Dirty talking women can be bad ass bitches. Look at me? I am a Goth bitch. I am no one’s bitch. I have this job because I need a creative outlet for my dark desires. I love castration and snuff. I have castrated many men in life too. It is not that hard to castrate a man. Not a man who is willing to get castrated. I accept money from men too weak to chop their own nuts off. I have made quite the living doing this too. I have a castration chamber in my house complete with a castration chair. The chair is an old death row chair I inherited when my grandfather’s small prison was shut down in the 60s. I was not born yet, but he had all sorts of things in storage to sell off or keep. When I was 18, he gave me the death row chair as a birthday present. I converted it for my own sick pleasures. I added a plank in the middle so when a man sat in the chair, his legs were on other side of the plank. I carved a hole in the plank to separate the cock from the balls. The idea was that with the cock and balls separated, I could tie off the balls with a zip tie or a castration band. I had a small belt attached to the plank to keep the cock restrained in case I wanted to take that too. Restraints were built in for their ankles, wrists and forehead. In my chamber, I have a variety of restraints and blades. Lots of different kinds of sharp instruments, some clean and some rusty. I have soldering devices too to cauterize wounds. I have a ball collection in formaldehyde too. I have amassed a collection of 319 balls in a jar since I was 18. Shall we make it 320?
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