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I have a special friend, John. He gets me. Understands my needs; my love for sexual torture. He invited me up to his cabin for the weekend for a romantic getaway. When I arrived, he had a surprise for me. A fuck nugget he picked up along the road. Just a stupid little cunt hitch hiker who would never be missed. She was tied up naked on the floor in front of the fireplace wrapped in a red bow. The perfect present. “Check out the basement, my love,” he cooed to me. What was in the basement was beyond my wettest dream. An old fashioned torture chamber. I got wet looking at all the instruments at my disposal to sexually torture this twat.
I grabbed an old fashioned cattle prod to start the fun. I was giddy like a school girl when I zapped her ass with it for the first time. She fell forward, pissed the floor and started crying. “This is soooooo fun,” I said with glee to John as I shoved it up her cunt this time. Watching her twitch and convulse really turned me on. I let John play with it too. Torturing a worthless whore is a relationship bonding experience. We shocked her so much, I could smell her burning flesh. Nothing better than the smell of burnt cunt lips. Well maybe the smell of a once pink asshole! I even used the prod on her tits. Pretty much seared her nipples clear off. I fed them to her for shits and giggles.
While she laid in a pool of her own piss and vomit, I fucked John’s brains out. The sight of her curled up in fetal position, soaking in her own waste, crying, smelling like a pig roast, made me horny. But getting pumped full of cum, just made me want to hurt her more. Hurt her dead. I grabbed her by the hair, dragged her burnt carcass down the basement steps, and tossed her on the rack. John purchased all this medieval torture stuff to give me a sexual torture chamber. Now that is love. I tied her to the rack and started cranking it, slowly. Her screams made me orgasmic. Hearing and seeing the flesh pull, bones snap, blood spurt… was intoxicating. John bent me over the rack and fucked me from behind as her limbs snapped like twigs. Legs severed, arms severed, head popped right off her body. We were getting doused in her blood as we fucked. Do you have any fucking clue how hot that is?
I went too fast with her. I get impulsive sometimes. I like to torture for days not hours, but I was just like a fat brat in a candy store, no impulse control. There’s still so much more for me to try out in my torture chamber. John assured me he would go snag me up another victim after dinner. Couples who slay together, stay together. If you are not as lucky to have an accomplice in your life as I am, let me be your sadistic bitch helper. Death and dismemberment is a dish best served for two.
Torture Sex makes me wet. Ever since I was a young girl watching slasher and horror films I knew that I would never be a Nicolas Sparks kind of chick. In fact, his movies, like “The Notebook,” make me homicidal. I lost a bet when that movie came out. I was just a teen school girl then, a goth girl with few friends, much like today. After the movie, I wanted to punch kittens and stuff, but I like animals way too much, so I took my aggression out on some pussy instead. There was this insipid girl sitting behind me in the theater. Perfect hair; perfect nails; perfect boyfriend; perfect bitch.
I followed her after the show, until I knew she was alone. Drugged her with some chloroform, dragged her back to my place, threw her in the basement and waited for her to wake up to play. I had her naked on a table, bright lights blinding her. I had my own private torture chamber. I still do, just now it has grown, become even a darker, more twisted place. I affixed mouse traps to her pussy lips and pulled them as far to the side as I could. I had fun sticking hat pins in her clit; fucking her with metal rods; burning her cunt with cigarettes…. The best was jabbing her uterus with an ice pick. To say it made me hot to ruin her girl parts would be a gross understatement. I was wet, but I wanted to get off harder. I put a chain around her neck and rigged it so there would be a chain hook attached to her worthless pussy too.As I hoisted her in the air, the chain pulled and tugged at her clit, eventually yanked it right off. Blood spurted from a hole that was once associated with pleasure. Her screams, her tears, her blood got me so wet that I had to touch myself. I came so hard knowing I had mutilated her junk. The more she pleaded and begged and asked why, the harder I rubbed myself. I even squirted on her. When I let her down, her pussy was so mangled it looked like raw hamburger meat. I wore a mask and with the lights, I knew she could never identify me. I resisted the urge to snuff her out. I left her alone on the table sobbing in pain and fear for a few minutes. I returned with my sewing kit and a rat. Her pussy was gaping open so I shoved the rat deep inside her, then stitched her worthless cunt up so the rodent would gnaw and scratch its way out.
