Tag: killer phone sex

Cannibalism: An Intoxicating Feast

She was a real juicy specimen that just wondered into my favorite hangout and on the best night possible for such a plump one. It’s the night of our annual gathering where we bring in about three plump and delicious sides of fresh flesh to get skewered. Well, we get them intoxicated and have some fun tenderizing the flesh or prey as it may be. We make sure they are marinated well inside before we toss them in a pot of warm brine and use a baster to really clean them out, and inject them with some nice dry white wine.

Once the prey has been penetrated and fucked by every member of the gang and fucked good is when all of the above preparations happen. We then impale them from ass to mouth with a long seasoned roasting stick that will be used to carry them to the fire. Positioned over the open flame we all start to oil the meaty breasts and asses up and let the flames lick away at their scrumptious flesh. The smell of their flesh cooking is beautiful and we continue to baste them with oils and seasonings until they meet our desired doneness. We really get into chopping the heads off and digging into the brain for a wonderful delicacy. Limb by limb the appetizer is served up. Let’s have a feast!

Cannibalism Phone Sex

Feeding The Trees

 

Snuff phone sex

Everything thrives off the death of something else.  Death is a necessary part of life.  Even vegans kill things, but veggies do not have a face, so they eat them, I hate to tell them this, but killing is killing.  However, you can make killing fun.  It doesn’t have to be a fucking somber time.  The lead up is sometimes more satisfying than the act it’s self.  All that planning, the stalking, making sure you have the right equipment, finding a place to play, then to dispose of the lifeless fuck-rag. All of it gets my cunt wet just thinking about it.

Having a place to take the prey is critical.  Spare of the moment shit always backfires, that is how people get caught.  Nothing is worth rushing over.  Taking time is what makes the experience worthwhile.  Instilling fear is the first thing, the unfamiliar, the brutality administered over a long time, erratic in it’s timing. It throws them off, making them on constant alert, it is exhausting for them.  Placing them in a place with no outside light, no outside sound, no way of knowing time, that will break anyone.

Once you get them at that point, right at the tipping point, you bring them back.  Showing care, kindness, regret, you gain their trust, then you start all over again.  The emotional as well as the physical pain is a must.  Make it last, days, weeks, months, but never ever hold onto them longer than that. The day arrives where you simply must do away with them.  They become tiresome after a while, and you will crave something new.  They are bruised, even fucking them has lost it’s fun because they just slip away into themselves.  What fun is that?  No screaming, no crying, no protesting, just dead weight. 

One piece at a time you take from them.  Keeping them alive by cauterizing wounds and cuts.  You bury those chucks of your prey deep, no animal will find them, no people will stumble across them, the only thing that knows that those juicy piece of flesh are there are the trees, and they are grateful for the nourishment.

Do Tread On Her

Killer phone sex

 

Upscale society bitches really piss me off to no end.  I abhor every damn thing about them.  It isn’t the fact that they have money, it is the fact that they are so damn idiotic.  That much stupidity packed into such a small space is mind boggling. I don’t care if they have companies, I don’t care if they are a CEO, bitches with that much money have no idea how the real world works, even if they came from dirt poor families, they forget.  Most of these flesh puppets never even have to work, they are born into a world where nothing matters to them but themselves.  Not that I give a shit for others either, but it is different with them.

If I could, I would take one of those cunts to a secluded place, and keep them there.  Every day I would do something a little more violent, although to them breaking a fucking nail would be the worst possible thing that could ever happen.  I can just imagine me standing over them, them begging, pleading, offering me money, blah blah blah.  I don’t need that shit, I can make my own money.  Me spitting into their face then taking a nice long piss into their mouth, before kicking them in their head to make them shut the fuck up.  

After a very long time of playing with them, starving them, violating every orifice I could with what ever I could find, leaving pretty bruises all over their once flawless skin, I would begin the life ending act.  Would I use a knife? No.  Would I hang them from meat hooks before gutting them? No.  What I would do is stomp them to death.  I would start at the very bottom.  Break those toes beneath the weight of my foot, crack the knee, watch the patella  disintegrate before my eyes while they scream in pain.  I am pretty sure the little shit would pass out at this point, so I would drink, watch some netflix, and wait until they regain consciousness, then get back to it.  

