Sorry, this is a bit rambling, but I need to get all of this out, I have no one I can talk to about this.

I (30F) come from a country where snuff is illegal and considered "weird", or "morally wrong", or "Actually Murder" or whatever.

I've always been kind of obsessed with the idea of being snuffed, and have been watching videos through a VPN since I was 18. When I was in Uni I found a group of like minded girls that became my closest friends in the world. There were 20 of us at first, over the years three girls left the group after a change of heart, five lucky girls found ways to make their dreams come through, so that left 12 of us in our whatsapp group, posting gifs of bitches being beheaded or hanged to each other.

This year we all decided to go on a trip of a lifetime to an actual western, liberal, sane country where we could spend two weeks finding ways to get our stupid slut selves snuffed. We all lied to our families about where we were going. The plan was to fly out, spend a couple of days on the beach, hitting up clubs, seeing what we could find, then the survivors were booked on a week long snuff cruise on a yacht where four guys would have their way with us.

We booked the hotel for the full two weeks, even though no one was supposed to survive the cruise.

The first couple of nights I was sharing a hotel room with my friend Sally. We met two nice young men in a club and brought them back to the room with us. I was being fucked doggystyle by my guy while I watched Sally’s partner stab her fifty times in the belly as he fucked her. It was my first time actually seeing someone die IRL, and watching the life drain from her eyes helped give me the best orgasm I’ve ever had. My fiance never made me feel like that.

But, when I asked if it was my turn the guys just shrugged their shoulders, laughed and left. I called reception and they stuffed Sally in the freezer and changed the bloody sheets, and I was kind of relieved to be honest because I really wanted to do the snuff cruise.

Nine of us survived to go on the cruise. I decided not to bother with clothes for the week and I enjoyed the free use environment. It was so fucking sexy how for example, one minute I might be sunbathing while the next I’m forced to bend over a table and fucked by a guy who doesn’t even speak the same language as me, while another guy forced my friends decapitated head in my face to make out with.

But after three days, I was the only survivor left from the group and it soon became apparent that while the guys would happily fuck me, I got all my holes filled by them at least twice a day, none of them was willing to actually snuff me.

On the last day of the cruise one of the guys was getting visibly agitated. He looked like he needed to kill something. I brought him a katana and sucked his cock, but when he blew his load he shoved me away and went and decapitated one of the other guys.

The other two crew were obviously pissed and executed him, but I was just thinking, why couldn’t he just kill me?

I asked the remaining guys why they wouldn’t snuff me and they just laughed and shrugged. They ended up dropping me off at the end of the cruise with a chest full of my friends dismembered bodies.

Word had filtered back to my home country about our trip somehow, and I spent a day fielding hysterical calls from the families of my friends. You’d think they’d be happy that I spent the time matching up the body parts of their girlfriends/wives/daughters, but apparently not.

My own Fiance won't speak to me. Apparently there’s an arrest warrant out for me in my home country, even though I didn’t kill anyone, which seems unfair.

Yesterday I decided to walk into a fuckstop to try and just force the issue. I went first thing in the morning, dumped my clothes in the incinerator, lay down and waited. I spent 12 hours watching young girls come in, wait for about 15 minutes, get fucked, decapitated, and replaced, but no one wanted me. At closing time the manager kicked me out and angrily told me not to come back tomorrow and waste another one of his slots. I asked for some clothes but he said they were all burned to ash.

I walked back to the hotel naked. Some guy forced me into an alley at gunpoint and raped the shit out of me, which felt really good, but then he pulled the trigger and laughed because the gun wasn’t loaded.

So, this is my last day here. I’ve already been contacted by local police to tell me they know about the warrant and if I don’t go home tomorrow they’ll arrest me and deport me. I have one last chance today to get snuffed, but I’m not holding out much hope to be honest. I downloaded snuffr, but I can’t get a single match.

I feel completely unwanted and unsnuffable, and I have no idea why. Is it because I’m on the bigger side? I’m kind of plain? I was definitely the least attractive of my friends, but that didn't stop guys from fucking me? Am I too old? What is it?

