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I never grow tired of hunting my prey. This world is full of victims. Stupid worthless whores and jackasses surround me making it easy for me to find someone to fill my need to kill. Finding suitable food for my peculiar tastes, however, is a bit more taxing. My personal chef, Rick, has taught me many things; he has given me not only a taste for flesh, but an appreciation for meal preparation.
A good meal is much harder to come by than a good snuff victim. Why? Because so many women are not natural and are underfed. They are concerned with appearance more than health. To find a good meal is challenging in the era of size 6 girls, bleach blondes, Botox and fake tits. I found a new hunting ground for my meals: www.sophisticatedhotties.com. There are lots of natural beauties here. Some need fattening up and a handful need to have the silicone removed from their bodies before cooking, but the bulk of girls here will make a tasty meal with little prep work.
Thanks to Rick, I know to be patient. Ginger, Felecity and Divina need to be plumped up a bit, but they look tasty. I can store the girls in cages for a few days and feed them healthy weight gaining corn meal shakes. Three lovely women for three scrumptious meals. All whores that won’t be missed. Two strippers and a spoiled trophy wife can serve a higher purpose as nourishment for me and my friends. They are not fooling me. Sophisticated my ass. Worthless dirty whores, all of them.
Take a look at these lovely ladies. They pride themselves as classy vanilla girls who would never be into snuff or anything dark. Stuck up bitches need to be put in their place, don’t you agree? I won’t have any guilt over stalking, kidnapping, skinning, basting, slow roasting and eating any one of these self righteous cunts. And the ones that do not end up in my belly, well they might be fun play things to cut, snuff, bleed, torture and force to do all sorts of perverse things sexually.
There is a meal for every taste. Older flesh, younger flesh, meaty flesh, skinny flesh, white meat and even dark meat. Who looks like the best meal to you? Think of all the fun we can have together hunting and preparing our meal together.
I am a horror movie junkie. I think my parents poor choices in what they allowed me to watch as a young girl, contributed to the sick, twisted bitch I am today. There is no movie that gets me as wet as Hostel 2. In fact, it has provided me the inspiration to step up my game. Stalking and stabbing have become quite blasé to me. The thrill is gone. The first Hostel made my cunt wet, but the sequel spoke to me. It was like the director knew I needed a little kick in the ass to be a better killer. The opening scene is spank material for me. A woman, much like me, lies underneath a hanging female body, then slowly cuts the girl so she bleeds on her. Hot, sticky sweet blood cascading out of her victim, on to her body, until she has bled out. I love blood, but to bathe in it, is my ultimate fantasy. I cannot think of anything hotter, than killing some bitch I hate, then bathing in her blood, watching her die as the blood spills from her worthless body as I am masturbating. I’m already converting my basement into a blood bath.
This movie is filled with ideas for wicked women like myself. The concept is that for the right price you can do whatever sick, perverse thing you want to another person. People are disposable. Want to castrate a man, you can. You want to eat another person for dinner, you can. You want to perform macabre experiments on a living person, you can. You want to force yourself on little ones, you can. You want to dismember and disembowel someone while they are alive, you can. In the Hostel flicks, anything goes. Money is all that matters, and people are just a commodity. I want to start a torture club. An elite group of women with their own money, like the protagonist in Hostel 2, Beth. Women, who like her, were once victims, but turned the tables on their predators. Instead of money, revenge and pleasure are my goals. We rid the earth of useless, worthless men. And we do so rather graphically and tortuously because killing is fun.
Women do not need to be victimized by men. Men think they are stronger than us, but we are craftier, more patient and far crueler than they could ever imagine. I like the idea of running my own hostel. Having my own torture club. Because as we all know, there are plenty of men that aren’t needed, that no one would miss right? Tiny dick losers. Sex offenders. Misogynistic assholes. Cheaters. Fat bastards. Hostel 2 has inspired me in more ways than one to put the pizzazz back in killing. Not only am I going to bathe in the blood of my victims, but I am going to empower other women to kill too. There is a special joy that I get sharing the art of torture. Especially, the torture of men that serve no purpose on this earth. Well, no purpose until now….
