Castration Phone Sex Feels Like a Warm Blanket to Me!

Castration phone sex serves as my warm blanket. It feels like comfort food. Maybe you could call it chicken soup for my soul. I find comfort in neutering pigs. Not actual pigs. I like animals more than people. So, I would never mutilate an animal. But a man is a different kind of animal that I have no problem neutering.

Perhaps I get the comfort from knowing that I’ve taken a predator or a loser off the streets making the world a better place for other women. Some women consider me a superhero of sorts. Although I do not necessarily like most women, I also cannot get behind the manosphere world.

When the manosphere gods, the Tate brothers, got arrested recently, I couldn’t help but laugh. Did you see what the fuck Andrew Tate wore. It felt like he was a model for that suburban woman catalog Chicos. The dark net went crazy because that’s where most incels can be found. Now some of those mansplaining idiots like Myron Gaines went off in support of the Tates, but most red pill Kool-Aid drinking asshats create their clatter on the dark net. Pussies.

Since I know how to navigate the dark web, I hunt for red pill idiots to castrate. Just makes me feel good. Plus, most of them proclaim to be celibate anyway. So, they do they need their junk. I take what they’re not using. Or at least what they claim they’re not using. Since I’m an excellent hacker, I traced the IP address of this one idiot with a huge bark on the darknet. He thinks women owe him something and if they won’t give it to him, he thinks that gives him the right to take it.

If Incels Think They Have a Right to My Body, Then I Have a Right to Their Balls

Well, I believe I have the right to take a man’s balls through extreme cock and ball torture sex who espouses that level of misogyny on the Internet. I catfished an incel. Made him think he was coming over to a fellow Bro’s house. But he found a Goth bitch wielding a huge knife instead. I looked him in the eyes and said, “Not what you expected, right?” I sprayed him in the face with my special pepper spray. It contains puffer fish toxin. It’s a neurotoxin that paralyzes instantly. Your victim feels pain. Your victim understands what’s happening. They just can’t fight.

I dragged him down my basement by the feet which battered him up a little bit coming down the stairs. But the real pain had not started yet. That happened once I put him in my castration chair. I separated his balls from his dick using a castration band. Then I got out a razor blade, and I shaved the skin off his testicles and his dick.

Your Body and Balls Belong to Me You Incel Losers

Little tiny scrapes that inflicted maximum pain. And I took my sweet fucking time doing it. But the best part was when I dumped an entire bottle of vodka over his exposed testicles and balls. The loser couldn’t scream. And he couldn’t move. But the tears in his eyes told me how much pain he felt. And that made me feel good.

Again, I just started. I took a meat cleaver and started chopping little slices of flesh off his dick like I was making charcuterie board using his dick as the sausage. I’m not completely cruel. I did leave a little bit of dick just so he could piss. But he’ll never aim down to piss again. He’ll piss straight out. Chopped his balls off too and fed them to my dog while he watched. While I tortured him with knife play phone sex, I read a long list of his grievances that explained why he deserved exactly what I did.

Honestly, a lot of the women he preys on I could give two shits about. But some of these losers trickle down into the Goth community and I protect my own. I take out an incel at least once or twice a week. But I’ll never get rid of them. New ones crop up daily. But at least I’m doing my part to make the world a better place.