I tossed her naked, tortured body along the highway then went home to do my schoolwork. The next day I got off again reading about the random act of violence against a local socialite in the newspaper. This was my first foray into torture sex, but certainly not my last. Bonus, now every time someone mentions that awful movie “The Notebook”, I get wet remembering my first torture sex. Not enough to make me endure it again, however.
My protégé Amy, the young daughter of my favorite sadistic accomplice, called me in a panic. She was babysitting and something went awry. When I arrived to the house she was at, it looked like the home of the Devil’s rejects. Blood splattered on the walls, even the ceiling. I could smell the carnage and it made me wet. “Amy dear, what happened, I inquired?” As she explained it, mommy and daddy came home early and caught her having naughty fun with the brats in her charge. Guess the parents got their panties in a bunch over a little knife play on young flesh. Amy went all Lizzie Borden on the family out of fear. She is young still. I’m training her to kill with less emotion. As I assessed the situation, I realized there was quite a bit of clean up necessary. Four bodies were still twitching, barely alive, but alive none the less.
The little ones just required some face sitting to snuff them out. They suffocate so easily at that young age. I put mom in the bathtub. Stripped her naked, then assaulted her fuck holes. I could say it was to make it look like an intruder had force fucked her then killed the family, but really it was just for fun. I fisted her pussy, while Amy shoved a baseball bat up her ass. We didn’t finish her off until we had a little fun with her pretentious worthless holes. One sharp stab in the gut with my knife, and the cunt bled out in the tub. I let Amy finish off Daddy. Suggested she castrate him first. She sliced off all his man parts. I was so proud if her when she tossed his junk out back so the coyotes could feast. She slit his throat, masturbated as she watched the blood spurt from his jugular.
Finishing off the picture perfect family was easy. Staging the house to look like some random act of violence was more difficult, but a perfect chance to school my young disciple in the finer details of killing. My method of madness is to stage a home like a frenzied killer looking for drug money or something similar broke in the house. The random senseless acts of violence are rarely solved. I am the perfect killing machine. Methodical, emotionless, creative and intelligent. Amy is in good hands. No one will ever know either of us were there. It turned out to be a fun night. Sometimes the best fun is unexpected. I always enjoy killing more with an accomplice.
I have a pig for sale. It never ceases to amaze me how many worthless fuck pigs turn over their entire lives to me. Just a flat, “do with me what you want mistress for I am a worthless pig.” Yes you are a worthless pig, and you bet your pathetic ass I will auction you off to the highest bidder for whatever twisted, perverted thing I want. I could auction you off to be tortured, to be snuffed out, to be castrated, or to just serve as a slave, fuck or house.
I was on the fence for this particular pig. So, I ran an ad just seeing what kind of hits I would get. I got offered $10,000 by a chick who recognized him as the ex boyfriend who gave her an STD. She wanted to castrate his disease ridden cock, take away his manhood so he couldn’t infect any more girls. I am a greedy bitch, but I told her she could take his junk for free. I can sell him without his man bits to be snuffed out or used as a slave. I have no allegiance to stupid fuck pigs with a death wish anyway. But I do like to help a bitch out, especially when it’s all about revenge.
She was salivating when she saw him in his cage. We taunted him like a monkey in the zoo. Rattled his cage. He was blindfolded, but he recognized her voice. Shit himself too, just like a dirty animal. I pulled him out of his cage, made him clean up his mess, then forced him in the castration chair. It’s this little device I made which has a wood plank for a worthless pecker to be stretched out on, and straps for the arms and ankles. He tried to back out. Pleaded to keep his nasty dick. I have a strict no refunds no exchanges policy. You pay me to do whatever I want to you, fuck your cold feet.
I pulled his pecker to elongate it as much as I could considering its diminutive size. I nailed his balls to the chair too. I gave his disgruntled ex my big knife, but the bitch had a change of heart. WTF? I hate pussies. I yanked the knife out her hand, stabbed her in her worthless cunt repeatedly. Left the bitch alive but bleeding profusely; pretty sure she wouldn’t reproduce ever. The world needs less pussies. I then took the knife dripping in her pussy blood and took her ex’s dick right off. Didn’t go slow, didn’t numb him, just pulled his worthless balls out, twisted them into a knot, then a swift whack and his junk was gone. I then shoved his disease ridden worthless pecker in his wimp of an ex girlfriend’s mouth. “Suck on that bitch. Teach you to back out on a deal with me,” I yelled at her
Nothing went as planned, but at least I ensured two pansy ass stupid fucks who can’t follow through will never reproduce. Need a license to do just about anything in this world, but any fucking moron can reproduce. Well two less fucking morons can reproduce now.