While my girlfriends were dreaming about having a Romeo and Juliet kind of love, I was dreaming about being Bonnie to Clyde. You see I suffer from hybristophilia, a strong attraction to bad boys. Not just any bad boy, but the criminal kind. Boys who love to kill, maim, torture and eviscerate others. I did not masturbate to movies like “The Notebook” or “Titanic.” What got me wet were films like “Hostel” and “Saw.”
I had this fantasy, I still do, of being a serial killer’s accomplice, girlfriend. Ted Bundy, David Berkowitz, Jeffrey Dahmer, Charles Manson, John Wayne Gacy…these were the men I wanted to fuck. I had this elaborate fantasy life involving some of the most notorious serial killers in history. Fantasy #1: I witnessed Ted Bundy murder some of my sorority sisters. He sees me, with my hand in my panties, rubbing my clit, as he bludgeons to death my stuck up sorority sisters. Instead of killing me too, he realizes I am his soul mate. He kisses me with the blood of my sisters on his face, and fucks me on the bed where one of their dying bodies lay. We then go on a killing spree together, where he teaches me how to lure young stupid cunts into the car, and to their death.
Fantasy #2: I meet Son of Sam Killer, David Berkowitz, at a satanic cult ritual. He teaches me how to shoot a 44 caliber Bulldog revolver. We go around NYC shooting people in the head that the devil tells us to snuff out. After every shooting, we fuck on the hood of the car that our victim is dying in, listing to the Partridge Family’s “I Think I Love You.” It’s our love song. We kill because there is no God, thus no need for guilt; and to celebrate our love. Blood gushing out of heads on to dashboards while I watch and fuck makes me horny still.
Fantasy #3: I am a young hippie in a cult. Charlie Manson is my God, my lover. He takes me under his wing. Teaches me that war is the answer, but sometimes you need to kill to incite a righteous war. A war against greed and excess. Charlie teaches me how to find the worst offenders of avarice. We find a young couple living high on the hog while others are homeless. We massacre the family and fuck in the blood bath while singing “Helter Skelter.” People need to learn not to flaunt their excess.
Fantasy #4: I meet Jeffrey Dahmer while furniture shopping. We share a kindred fascination for flesh. He invites me back to his apartment for a very special meal. He gives me my first taste for human flesh. Even gives me cooking lessons. I lure a victim back to the house. One that has enough meat on his bones to sustain us both. As we celebrate the joys of cooking flesh, we fuck up against the stove, as a pot of soup bones boils on the burner. The smell of flesh falling off of bones gets my cunt so wet. Still does. Jeffrey makes me understand that I need to appreciate my kills, use all of the body. Eat the flesh, use the bones and skin for furniture. It’s really hot to fuck on a table made of human remains.
Fantasy #5: My parents hire John Wayne Gacy as a clown at my birthday party. Even at a young age, I am keenly observant. He is eyeballing my little brat of a brother. I don’t know how, but I understand that look. I go to his house one day, there is an intoxicating odor coming from underneath the house. John teaches me how to stalk young prey, lure them to my house, play with them, then snuff them out without needing to worry much about body discovery. I learn how to asphyxiate and strangle victims. Even though he prefers young boys, he fucks me from behind as I squeeze the life out of a little plaything with my hands.
My attraction to bad boys has served me well over the years. The many loves of my youth, have made me the sick, violent, twisted girl I am today. From each fantasy lover, I have learned things to make me the best kind of killer. The kind that goes undetected. From Ted, I got a love for blood and an appreciation for beating my victims to death. From David, I learned that there is no God, thus no heaven, so why have guilt? Plus, he taught me how to shoot a gun. A bullet to the head is a sexy quickie kill. From Charlie, I learned the best type of folks to kill. The self entitled assholes that get richer why the poor get poorer. Greed is a deadly sin after all. From Jeff, I learned that human flesh is quite tasty, and nourishing. And, I garnered an appreciation for using the entire body. I’m not killing for sport, but survival. And from John, I gained a love for killing the little ones. Using them for my pleasure, then snuffing them out. Added bonus, learning that lye can leave a body unrecognizable.
