Category: Torture sex

Evil Phone Sex Proves Therapeutic to Me

evil phone sexSomebody told me once that I look like an angel, but I harbor an evil phone sex bitch inside of me. Perhaps that seems like a true statement. And in more recent years, I have become more confident and more dominant. I’m still a switch. However, I still feel all this rage inside of me over my upbringing. And I channel that rage into others.

Mostly women, well young girls, because men hire me for their age play needs. They understand a mature woman can lure a young girl away from her home and friends much easier than a man.

But the only woman I’ve ever felt rage for would be my mother who left me with my piece of shit father knowing he would likely abuse me the moment she left. But young girls don’t really enrage me. When I serve them up to men like my father it’s pretty much survival of the fittest. And I do it for money.

Not Every Man Wants to Keep His Balls

However, when men hire me for castration phone sex, I feel invigorated. It gives me a chance to get out some of that rage on some loser with a tiny dick and worthless balls. I never show men sympathy like I do young girls. Perhaps that’s because I can relate to the young girls because I’ve been in their shoes before. But I never identify with men who like to abuse young girls. I just keep my mouth shut and do the job they hired me for and take my money to the bank.

But recently, I discovered that I enjoy cock and ball torture. Men in the club started hiring me for the VIP room to trample their cocks or kick them in the balls. And I found it therapeutic. Perhaps, the word got around that I like cock and ball torture, and now men pay me to do a lot more than just dance on their junk.

Joe hired me to castrate him. He’s what we would call a predator. He even needs to register on the sex offender list because he got in trouble with a young girl many years ago. I view him as weak with no self-control. So, he thought he could stay out of prison, where he would be murdered for his love of young girls, if he hired me to castrate him. He might still possess the urge for young girls, but he’d never be able to act on it ever again.

Castration and Cock and Ball Torture Feel Therapeutic to Me

So, he came over last night and I castrated him. I used castration bands on him. That’s what they use for sheep and cattle on farms. Serves as a chemical castration. You put them on tight enough, and it cuts the circulation off. Eventually, the balls shrivel up and become useless. But you could also snip the balls off too with little bloodshed and just cauterize the wound. I went that route.

But I kicked him in the balls a few times for shits and giggles. Did a little dance in my stilettos on his cock. He does like cock and ball torture sex, so I made sure he got some. Clean castration. He paid me well for the removal of his balls. Minimal damage. But I did get out some much needed rage on his balls. And it felt amazing. Therapeutic. And I felt like I did a good thing because I took one more predator out of the game.

Snuff Porn Desires with Hot Layla Fulfilling Your Every Need

Snuff PornThe camera is always on, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way because being a total bimbo means I live for the attention. My life is basically a nonstop loop of snuff porn fantasies come to life, and I spend most of my time making sure my makeup is perfect and my lip gloss is extra sticky for the lens. But today, things took a turn that made my little nigger brain short circuit in the best way possible. 

I was just lounging in my silk robes, admiring my latest filler and pouting at my reflection, when I realized someone was watching me… and not just through the official pay per view stream. I heard a faint click from the hallway, and then a shadow slipped past my bedroom door, making my heart race under my lacy bra. 

Most girls would scream, but I just blinked my long lashes and felt a rush of heat between my thighs. This unknown stranger didn’t want my jewelry or my designer bags; he wanted the version of me that lives for the most vulgar, weird, and over the top demands. He stepped into the light, masked and silent, holding a folder full of photos he’d taken of me when I thought I was alone. 

It was a total invasion of privacy, but seeing how obsessed he was with my “cum facials” and my ditzy personality made me melt. “Are you lost, or are you just here to worship me?” I asked, my voice breathy and high pitched, the perfect bimbo invitation. He didn’t answer with words; instead, he pulled out a list of the filthiest things he wanted me to do, things that even the wildest directors wouldn’t dare to script. 

He was into the strange stuff… the kind of unknown taboo scenarios that require a girl with zero inhibitions and a huge appetite for being used. I watched him watch me, and I realized that having a stalker who knows every one of my dirty secrets is actually the ultimate power trip.

