I have so many twisted freaks that come to me when they’re in need of some torment filled torture sex that I almost don’t have enough time to find all of the fuck pigs needed to satisfy their dastardly desires. I’m not just here to provide the droves of delinquents who can’t get off without doing some damage to the flesh of a fine little female the fuckmeat they crave, I’m a pretty busy psychopath. I got things to do.
Yesterday, for instance, I was stalking a family that seemed to be an utter waste of space to see if they’d be worth eliminating completely. It’s been a while since I’ve pruned the branches of anyone’s family tree, I was really looking forward to seeing where that went. I was in the frozen aisle of the grocery store tailing them as just another face in the crowd, as I do, when one of my clients saw me and approached and started talking really loud. He was flapping his gums about things that should never be uttered in public places, making everyone in the place turn to look at us and see who was having such a conversation, my intended targets included. So much for planning and staging that familicide.
I stormed out of the store with him following close behind me, going on and on about how he needed to make a bitch hurt and the types of wounds he wanted to inflict on an incapacitated cunt. Some things you just don’t talk about in public, loose fucking lips sink big fucking ships. That was way too much for me, I knew I had to do something about him or he would bring my whole operation down around me. I relented and told him to get in my van, I’d hook him up.
Luckily, I had one last fresh fuck pig, with skin so soft and smooth you could butter your bread with it, locked up in my dungeon of a basement that I was willing to let him use. He’s always into whipping so I knew the exact tool to give him to make him blow his load pretty quickly. I wasn’t wrong, he only lashed her about 50 times before his nut sauce was shooting all over that beaten beauty, soaking into her deep wounds and dripping down her body. As he stood there reveling in his work while trying to catch his breath, I snuck up behind him, slipped a garrotte wire over his head and squeezed my hardest to make certain that he never would. What can I say? Don’t piss me off, Pal.
Yeah, I’ll provide all the pussy you want to punish, but I’m going to do it on my time. There are people to stalk and kill, folks need to be framed for murder and I want to be the one to do it. Kind of hard when I have to find a bunch of dumb bimbos, lock them up then watch guy after guy go at them and torture-fuck the spirit out of them while they hang helplessly on an almost daily basis. If I don’t answer when you call or text you back, I’m not trying to deal with you at the moment. Period. Approach me in public and start talking all kinds of bullshit, I’ll turn your addiction into a snuff sex scene real quick. You don’t want to be on my bad side, I promise you.
Willow
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