Tag: Sadistic phone sex

Rape phone sex fantasies Alice ~ do the dirty

I am not a law abiding citizen of America. I say this fully intending to disclose a little secret I’ve been keepin’ about my true self. Maybe I’m not a picture perfect version of the United States’ sweetheart, but I can make you cum harder then anyone has every made you orgasm in your life.

That’s because I know what you really want. The stuff you’re way too scared to tell your wife or girlfriend. The dirty, nasty, sickeningly dark and violating aspects of human life. You want to mess up a slut and fuck your way through an entire all girls Catholic school, don’t you?

Well, I can help you with that. See, I have a thing for babysitting little ones myself. I can get in undetected and let you in through the front door without a hint of suspicion from the neighbors. When we have those young little babies all to ourselves, that’s when the fun begins. You try to keep your hands to yourself, but those pigtails and cute little diapers are too much for you to resist. It’s okay . . . bite into those miniature asses. I won’t tell a soul. That’s because I’m just as twisted as you are, baby . . . even more.

Murder Phone Sex Fantasies Bianca goin’ dumpster diving…

I’ve never been one for suffocation. I much prefer a more . . . hands-on method. Can’t blame me, really. I’m a sick, twisted slut for feeling of  life leaving another at my hands is just too fucking hot to pass up. So of course I decided to use my talents for the greater good of society. I do that sometimes . . . kill for the benefit of others. Life is too short for selfishness. I went to church today–bet you won’t believe me, but I did. Church of Satan, maybe, but it’s a place of worship nonetheless. Don’t judge me for my beliefs, and I won’t judge you for yours. Because I know your dick is just hard and ready to slam into a little tiny underage twat, now isn’t it? Don’t lie, baby. We both know your P-cock is ripe and begging for a nice, young tight hole to ram and rip apart. Well I found a guy who sliced, diced, and fucked his way through an entire school of girl cunnies. And I found him in an alley, shooting up tar. Track lines down his forearms, a dazed look in his eye . . . you know the type–trash. Well my public service involved taking out the trash with a 9mm pistol. Didn’t shoot him in the head though–that’d be too quick. Instead, I splintered the tendons of his Achilles heel and ripped the rest apart with my teeth. Mmmmmm. Maybe he had a blood infection, though. I’ll have to check myself when I get home. The thought just pissed me off further, so I rammed his head against the dumpster and fucked that dick up. The space inside of that dumpster was his final resting place . . . isn’t that where trash belongs? 😉

Torture Phone Sex with Cassandra: Payback with a Cattle Prod

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I have always been a subby bitch to men; however, when it comes to women I can be a switch hitter. When I was younger, I thought most girls were beneath me. I mean I am a tall beautiful goddess with huge tits. I could steal any man I wanted. In fact, in college, I often did.  Not because I wanted the man necessarily, but just because I could. There was this one girl whose boyfriends I regularly stole because she was a fat mean cunt and didn’t deserve handsome men anyway.  I saw her recently at the mall and I didn’t recognize her at all as she had lost so much weight and was actually kind of hot. She of course recognized me. We buried the hatchet and she invited me out for drinks. I met her, and I thought all was well, until I woke up in her basement tied to some table spread eagle with a baseball bat up my ass. She was fucking torturing my ass and when I started to scream and plead why, she simply said, “Because I can.” I begged for mercy for my ass. But she kept shoving bigger things inside me. My ass was being shredded. I could feel splinters in my ass. She pulled the bat out and it was covered in blood and shit and she shoved it down my throat and said, “Clean it up whore.” Then I glanced over and I say a medical tray filled with devices and one looked like a cattle prod. I pleaded again, but she didn’t care that I was a changed woman. She was hell bent on her revenge. A cattle prod would electrocute my ass, and may damn well kill me. She looked at me with an evil grin and said, “Cattle prods are hugs with oomph.” She then rammed that thing up my already destroyed ass. The rest is a blur.torture phone sex cattle prod big tits

Rape phone sex fantasies with a prostitute

Rape phone sex fantasies

I had watched her for a few days.  She had a definite heroin problem and sold herself only to feed her habit.  I don’t mind drugs, but they’re supposed to be recreational…not all of life.  Anyway, I knew that she wouldn’t be missed.  So, with my sweet smile and the promise of a stupid cheeseburger, I lured her into one of the seedy motels nearby.  I had everything set-up.  And, when she entered, I motioned toward the rickety table that barely held up the burger on the plate.  She talked about how long since she’d eaten; it was difficult to understand her as she garbled up her food and swallowed it with the help of some water nearby.