He moved closer, his presence heavy and intimidating, and I just tilted my head back, offering him the view he’d clearly been dreaming about. I’ve spent my whole career being a fantasy for thousands, but being the specific, private target for a stranger’s darkest impulses?

That’s a different kind of high. I’m his favorite toy now, a living doll designed for his pleasure, and as he started to guide me through his list of vulgar demands, I knew I was never going to want my privacy back. I was born to be watched, used, and absolutely ruined by someone who knows exactly how to break a girl like me.

Mutilation Phone Sex Left Me Carved Up Like a Holiday Ham

mutilation phone sexMutilation phone sex left me butchered. I don’t tend to think things through completely. I see ads on the dark net all the time looking for models for various snuff type photo shoots or films. But I only focus on the amount of money they plan to pay me. I never read the fine print about the possibility of bodily harm or even death.

So, when I saw the pay for a day’s work, I skipped reading the rest. I wrongly assumed I signed up for another snuff movie of some sort. But what I honestly signed up for turned out to be more of a butchering photo shoot. They wanted to carve me up like a Thanksgiving ham. However, they assumed I understood the risks. But I did not truly understand until a man came out of another room with a bunch of knives and an executioner’s mask on. I almost pissed myself.

What did I get myself into once again, ran through my head. He held a variety of knives, and they all looked very sharp. Oh boy, here we go again, I thought to myself. I might not survive this one or I might be permanently scarred from knife play phone sex. Luckily, I can photoshop a lot of my scars away. The executioner guy kept telling me not to tremble because he could slice an artery. But that did not do anything to relax my mind. It just sent me into a spiral of fear.

I Consider Myself More of a Druggy Whore Than a Pain Slut

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate extremely hard on anything, but what he would do to me. So, I could feel the knives slicing my flesh. And I just tried to stay focused on my happy place. Luckily, I did my last bit of blow before he strapped me to this cold slab. Minutes felt like hours. I could feel my crimson blood flowing down my mutilated flesh. But I stayed focused in my mind. Telling myself I can get through anything.

I’ve been through a lot in my life. Perhaps most people look at me as a pain slut. I see it a bit differently. I’m a drug addicted whore, who puts herself in dangerous situations for a fix. I don’t sign up for this shit because I like pain. Pain just helps me earn money to buy cocaine. So, I view myself more as a druggie whore than a pain slut. However, my threshold for pain gets better every time.

This felt like pure torture sex. And I suppose the director aimed for that. No doubt the world contains plenty of men who love to see a mother butchered like that. By the time the session concluded, I looked like I walked off a horror movie set. But the blood on my body was not make up. Tiny cuts covered my flesh. Luckily, they never touched my face. And with winter, I can get away with long sleeves and pants until my wounds heal. When will I ever learn?

Torture Phone Sex with Worthless Whore, Cora!

Torture Phone Sex

Want your Torture Phone Sex Fantasies to come to life?

I am just the girl for you! I can handle just about anything you put me through, and I’ll do it with a smile!

Give me your fucking worst, see if I can put up with whatever sick and twisted shit you come up with!

Want to face fuck me so hard I gag and cry.

Do it, be my guest.

You want to stretch out my pussy and asshole at the same time with two huge dicks?

Try me bitch.

I am one tough bitch who loves the pain you inflict.

Give me your absolute worst and see if I crumble in front of you!

Reach deep into your fucked up soul and give me the punishment I deserve.

 

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Strangulation Phone Sex is The Ultimate Harbinger of Demise

I’m Geneva, and Strangulation Phone Sex is only part of killing me.  Just a sexy doll come to life. With long blonde waves, perky DDs spilling out of tiny pink tops, and a tiny waist. But it’s this ass so round and firm it begs to be wrecked.
First off, I love playing the ultimate fantasy fuck toy. Especially when phone sex turns deadly hot. Last night, a caller gripped me with his darkest craving: strangulation phone sex as the ultimate harbinger of demise.
When I answered, he started right off, “I want to choke you while I destroy that perfect ass, Geneva,” is a firm whisper. As this made me wet, I purred back, slipping into the fantasy, my voice breathy and teasing.