Hybristophilia makes me your perfect evil accomplice. I know how to kill in a multitude of ways. I love to stalk and select the right victim. I have an appreciation for killing all sorts of folks; I lack a true type. I know how to dispose of bodies. What kind of evil fun can we get into bad boy?
Last year my accomplice, my companion, my partner in crime, John and his daughter Amy, were driving to a concert in another city. The forecast was for a dusting of snow, but once we got on the road, it was obvious a dusting was now a blizzard. The roads were horrible. White knuckle driving. John was going 35 miles an hour. We must have passed a dozen cars off the road. I told him perhaps we should just pull over and wait it out. Amy had to pee, we were low on gas; made sense to pull over. We were huddled in the backseat staying warm, when we heard a crash. A car had skidded off the road, smacked a tree.
We rushed out of the car to see if we could help. John was trying to call 911, but our cells were all dead. I told Amy to stay in the car. I knew there was a good chance there would be a lot of carnage by the look of the car. I was correct. Single male driver. He was thrown from the car. John was checking for a pulse. The guy was alive, but barely. He had to be in excruciating pain. His internal organs were spilled onto the snow. I felt bad, but I was turned on by the blood and sinew. John and I have a dark side, but the folks we stalk and maim, deserve it. We knew nothing about this guy. For all we knew he was a choir boy.
John knows me, he knew I was aroused. It looked like he was gutted. John was like, “He is going to die. No one will get here to save him.” This is what you call a crime of opportunity. I went to check on Amy, and to my surprise she was standing behind me, hands in her panties, filming the wreckage with her camera phone. So young, but sharing our love for blood and sinew, even pain. Not our pain, but pain of others.
Amy got closer, filmed the life going out of him. But she wanted more reaction from his eyes. John started pulling on his intestines. Literally, pulling all his organs out. He couldn’t talk, but you could see the pain in his eyes. Playing with his organs was the stuff that sells snuff porn. This was real, raw, emotional. Amy was filming it all in awe. She liked watching him die. She likes seeing her daddy and I as angels of death. I took over the camera so Amy could play. She is a natural sadistic. Maybe a natural born killer. John and I watched her pull on his intestines, reach her hand into the gaping hole in his belly and gut him. That finished him off. We caught the whole thing on film. Amy’s first snuff film. Amy’s first kill. Perhaps it was more of a mercy kill, but it was still hot to watch such a young girl enthralled by death, curious about pain, with no quilt whatsoever about what she did. A serial killer was born in that blizzard.
I have a fascination with sharp objects. Knives are my favorite, but recently I developed an obsession with razor blades. Now I like inflicting pain; I am a bringer of pain, not a pain slut. I noticed this girl at my coffee house, trying to hide her arms. I grabbed her by the arm, pulled up her sleeve and could see she was a cutter. I don’t personally get cutting yourself. Cutting others is so much more fun. But I figured if she did not value her body, why should I? She would be the perfect subject for my foray into razor blade fun.
I didn’t have to stalk her or anything. Just followed her home, pushed my way into the door behind her. I gave her the you should respect your body speech. Then added, “Since you don’t, I’m not gonna either.” Skinny little cunt too. I bet if she cuts herself, she starves herself too. So young to be so fucked up already. She was about to have a come to Venus moment. I tied her to her bed spread eagle. Circled her for awhile. She had no fight, no apparent will to live. Just pathetic. Even when I laid out my razor blade collection before her, she still acted like this was just her destiny.
Never as much fun as when they struggle; she had pissed me off now. I was going to enjoy slicing her flesh. I was going to make her “GOREgous.” I used the small blade first to slice her flesh all over. Thousands of little flesh wounds. Nothing that would snuff her out, but just turn her body a nice crimson red. I got turned on seeing the blood trickle out of her. I couldn’t help but play in it like I was finger painting. I love how blood feels on my flesh. Someone else’s blood of course. It’s hot, sweet and sticky. She was whimpering, but still not what I was hoping for. I needed to step up my game. It was now a challenge to make the slut hurt. All that cutting made her impervious to the pain I had inflicted thus far.