I watched her with intense interest and disgust.  Finally, as she was eating the last remaining bites, I told her that she was actually eating something that I cooked.  She didn’t look surprised or care; but, I continued to explain that I had a very interesting diet and it’s difficult to find people who share my delicate tastes.  She exhaled loudly and began to get up since the food was gone.  I told her not to be in a rush and she sat back down.  “Did you know Miriam?” I asked.  She nodded and told me a short sappy story about how she vanished; maybe she had been kidnapped by one of her Johns.  I told her that was not the case; in fact, Miriam was with us here and now.  She looked around the room, searching vigorously for her friend; then, I gestured toward the table at her plate.

Stupid girl didn’t understand so I plopped a picture of her dead friend, mutilated in my dungeon.  She acted as if she was going to throw-up; but, when she stood, she quickly realized that she couldn’t.  The eye drops that I had put in her water had knocked her out.  I proceeded to cuff her to the bed and place a plastic bag over her head.  She came to for only a few minutes; the rising and falling of the bag was beautiful.  There’s just something about watching someone’s last breath!  As she struggled to breathe, I read a few bible verses; I couldn’t think of anything meaner to do.  But, I was quiet for her last gasp.  I completed my afternoon by carving out a gaping hole in her upper torso.  I packed the meat in my bag in case I wanted to feed another prostitute later.  But, before I left, I had to break the cheap lamp by the bedside and shove it up into her nasty cunt.  I thought that was a proper send-off.

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Taboo phone sex with a stiff

Taboo phone sex

He was very attractive: dark hair, tall, and confident. I crossed his path on the way to work only because I took a different route from a friend’s house downtown. Otherwise, I would have never seen him. But, as fate would have it, luck was on my side. I followed him for a little over a week; I knew where he went for dry cleaning and what days; who he was fucking when he could tear himself away from work; and even how he treated his clients. I became a little obsessed, even planting a recording device in his office and car. He was a ruthless stock broker; and, the more I learned about his method of cheating the system, the more I liked him. In fact, I was having second thoughts about killing him; but, of course, my nature got the best of me.

It was not difficult at all… I followed him home like I have done so many times; and, of course he was on his cell phone, making deals. I waited until he had finished his conversation and walked through the door to what should be a sanctuary. I tranquilized him and then drug his limp body to his desk, which I thought fitting to make a holding table. I had drilled holes, attached cuffs, and tried to make it as pretty as possible while scarring the slick mahogany wood. When he awoke, he didn’t struggle; rather, he tried to barter with me. Poor bastard. That made me like him even more.

I had brought an x acto knife and several tools. I sliced into his creamy flesh that probably had never had a bruise; I watched with satisfaction as his rich blood dripped onto the plush white carpet. I told him what I was carving into his flesh and we talked as I did so; I had to stage this carefully and thought that an angry client would be the best potential suspect. After I was done, then I could begin the fun: I sliced both of his nipples, exposing the tissue and taunting him with his own dangling nipples. Then, I dug my heel in the wounds. I sawed off his legs, the bloody masses falling to the ground with thuds. Gurgling blood, he stopped convulsing, and I knew he was dead. Finally, I did something that I hadn’t done in over a decade: I took off my clothes and mounted him, fucking his cock until I came several times. I realized that must have been my ultimate motive…since his dick was the one thing that I had left unharmed.

Taboo phone sex2

Blair Meets the Puppetmaster

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Help me. I have been kidnapped by a deranged doll maker. I have been held captive for days , while he conducts evil, painful experiments on me. He has deprived me of food and water.  And, I am constantly in some form of suspension like a life size marionette doll. In fact, he told me I was doll like and he wanted to use me to create the perfect life size marionette. What the fuck? Those dolls are creepy. Always in horror movies, taunting people, scaring brats. Who does this guy think he is? The Dr. Frankenstein of dolls? I tried to beg and plead with him, but he keeps shocking me and stringing me up from the ceiling. He said next he was gonna cut my limbs and sew string through them and even slice my mouth open like the Joker to give me the authentic look of a marionette doll. He is gonna dismember and torture me so he can have his own personal creepy ass doll. Who is he, The Puppetmaster?  This sick, evil, sadistic mother fucker is enjoying my pain, my screams, my starvation. He says I’m just a stupid, worthless cunt and no one will miss me.  He says all girls should be seen but never heard and that is why we make the perfect dolls. You don’t agree with him , do you? Please someone help me.  Anyone. I will be a good girl; I will be quiet. You can do whatever you want to me, just let me live and get me the fuck out of this house of horrors.