I get asked all the time about my ideal victim. I am rather steadfast in my assertion that I have no type other than a person who has annoyed the crap out of me in some fashion. Age, race, gender… don’t matter to me because worthless fucks come in all shapes and sizes. Self entitled assholes, stupid fucks, whinny brats, needy bitches, small dick losers, are everywhere. But putting all that aside, the type I fantasize about butchering the most is the American Bimbo. Vacuous, attention seeking, drama filled, gold digging, bed hopping, Botox injecting, fake looking whores who give real women a bad reputation.
I have zero tolerance for fake ass stupid bitches. When I see them at the mall shopping on some sugar daddy’s dime, or teetering drunk on stripper heels at some club, or using their plastic parts to get what they want, I’m consumed with sadistic ideas on how to dismember and torture them. I want to inflict insurmountable agony to their fake bodies. I have murderous visions of sawing off big bogus titties and feeding them to a pack of wild dogs. Using pliers to snap off dragon lady finger nails. Peeling the fake tanned skin from their bodies. Violating their bubble butts with a blow torch. Pulling the bleach blonde hair from their heads by the root. Sewing up their whore cunts so they cannot breed brats they can’t feed. Cutting out their tongues so they cannot ask stupid questions or lie. Yanking the ring from their worthless belly buttons with my teeth. My pussy drips at the thought of ridding the world of these dim-witted piranhas.
On second thought, maybe I do have a type. Who wants to hunt with me?
One of the many things I enjoy about warmer weather are picnics. I am a huge fan of old fashioned pig roasts. I find the perfect pig, invite a few close friends over, and we set around the fire telling ghost stories and eating. Now, my pig roasts are unlike any other you have attended. I don’t actually roast pig. Pig is cheap and bad for you. I have a much more sophisticate pallet. I roast young women, sorta like veal. The younger girls are more tender, void of the toxins that plague more seasoned meat, and leaner.
We stalk the perfect “pig” for weeks. Learn her habits, determine if she is pure enough to devour. She has to be special to sacrifice. This year’s piggy is April. She is as smart as she is beautiful. She is a vegan who does not believe in dying her hair or tanning or using botox. It is rare to find a natural beauty in this day and age. But we are patient, and we do our research to find the perfect meal.
Right now she is in my basement getting prepped. Being fed healthy smoothies to plump her up. Having her body washed daily in pineapple juice to make her tastier. People think cannibals are savages, crazed killers, but there are many sound reasons for eating human flesh. It’s quite healthy. The bones can be ground up for many medicinal benefits, including good dental hygiene. Many diseases can be prevented by eating the human brain. It promotes communalism. It helps with population control. One body can feed a family for several months , and provide well balanced nutrition. So cannibalism is cost efficient.
My friends and I are always looking for, um, fresh meat. Although it is fun to hunt your dinner, there is nothing wrong with pointing us in the direction of our next meal. Maybe you would enjoy helping me stalk my next meal or would like to offer yourself up as dinner. There is no higher purpose in life than sacrificing your life for others. When my next meal is served, will you be a guest or the main course?
When you are a butcher girl like me, with a love for all things bloody, March is your favorite month. Why? Because it is American Red Cross Month. I have always considered myself a philanthropic psycho, so in this month of donating blood, I can give back to my community. Now, since the only flesh I ever consume is human flesh, I am anemic, so the Red Cross won’t take my blood. At first I was bummed about this, but then I discovered blood by proxy. I can donate other people’s blood. How fun is that? So during the month of March, if you have scorned or annoyed me, even hired me, be on high alert that I’m extra blood thirsty this month, as I am killing for charity.
First to donate blood for my personal blood drive this month were two of the devil’s spawn. The twin daughters of my former boss. In fact, he paid me to snuff out his two little brats. According to him, all they do is drain him of his money and patience. Fitting then that I would drain them of their blood. Some white trash whore duped him into knocking her up for his money. These sister cunts will do more good dead, than they ever would alive. You’d be surprised how many parents lack the paternal instinct, which is fine by me. Too many spoiled, germy, annoying, needy little humans running around anyway. As soon as I off a few rugrats, some trailer park whore just pushes out a few more nuggets she can’t support who will end up draining hard working Americans of their tax dollars. It’s a vicious cycle so, kill the products of trash, stop the cycle, donate their blood to good use: reduce, reuse, recycle.
