Sometimes I find myself consumed with murder phone sex fantasies. Also, I know I put myself in dangerous situations and acquaint myself with men all in the name of a fix for cocaine. Some men treat me far worse than others. And some I wish dead. But just because I have murderous fantasies, does not make me a murderer. Until it did.
I met James about 15 years ago. He’s a drug dealer that I go to when it’s an absolute emergency, but I prefer not to visit him because he’s brutal. Even more brutal than my stepson and more brutal than anybody in my past combined. But I saw him in a place I did not expect to see him. And that made my head rush with thoughts of torture. For everything he’s done to me in my past, he had torture sex coming. But how would I lure him. I set a honey trap. My mind works quickly when I’m high. And I’m always high.
I told him I left my husband, and I wanted to be his slave. I gave him the address of the no tell motel I planned to stay at until I saved enough money to get my own place. And he bought that I wanted to fuck him. Fucking him seemed to be the furthest thing from my mind. However, if I had to fuck him first, I would. This man haunted me in my dreams. But he haunts me no more.
Sometimes, a Submissive Whore Must Do Uncharacteristic Things to Survive
I slipped him a roofie and started fucking him on this no motel bed. I’ve seen Basic Instinct a few times, so I had an ice pack under the mattress. One I could get too easily. And I grabbed that ice pick and I just started stabbing him. Frantic stabbing. His blood sprayed everywhere. He tried to choke me, but I kept stabbing him.
I felt like a fight or flight response took me over. And it fueled me with anger and strength I didn’t even know I had. The guy prolapsed my ass one too many times. Left me battered and used naked in the middle of nowhere. He came close to killing me a few times. And I know I’m weak. I would’ve gone to him again for coke in a moment of desperation. And that next time he would’ve killed me.
I turned that no tell motel into a crime scene. It looked like someone made a snuff porn in that room. Although I didn’t film it, I did leave a mess. But in that kind of place nobody pays any attention to who comes and goes. And I know I likely left DNA behind, but I’m not in the system. But now I must make sure I never am. But in my defense that bastard had it coming. And I’m sure there’s lots of grateful girls in the world who will thank me once they know he’s gone.




