Tag: Bloody Phone Sex

My evil beginnings

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One of my favorite poets named Anthony Hecht said, “It doesn’t seem to me strange that little ones should like the macabre, the sensational, and the forbidden.” I wish my parents would have felt the same way. But, they didn’t. Instead, they pushed me around different mental wards, physically reprimanded me, and whatever they thought was best. The irony is that those experiences only helped intensify the darkness inside of me and gave me ingenious ideas about how to torture my future victims.

For instance, in the ward, I met this young girl who was about my age. She was crazy, but I still found ways that I could learn from her. She would slash her wrists and write messages on the wall. But what I remember most is this one time that she had to go to a funeral. She was able to choose one “friend,” and she chose me, probably because most young people and grown-ups were scared of me.

So, we got to the funeral; instead of sitting with her family members, she walked directly to the front and examined the body with curiosity. With determination, she lifted her small body above the coffin and to the corpse. She opened the dead old woman’s mouth, grabbed her tongue between her little fingers, and produced a pair of scissors. I don’t know where she was able to get the scissors, but it seemed that she had a plan: she cut off the purple tongue and without blinking put it in her pocket. She closed the old woman’s mouth and turned around.

I don’t know if anyone saw what she did; but no one did anything except rip the scissors away from her hand. Maybe all the grown-ups were too busy morning, or whatever they do; or maybe they knew that they couldn’t do anything about the crazy girl and just pretended that it didn’t happen. Regardless, at that moment, I felt a sisterly bond with the girl. She was one of the first to give me the courage to embrace the dark side inside of me, and to help it grow. From time to time, she’d take out the tongue at the ward and we’d both look at it, poke at it, smell it. I was the first to lick it; and she giggled. I still wonder if anyone took the tongue away from her; why would they, what could they do with it? After all, how could they appreciate such a thing of beauty, this mutilated tongue?

Crash: Part Two

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I took the opportunity to go look at the brat and woman more closely; I wondered if they were truly dead.  Everyone took for granted that they would be…or would be soon.  The brat was making gurgling noises in the back of its throat, choking on its own worthless blood.  I wouldn’t mind hacking the body up a bit more, I thought; but, my attention was caught by a shadowy figure above me.  She was blonde and had a leg brace.  “I did that crash, but I survived.  Only got it half right,” she said and motioned to her prosthetic leg.  She was pretty, and I thought she would look even prettier on my mortuary table.

I seduced her into returning home with me.  She was easy to coax into my dungeon, curious at everything.  She instinctively hobbled onto the table, and undressed; yes, I liked her.  When I came closer, she kissed me and I felt a sexual sensation run through my veins.  She took off her brace…and seemed, again, to read my mind.  “Cut it open,” she whispered and kissed me again.  I peeled back the flesh with a knife and stuck my fingers into her open wound.  She reclined and watched as I jabbed my fingers into the open hole, blood spurting everywhere.  She moaned and seemed to cum; and, uncharacteristically, I bandaged her back up.  I wanted to know more about her…before doing away with her completely.  But, I already had a plan for decapitating her and kicking her head around the field where the crashes took place.

Wicked Revenge Part One

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Someone referred a guy to me; he was tall, had a few-day-old beard, and was visibly distraught. He kept mumbling about an “Ex” of his and how she had done him ‘wrong.’ I wasn’t really sure what happened, but I was determined to help him. Not out of the goodness of my heart, of course; rather, I just loved his evil plan. But, I figured he would probably back out and I would carry it out myself…and do away with him in the process.

We kidnapped his ex-girlfriend and her little daughter and separated them. First, we tortured the little girl. He initially slapped her face with his cock, kicked her in the pussy; I restrained her because I had other plans. I picked up my favorite dagger and began slicing her; to my surprise, he took the dagger away from me. He began using it to scrawl messages to his ex; he tried to write sentences and then he settled on words and shorter phrases, such as “whore” and “her fault.” The girl continued to scream for her mother, and my accomplice seemed to relish in her screams. We finally drove stakes in her neck, decapitating her head. Then my partner put her head on a stake and fucked it.

