him, I wanted to focus on all my pain and rage out on this asshole perpetrator first.
My protégé lured him to my cabin in the woods. She made it sound like they could torture animals together. Here’s the thing. I like animals more than people. When her classmates saw me, I think he realized he might be a goner. And that did seem to be my plan. I read him a list of his offenses and what I thought would be suitable punishment. We tortured him like he tortured animals. Plus, we filmed it and even live streamed his torture. The animal lovers and the folks with a conscience ate it up.
He deserved torture sex. And deserved the death that followed. We began with cutting his flesh, breaking his limbs, and sodomizing him with a jagged big dildo. The dildo from hell. This loser who could not pick a fair fight, died from blood loss. And hopefully pain too. I planned on dismembering him, but the loser died too quickly. I guess he can dish out the torture, but he can’t take it.
My brilliant protégé picked out a most deserving man. A man deserving of death and torture. In a poetic justice move, I fed him to the animals outside. It felt like they wanted to contribute to his death and torture. My protégé does hold a connection to this loser, so I protected her. And I covered my tracks well. Nobody will ever be able to prove she had anything to do with it. But I’m glad she agreed that anybody who tortures animals should get the death penalty. Of course, I want to be his executioner.
Men who harbor rape phone sex fantasies for me never live. And if they do live, they live without their balls and sometimes even without their dicks. I think I spell it out very clearly in my blogs that I’m not some sex doll for you to use. I’m a dominant fucking bitch. And a sadistic one at that.
I’ve killed men for less than trying to force fuck me. Perhaps, you could say I possess Spider-Man senses. I always know when some pathetic little bitch boy tries to put something in my drink. Men never realize this, but they make a special kind of nail polish for women. And that nail polish changes colors when it encounters roofie drugs.
Of course, a woman invented that to keep other women safe. And in a way I’m a vigilante for women who I don’t even like. I’m not a clique kind of girl. So, I don’t really have a girl squad or anything. Perhaps you could say I’m equally mean to everyone. Something changed in the past year or so. Men feel more emblazoned to take what they want even when it’s not theirs to take.
Perhaps I just felt like killer phone sex. It didn’t take much this weekend for me to decide to kill a man. When I get in my murderous mood, I do my best to uphold a certain code. However, I am a less principled Dexter. I think even Dexter would agree Marcus deserved to die. Not only did I find Marcus on the brat offender list, but his rap sheet also appears to be at least a mile long. And it includes everything from armed robbery to drugs to sexual assault. Marcus might not have wronged me, but he rounded enough people to put him on my radar.
So, I hunted him this weekend and observed him in action. I observed a predator preying on drunk coeds. Now I’m not a fan of coeds in general. For the most part, they behave like rabid dogs. They would kill each other over a cute frat boy. Coeds seem self-absorbed, mean and shallow.
Marcus needed to go. Not necessarily because I wanted to champion drunk coeds. It’s just the principle of the matter. Taking advantage of drunk women, seems like a pussy move. Some men can only prey on women if they drug them because they can’t handle fighting a woman. My guess most women would neuter Marcus or at least punch him and kick him in the balls repeatedly trying to escape.
I saw him putting something into a coed’s drink as I stood at the bar near them. So, I broke a glass to create a distraction and switched their drinks. Marcus became a sloppy drunk quickly, and I escorted him into my car and took him to my cabin in the woods where I mutilated his body. And tortured him for hours, eventually murdering him. But he deserved it. Actions have consequences.
When he woke up, he discovered himself naked, tied to a dining room table spread eagle with a castration band around his balls. And I told him what a dumb ass predator he was because he drank his own roofied drink. Even though I eventually killed this loser, he deserved castration phone sex first I wanted him to think he would survive, just without his balls. Perhaps you could say, I revoked his man card. He didn’t deserve his balls.
For hours, I carved up his flesh with various sharp instruments. I even carved off some of his flesh which I fed to my dogs and the wildlife nearby. Told you I’m a sick bitch. I enjoy torture. It feels empowering to torture a man like Marcus, who preys on the vulnerable. Honestly, my moral code does not appear close to Dexters. I didn’t really torture him and murder him to protect the future generation of women I could care less about. I hate vapid coeds. But I just felt like killing and torturing a man. And Marcus seemed the perfect mark.
Eventually, this predator died from the wounds I inflicted. And he died before I felt completely satisfied. Oops I did it again. Went a little too rough on him and killed him sooner than I wanted. But the wildlife behind my kill shack seemed excited for the food offering I gave them. Nature will always be the best accomplices when you need to get rid of a body. So, just remember, you can be my accomplice or my victim but if you try to make me your victim, you will be bear shit the next day.
I do not feel like it’s a secret that I love knife play phone sex. Guns are for losers. When people kill with their bare hands or a knife that seems like a bigger challenge and more satisfying. A gun takes luck, but a knife takes skill.
My love for knives goes back to my schoolgirl days. My grandfather, who served as my mentor, owned over 1000 knives. Perhaps you could call him a collector. He liked all sorts of macabre shit. I inherited all his medieval torture devices, as well as his knife collection and some death row chairs that I repurposed into castration chairs.
My grandpa gave me my first knife. He thought I might need it for protection. But I used it impulsively against this bully bitch who harassed me on my way home from school one day. And I guess I hit just the right place for her to bleed out almost instantly. Now I know where the arteries are located. I know how to prolong death. Knives give you a sort of control that a gun doesn’t. I can cut all over a body, avoiding all the major arteries. And when I get bored, I slice an artery and they die.
My grandpa covered up my first kill. And then he taught me how to become a great killer phone sex bitch. Essentially, he taught me how to get away with murder and when he died, I inherited over 1000 knives from him. But I already amassed quite the collection of my own. And every knife I own tells a story. Sometimes I go down into my dungeon, and I masturbate with one of the knives.
Now don’t misunderstand me. I’m not shoving that knife anywhere. I’m simply holding it and licking it so I can remember the kills associated with that knife. A lot of serial killers take trophies. However, my knives serve as my trophies. Once my tongue goes across that steel blade, I remember vividly each kill I committed with that knife. I relive it and it gives me sexual pleasure. What can I say? I’m a sick bitch.
But I love my knives. They serve as my souvenirs. All I need to do is hold a knife and the memories of all the kills tied to that knife come flooding back. Thanks to my grandpa. I’m a knife, yielding, sadistic phone sex bitch. And I can either use one of my knives on you to create another hot memory or I can let you use my knife on an unsuspecting young girl that we killing mutilate together. Your choice.