Tag: Sadistic phone sex

Crash: Part One

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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.

Poor Poor Dumb Whore

Taboo phone sex Reagan

Poor sweet little Tiffany, she really never knew what was gonna happen to her until it was much too late. I guess next time she will learn to pick better friends and not just go with anyone who asks. I mean seriously, this stupid whore came with me to the middle of nowhere after knowing me for all of 20 minutes! All I had to do is invite her to this killer party, I told her that half the town would be there and she definitely wouldn’t want to miss it so she followed along beside me like a lamb to slaughter. When I told her it was a killer party I wasn’t kidding, poor little Tiffany may have thought I meant a rager when the reality was 4 big strong men waiting to force her to do all sorts of degrading things.

When we got there she looked a little scared and asked me where the party was, poor thing was so confused. I told her that she was the party and to get on her fucking knees and get ready to suck some dick like her life depended on it. The guys came out and her eyes went wide when she saw their huge cocks, she cried and said there was no way cocks that big would ever fit inside her. I told her that they were gonna fit even if they had to rip her up to get them to fit! They brutalized her and pounded all her fuckholes until she was lying limp and barely conscious on the floor. I was kind this time, I let her go when they were done playing with her… next time she may not be so lucky…

taboo phone sex Reagan

An aunt’s gift

Taboo phone sex Pandora

I love my niece, but her taste in toys is horrendous. I blame it on the options, though. There are all these stupid, skinny little clean-skinned dolls smiling behind their clear plastic cover. And, the stupid larger versions, don’t forget them! Really, it’s just creepy.

So that got me to thinking about creating a better toy for her, one that would remind her of Aunt Pandora. I bought a doll, painted its face zombie white and began looking around for some red hair dye. I almost splashed some of the dye on the doll…but, I had a better idea: why not use the real thing for blood? It was easy, really; I just went to the park, chose one of the lambs that had wondered off from her mom. She was easy to lure, especially with the doll that would soon be transformed. Apparently, she had never seen a doll like this. And, she never would again; I would make sure of that. I was going to honor my niece by killing this sickeningly sweet thing. My niece would not be like this, I told myself; no, she would be like me.

My evil heart sang as I carved into the little brat’s flesh. As I sprayed blood on the doll, the snotty-nosed brat cried. I shook the doll in her face and cackled as the cunt-stain cried louder. Finally, I had enough: I stabbed her in the chest, ripped open her rib cage, and there it was: her heart. I brought it to my lips and inhaled. I cut a few slivers and then soaked it in black ink before popping the doll’s head off and placing the heart in there. Now, the doll was transformed! I handcrafted a death certificate to go along with my gift. I couldn’t wait to see my niece play with her new, favorite toy!

Specials

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?

Cum be my accomplice…

Accomplice phone sex JadeI’m a Snuff lover fascinated with torture, accomplice, rape fantasies! Bring you Most erotic, sadistic fantasy to me so we can indulge in our interests together. I love plotting a swift kidnapping of a sweet, virgin little one, imagine how we can make them our sex puppet. Perhaps we will molest their tender flesh over and over until we’re satisfied. Are you up for it?

Cutting and slowly killing gets my juices going. The thought having you hold them down while I skin them alive is quite addictive, just wait until they start twitching. The ability to see their blood run through their veins is a high experienced like never before. Let’s be partners in crime, I have a feeling we will make an excellent team.

 

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.

Violent phone sex Jezabel3

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!

Light And Dark

torture phonesex angieMy favorite saying is by Laurence Sterne: “Pain and pleasure, like light and darkness, succeed each other” How true this is, Especially in my world. I will lure you in with the promise of pleasure beyond you wildest imagination. I will tempt you with my sweet voice and invite you in with my soft tender kisses. The curves of my hips and the rise and fall of my breasts will mesmerize you and render you helpless to my will. Then just when you think you are about to experience heaven, I will take you to hell. I will take what I want from you, sucking the life and will from the depths of your being and making you like it, want it, even beg for it. As you go from the heights of sensual pleasure to the depths of intense pain you will feel the power of my black heart and my evil desires, Your need to please me over rides your sensibilities and the pain becomes and aphrodisiac that you beg me to give. If you’re lucky you will live to see the fruits of your sacrifice and see the juices flowing from my cunt as you bring me pleasure. But likely, you will only feel the hot, wet cum on your lifeless body. Light and dark, pleasure and pain…welcome to the dark side! 

Royal Sadists Meet for Dinner

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One of my oldest friends and mentors was visiting for the weekend. He tossed his luggage into the guest room without even entering it. He said, “Let’s go eat.” I began to move toward the kitchen; but, he reprimanded me, shaking his finger in my face, “No, no. We must hunt it, first.”

His evil grin sent chills through my body. I had almost forgotten about his predilection for human flesh. As if he could read my mind, he added, “Of course, my dear, you may torture it first.”

And, nearly as soon as we sat down on a park bench nearly adjacent to my house, here she came: our dinner. She was leisurely walking, and my mentor waved her down. His idle chit-chat evaporated from my mind as I examined her tone shoulders and sleek physique. But, then, I saw what drew my mentor to her: her ass. Plump, succulent, yet still muscular. He always did love asses, and it was comforting that some things never change.

I vaguely remember hearing words like, “my daughter” and “dinner”; I don’t know why I was surprised when she followed us back to the house. After all, it would be silly that my mentor could have lost his magical touch; in fact, I looked at his aging beard and thought that the exact contrary was true.

We enjoyed a glass of wine together as our guest became foggy, tentatively grabbing her head and finally following off her chair. I wish he hadn’t done that; I like them to be awake when I play with them. But, he helped hoist her into my torture chair, I had a better idea. I dropped her body and walked briskly to get the largest metal pan that I had. Of course, I had planned to use it for something like this—but now was the perfect occasion.

We placed her in the pan and I began prodding her. Whatever he had given her was strong. He pilfered through my spice rack and kitchen while I used a pitch fork to open up a few wounds. “I usually like different parts in different spices, cooked separately; but I think I’d like to make an exception given your beautiful set-up here, darling,” he whispered over my shoulder. I beamed with pride and returned to slicing her stomach open to put some of his spices. She yelled in pain, and I was happy that she was awake. I didn’t want her to miss the fun.

He told me which organs to remove, such as the intestines; I followed his instructions, enjoying her screams and gushing blood. I was sad to hear her cries stifle and die. He had already turned on the large oven that I had installed mainly just for him (and a few other friends). We lifted her up and slid her in. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the room and my mentor inhaled as if it were the sweetest aroma that he’d ever encountered. We took her out of the oven a few times; mainly, he was trying to help me satisfy my lust for blood. I’d slice into her, sauté her, tenderizing our dinner.

Dinner, indeed, was magnificent. We laughed, reminisced, drank more wine, and planned the evening’s agenda. “My darling, Victor Hugo’s last words were, ‘I see a dark light.’ Shall we go out and claim it for ourselves, my darling queen Jezabel?” He extended his hand and off we went into the night.

Evil Beginnings

Snuff phone sex Pandora

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 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?