I got out a bigger razor blade and sawed off a few fingers. She was such a waif. Seriously, this bitch served no other purpose then to snuff her out. Not fat enough to eat her; would take months to plump her up. Couldn’t sell her into the sex slave trade as she wouldn’t even scream, and guys want a bitch to act like they hate it or love it, but not just lay there like a dead animal. Her only purpose was to be my experiment. Help me hone my craft. Entertain me with her blood.
I managed to slice off her long boney fingers with not too much trouble. Ended up breaking off a few fingers that were not cutting smoothly. The closer to the base of the hand you saw, the thicker the bone, thus harder to saw. Thankfully the bitch had brittle bones. I was still somewhat unfulfilled. I sliced off a bunch of fingers, cut her a thousand times, and no real struggle. I was going to get my fight. I told her I was curious how a razor blade would slice an eyeball. That got a reaction from her. Maybe the cunt did want to live. I straddled her bloody body, forced her eyes open and began slicing the pupil. Blood trickled at first, but the deeper I pressed the blade, the more the blood spewed out. Have you ever sliced open an eye? It is really cool. Finally, she struggled. I guess this was pain she could not endure. Now we had a party. I was so turned on, I rubbed my pussy all over her bloody torso until I came.
I sliced the bitch’s eyes out. Cut them clean out of their sockets. They felt like mushy grapes in my hand. Funny, she was crying ,and tears and blood still ran down her face even though I was holding her eyes in my hand. Sinew was hanging out of her orbits. She was covered in blood. Bloody fucking GOREgeous to me. I told her I could make her famous . I took all sorts of pictures of her in various stages of death and dismemberment. I carried her to her bathroom. If she ate a fucking sandwich on occasion, she may not have been so easy to carry. Made her suck on a lollipop that had a razor blade in it so I could see her slice her tongue too.
I left her in the tub. Covered in blood, her eyes on the edge of the tub so she could watch herself die. I took a few fingers as souvenirs, fed a few to her bird. Might be awhile before anyone finds her. Didn’t want the poor bird to go hungry. I do have a conscious.Maybe I can make you GOREgoeous, or some one you know? I need more practice with these razor blades, although I do seem to be a natural.
Are you looking for castration phone sex? I have lots of private fuck pigs who recognize they have worthless peckers than can do me no good. Take my fuck pig below. My Pomeranian has a bigger dick. Therefore, this fuck pig belongs in a cage. In fact, I am gonna auction him off to the highest bidder. If he can’t bring me any satisfaction sexually, he is gonna bring me money. You see, if you got a worthless pecker, you don’t need it. Hell, I suspect you won’t miss it. We all know, no woman would ever miss it.
I can make money off his castration. Lots of sick fucks out there just like me who would pay for the fun of slicing off the balls and dick of a useless prick. I’m running my own private Hostel! If he had money, I would get out my knife collection and slice his junk off myself, and get off watching him bleed and writhe in pain. But you go to pay for the privilege of me ridding you of your worthless bits. So, I am going to auction off my fuck pig to the highest bidder to do whatever they want to him. Castrate him, snuff him, beat him, torture him, cook him and serve him for dinner. I don’t care what the fuck you do with him. He is a worthless fuck pig. I own him, so I can do what I want with him. And if you buy him, you can do what you want with him. I’ll throw in his cage for free.
All reasonable offers will be entertained. Let the bidding begin. You will not be disappointed. He knows he is a worthless pig.
I love winter, blizzards especially. Why? Because snowy, wet, cold woods makes a much better hunting ground. First, it slows your prey down. A blizzard is not only harder to run in, but the cold slows your victim down, makes it harder to fight. Second, you can track your victim better. Stupid prey all scared and panicky, are never as smart as Danny from The Shining. They never think to cover their tracks. Third, blood looks better in the snow. You can savor your kill, get off more intensely when you see that crimson red mixed in with the stark white. The juxtaposition makes my cunt drip every time. And the final reason, I prefer to hunt in a blizzard, is it acts as a freezer, slowing down decomposition. You see what happens is, the body freezes, stays intact for quite awhile, this allows me to visit my crime scene and get off a few more times at my handy work. I just leave a marker so I can find the site again in case the storm covers my kill. It also helps elude detection. The wild life either gets the body, leaving no identifiable remains, or the first thaw the body turns to complete mush , getting rid of any DNA evidence. I’d live in Alaska if it wasn’t for the fact that there just aren’t many people per capita there.