Getting the brats to my place was simple. Told them I was daddy’s secretary and they saw dollar signs as they hopped into the back seat of my car. I convinced them I was a babysitter of sorts and daddy gave us lots of play money. Well, gave me lots of play money. Slipped them a special cocktail in their Kool-Aid, waited for them to wake up in my bath tub, sliced open some arteries, and watched the blood drain from their little annoying bodies. I like to tie weights to their ankles so they can’t run. Then I sit on the toilet seat, and watch the blood drain from their bodies slowly. Makes me feel good that I am recycling blood. Giving it to folks who deserve it. Life is a privilege not an entitlement, so just because you were born into this word, does not mean you deserve to stay in it. You got to earn that right. And many people need their privileges revoked, which I am happy to assist with. Once I snuffed the little bitches out by exsanguination, I texted photos to my former boss. Sometimes a picture or a text is better than a call. Harder to trace, even harder to prove who sent what to whom, and a picture is worth a thousand words.
I’ve been slaughtering trash all month. Some for money, some for revenge, some just for fun, but every death attributed to my handiwork benefits not only the American Red Cross, but society as a whole. This world has too many worthless fucks in it. What they couldn’t do for their community in life, they can in death. So who do you know that should give a sizable donation to the American Red Cross?
Against my better judgment, I answered an ad for a babysitter. I needed some extra cash, and although I detest most rugrats, I thought I could endure some spoiled brats for the right price. The ad I answered was too good to be true. I’m not a dumb blonde, so when anything sounds too perfect, I bring my knife collection as a safety precaution. Beautiful mansion on several acres in the middle of nowhere. Red flag #1. Picture perfect family red flag #2. Paid me in advance and very well red flag #3. When the parents left, I had my eyes and ears open as I was pretty sure I was watching the devil’s spawn.
I’m not your typical babysitter. Fuck, I’m not your typical anything. So, I roofied the brats with their warm milk. Once they were knocked out, I went snooping to find anything to alert me to the dangers that likely lurked within those walls. Being an evil bitch with a penchant for sadism, I knew what to look for- trap doors, false walls and the like. In the basement, I found it. A hidden door that led to a room of horrors. Young dead girls hanging from meat hooks in various stages of decay. Some I recognized as missing persons in my neighborhood. Red flag #4 dead babysitters in the basement.
Don’t fuck with the babysitter is my motto. I went upstairs, pulled the devil’s spawn out of their beds and tied them to the dining room chairs. Laid out my massive knife collection on the table in full few. Got some cold water and threw it in their little cherub faces to wake them the fuck up. Then I demanded answers. With knives to their throats they admitted their parents like to do naughty things to their babysitters. Each week a new babysitter arrives but never leaves. Daddy likes to force himself on young girls while mommy watches, then they snuff the girl out so she can’t tell. No one fucks with Venus unless Venus wants to be fucked. They hired the WRONG babysitter this time.
I’m not above killing little ones, especially if they have evil parents. Chances are they have the devil gene in them too. I waited for ma and pa to return home. When they walked in the front door and saw their babies tied up, I clocked them over the head with a baseball bat. They woke up tied to a chair just like their brats. All four of them spread eagle, tied to chairs as I circled around them like a vulture. I looked at the parents and explained to them that I discovered their dirty little secret in the basement, and how their brats filled in the gaps. Then without warning, I butchered the demon seeds in front of their parents. 50 whacks at least to those brats. Blood spewed in the face of their parents; their little bodies thrashing about violently; I could hear them gurgling on their blood…. Parents were mortified, in shock, screaming. I took the knife and fucked mommy’s cunt with it. Big ass blade pierced through her pussy slicing her internal organs. I chopped daddy’s dick clear off and shoved it down his wife’s mouth. “Now you won’t violate any more babysitters or birth anymore demon seeds that could inherit you evil genes,” I said. I licked the blood off my crimson red knife. I was so turned on by all the blood.
They were going into shock, bleeding out everywhere. I called 911 and left confident they wouldn’t turn me in. Giving me up as the sadistic bitch that killed their little ones and mutilated their sex organs, would reveal them as babysitter killers. They can keep on violating young girls if they want, but the cycle of evil ends with them. Oh wait, daddy has no dick no more. He can’t even violate his hand.
Don’t fuck with the babysitter.