Strangulation Phone Sex Isn’t Just a Kink, It’s and End

He pins me face-down on silk sheets, my perfect body arched, ass high and inviting. Then his thick cock presses against my tight hole. With no lube, just raw force as he thrusts in deep.
And I gasp, feeling every inch stretch me, burn me, own me. Now his hands wrap around my slender throat. With his fingers digging in, squeezing tighter with each brutal pump into my ass.
All I can do is claw at the sheets, moaning how it hurts so good, how I’m his helpless doll breaking under him. Next, he fucks harder, slamming balls-deep, choking me until stars explode behind my eyes.
Now breathless, vision blurring—that edge of demise makes my ass clench around him. But I need more, “Tighter,” I beg, voice hoarse. Of course, he obliges, cutting off my air completely as he pounds relentlessly, my body shaking on the brink.
Strangulation Phone Sex
Just as black spots dance, he releases. Finally, his hot cum floods my ass while I shatter in the most intense orgasm. Really teetering on death’s door.
It’s true, Strangulation phone sex isn’t just a kink. In fact, it’s the ultimate rush, the harbinger of sweet, filthy demise.
Who wants to choke this perfect slut next? Call me—I’m already wet thinking about it.

Knife Play Phone Sex is The Number One Way I Like to Kill

knife play phone sexKnife play phone sex remains my favorite. I believe a knife requires more skill than a gun. Plus, a knife kills someone slower than a gun. With a knife wound, somebody bleeds out slowly and death is not instant like a bullet through the brain. Knives rule my world.

I took a girl under my wing. A few months ago, I worked with a guy who wanted her dead. But he turned out to be quite shady and when I found out that he wanted to kill me too, I made her my accomplice instead. And she helped me kill her own uncle. I made her my trainee. I saw a lot of me in her. So, I am teaching her about knives and turning her into a taboo phone sex princess.

Although I don’t enjoy the company of very many people, occasionally I meet a young girl with potential. And I foster that evil inside of her. Some girls exist to clean house like me. In a way I’m like Dexter. I kill with a purpose. And I rarely kill anybody who doesn’t deserve to die. Now my moral compass seems less rigid than the average person, I still primarily kill those who deserve to die.

A person can enjoy killing and adhere to a moral hierarchy for killing. Top of my killing list are predators. Men and women who prey on others. Perhaps they drug their drinks or try to force them into slavery. Maybe they just attack unaccompanied women. I’ve even killed a few people for just looking at me wrong because I could tell that they wanted to force themselves on me, but I stopped them before they could.

Sometimes, I Turn a Young Girl into My Trainee and Accomplice

Predators come in all shapes and sizes like my young accomplice’s uncle. He started fucking her as a schoolgirl and when she became a young teen girl, he feared she would tell somebody. Hence why he hired me to kill her. Normally, I don’t care why somebody wants another person dead. I take the money and I do the job. However, this fucking predator tried to make me his victim too because.

So, he needed to die. And I let her use one of my knives to do it for me. And I saw that expression in her eyes when that knife penetrated him in the gut, and he started to bleed out on the floor. She smiled. And she did not show any fear or hesitation. She liked killing him. And I suspect she long wanted him dead.

Now I’m teaching her my code. And I’m instilling in her a love of knives and sharp objects. She even picked out her next victim. The schoolboy bully who forces himself on other schoolgirls after he drugs them, and films himself fucking them.

That loser fits my moral code for murder. And together, we will set a trap for him and kill him on Friday night. She’s ready and eager. I love a young killer phone sex accomplice. In my life I’ve experienced a few girls just like her. The way I see it, I’m helping to shape the future teaching young girls that they can become a killer with a moral code just like me.

Sex with dead bodies, a special treat for a good slave

Sex with dead bodies Sex with dead bodies is really intense! Lots of folks think snuff is just some conspiracy theory. But it’s not, and the motherfuckers who are into it are scary as hell!

They like to fuck, kill, fuck, in that order!