Wait until you hear what happens next…it gets even better!

Crash: Part One

Snuff phone sex collage

One of my friends told me that I had to see this underground scene where people are obsessed with famous car crashes and recreate them. But, the beauty, he said, was that they recreate them with authenticity…which means that real people die in them! I was fascinated.

When we arrived, I met this guy who had scars all over his face and body; he was proud of them, letting me touch them. He seemed to get a sexual thrill out of me touching and admiring them. One especially long scar was on his chest; it was almost over an inch wide, and it must have been one gorgeous gash when it happened. I would have liked to put my finger in that bloody tissue before they’d sewn it up. I scratched my long nails against it, smiling with excitement, thinking I might get the chance to do that later.

The show was about to begin. I could see a mother and her daughter crawl into the front seat of one; and, a drunk guy crawled into the other car. The game was on: two older cars (that had no significance to me because I wasn’t born before the significant crash happened) revved up their engines. The crowd hooped and hollered. I felt like I had found kindred spirits.

When the cars collided, the sound of bent metal permeated the air; smoke, gasoline hung close. The little brat was ejected out of the car like a cannon ball. The bloody small body lay only a few feet away from us; I was compelled to walk over to it, but I was also enjoying the woman stagger out of the car. Her face was bloody and people began to clap once she slung her one leg out of the car. Apparently, she had succeeded perfectly with amputating one of her legs during the crash. She walked a pace or two and fell over, presumably dead from the gushing blood. The drunk guy emerged with blood to his head but a bottle of beer in his hand. Everyone applauded and my thirst for blood and violence was far from clenched…

Happy Bloody Father’s Day

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Since it’s Father’s Day, I visited my grandfather in the nursing home. His glazed eyes stared in the distance, but his mind was as sharp as it always had been. When I asked about the women waving to me, he said it was his girlfriend. She looked just a like a little grandma, so sweet and unassuming, as she played cards with some of the other women. He sensed my confusion and said, “Now, honey, you of all people should know that things are not always as they seem.” Granddaddy leaned down to me and whispered, “We’re in love. And, she’s one of us.” I was in disbelief; how could this Betty-Crocker-looking grandma be a suitable partner for the man that I fashioned my evil side from?

He reached into his pocket and produced a pinky; it was grey but he had carried it around for a while. My granddaddy didn’t usually keep trophies, so I was curious. He said, “See this—she did this for me when we had our first kill together.” To my delightful surprise, I found that age and blindness hadn’t withered his evil spirit. He said that they would go on outings at night in order to find little ones and girls to torture. I knew his favorite were the plump athletic ones; and, I was happy that some things hadn’t changed.

The woman had a friend who owned a pizza place, so sometimes they’d go back there and create feasts out of their victims. According to him, she had never done anything like this before, but she was a natural. “Loves the little ones,” he chuckled. “And, you know that’s just fine with me. She can steal a brat in pure daylight, take out its heart and eat it, and people just smile at her with blood dripping from her chin.” I looked over at the woman with a missing pinky. What a perfect ruse, really: an old blind man and a grandma. He leaned down and whispered, “We’re planning on going on a road-trip.” I knew that meant that he would find a way to let me know which killings were his as they traveled. I kissed his cheek and left. For the rest of the day, any time I looked at an old lady, I wondered what kind of evil lurked beneath the surface.

Teenage Head

 Teen phone sex

Teen phone sex with a mortician is quite different than anything you’ve ever experienced… My wicked impulses and bloody appetite are unlike anything you’ve ever seen—and too cruel to even depict in films, which wouldn’t do the thrill justice.

I’ve been a little swamped with work lately, and that’s fine because I love my work. However, fixing bodies for their loved ones is not what enough to satiate my darkness. Sensing this, one of my friends asked me to come over; and, though I politely said “No,” he persisted. When I arrived, he had a young girl strapped to a chair, gagged with a handkerchief. He looked at me and watched as a smile spread across my cherry red lips.