I know that by the time I reach their sternum that they will have figured out that I was working my way up their useless body and that they would soon be just some floppy dead cunt tossed into a lake somewhere. I might even prolong the agony.  I usually don’t like begging, I hate it actually, but to hear them beg for their shallow lives right before I crush their skull in could actually be fun.  Then after they were crushed, broken, bruised and of course dead, I just might have to take some time to play with my magnificent pussy a few times before dumping them like the true pieces of trash they are.

A Kiss Goodbye

Sadistic phone sex

Those lips, those pouty, full, perfect lips.  Soft, warm, untouched, parted ever so slightly.  This isn’t a princess in some fairy tale, this is prey in a nightmare of our making.  I run my fingers lightly from the ankles up the leg to the shattered pelvis, up the small incisions in the stomach placed there to induce a scream or two.  There were more than usual since she decided to try to be brave, keep it all in, the pain, the fear, show us that she couldn’t be broken so that we might give up.  That never happens though, we always finish.

My hand moves up across those barely there breasts watching as her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath.  They are tender to the touch, she flinches back slightly, she has no fight left, no energy, no hope.  I watch as bruises start to form, turning from red to that lovely deep color as the blood pools below the skin.  Traveling up her clavicle, broken, fractured as a matter of fact. I study the sheer white of the bone protruding from the skin, jagged.  Up to the nape of the neck, already yellowing bruises forming from fingers pressed tightly into her flesh.

Then up to that mouth.  I brush my thumb over it.  Thinking back to how it looked slipping up and down your hard cock.  Her cries being stopped from the manic thrusts which press your throbbing head into her throat time and again.  I stand at the top of the table by her head.  Looking down at her I notice that her eyes loose focus,  she knows what is coming, she is trying to slip away into her safe place to pretend this isn’t really happening. Oh, but it is.

The table wobbles slightly under your weight as you spread her legs to make room for you.  I toss you the ropes that have been previously tied to the legs of the table, you wrap each one around her thighs, tossing the unused portion back to me so that I can secure it to the legs as well.  The rope digs in, I can see her skin being pinched, the lower part of her legs turning pink, then red.  The circulation is being cut off, she moans, her eyes go blank, one single tear trails down from the corner of her right eye to splash on the table.

You rub your dick over her swollen cunt, sore, red, raw.  You press in, another moan from her, you start to move, more tears, her eyes begin to focus on my face.  I can see the pleading in them, yet those lips do not move to protest, more tears, she knows it will be better for her soon, she will be helped so that she can slip away, but not yet, you aren’t done but you are close.  I lower my head down as your noises become more guttural, the table legs slightly scraping on the floor, filling the almost empty room with bangs as you pump into her.  I put my lips close to her ear, waiting for you to cum, I whisper “Goodbye fuck rag” just as you release your hot sticky jizz deep into her. I then place one last kiss upon her lips so I can taste her last scream as you finish her off.

Snuff Porn in a Haunted Corn Maze

snuff pornI was in the mood to make a homemade snuff porn last night. I just needed the right victim. I was feeling like a killing a hot teen slut last night. Friday night haunted house got real for one little bitch. I have a seasonal gig in a haunted corn maze. It is in the country. It is three miles long and very dark. I work with other “actors,” but I kill for real. No one would think one of the “actors” went rouge. When some one dies in a haunted attraction, it is blamed on one of the visitors. A stalker, an angry ex, or just some Michael Myers wannabe. I had a camera on my miner’s hat to capture the fear. I just used a real axe instead of my fake one.  I substituted the blade for a different one so when I was questioned, my fake axe would not match. I stuffed the blade in the back pack of a dick boy before my victim was even discovered. I watched in joy as visitors thought she was just a prop. She never saw it coming. She was lagging behind her girls because she was flirting with all the male workers. Cock tease. She thought she smarter than the girls working the corn maze. She taunted me, so it was easy to put an axe to her head. She must have been on something because she kept mocking me as blood poured out of her head. When she realized it wasn’t fake blood, she freaked out. Started staggering through the corn maze, but folks thought she was an actor. I guess her friends left her thinking she hooked up with a guy. She wasn’t discovered until the lights came on and the night was over. Hours after I snuffed her. I was questioned, as was everyone working there, but since we have no record of everyone who came through the maze last night, I suspect her death will remain unsolved. I have a wonderful snuff sex video of her gruesome death. I may be out of a job since the maze was shut down by the police as a crime scene, but the month is still young. I can find more victims anywhere I want.