Down South

Where have I been, you may be asking yourselves. Well I don’t have to answer to you motherfuckers! I went to a concert in Mobile, Alabama and got fucking turned around because the goddamn toll both stiffed me a dollar twenty-six. Are you fucking shitting me?! That stupid ass bitch stole from Bianca. So I was all enraged and ready to twist a neck off when I realized I was going the wrong way. The hell? Turns out I was in some redneck dive called Pascagoula. I crossed the state lines . . . I know what you’re thinking, so shut your damn trap. It’s an evil, sick ass place. Just because it’s bumfuck Mississippi doesn’t mean they’re gonna hand you sweet tea in a mason jar or some shit like that. Fuck that! It’s a wild ass neighborhood. Most of the citizens consider the day wasted if they haven’t violated a goat by noon. It’s sickeningly dark there. One wrong turn, and you’ll wind up in the trunk of a Cadillac, never to be seen or heard from again. So of course I took this opportunity to explore. I headed straight for the Brass Monkey. It might as well be called The Drunk Asshole Bar, because the company was wicked! When I was leaving, I spotted a guy trying to break into my car. Not. fucking. okay. I reached for the crowbar I keep in my purse and bashed him in the fucking head. He grunted and fell to the cement. I just kept beating and smashing the metal bar into his skull until it exploded with red goo and I kicked him aside, slid into my vehicle, and drove away. Byebye Mississippi. I don’t have to fear any thing or any place. You fuckers fear ME.

The sound of my switchblade

Taboo Phone Sex Reagan

Have you ever heard the sound of a switchblade knife open?  It is a very distinct sound. When I am hunting, they always hear it. I make sure of it. It is a necessary sound. As is the sound of their throat as I cut it.

She was breathless from the chase, ah my old familiar hunting grounds. So many deciding factors in her fear. The dark, the confusion, her scrambling to run so fast as she falls and tries to get up. She is already bloody and dirty by the time I subdue her. And as always, I catch my prey. It is pay up time.

She hides as best she can, but I can smell her fear, like a bloodhound their scent always leads me to them. I think its the mixture of adrenaline and sweat, mixed with whatever stale and sickly soaps and perfumes these cunts always wear. That is how I can find them easily, they are so predictable.

As I approach my prey, it is deathly silent. And in the quiet dark all you can hear…is my switchblade.

Taboo Phone Sex Reagan

 

 

Alice with an ‘A’

 

‘A’ is for Alice. ‘A’ is for awesome…and it also stands for asshole. That’s right. I’ve been ass fucking lately. I find it’s best to do without any lube. Not on me, of course. I prefer to watch a little one get reamed while I chomp on some popcorn from a safe vantage point nearby. It makes me laugh so hard when their itty bitty eyes get wide in fear and they whimper and shriek in pain. It makes my wet pussy hole get nice and turned on, too. I always want to fuck a stiff dick after watching a tiny, precious little munchkin get used and abused by a big, strong adult. Haha. I guess I have a weird sense of humor, but don’t try to lie to me, baby. You like it, too, now don’t you.

Opportunity

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Ugh… those worthless little sluts that wander around the mall after school are the bane of my existence. What I wouldn’t give to have one of those whores cowering in fear, locked in a small dog cage, naked and cold. I found one I like last week… she was a short, very skinny little thing in a group of several other carbon copied girls. Every single one was wearing a pair of very tight skinny jeans, a poorly designed triable patterned crop top and a pair of those god awful TOMS shoes. Every Single. Girl. As a small group of three other teens walked by, one chubby, one fat and one gay they made quite a few snarky comments. Oh what I wouldn’t give to slice the scalpel I have in my bag between their thin little rib cages and puncture their lungs… or perhaps slitting their throats is the way to go… I’ve read that if you slice through the Larynx that the vicim will drown in their own blood, gasping of air as the very life-force of the body that distributes oxygen deprives them of it. Oh what I wouldn’t do for an opportunity…