Last weekend, I hunted in the blizzard we had. It was impromptu, but I have had my eye on this chubby little coed twit that frequents my Starbucks. She is constantly being snotty, bitchy and demanding. Way too young, and way too plain to be so self entitled. The snow was coming down hard, it was getting dark, so I followed her in my car, ran her off the road by the woods. When she saw my big ass knife she started running. I knew she wouldn’t get far, they never do. I caught up to the stupid whore, held my knife to her throat, forced her to undress so I could watch her run naked in the cold. Then I stalked her some more. My adrenaline was keeping me warm, I’m sure hers was too. But like all prey, they run out of energy, give up. She fell to the ground screaming and begging for mercy. Her skin turning purple from the cold. I taunted her. Circled her like a wolf does his dinner. Informed her she would not be missed.
I then slit her throat and watched the blood and life run out of her. It was the humane thing to do. A much quicker death than hypothermia. I got so hot watching the blood seep into the snow, watching snow fall on her body and mix with her hot blood. I stood there watching her die, watching the ground underneath me turn into a crimson sea. I drew a heart with her blood in the snow. A sign of respect for being such a fun kill.
I’m a dark girl. I think you can tell by looking at me that I am not the unicorns and rainbows type. In fact I despise spoiled rich brats who think they are princesses. I was having lunch with my mentor, my lover, John, at this quaint little truck stop, when this blonde bitch came in demanding a phone. The fancy sport car that daddy bought her had a flat tire. All that money and no AAA. So young, and so demanding. Of course we offered her a ride to our cabin, where John said he could get her a spare and fix her car for her.
He lied. We had other plans for the spoiled rich bitch. She was going to be a torture doll for his daughter Amy. You see we are grooming her to take out the trash like we do. Our little guest was not grateful. Bitched about our car, complained about how long the drive was, even said our cabin looked like something from a Wrong Turn movie. She didn’t want to get out of the car and come into the house! John told Amy he brought her a present and that she had to get it from the car. She is going to be my step daughter some day. I was so proud of her. She got a baseball bat, went to the car, and hit her present so hard across the head, her blood splattered all over the car. She dragged her barely conscious ass into the house where her put her on a dirty old mattress. This bitch was in a Wrong Turn movie!
Amy was in total control of her present. This would be her first solo kill. My pussy got wet knowing what a good protégé I had trained. Amy is young, still learning, therefore she was a bit impulsive with her kill. John and I prefer long, drawn out pain and suffering. We can keep our victims alive for days, weeks, even months. Barely alive I guess is more accurate. But Amy was just so excited for her own plaything, she went crazy. Sodomized her with that baseball bat until her ass was a bloody mess. Turned me on when she shoved that bat covered in princess blood and shit down her toy’s mouth making her gag till she puked. Amy is a natural born killer. Sick little bitch. Just like me. That’s such a turn on.
Here was the princess, cover in blood, piss, puke and shit, naked, part of her head bashed in, barely breathing, and Amy wanted to share her kill with her father and I. She knows how much we too love to beat a whore to death. We are a family, so I excused myself, and returned with a baseball bat for John and I so we could all beat her to death together. A sweet little family bonding moment. We left her broken, battered body on the mattress. If she was still alive in the morning we would have some more fun, if not we would just go hunting again for a toy that might last longer.
A family that slays together, stays together.
Every day I hear something about some self entitled asshole shooting an innocent person, or taking his family with him because he is too much of a sorry ass loser to just take his own worthless life. I hate people, not all, but most. It’s because most of society thinks the world revolves around them; that they are entitled to shit without working for it; that they can do whatever the fuck they want to whomever they want and the rules don’t apply to them. These are the useless folks I want to snuff out. Hitler was on to something with his gas chambers and ovens to eradicate big groups of people. He just targeted the wrong people.
