Dark Fantasies Can Include Being My Bloody Valentine

Many men jack off to dark fantasies. And some women do too. Perhaps you could call me the mistress of evil. And that’s because vanilla sex does nothing for me. I want darker shit. Men can be my accomplice, or they can be my victim. It’s black or white with me. I do not work in the gray area because I will never be your girlfriend or your lover. And I won’t be your fucking mommy either.

My favorite type of calls involve cock and ball torture sex. Extreme pain. Snuff. Torture. And anything I can use a knife with I enjoy doing too. Some fucking lovelorn little stalker wanted me to be his valentine. And I laughed. I told him the only kind of valentine I want is a bloody valentine. And he smiled at me. I don’t think he understood what I meant. But I didn’t care. He wanted me to be his valentine, well that comes with a price.

I brought him back to my place and stabbed him to death. But not before I enjoyed some cock and ball torture. I am full of ball torture stories. And that’s because I enjoy torturing balls. If this guy wanted to be my bloody valentine, it would cost him not only his life but his balls too. First, I stuck large hat pins through his testicles. He screamed in pain. And of course, he changed his tune once I pierced his ball sack. But I strapped him down. My valentine would not get away from me.

Not All Men Deserve Their Balls

I used a castration band on him too. But I planned on severing his nuts before I killed him. That way I could better preserve them in formaldehyde in a jar for my collection back home. I own a collection of over 200 testicles in jars labeled with my victims ‘name and dates they lost them. Some of them also lost their lives, but not all of them. I like to leave predators alive, because without their balls they are reminded daily that their actions came with consequences.

And this was no taboo roleplay. I really severed his balls. And I brought them home as a trophy. His body became my Valentine gift to the bears and the coyotes in the woods behind my house. And I stabbed him enough times that he started to bleed out. So, I dragged his body out in the snow, leaving a bloody trail that would soon dissipate with tomorrow’s heat wave. Loser didn’t understand what it meant to be my valentine. But you do. Are you brave enough to be my valentine?