Green Eyed Monster

Snuff phone sex

“Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretense of keeping it alive.” ~ Havelock Ellis

I very much enjoy seeing jealous feelings in others.  I myself do not get jealous, there is nothing for me to be jealous of, I don’t like people enough to be jealous of them.  However, when that ‘green eyed monster’ rears it’s head in others, oh, how spectacular it can be.  Watching as people spiral down, seeing the depression set in, the obsession, the crazy, the whole delicious thing.  Granted, not all people fall all the way, but there is always that one, that one that goes above and beyond all others.  How is it that you can supposedly love someone so much that you kill them because they no longer love you? That is fucking hilarious!

Knowing that right now there are men and women out there who are plotting the death of someone that they state they love so much that they can’t be without them.  I’m crazy, I admit that, but those that I am speaking of are in a league all their own.  Perhaps I don’t understand it because I don’t love.  Let me rephrase that, I do not love people, I have never loved anyone, never will.  I think I am incapable of it which is fine.  I am not missing anything.  If I want to get fucked I go and get fucked, but other than that I really don’t want to be with someone day in and day out.  That would be horrid. Anyway, let us get back to it.

The best part of this whole jealousy thing is, that only one of the two know what is going to happen.  There is the jealous one, and the one who has moved on.  Can you imagine how shocked they will be when they find themselves in danger? Maybe it will be a simple gun shot right to the head.  Or perhaps some torture will be involved, dismemberment, evisceration, skinning, and so on and so forth. All because the person you loved, no longer loves you. Just once, I would really like to take part in one of these killings.  I wouldn’t want to get involved, but I sure as hell would want to watch. I want to see that dragon take it’s victim by the throat and bite down.

By the way, killing someone with a gun is a pussy move.  If you are going to kill someone, put some flair into it for christ sake.  It might be the only chance you ever have of taking a life, so make it your opus.  

Snuff Sex Sentence

snuff sexI was sentenced to snuff sex as my punishment. I faced a trial and a jury and was sentenced to a painful death, a public painful death. My crime? I was a judge who took bribes and sentenced women to prison and death for things they did not do. According to my executioner B, my death was a long time coming. In a public forum, I was on a platform in my judicial robe. That soon came off me. I was stripped of any shred of decency and power I thought I possessed. I was smug at first, but my executioner smacked the smugness off my face. Once I was stripped naked in front of a large audience cheering my death, I felt the shame my victims must have felt. My executioner made it clear that I was going to die in pain. My death would speedy, but it hinged on one thing, my orgasm. I was injected with microscopic robots that would trigger a massive heart attack the moment I came. When I heard that, I fought some more, but soon I was tied down and spread eagle. The microscopic killers had already invaded my bloodstream. My executioner just had to ensure my orgasm. In front of thousands of people, I was naked, spread eagle and getting fucked by a large fuck machine. Despite my fear and humiliation, it was a biological clock ticking to my death. Under my judicial robe, was a kinky pain slut who no matter how hard she tried, she could not hold back an orgasm, not even under such grave circumstances. I let out a huge moan as I came my final time. My body stiffened up and my heart felt like it was being squeezed so hard it could pop. That was it, I was dead. Just like that, executioner B gave me my comeuppance. What is your dark fantasy phone sex death sentence for me?

Castrating A Fool Like You

Castration phone sex is what you deserve, Fool! You are such a fucking loser and it’s no wonder the only pussy in your life is the skank cunt you pay for down in your trailer park. You have no damned game and I will guarantee that your pecker is just that a peck away from a god damned pussy. But it’s another fucking night at the bar and you rant on and on about pussy this, pussy that, tits.. ass and all sorts of derogatory shit that a loser like you can’t even get a hold of.

Castration Phone Sex

Fucking you is a god damned joke, but I grabbed you from my bar and threw you against the wall, and grabbed that pathetic pecker through your pants. You need this filthy wang to get off in some pussy? Well honey follow me. You hoot and mother fucking howl like the loser pecker you are and little do you get that you won’t even have the balls to return here… fuck if you even walk away when I’m done with your pathetic snuff phone sex victim self.