It was a pleasant drive through the moor. Edgar drove with the windows of his van down to breathe in the wild herbs and flowers, even appreciating the earthy undertones of it all. It wasn’t often he got to drive up here - his regular route didn’t take him much further than the outskirts of town. But today was special. He was filling in for the Department of Twin Redundancy, as they didn’t have any agents up this neck of the woods. As a public servant with a van, they reached out to Edgar as a matter of convenience. Edgar didn’t imagine the job would be his cup of tea, but it was a light day for post, and he was happy enough to help out where it was needed.

He had started reading the profile they’d given him. The girls were Olivia and Siobhan, Catholic, Irish mother, Welsh father, 19 years old and pretty. Beyond that the report started detailing how the girls were different - which is something Edgar didn’t need to know. He’d make his choice quickly, on intuition, and leave to enjoy the rest of his day.

He could spot the cottage from a few kilometers away, sturdy but isolated. There was a woman hanging washing on the line, sheets and school dresses blowing in the breeze. He wondered if the figure was one of the twins, but as he pulled up, it was clear the short laundress was their mother, Mary.

“Mornin’!” She called out. “Give me a hand with this?” She pulled out a large sheet, the last remaining item in her basket. Edgar yanked the handbrake, and went to oblige. The two struggled to coordinate finding the corners, getting lost beneath the white curtain, laughing clumsily before finally managing to straighten it out.

“There we go. Good morning, I’m Edgar, I’m filling in as an agent for the Twin Redundancy program.”

Mary laughed, “The postie! God what a world. Come on in, you can have a cuppa before you get started.”

Edgar placed his hand on the back of his neck. “Are you sure, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be daft sweetie, we don't get many visitors up here so we’ll take any company we can get. And don’t worry, Mister’s at work and  the triplets are at school - so it’s just me and the twins you’ll have to worry about.” Edgar smiled nervously as he crouched slightly to enter the cottage. Decorative plates were hung from the wall, and most pieces of furniture were covered in something quilted. A small fire was lit, and on the mantle, pictures of their family: the two short fat parents surrounded by four beautiful daughters and one son. “You stay here dear, they’re just in the reading room, I’ll bring them down.”

With Mary gone, Edgar couldn’t help but pick the report back out of his back pocket. With the realization he was about to break up a family, perhaps, he thought, he should be better informed. Report cards: Olivia was stronger in literature, Siobhan in arts. Medical reports: both were healthy, Olivia 48 kilograms, Siobhan 55. Olivia failed her first drivers test, Siobhan had lower school attendance. “Jeez,” Edgar though “pretty sparse data to be making a choice like this.”

A door creaked, and Mary’s plodding footsteps were joined by two softer pairs. Standing just an inch above their mother, came the twins in light blue apron dresses, each carrying a copy of “Great Expectations”. They had clearly made an effort to appear identical: both sets of long red hair braided neatly to hide behind their slender necks. Both barefoot. The only noticeable difference was the separate constellation of freckles across each of their faces.

“Good morning,” One chirped. “I’m Olivia, and this is my sister Siobhan.”

“Good morning girls.”

Siobhan added: “We just wanted to say how grateful we are to have you here. While obviously it will be a big day for both of us, we agree that it will be great to have the question settled, and to be able to move on, albeit in different directions.”

Mary bursted in from the kitchen holding a full tea tray, complete with biscuits. “And I just wanted to say how grateful I’ll be to have one less mouth to feed.”

Edgar didn’t know whether to laugh. The twins were, awkwardly, so he gave a token chuckle before drinking deeply from his cup of tea. “Girls, did you want to tell Edgar a little about yourselves?”

The twins looked at eachother. “Well,” Siobhan started, “At this point in our lives we like to think we’re pretty much the same. In the weeks leading up to today I’ve been tutoring Olivia in painting, and she’s been helping me through the books she’s read that I haven’t. We share the same group of friends, though we’ve mostly spent this year with family.”

