Torture sex gets me off. I’m not a vanilla girl. Ever since I was a little thing, I have been obsessed with gore snuff porn. The bloodier the better. I would watch movies like “Last House on the Left,” “Faces of Death,” and “I Spit on Your Grave,” and masturbate. No Disney films for this girl. Now, thanks to modern technology, I can watch snuff movies on my computer. I can even make them. I learn from horror movies like “Saw,” and “Hostel,” how to brutalize folks. This bitch from high school suddenly reappeared in my life. I had no use for her then, and I had no use for her now. She was in recovery and working on some silly steps. Thought she could show up unannounced and apologize for her mistreatment of me in school. I offered her a special brownie, which rendered her incapacitated for a bit. She woke up in my basement tied up. My camera was rolling, my assortment of torture devices laid out in front of her. She tried to apologize, beg for forgiveness. A little too late. I got sick of hearing her talk, so I put a chainsaw in her mouth. No one knew she was there. There has been no communication between us for a decade. She would just be another missing girl no one would look hard to find. I’m sure you know plenty of bitches who think more of themselves than anyone else does.
I let her plead for a bit; watched her cry, then I turned on the chainsaw and watched the blood spurt. I watched her face dissolve. I filmed her tortuous death. My pussy got wet hearing her scream, watching her twitch, seeing her bleed. Her sinew splattered my walls. I filmed every moment of it for instant download on my snuff porn podcast. I have quite a fan base. Folks think my movies look so real. There is a reason for that. Because they are. Who would you want to star in my next killer production?
Venus
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