My Master is the scariest. He has a taste for all kinds of things, and cold, dead flesh is a passion. He has a lot of money and can make anyone disappear. The reason why I’m still alive is that I learned real quick what he expected. But he also refined my palette.

So here is this helpless little slave, way younger than me, and no one will look for her. My Master doesn’t need an island for his girls because most of them end up in the incinerator.
He likes to play Doctor. So, as his helpful nurse, I have her splayed out on the slab.

She’s crying, cold and naked. She knows it’s just a matter of time before he is done with her. When he records his Snuff sex sessions, he likes to draw it out, and it’s already been hours of playtime with her.

He cut off her clothes and inspected every inch of her naked body. He got really hard when he stuck a whole bunch of needles in her.

Then he made the order. I had to insert a special speculum into her. It’s a terrifying piece of equipment. There are these little sharp spikes that stick out on the outside. He designed it himself. So when I put it in her pussy, those little spikes dig in her flesh.

I open her up with it, blood gushing everywhere. She has passed out, trying to escape the pain. But when he sticks his dick in her with that speculum, she screams herself awake. I think it’s the blood loss that killed her. There was so much of it just pouring out of her.

Since she was dead, he made me ride her. I ground my pussy on her bloody gash. I hate to admit it because of how evil it is, but I come so hard when I am scissor fucking a corpse, and so does my Master!

Torture Sex is The Best Kind of Dark Pleasure

With Torture sex on my mind, I prowl the streets at night with hunger for the hunt. Then he catches my eye, muscular, dark hair, pale skin and oblivious. So I take to stalking him silently, through the alley behind the club. That’s when I strike, pressing chloroform to his mouth.

He thrashes wildly against me, cock hardening instinctively in his panic as his body grinds mine before he slumps limp. Then I drag him to my basement sanctuary.

Torture Sex

Here I bind him to the chair, with brutality, leather restraints carving into his wrists and ankles until blood trickles.

When he wakes groggy; I smile and seize my pliers. Of which I clamp on his front incisor, twisting slowly until roots tear free with a wet snap. Blood gushes; he howls, the vibration rippling through me, soaking my cunt instantly.

Next, I yank each tooth methodically—molars crunching like gravel, canines ripping with fleshy pops—blood spraying my face and tits.

Which I smear over my hardening nipples, moaning as I lick the metallic tang from my fingers.

Torture Sex Drive Me Hotter Than Hell’s Deepest Core

Next, wire cutters. With these I pinch fingernails, snipping them off at the quick, then peel back the raw beds with deliberate twists. As skin tears in bloody strips; fresh screams echo as pus and blood ooze. Now I grind my thighs together, clit throbbing from his agony.

Sadistic Phone Sex

Box cutter in hand, I slice shallow grids across his chest and abdomen—flaps of skin peeling back to expose quivering fat. Making blood well thick; I finger the wounds. Then plunging my bloody digits into my dripping pussy, fucking myself slowly while he sobs.

Up next, the cattle prod, it hums alive. This I jab his thighs—flesh sizzles black. Then I shock his nipples until they blister. Finally, his balls and cock—watching it twitch and leak despite the burn.

Consequently, the odor of terror-sweat and scorched meat fill the air. This has my clit pulsing with every convulsion.

Finally, I chain him suspended, feet dangling helplessly. With my ritual knife gleaming, I carve deep into his stomach, guts spilling slick and steaming.

As I slice pectorals open, flaying skin from muscle, carving sigils into raw flesh while blood cascades.

Now his weakening moans fuel my dark ecstasy of Sadistic Phone Sex

In this final moment, blade to throat. Acceptance fills his eyes. And I slash deep—arteries erupt in scalding sprays across my face, neck, dripping between my breasts.

His twitching death throes trigger my release—cunt spasming violently, squirting down my thighs in profane climax.

Now I kneel in his cooling pool, fingers plunging into my soaked hole through the gore. Power surges; I cum again, screaming into the void.

This is my rapture, Gothic Phone Sex, – hunting, torturing, killing. The night beckons; I hunt forever.

