Every now and then I find myself talking to a man with a certain quality that pulls my darker side out of me. It’s different things with different men, the end result is always the same though. It always ends in me screaming out in orgasm to the thought of whatever messed up call we’ve just had together. Like, is this ok? It’s not, ok. I should run my cute little ass directly out of any situation that encourages darkness. All I want is what I’m supposed to loathe and abhor, though. I want blood, flesh torn, screams of horror, the gurgling of cum, piss, and blood in the same abused throat I watched a man ruthlessly fuck.
I have some really dark fantasies. I’ll be the first to admit it. It’s great being able to tell you guys that I want to start a victim relocation program run explicitly by myself and a partner. There is no escape, there is only suffering and pleasures they never knew were possible. I want to test the levels of pain they can take to each part of their body. I want to go to the edge of reason. Let’s test our limits.
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