Snuff Sex is The Best Conjuring Dark Depths of Desire
It was another Snuff sex scene, that started brutal.
Suddenly the door creaks open. A hand clamps around my throat from behind, fingers digging deep and choking off my air until stars explode behind my eyes. Yet he squeezes harder, then abruptly releases. Leaving me gasping, dizzy, and my cunt pulsing with fresh need.
Next he shoves me forward. I drop hard to my knees on the icy concrete. Where he approaches me and sizes up my torn whore body.
When he finally stops in front of me, he yanks my head back by the hair.
“Look at me,” he growls. I lift my gaze and meet cold, empty hunger staring back.
Without warning he slaps me viciously across the face, then again on the other side. Tears blur my vision as he tightens his grip until my scalp screams.
“Tell me you want me to hurt you.”
“I want you to hurt me,” I choke out, voice raw and trembling.
This makes him chuckle cruelly, then drives his knee into my gut. As the air blasts from my lungs, I collapse. Immediately he grabs my ankles and drags me across jagged concrete that shreds my skin raw.
Once he reaches the center, he rolls me onto my back, unbuckles his belt, and wraps it around his fist. Leather cracks across my tits. I scream.
Then he strikes over and over, welts rising fast, breasts bouncing with every brutal lash while my nipples harden in agony. After he tosses the belt aside, he unzips, and pulls out his thickening cock. Then he straddles my chest, and rams it between my lips.
As he fucks my face mercilessly, his hands pinning my skull down. All while driving so deep I gag violently, tears streaming, spit bubbling down my chin. Finally he pulls back just enough for a ragged breath, then slams in again, choking me until panic floods my veins.
Abruptly he withdraws, flips me onto my stomach, yanks my hips up, spits on my ass, and plunges in dry. The searing burn rips through me. I scream into the floor as he pounds without mercy, using my hair like reins to slam even harder, cock stretching my ass hole raw.
Suddenly he pulls out, flips me again, and draws a knife. Now the blade traces my thigh, slicing a thin red line.
“Are you ready to die, Geneva?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Use me. Kill me.”
Then he smiles cruelly, drags the knife across my throat—shallow, just enough to bleed and fake death. Consequently, warmth spills across my skin.
With conviction, my body convulses in a shattering orgasm, cunt clenching hard, squirting scorching jets across my thighs’.
Nevertheless he watches coldly, I shudder through it, he wipes the blade on my leg, and stands.
“You’re not dying today,” he says, zipping up. and continues : “There’s more fun left in your whore body”.
Next he hauls me up, drags me to a stained mattress, and dumps ice-cold bleach-water over me.
Violently shivering I am left confused. At this point he turns on the camera. The red light blinks to life.
“For posterity,” he says. “So everyone remembers what a worthless slut you are”.
Naturally he slams into my dripping cunt, and pounds me brutally. All while the lens captures every gasp, every tear, every drop of blood and cum.
Now I stare into the camera—broken, bleeding, alive in the filth—and feel completely whole.