Olivia continued. “I like to think I’m a bit more career focused, if you don’t mind me saying, sis. If I make it out today I’ll be enrolling in law and I think Siobhan's plan is to study nursing, but make sure she picks up a husband along the way.”

“Both of which are perfectly acceptable pathways.” Mary interjected. “Don’t you agree Edgar?”

Edgar laughed, “As a lonely postie I’d say so Mary.” It was true, he didn’t really think that Olivia should get to live because she might make more money than Siobhan. But if he had to endure any more awkward family small talk, he might decide to off himself. He looked at his watch and then to Mary. “It might be time…”

“Alright girls, Edgar’s van is just out front. Enjoy yourself, and know whatever happens, I love you both.”

The twins stood up and followed Edgar out the front door. “I’m sorry Edgar,” Siobhan said, “But would you mind carrying us to the van? It's just that the yard is quite muddy today, and it would seem a waste to get our boots at this point.”

Edgar shrugged, opened the back of his post-van and obliged. He wrapped his arm around Siobhan's hip, plucking her off the ground with ease. In his arms, he could tell that beneath her dress, her skin was soft. Out of instinct he almost chucked her in the back like a parcel, but reminded himself to be gracious and placed her in the back gently. His ‘chucking’ instinct was even stronger with Olivia, who was lighter, and a bit bonier. While she was more ambitious, in his arms, she felt more disposable.

Edgar placed Olivia down, joined them in the back and closed the door behind them so that Mary wouldn’t glimpse anything. The compartment was cold and hard, but it was tall enough for all of them to stand, and a dim light shone on them from above. Edgar had made sure to clear the van of post for the occasion, and lined the floor with plastic.

“Alright girls, it seems you’re both on board for this, which is great. Just make sure to follow what I say and everything should go smoothly.” The twins nodded shyly. Edgar felt odd in this position of power, but decided to fake it till he made it. “Alright, so if you could both undress, we’ll begin the physical inspection.”

Without a word, the twins turned to each other and began helping disrobing. The light dresses dropped to the floor quickly, unveiling their pale teen figures. While Siobhan had a slight curve to her thighs, Olivia’s limbs were straight up and down. Their underwear was simple, white and cotton, and they took turns unclipping each other's bras. Their breasts were identical, pointed with cute pink nipples poking outwards in the cold. Finally, they each removed their pantied, revealing two pussies, each with a small ginger landing patch.

“Before you begin inspecting.” Siobhan added. “It’s probably important to tell you that me and Olvia are both virgins, and have our hymens intact.”

“Though if you need to break our hymens for your inspection that’s totally okay.” Olivia chirped.

“I’d prefer you didn’t break mine, unless you’re going to snuff me,”

“Shhh, girls, if you could stand up straight beside each other. That would be great.”

They did, and as Edgar approached them it seemed natural to verify their claims. He knelt down by Siobhan, and tentatively reached out, parting her puffy lips to reveal her hymen, bridging over her opening. He pressed a finger against it as she squirmed. Egar chuckled, “Alright, I’ll leave it.”He shifted over to Olivia, lifting her lips to show the same. “Jeez, don’t you girls ride bikes, or like, use tampons?”

“We made a pact to keep our bodies perfect so that our agent wouldn’t judge us for it.” Olivia responded.

“So whoever I choose is going to die a virgin?”

“You’re very welcome to fuck me first” Olivia added.

“Good to know.” He stood up and continued to run his hands along each twins’ body. Cupping each breast, pinching each nipple. As he touched he pondered his options. It didn’t matter to him all that much, but as it stood he felt he’d prefer to kill Olivia. But he’d prefer to fuck Siobhan, and it seemed he’d only get the option for that if he chose her.

“Alright girls, here’s what I’m thinking. Siobhan, I’m happy to let you live on the condition that you let me take your virginity here. If you disagree, I’ll let Olivia out while I rape and kill you.” It felt like an awful thing to say, but it seemed the best, most direct way to present Siobhan with her options.

