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@universalvictim
I’m the world’s most perfect victim. Hurt me however you want. My feelings do not matter, my consent doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re happy and I’m in pain. Bruise me, Break me, Mutilate me, Kill me.
I don’t deserve a name. Call me whatever slur or pejorative you want.
Just make sure it hurts
Threatening submissives with not killing or hurting them.
If you keep acting up, I’ll abandon you without a second thought. Then who’ll hit you like you need? Who will tell you the awful things about yourself you need to hear? Who will kill you to protect you from the dangers of the world? Who will fuck you and let you carry my offspring, build you up, give you purpose?
If you want to go back to being alone, useless, and at the whim of the undeserving world, then please keep acting up.
i think that it would be very nice if someone held me while i was cutting myself and cooed in my ear like "you can go deeper than that, baby" , "you know you can cut deeper for me, love" or.. yea.. something like that...
I want to put a spiked collar on you, but the spikes are on the inside. They pierce your flesh and dig in deep as I tighten it around your neck, nice and snug, and blood seeps past the leather and runs down your neck, which I happily lap up. I lock the collar and throw away the key. The wounds will heal around it and the collar will become a part of you, just as it should be, so you never forget who you belong to.
Hrt that turns you into a victim
Rape is good for me I need to be raped rape is good for me I need to be raped rape is good for me I need to be raped rape is good for me rape is. Good for. Me. Rape me. Rape me. Hurt.
Fuck ong rape me
I know the puppy girl schtick is overdone but no one is taking it fucking far enough. I wanna be fed nothing but honest-to-god dogfood. I want my limbs amputated so I can only crawl, my vocal cords slashed so I can only bark and whine. I want you to do everything in your power to force me to act as much like a dog as you can and I want you to punish me horrifically if I don’t. I want you to neuter me. I want you to do as much cosmetic modifications as you want until I can’t fucking recognize myself because I’m fucking dead. All that’s left is your dog.
forcing a girl to take a dog's knot on camera while i'm just out of frame, pointing a gun at her and telling her if she snitches i'll kill her. after "someone" anonymously leaks the video, i tell her to make up something believable or die - now everyone thinks she's a disgusting little helpless knotslut pornstar, and now no one tries to take her away from me <3
can we just take a second to appreciate hydraulic bolt cutters?
first of all, like all bolt cutters, they cut via shear force, not through actual cutting or slicing of the material. the jaws apply off center force so that they just crush their way though until things snap. the hydraulic variety cuts in the same way, where it gets exciting is in how it applies mechanical advantage.
typical bolt cutters utilize mechanical advantage by having long handles with a wide range of motion to move small blades with a narrow range of motion. when force is applied to the handles it really just makes the most out of leverage, magnifying that force tenfold or more into the jaws.
hydraulic cutters take this to the extreme. the handles don't move the blade directly, instead they go into a piston that just barely moves forward with each squeeze of the handles. to fully close the jaws you're gonna have to just keep pumping the handles open and closed, making that piston extend agonizingly slow until it's fully clamped down on the opposite jaw. where typical bolt cutters can exert about 2 tons of force, hydraulic cutters can easily extend into the tens, and at most even the hundreds of tons. needless to say you'll break well before the tool would ever notice.
while these tools are certainly hot from a mechanical perspective let's instead think more about the practical stuff~
like I said, hydraulic cutters move agonizingly slow. the average finger breaks between 35-45 newtons of force, so even though that's on the low end of the cutters potential can you just take a second to appreciate how much control they give you over the bodies limits?
with a sweet thing tied to a chair you could really just toy with those handles. show her exactly how slowly those jaws can close on her poor fingers as they're clamped harder and harder and harder between the jaws. you could legitimately make it take hours before you get that first rewarding snap. how much more will you have to move those handles before you get a second or a third? once the bone is pulverized how long do you think it'll take to fully server a digit? how much do you think you can draw it out? can you imagine the poor thing just strapped in place, waiting for hours and hours with the occasional scream or whimper as those jaws close just a little bit more? and how every time the exhaustion catches up with her and she starts drifting off to sleep can you imagine just how little movement of the handles will it take to make her painfully awake again? girls have oh so many fingers, surely she won't miss a few...
I just really can't imagine a more efficient way to slowly torture something with such a small amount of effort. the brain is oh so good at generating stress and dread to torture itself with, and the real beauty in this is how much time your poor victim has to reflect on the predicament they're finding themselves in. obviously there are faster ways to remind a girl that her body is not her own, but if you saw a flower beginning to bloom would you really have the nerve to tell it to move faster??? wine isn't made overnight, some things just need to be given the time to be excruciatingly slow in order to get the sweetest results~
they should make porn where before the video the person getting fucked gives a consent disclaimer and you can see the gun pointing at them and then after the fucking is done it just shows 10 minutes of footage of them laying there crying
for your account’s one year anniversary, you make a compilation of lots of her disclaimers as a timeline of how she’s changed in captivity
you can see her go from fear in the first couple videos to dread in the next. you can see her eyelids subtly become droopier and eyes have less light in them every video. a couple months in you see her gaze stop moving side to side as she’s memorized the disclaimer she needs to read word for word. her voice becoming more monotone, more rote, completely resigned as the videos go on.
the one thing that hasn’t changed is the gun pointing at her head every time
I need to go in for a gyno exam and get drugged only to wake up and find a doctor implanting as many embryos as possible in me
Just used as a vessel for pregnancy experiments, testing the limits of how many babies I can carry at at time
My belly so big an heavy that I can’t move eventually, always crushing my organs, always in pain or discomfort, especially when the babies kick
Having my cervix stitched shut just to see what happens then I go into labor, crying from contractions and not being able to push for as long as possible
Finally having my cervix opened just to have a long painful birth, the doctor reaching in to keep my baby spreading open my cervix as long as possible
Passing out after the first few babies from the pain and exhaustion only to wake up in the middle of a c-section where there’s mirrors angled so I can see my insides. The doctor gleefully telling me how deformed my body is now. My organs permanently rearranged from being displayed, or being oddly shaped now.
