I frequently have Murder phone sex Fantasies. Maybe it’s because my life is so hard being the slave of these horrible men, but the sweet release of a bloody, grim, horrifying demise seems alluring instead of scary. I dream of it often, laying there while my abused cunt is sore and bleeding from the recent reaming or torture session, hoping that somehow the bleeding doesn’t stop and I simply cease to exist. I want to die, I want to be killed, I want tomorrow to never come and I always get my hopes up whenever I feel a new pain or something breaks inside while they fuck my black ass rough and hard and raw. It’s fun for them, subjecting me to Mutilation phone sex, turning their domestic late-night ‘snack’ of a whore into something worse just because I didn’t have the power to fight back or the will to run away. The windows are open, the door is right there, but I can’t move. I never can, and anytime I think of it one of them comes around the corner with some new guy and they pull me back down to hell one nasty fuck, one horrifying cut, one bloody scream at a time. I know they eventually plan to let me die, when I’ve become too used, too worthless, too abused and lifeless. I just hope it’s soon, that maybe they underestimate what I have left and end it too soon. I want to still be here to choke on my blood, I still want to remember my bastard crack whore husband when I breathe my last breath and collapse onto the floor in a puddle of was and potential. I need to go out quickly, to be used for Snuff porn, and somehow I get my hopes up every single time someone calls, hoping that it’s going to be the guy that pays enough for them to do just that…
Layla
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