In honor of Girl Scouts Day, I decided to help a local scout earn a special badge. The purpose of badges is to teach young women useful life skills. I consider myself somewhat philanthropic, so I like helping young girls. I offer a badge in castration. Girls need to know how to put a man in his place. You see most men do not know how to use their penis properly, but sadly too many women let them get away with bad penis behavior. Every Girl Scout I take under my wing, is trained in how to use a knife to slice a man’s worthless junk off. Castration is a much more useful skill to have than pottery making, wouldn’t you agree?
I hand pick my Girl Scouts. This year was Lilly. Lilly has a dirty step father who violates her young holes every night, and beats her and her mother. Real men don’t abuse women. She needed my castration badge. We spent a few weeks discussing proper knife use; cock and ball torture; how to cauterize a wound so no one bleeds out unless you want them to and how to taunt your victim with his severed appendage. She was really dedicated to earning this badge. When I deemed she was ready to execute a castration, I accompanied her to her father’s house.
She looked so cute in her Girl Scout outfit. Her dumbass dad believed I was a Girl Scout leader. Maybe if Hell had girl scouts. I explained to her dirty p daddy that we needed his help in earning a special badge for Girl Scouts Day. It wasn’t until after she had him tied up in the chair that he inquired what the badge was for. He thought it was knot tying! I sat there watching proudly as my pupil pulled out her Daddy’s dick and drove a nail into each ball, then elongated his pecker to see just where to sever it. I was beaming. She ignored her daddy’s pleas and apologies. She did not let him guilt her into changing her mind. She looked him right in the eyes as she wielded the knife above her head and said, “Daddy say good bye to your little friend.” Then with one fell swoop, she took his penis off earning her castration badge. She immediately lit a cigar and put it out on his bloody stump to slow the bleeding.
She scooped up his severed member and shoved it in his mouth. That was a proud mama moment. We left him in his basement, with his dick in his mouth, tied to a chair and went to Baskin Robbins to celebrate earning her castration badge and in honor of Girl Scouts Day.
I’m not the girl next door type, unless of course you live next door to the Devil’s Rejects, then yes I am your crazy evil bitch next door. I’m what you would call a castration junkie. I love riding men of their junk, especially if its worthless or not used properly. I have said it before, there are a 100 ways to castrate a chap. Last week I shared my creation the Venus Penis Fly Trap, which not only takes balls clear off, but mangles cocks forever, rendering sexual predators powerless over their victims.
I have another fun way to get rid of useless appendages: chainsaw castration. In fact, every year I conduct a Chainsaw Castration Bandcamp, where I teach other women the art of castration by chainsaw. Puts a sadistic twist on the “This one time at band camp” line. You would be surprised how many women pay good money to learn this art form. So men, if the woman in your life is fond of flannel and Leatherface is her idol, use your junk for good, not evil, because likely she is a graduate of my Chainsaw Castration Bandcamp and is just looking for any reason to take your manhood literally.
I just schooled two new disgruntled housewives this week. Perhaps maybe even your wife? If you are unable to satisfy your wife sexually, and make no attempts to rectify that; maybe even make her think it’s her fault that you can’t get it up, then I would encourage chainsaw castration. If you like little boys and girls, and can’t control your proclivities, especially with your own offspring, then I would encourage chainsaw castration. If you can only get off forcing yourself on a woman, even your wife, then I would encourage chainsaw castration. Oh, and if you are cruel to animals, then you are not a man, but some pansy ass coward who can’t pick a fair fight, therefore forfeiting your right to anything manly especially your pecker. In that case, I will personally use my own chainsaw, castrate the very thing you do not deserve, and feed it to the victim of your little man syndrome.
My latest recruits showed so much enthusiasm and natural ability, that I have made them my chainsaw castration accomplices. Last week they each rid a man of his cumbersome genitalia. One was a dirty bird prone to spontaneous public masturbation on playgrounds. The other and ex boyfriend of mine with a broke down dick whom I discovered was running his mouth about how I couldn’t get his whiskey dick hard. You see, sometimes men pay me to castrate them because they are too weak to do what they know needs to be done. This was the case with the playground masturbator. Sometimes wives pay me to do the work too unseemly for a suburban wife. And, sometimes I just need to teach an asshat some respect for women. This was the case with my worthless tiny dick loser of an ex. So, it was time to not just empower a few women to be castration junkies, but recruit a couple to help me with all the worthless peckers out there that need chopped off. A castration junkie’s work is never done.