Him excited telling me that it’ll be interesting next time because he’s about to remove most of my intestines, and one of each organ because my womb is so stretched out it won’t fit back in me.
He wants to double the amount of embryos next time
meal prep
You pick your face up off the steering wheel. The horn stops blaring. Your cognition slowly coming back to you, you start to process stimuli again. You’re in the forest behind the wheel of a van, the hood is wrapped around a tree. Why are you here? It hurts. You’re happy? Something was successful. But something happened. Right, the plan. There was a plan and it worked. Loosened the railing, kicked her… Too disorganized. Slow down.
Your escape plan. She was doing a supply run and you set it up while she was gone. You used a butter knife to loosen the screws on the railing on the stairs to the basement. You slicked up the stairs with soap and water. You waited on the ground floor to tell her something was up with the toilet and she needed to fix it. You noted where she put down her van key, on the table near the door. You kicked her square in the back right before she stepped onto the trapped stairs. She slipped. She tried to grab the railing. It fell off. She tried to grab you. Too late. You slammed the door, locked it with the spare key you found, and ran to the van key. You got in the van, you were free. There was no way she could catch you even if she was still conscious after that fall.
Something happened with the van. You lost control, couldn’t regain it, what she did to you didn’t make driving any easier anyway. You crashed into the tree. How long were you out? Movement, rear view mirror. Your working eye darts to catch it. Her. Blood trailing down from her forehead, smeared across her face, most likely from several times wiping it out of her eye. She limps. Her face is contorted into pure rage. You’re pretty sure she doesn’t love you anymore. Hey, dumbass, you know about “objects in mirror,” and all that? Get fucking moving!
You try the handle. Doesn’t work, crash must have messed it up. Go through the windshield. Wait, the weapons you grabbed just in case, get a knife first. You slide off the hood and try running from her. You limp too. You’re slower. She shouts something. You shout back “I’m sorry!” You’re dizzier from the crash than you noticed at first. You look back. She’s closer now. You scream some more apologies. Hey, your face is on a surface again. Told you you were dizzy.
She rolls you over and presses you down with a hand around your neck. You see that face up close. Now there’s satisfaction in the mix. You apologize more through a nigh-closed throat. Her eyes, then hands, dart to your arm. Oh yeah, the knife. Not yours anymore. She relaxes a bit, leaning up straight, straddling your torso with her knees. You plead for forgiveness. She’s grinning listening to you.
“Do you want to lose your other eye or your other hand?”
“Please I’m sorry I won’t try to escape again you don’t have to-” Her hand returns to your neck, nails digging in hard enough it feels like her hand is wrapped around your throat itself. She screams the same sentence up close. Her breath is hot.
“I- please-”
With a brief increase of pressure to punctuate her anger, she releases your throat. “Eye it is then!” You cough. That’s not your choice. No, that’s not your choice, fix it! She already has her hand pressing into your face lining you up!
“No-” you grab at her hand over your face with your intact hand, and push away at the forearm of her knife hand with your former hand. “No, no, do the hand!” You’ve thought too much about what happens if you lose your sight completely. It can’t be that.
“Too late!” She starts pressing down, knife getting closer to your good eye. You’re too weak to stop her, the knife creeps closer and closer. You start up the apologies again. Nothing happens. The knife is so close it’s blurry. You close your eyes. You scream. You feel the knife press against and start to dig through your eyelid. You scream. Your eyelid gives. You scream. You wake up. You scream.
The ground is soft now, and you can’t feel her on top of you anymore. It feels like you’re in bed again, and you’re introduced to the idea that it was a nightmare. But it’s the middle of the night, and in the darkness, you can’t help but still feel as though your sight is gone. You reach up to touch your eye and it feels intact, but you need to know. Your blood runs cold as you hear her voice from upstairs, yelling something down to you. You woke her up. Terrified, you feel your way to the underside of the bed and hide in your own arms, screaming one muffled apology. The door unlocks and you hear her footsteps descending. “What the fuck is going on down here? Are you alright?”
“Pleasedonthurtmepleasepleaseimsorryjustturnonthelightspleasedontcomedownhere-” She tries to get a word in but your torrent of terrified yelling just continues and continues. She turns on the light and you quiet down to just whimpers, satisfied that you can see again.
“I need to make sure you’re not, like, killing yourself down here or something. What the hell is wrong?” Her legs are visible from under the bed.
“Ihadanightmareimnotkillingmyselfpleasestayovertherepleasedontbemadimsorryiwokeyouup-”
“Alright, alright, I’m over here. You wanna tell me what it was about?”
“Please don’t make me tell you I can’t tell you-”
“Fine, you’re fine, you don’t have to. Do you need anything?”
“Please just leave the lights on and go away I’m sorry-”
“Alright. Try to get some sleep.” She walks back up the stairs, you hear the door lock again. You crawl out from under the bed and look at everything you can, comforting yourself that you still have your eye. That supply run is supposed to be today, and the plan was real. You cry yourself back to sleep after a while and wake up.
Later in the day, while she’s on the supply run, you put the spare key back where you found it.
ZINBEI
sorry to my followers but its guro holiday
