Do you want to be my bloody phone sex valentine. The most romantic thing a man can do for me is offer himself up for me to butcher. I don’t possess the traditional need for men that most women do. I don’t need them for my financial independence because I make my own money. And I don’t need them to fuck me because that’s why they make sex toys. Plus, I don’t need men to do things for me because I’m a capable woman who can do it all by myself.
So, the only thing men can offer me is their body and soul to destroy. Perhaps, some people might call me a succubus. Personally, I don’t mind that comparison. I’m a sick bitch. But I’m also an island who needs nobody to survive. I just like to kill simps, losers, and assholes. The world will never miss them.
For shits and giggles, I put an ad out on the dark net looking for human sacrifices. And my inbox flooded with guys wanting me to choose them. Maybe they didn’t understand what snuff porn sacrifice meant or perhaps they understand that they contribute nothing to this world and thus do not deserve to continue breathing.
I picked Eddie. And I do my research before I agree to kill anybody or kill with anybody. Stone cold killers, like me, understand the risk we take. First, I need to make sure I’m not being set up. I also like to prepare blackmail material in case somebody tries back paddle.
Some Men are Too Weak to Off Themselves, So They Call Me
Eddie lives a pathetic existence. Tons of social media accounts with very few followers. Never married. Likely still a virgin at 48 years old. No real money of his own; he inherited money from his grandpa. I even found his Tinder profile showing off his little shrimp dick. And I doubt anybody ever swipes right on him.
Couple hours of research and I determined Eddie would be my bloody valentine. He showed up at my place with a bottle of red wine and flowers. Who makes romantic gestures to the woman they paid to kill them. Dumb ass. I took my time torturing Eddie. But somebody else’s pain becomes my aphrodisiac.
I tied Eddie up spread eagle naked, of course. And then I showed him my knife collection. I carved him up with my knives. I carved loser and my initials into his flesh. And I put a castration band around his useless little balls. Plus, I even sliced his little dick off. He’s not using it anyway.
Are You Strong Enough to Be My Bloody Valentine Sacrifice?
This loser paid me $50,000 to end his life. He wanted to be my bloody valentine. And he got what he wanted. No more rejection. No more lonely existence. And no more days of wishing himself dead. He lacked the balls to kill himself, so he paid somebody to do it for him.
Perhaps he had bigger balls than he thought. Before I tossed his body to the wolves, I removed his balls as a souvenir. Castration phone sex after the fact. When you remove the balls postmortem, they do not bleed, and they stay perfectly preserved for a few hours. Just enough time for me to stick them in a jar of formaldehyde.
Eddie knew his life was worth worthless. He just took up space and air. So, he gave himself to me willingly to torture and kill. Are you strong enough to be my bloody valentine too?
Bloody phone sex hails the Dark Lord! Hail Satan, may this little slut with a bald pussy and flat chest.
