I do any sick fantasy well, but I do enjoy castration phone sex more than I should. The thought of a loser being so self-aware that he knows his balls need to be removed makes me all warm and fuzzy. Yes, I know something is wrong with me. I have heard that since I was a little girl. I used to castrate my sisters’ Ken dolls. I also beheaded their Barbie dolls. I am the black sheep of the family. I take after my great grandfather. He was the head of a private prison that experimented on prisoners for profit. They were guinea pigs for pharmaceutical companies giving my great granddad kickbacks. It was cruel and unusual punishment, but these were the dregs of society, so I never understood why anyone gave a fuck about how they were treated. I was just a little girl, but I understood that those men did not deserve the same rights as me or my grandpa or you. When I was a teen girl, I got to assist him. I was set to inherit his prison when the Feds shut him down. I did get all the prison’s content including the electrocution chair. It was made in 1952 way before I was born. I use it for castration and torture sex now. As much as I love castrating men on the phone, the real deal is what gets me wet. It is just that guys I castrate in my grandpa’s old execution chair do not know they deserves to have their nuts gone. The losers who call me, do. I do not need permission, however, to remove some one’s balls or sexually mutilate their sex organs. I do it for the greater good. Small dicked assholes do not need to reproduce more small dicked assholes.
Venus
Call Venus: (855) 733-5746 ext 4631
Visit Venus's Phone Sex Profile
Read Venus 's Phone Sex Blog