Olivia gulped “Your call sis.”

“Fuck, I really wanted to save myself.” Siobhan pondered. As if accepting the situation, she lent over and gave Olivia a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for being a great sis Liv, tell mum I love her.”

Olivia nodded, collected her dress, and left the van.

Edgar was relieved to have the weight of the choices lifted from him, now he could enjoy himself. The door closed behind them as he returned to touch the doomed twin. “You made a good choice.” Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes. Looking up at him, she pressed her lips together, and they came back wet.

“Given the situation, it might be a bit much to ask, but please, be gentle.”

“I’ll try.” Edgar responded as he lent in to kiss the trembling girl. His tongue darted into her, tasting her tears as they fell down her face. He laid her down on the plastic-lined floor unbuckling his belt. She rubbed herself as he towered over her, undressing. She wondered if Olivia had gone inside, or if she was crouched by the van, listening in.

Edgar knelt, positioning his average-looking cock against her pristine pussy. He dipped his tip against the lining, so as to feel it rub against him. Before going any further, he leaned in to kiss his victim. As Siobhan's tongue dipped into his mouth, so too did Edgar intrude further into her. She squealed, and broke this kiss, moaning in pleasure and pain. Edgar moved slowly out of her, before gently back in, deeper. It had been a while since Edgar had taken a woman’s virginity, but he had  experience from college. A shame to think this woman’s sex life would begin and end with him. He shook his head and focused on enjoying himself.

He began to move faster, wrapped one hand around Siobhan's throat, and cupped another round a pokey breast. She began to squirm more violently, but was still exceptionally soft. Perhaps she was adjusting to the pain, as she began to rock her hips in time with his thrusts, rubbing her clit against him where she could. Edgar took his hand from her throat, letting her pant while he moved down to press his palm against her nethers to add pressure to her building pleasure. The plastic he had laid down proved extra useful, as Siobhan reached orgasm, launching a light spray towards Edgar and his van.

With her pleasure taken care of, he placed his hands on her hips and began ramming into her like a toy. “Nng, fuck. Can I come inside you?” He asked. Siobhan was too overwhelmed to respond, so when Edgar finished, he did so without permission.

The two laid there a while, collapsed on the wet van plastic. While Edgar was satisfied, and could lay there a while longer, he thought he better finish up before she collected herself.He reached into the pockets of his discarded pants to retrieve his trusty box cutter. He climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. She closed her eyes and trembled as Edgar brough the blade against her throat, and sliced through it like package tape.

Edgar dressed as Siobhan writhed, dying. When her struggle ended, he wiped her down, picked her up, and carried her back to the house.

“All done here Mary, where do you want her?”

“Oh, the kitchen counter’s fine. I hope she wasn’t any trouble.”

“Not at all.” Edgar turned to Olivia. “Congratulations, by the way, and good luck with law school.”

“Thanks Ed!” Olivia smiled, before inspecting her sister. “Funny to think that could have been me.”

“It might still be you if you don’t help me prep her for dinner.” Mary jabbed. “Edgar dear, before you go, I thought I might ask you a favour?”

Edgar looke to his watch, it was near the end of his usual work day, and he didn’t really feel comfortable lingering in the house of a family he just made smaller. But his gentleman instinct betrayed him. “What’s that Mary?”

“Well in a minute the triplets, that is Minnie, Lily and Roger, will be home from school. They’ve just turned eighteen so I thought while we have you, you could handle their redundancy? As our only son we want to keep Roger, so it would just involve taking the girls. I know this isn’t your regular work, so if you’d be uncomfortable we can wait until the agency sends someone, but you’d be welcome to stay for dinner - which will be Siobhan here. Afterwards, Olivia will help you clean up, and we’ll even let you take one of the triplets with you as a thank you.”

Mary took a cleaver, and began unceremoniously removing Siobhan’s limbs from her torso. “Alright Mary, just as long as you know I’m not a professional, and their deaths wont be anything fancy.”