So my evil mind has been thinking up super viruses. Much like Nazi pseudo science, my virus would be torturous and deadly, and designed to eradicate large populations of people, namely worthless pricks and useless cunts, otherwise known as assholes . I have an evil accomplice who is a biologist. We have been playing in his lab, creating the perfect super virus, one that recognizes folks with the “arsehole gene” which leads to the creation of an asshole. Our super virus will only kill folks who carry the arsehole gene. When this virus finds a host carrying the gene, it will attach itself, mutate and kill. And not kill as in a heart attack, but kill as in completely exterminate. Carriers of the areshole gene will be infected with a deadly virus that literally eats their bodies from the inside out. Internal organs will eviscerate; skin will turn carcinogenic; and before long the asshole or future asshole, will be a pile of melted flesh and bones. Because it is a designer virus, it will resemble Ebola or Bird Flu, making it hard for the medical community to recognize that this is a man made virus designed for a sort of ethnic cleansing.
The only way to ensure the well being of everyone is to rid the world of assholes. If you are an asshole, get your affairs together now, because you won’t be able to hide from my virus. Or just call me and have me snuff you out before hand in a swifter, less agonizing way. If you know an asshole and you need them gone before my super virus is perfected, call me to be your nasty accomplice. Killing assholes is much more fun with a sick twisted bitch. Let’s just say I really enjoy getting rid of garbage.
Do you like torture sex? My dirty p step daddy sure doesn’t, but I do. My mom married a man when I was young who preferred my body. He crawled in my bed nightly for over a year, until my mom finally believed me and kicked the bastard to the curb. Now that I am older, and have a penchant for inflicting pain and snuffing out worthless bastards, I looked him up. Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit. I knew he would take the bait and meet me for old time sake.
As soon as he arrived, I gave him a glass of whiskey, his favorite. I slipped a roofie in it to knock him out. He woke up, tied up and horrified at what he saw. Two other men who had wronged me sexually from my past, bound and gagged, with mutilated dicks. I am a firm believer that if you don’t know how to use it, you should not have it. Going to force your cock on an innocent girl, I’m going to destroy it, very painfully too. I cut the worthless pecker off this guy who groped me and other girls on the subway. Chopped it clear off and enjoyed the blood splatter. Oh and his agony. He got it easy. I tossed his cock on the ground, trampled on it with my spiked heels, then fed it to a stray dog, with a smile on my face the entire time. I went over to dear old step daddy and asked him if he was enjoying the show.
Next up on the torture train was a school teacher who was once fond of flashing his junk to little girls. I shoved a scalpel down his urethra and twisted it. I attached a shock device to his balls that sent painful electrodes through him every time he moved. With a sharp instrument twisting inside his pee hole, being still was not possible. He was screaming, thrashing about. I was wet between my legs seeing the blood, knowing his pain. Knowing he would never piss the same way again, let alone fuck again. Got even wetter knowing my evil step daddy was pissing his boxers in fear, knowing his worthless cock was next.
For him I used a Victorian torture device called a Jugum Penis. Essentially it is a bear trap for a worthless cock. I slapped it on his cock, then sat on his face knowing my sweet cunt smell would get him hard. Despite his fear, regardless of the carnage he had witnessed, he still got hard like a nasty p daddy does. Once I heard the snap and the scream, I hopped off him so I could enjoy the bloody mess that use to be his junk. That Jugum device shredded his dick. Even smashed his testicles. Eviscerated his whole junk. His nuts forever busted so at least he would never procreate. I was going to cut it off like I did with bachelor #1, but I wanted to leave him scarred and ruined for life. I wanted his mutilated, tortured cock to be a constant reminder of his bad deeds.
I love torturing worthless cocks. Men who can’t use their peckers responsibly should not have them. Do you know how to use your cock properly or do I need to torture your penis, maybe even castrate you?