Gothic Phone Sex

Suffocation Phone Sex Breaking In Holding Pillow Over Layla

Suffocation Phone SexPlease, stay on the line… I think I heard the window in the kitchen shatter and my heart is beating so fast I can feel it in my throat. I’m just laying here in my thong, completely exposed, and I know exactly what’s coming for me. This wasn’t supposed to happen tonight, but as the footsteps get closer to my bedroom door, I realize my Suffocation Phone Sex fantasies are about to become a brutal, terrifying reality. 

You aren’t here for my TV or my purse; you’re here because you know I’m just a helpless, sexy slut who’s been begging for a real man to come and take what he wants. The door kicks open and the light from the hallway spills over my bed, showing me the silhouette of a predator who’s already decided I’m his prize. I try to crawl toward the headboard, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps, but you’re too fast. 

You lung for me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand while the other reaches for the pillow. You don’t want to hear my excuses or my pleas; you just want to hear me struggle. Before I can even let out a real scream, you slam the pillow down over my face, snuffing out the sound and leaving me in a world of muffled, hot darkness.

I’m fighting for air, my lungs burning as I claw at the mattress, but you’re already ripping my lace aside. The moment you force your way inside me, hard and uncompromising, my whole body arches in a mix of pure terror and a sick, addictive heat. You’re breaking into me just like you broke into my house, stealing my pussy while I’m literally fighting for my next breath.

The weight of the pillow is crushing, forcing me to focus on every thick, heavy thrust that sends a jolt of electricity through my starving nerves. I’m a total mess, a gasping toy beneath your weight, and the more you cut off my air, the more my body betrays me by clenching around you in a desperate, suffocating grip.

Every time I think I’m going to black out, you press harder, driving me closer to an edge I’ve never touched before. By the time you finally pull the pillow away and let me gasp in a lungful of cold air, I’m completely ruined, my body shaking and my mind gone. You’ve taken everything I had to give, leaving me breathless and used on the sheets, just a slut who finally got exactly what she deserved from a man who doesn’t take no for an answer.

A Snuff Phone Sex Valentine’s Day I Did Not Ask For, But I Got It

snuff phone sexPerhaps you could say I enjoyed a snuff phone sex weekend. Many men wanted to explore their violent fantasies about mommy for Valentine’s Day. Nobody gave me flowers or candy. But they did give me bruises and sore fuck holes.

My stepson wanted to live stream a Valentine’s Day edition with his redheaded stepmom. Since he blackmails me and bribes me with cocaine, I never have much choice in the matter. He gives me the best blow. However, he makes me work harder for it than any of those other drug dealers or snuff film makers. While the camera rolled, he said some silly little Valentine’s Day poem about turning his mommy black and blue. When I saw him put a bunch of oranges in a pillow sack, I knew what came next.

A good beat down came next. He said batter up and the tips came in. Then he started beating me black and blue. You would think that a pillowcase full of oranges would not hurt, but it feels almost as painful as somebody punching the crap out of you. We heard a crack and then I could barely breathe. For a moment, I thought uh oh I’m making a snuff porn, and I will die accidentally on Valentine’s Day. And although he broke a rib at least it didn’t puncture my lung. But he didn’t stop beating me even after he cracked my rib.

My Stepson Beats Me Black and Blue But He Gives Me the Best Blow

Likely, most of my ribs he cracked in the past. It’s painful. But they heal with time and rest. Clearly, he needed money. And since I am his cash cow, I came to the rescue. Truth be told I needed a bunch of blow to keep up with my two biological sons and their 10 friends that spent the weekend with us. To be a gang bang mommy whore requires a lot of cocaine. The kind of cocaine only my stepson can provide.

At least my boy let me do lines of cocaine in between every beat down, because honestly, I didn’t feel any pain until the cocaine wore off. But he did leave my body battered. Black and blue. I came up with a lie that I fell down the stairs. Blamed it on the dog. My husband believed that I tripped over the dog because he thinks he married a typical suburban housewife. But he really married a druggie whore who stars in snuff movies so she can get cocaine. And he has no clue that I’m his first son’s cash cow whore.