Castration phone sex was on my mind heavily recently. Even a sick loner bitch can have bad days. Whereas some women might binge eat or indulge in some retail therapy when their life derails, I castrate losers. It makes me feel better. It makes me feel great, honestly. So, over the weekend, I went on a castration binge. I got on Tinder and swiped right on the first tiny dicked loser I saw. The lucky winner of a free castration was Kenny. His profile alone would make most women cringe. He was standing naked with a frightened turtle between his legs bragging about how good his big penis could make a woman feel. Even if he was a grower and not a shower, he was not growing another 6-inches to make that statement true. I cat fished him with fake pictures. He was so horny that he did not care when I greeted him at the door. He was a schmuck. He was a blowhard. He was about to be a ballless wonder with some genital torture sex too. Foreplay for me. I gave him a drink. It was spiked with a bunch of Xanax. He was a big dude with a pin dick. While he thought I was giving him head, I put a castration band on him. The drugs, I knew, would not take long to kick in. He fell like a brick wall. My floor reverberated when he landed. I am tiny, but mighty. I dragged his body to the castration chair, separated the meat from the potatoes. His problem was he was all potatoes. I removed his balls with one swipe of my knife. I used a hot frying pan to seal the wound. I carved up his cock. I did not cut it off. I should have, but I wanted this loser to have a constant reminder that he lacks the equipment to satisfy any woman. This taboo phone sex bitch carved, “Tiny dick loser” into the flesh on his tiny dick. I dumped him in a park and went on to castrate loser number two. It was a busy weekend for me. So many losers in the world, and not enough time in the day.
Venus
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