I wondered how he had found someone so young, and he told me that he had put out a couple of advertisements for a babysitter, which was a perfect ruse. He had selected this one because he believed that she would appeal to me and because (he confessed) she had big tits. I rolled my eyes, but I was pleased with his selection.
We spent the entire night torturing the teen; my friend, poking large holes in her nipples and ripping the tissue off. Then I stabbed the pink tissue, watching the blood gush. He tore off her pants and panties, too; her eyes widened, thinking we were going to indulge our rape fantasies. And, we were, just not the way she thought.

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I grabbed a machete and began cutting through her neck, that tender skin. How beautiful it was to watch the grey color wash over her face as she breathed her last laborious breath! I continued to carve the head, take slivers of the brain for some soup that I planned to make. And this left my friend to her torso, which he straddled and began fucking. As he was about to cum, he placed his fingers inside the gaping hole where her head used to be; I watched his ass cheeks clinch as he came in the corpse. How silly, I thought; I much preferred not to play with my food. He began looking at the head; after I carved her up really good, I’d let him have it…I knew he wanted to put his dick in her sweet teenage mouth. After all, he had planned to do this in order to cheer me up—and it had worked!

Endgame

Then I grabbed my knife and used the handle to spread her plump, pale, fat ass cheeks. I whistled lowly. “Well, would you look at that,” I narrated, running a finger from her pert, tight asshole to her soft knocked-up vaghole. Then I trailed the sharp knife around her cunt so she could feel it and know what was coming to her. “It’s cold, huh?” I whispered down at her. “I like it like that.” She started bawling feebly, wiggling her ass in my face as though she expected to escape. I plunged the sharp blade into her babyhole and listened to her horrible scream as it sliced through her fragile canal. Then I smiled and began moving it in and out of her. Wiggling it back and forth and fucking her with the pocket knife. Hayley was hysterical, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and making tons of noise. Shivering and arching her back, contorting her body strangely. Blood poured out of her, all of the cuts from the sharp tool and the jerking meant that her warm, thick, red blood was pooling out at a fast rate and was already coating my entire hand. Listening to her pitiful cries, I mocked her. Feigning sympathy, I leaned in close and cooed: “Do you like the way I fuck you?” I pulled the pocket knife out of her cunt with one last stab that released a howl from her parched throat. I knew I’d nicked her cervix and it’d hurt like fuck. Then I flipped her over and took a look at my progress. She wouldn’t last much longer–Hayley was already delirious, very injured, and near dead. I stabbed her tummy with my blade and started cutting, smiling all the way. I was going to get that baby out, sever the cord, and stick the fetus down the garbage disposal where it belongs . . . but I woke up. My half-brother is a real dickhole, and made the mistake of betraying my family and sending my Mom to jail a few months ago. This dream will become a reality . . . he’s going to get what’s cumming to him–and his little wife, too . . . I guess it’s just like in the movies. Everyone has an endgame. It’s too bad for them that theirs has already been decided . . . by me.

Head Like A Hole

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If there is ever a theme song that I would choose for my sick and twisted games.. it would be Nine inch Nails… Head Like a Hole.. it gets this bitches blood pumping! Mmm I like putting holes in heads… 

God money, I’ll do anything for you
God money, just tell me what you want me to
God money, nail me up against the wall
God money, don’t want everything, he wants it all

accomplice phone sex ReaganNo, you can’t take it, no, you can’t take it
No, you can’t take that away from me
No, you can’t take it, no, you can’t take it
No, you can’t take that away from me

Head like a hole, black as your soul
I’d rather die than give you control
Head like a hole, black as your soul
I’d rather die than give you control

Bow down before the one you serve
You’re going to get what you deserve
Bow down before the one you serve
You’re going to get what you deserve

God money’s not looking for the cureaccomplice phone sex Reagan
God money’s not concerned about the sick among the pure
God money, let’s go dancing on the backs of the bruised
God money’s not one to choose

Do you have a song that you like to imagine killing to? And after the life has left that young body, do you have a song you like to fuck that cold dead bloody while singing? I think we have a lot in common, don’t you?