Snuff Phone Sex

I get your filthy pants off of you and can’t even stand how bad your alcoholic ass reeks, but I pull that pecker out that is throbbing so fucking hard and your drooling like a rabid bitch in heat. Fuck you I punch you square in the fucking face breaking your nose and splitting your lip. I laugh at you in my sadistic phone sex way and yank my boot knife out and in a simple swipe I sever that pathetic prick right off. Blood spewing all over me I laugh as you scream. I ain’t done with you yet mother fucker. I take another swipe and cut those balls off. More blood than a butcher room is all over me and I am elated to watch you bleed out. 

Sadistic Phone Sex

Castration Phone Sex: He Had it Coming

castration phone sexCastration phone sex inspired me. I had a call last week from a useless ass loser. He had a 2-inch dick and huge balls. Sadly, I saw pics. Some things you can never unsee. His balls obscured his shrimp dick. I was happy to take his nuts. At least it made his dick look bigger lol. Two nights ago, I was at a Goth bar when this little nerd came in. He bee lined straight towards me and flashed his tiny wiener. The geek had a death wish.  To show me his cock he wanted killed or castrated, or both. I have a reputation. He said his girlfriend dared him, but I had a hard time believing he had a girlfriend. He looked truly scared when I pulled out my huge knife. My guess was a woman fucked with him and knew my reputation and wanted his balls gone. He reminded me of my caller because he had huge ass balls and a teeny tiny weenie. I took him into the bathroom to castrate him. I had no supplies, just my knife. This was a freebie. He wasn’t paying me, so no need to treat him well. He was some looser with a sort fuck stick exposing himself in public. I didn’t give a fuck if he got gangrene and died. Seriously, he was a loser with a death wish. I know a few. I had some Jack Daniels, my lighter and my trusty old knife. I made him put his cock under the dirty toilet seat to separate his nuts from his dick. The loser was so fucked up he was going along with it. I poured whiskey on his balls as a curtesy he wasn’t owed and chopped them off. It was medieval torture sex. Very bloody. He puked. What a wuss. I used my lighter to cauterize his wound and then I used some more whiskey to dull his pain. He acted like I took his fucking dick too. Ungrateful loser. I could have killed him, I should have killed him. I made his worthless dick look bigger and not even a thank you.

Bath Time Killer phone sex

Killer phone sex

Babysitting is not my thing.  Killer phone sex is.  However, if you combine the two, one could have a real fucking great time.  When I was younger I would; on occasion; babysit the brats two streets over.  I hated them.  Their big eyes, their tiny bodies, their dimples, their high pitched little voices.  All of that shit.  I remember the female had these fluffy pink footie pajamas that I used to have to put on her after she took her bath.  The male  had fluffy blue ones.  Why? Why do this? Stop dressing your vaginal discharges as fluffy things, fluffy things get eaten. 

Once, their parents went out of town for three days.  I had to be in that house with them.  Sure the money was good, but having to deal with them and their happy selves was almost more than what I could bare. One night while I was giving Ginny her bath she slipped, banged her head on the faucet pretty hard, then slipped into the water.  I had to grab her.  She started to cry and bleed.  Just a little cut on her forehead.  Nothing major, but any cuts to the head area will bleed like a son of a bitch.  I was mesmerized.

One tiny drop went into the water.  It swirled around, grew tendrils, floated downward, then dissipated into the water. I still remember that.  All of a sudden I had the urge to reach up, grab her Dad’s razor, slice her throat, lay her down in the tub and watch the dance of the blood mixing with the water.  It made me feel calm.  It made me feel horny.  I imagined these huge billows of red blooming from the wound, turning the clear water into a red heaven.  All the while she would be floating in it, her eyes wide open, her hair splayed out above her like a halo.  Her soft, warm body turning paler, her lips becoming a perfect shade of bluish purple while her gaping neck wound continued to release the precious liquid that had kept her alive up until now. 

Then I thought how nice it would be to grab her Brother only to do the same thing to him.  Both of them, forever perfect, floating, their bodies bobbing in synchronization.  Me getting into the tub with them after there was the barest sliver of life left, humming them a lullaby as they drifted off into the warm long sleep. I would sit and caress them, bathe myself in their bloody bath water, relishing every second of it.  I would take my time, use their bodies to pleasure myself while they still twitched, barely alive, until they just stopped bleeding. 

I didn’t do that of course, I mean I would of been caught pretty damn quickly.  This is one of the defining moments that helped create my love of death, the love of hurting little things, and the love of killing.