Torture sex excites me. A caller recently asked me how I turned so dark. And I would say it is part nature and part nurture. Plus, genetics. My grandpa was a sadist. And he groomed me once he saw my potential when I was still a schoolgirl. Although I never tortured animals, I checked all the other boxes for future serial killer. I like animals more than people. In fact, animals serve as my accomplices. No better way to dispose of a body than wildlife. They eat the evidence of a crime. Essentially, they hide the bodies for me.
I acted impulsively with my first kill. Killed this bully in a fit of rage. She made my life living hell for years. And I long fantasized about killing her. But I never did until that one day I snapped. My killer phone sex instincts kicked in. I ran home holding a bloody knife and covered in blood. Luckily for me, my grandpa assisted me. He moved the body. Fed this dead bitch into a woodchipper. And to this day she remains a missing person.
No one ever found a body. And they never found any evidence of foul play. The police assumed either she was kidnapped for sex trafficking persons, or perhaps some P man kidnapped her and took her out of state. She could have just run away too. Nope. She became fertilizer for grandpa’s garden. Of course, I became a suspect. Everyone knew she bullied me for years. But grandpa provided me with an alibi. Although my grandpa shared my killer instincts, as the warden of the local prison, the police held him in high esteem. He was one of them.
My Grandpa Mentored Me as a Schoolgirl. He Honed My Killer Instincts
But he was not one of them because he ran cruel experiments on inmates. And he killed people for fun. However, he did have a code like Dexter. Not quite as stringent as Dexter’s code, but he never killed innocents. He killed criminals, assholes, predators and anyone who harmed him or his family. And that included a bunch of mean girls. I killed one mean girl and more popped up. So, grandpa helped me hone my killer instincts.
Under his wing, I learned how to make snuff porn and get away with it. And I learned how to torture victims. Grandpa did not believe in quick kills. He got off on the pain and suffering of his victims. And now that gets me off too. Sure, sometimes I must kill quickly to avoid detection, but the best kills take hours, even days because so I can savor the torture. Perhaps, I can teach you how to get away with murder too. Time for me to pay it forward.
Snuff sex burns a fire in my belly. I can feel the power of the screams coursing through my veins. My bloodlust takes over, and that poor little victim has no chance. The fear in their eyes as they realize what’s happening, the screams that tear from their throats as they beg for mercy. But there is no mercy here, only the cold, hard reality of my bloodlust. The poor little victim has no chance, no hope for survival. 