Perfect Strickes in Red

Violent phone sex Jezabel1

I hate all of the stupid little “fun” things that most people do; so, when my coworkers asked me to accompany them to the bowling alley, I tried to be as nice as possible when I said “No.” But, I’m sure it still came out as a snarl. I went home, walked around my sweet dark dungeon…and my mind kept wandering to the bowling alley, and how it could serve as quite an ample torture chamber. I poured a glass of red wine; and the more that I thought about it, I knew I had to go at least to check out the scene.

When I arrived, the parking lot was pretty empty. And, the lights seemed halfway out. I was disappointed but decided to investigate further. To my surprise, I opened the door and I saw a couple of young guys working, cleaning…and drinking beer. While I would’ve loved to play with my coworkers, I thought this pair would do quite nicely in order to satiate my desire for torture.

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The boys looked my way, and I watched their eyes go from my whore-red lipstick, down my breasts and legs that were all augmented by tight spandex. It was almost too easy, really; but, what the hell?! I was already there, and my hunger for inflicting pain was mounting. I asked if they wanted to have some fun, and the idiots laughed like nerds. I took out my whip and their eyes almost popped with anticipation. “One at a time,” I said and waved my finger.
I pushed the blonde one down on the conveyer belt; then, I dropped an 11-pound ball on his head. The delicious split and crack echoed. The brain is a wonderful fountain of blood….and he was still gurgling. How I love that sound in the back of the throat, the blood spilling into mouth. I shoved his body further down the conveyer belt into the hub and went looking for my second victim.

Violent phone sex Jezabel2

He was easy to spot, like an eager squirrel dancing around a tree to get a nut. I met him at the door to the back, which was conveniently close to the pins. I took a pin and hit him over the head, rendering him on his back. I took the pin and shoved the round knob into his mouth. It was such a tight fit that the delicate skin around his mouth was breaking. I slid his body closer to the opening where the pin machine was; and, analyzed the position of his head. Yeah, that was about right; and, I pushed the button like I had seen him do when I walked into the door. The levers came down, piercing his flesh. I had to give it to my coworkers: yeah, bowling is fun. Especially when it’s a violent strike in red!

Snuff: Silence is Bloody

Snuff phone sex Jezabel

I was in the mood to torture.  But, when am I not?  At the café, some little brat was alternating between pouting, yelling, and crying.  I wanted to fucking slap the good-for-nothing piece of shit since her mom wouldn’t.  Finally, I told the mother, “Hey, I’m a governess; I’m really good with little ones and I could help you control your daughter more effectively.”  The dumb cunt believed me!  Maybe she was just as tired of the brat as I was; well, I’d make sure that we’d both be rid of her soon.

Along with my coffee, I bought the disgusting munchkin a doughnut just to shut her trap until we got to my house.  When we entered, she tried to take in the entire decadent, dark mystique that pervaded my house.  “Do you know what happens to bad girls?” I asked her, without really waiting for an answer. 

I pinned her small body down on the leather couch, wrapping small pieces of leather to keep her limbs in place.  Then, I picked up a torch; I was going to give her something to scream about!  The fire erupted and began to sear her flesh.  Yummy.  She began moaning in her throat because she couldn’t move her lips. 

And, then, I did what I wanted to do ever sense I laid eyes on her: I laced some of the leather through a needle; starting at the corner of her mouth, I sewed the little piece of shit’s mouth shut.  I had to look at my artistry for several minutes as I watched her eyes roll back in her head.  I threw some water on her so she would revive.  It was time: I took the sharp end of the fireplace poker and started pounding her skull.  I loved the sound when it cracked and spilled out blood…her brains lying on the floor at my feet.