My Violent Phone Sex Death is In Your Hands

violent phone sex

Dear Master:

I have violent phone sex fantasies; therefore, I am your willing victim. I know I am a worthless whore. Maybe in my death, I can find a purpose. Maybe in death, I can finally be worthwhile to you. I deserve to die. I do not deserve to die quickly, however. No mercy killing for this blonde bimbo. That is why I am offering myself up to you. I know you will not kill me quickly. I know it will not be a painless death either if you are my executioner. I understand that you are a sadistic bastard who can find hundreds of ways to snuff me. How should you kill me, Master? Let me count the ways. Punch me like you are Mike Tyson. Kick me and bend me like Beckham. Slam dance my face off a concrete floor. Break my bones.  Set me on fire or slow roast me alive over an open flame. Disembowel me. Strangle me. Suffocate me. Dismember me with a chainsaw. Beat me with a baseball bat or a tire iron. Give me a lobotomy. Stab me. Nail me to a tree and let the wilderness eat me alive. Hang me. Stone me. Drown me. Bury me alive. Douse me in acid. Tie me between two cars and tear me in two. I know you are the kind of creative man and sick man to make my snuff sex death excruciating and memorable. You can profit off my death too Master. Stream my death for money. Sell my organs on the black market. Charge a fee to fuck my dead body. I know I do not deserve to keep on living. I am surprised I have lived this long. But then, until now, I had never met you.

Your subby whore in life and death,

Cassandra

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