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.
I could tell the bitch was already bleeding out by the time I got her top off. Some stupid whore who’s head I took a brick to when she wasn’t even looking, walking down the side walk like she owned the whole goddamned city. I just couldn’t stand the way she walked, or talked on the phone to some other slut I’m going to track down and kill too. She did have great tits though, D cups at least, glistening and wet from the blood that was spilling out of her bimbo head. I wanted her naked. I wanted to see if her pussy juice still tasted sweet mixed with her blood. I had to work quickly, so I took a knife to her jeans which slit another wound down her thighs. I’m not particularly precise when it comes to these things. She was blacking out so after getting a little taste of that pussy I fucked her with the knife I used to get her pants off. She would have liked it too, if she was awake for it. This is the kind of penetration she deserved, but not the kind she and all those dicks she’s inhaled have had in mind. Then I left her in the ditch just off the road where hopefully the garbage man will come and take this piece of trash to the dumpster where she belongs.