Mary’s cleaver cut through Siobhan’s neck, and she lifted the pretty face up to hers. “I dunno, Shiv looks plenty dead to me. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Muuuum, we’re home!” Three voices came singing. 

“Fucking hell.” Roger explained. “Give us a warning, hey, I didn’t need to see Shiv in the nude.”

Lily and Minnie were less repulsed, and came up to inspect their sister’s butchered torso. “Check it out Minnie, that’s going to be you in a year.”

“As if. My grades are the best, the agent will choose you and Roger for sure.”

“Actually girls,” Mary interrupted. “Our lovely agent for the day, Edgar, has agreed to stay for dinner, and we all thought it’d be efficient to get you processed today!”

“What?!” Minnie exclaimed. “That’s bullshit. Is that even allowed?”

“I think so.” Edgar interjected. “When they gave me the license for their day they said any twins, triplets or whatever were fair game, as long as they were adults.”

“You mean he’s not even a real agent!?” Lily added.

“Come on you two.” Olivia added. “Just be glad there’s not going to be any uncertainty for you. Trust me, being on the other side is the best feeling ever.”

“Yeah, that’s because you didn’t get fucking snuffed!” Minnie retorted.

“I’ll be in my room.” Called Roger, retreating, “See yah Lily, see yah Minnie.”

“This isn’t fair. I’m calling the agency.” Lily protested.

“Edgar deary, it might be best for you to just grab them now so you have time to clean up before dinner.”

Edgar gulped and nodded. The triplets were shorter, blonder, and as Edgar discovered as he plucked Lily from the ground before she could make her call, lighter. Edgar delivered heavier packages regularly, and managed to carry them both to the van with ease. Knowing both would perish, he didn’t care as much about being gentle this time, tossing the girls in with a metallic thud as they landed in puddles of their sister’s blood. He locked the door behind them and mustered some assertiveness. Alright girls, let’s be done with this. If you could both strip that would be grand.”

As the pair angrily tossed their school dress to the floor and wriggled out of their basic black underwear, it became clear how different the pair were. Edgar always wondered why the twin redundancy program applied to non-identical twins, looking at Minnie and Lily, you wouldn’t know they were twins at all. While they were both short, Lily’s chest was full and face free of freckles, while Minnie resembled her mother, light red hair with carpet to match.

Edgar couldn’t help but laugh at how feisty they both were. While Siobhan and Olvia were elegant, these girls matched a little more of the stereotypes he’d heard about women out here in the country. How petty they were also played into the stereotype that twins were worth half a person, triplets one third, etc. He knew all that was just propaganda to help the program stay active, but it certainly seemed true to Lily and Minnie.

He unbuckled his belt. “Turn around and bend over.”

“Fuck you creep.” Minnie shouted. Edgar simply grabbed her and pushed her into the floor, face pressed into the bloody plastic sheet. Lily saw this and followed orders. The pussies that were facing him were wide and welcoming, and noticeably different from their sisters’. “Looks like you two are just a couple of sluts.”

“What?” Minne shouted. “Just because we’re not prissy virgin bitches?”

Edgar gulped. He guessed that was fair, it was kind of weird Liv and Shiv were virgins. He wasn’t there to judge, he was just there to enjoy himself. “You’re right, sorry.” Edgar said, as he plunged his cock into Minnie without warning. She moaned, but Edgar wasn’t worried too much about that this time, he thrust until he felt himself on the edge of orgasm, before pulling out and grabbing his box cutter. 

“Minnie, it’s been a pleasure.” He said, reaching down and slicing along her throat. Lily watched her sister in her final throes, as Edgar inserted himself into her. Lily had given up the fight and simply let herself be used. She even stuck her neck out while she was being railed, as to give Edgar easier access. Not one to stand on ceremony, Edgar made the cut while continuing to fuck her. As her body twitched and squirmed in its final moments, it gripped tightly to his cock. Soon after he came, she fell limp around him. He got dressed and carried Lily’s body inside, deciding to keep Minnnie’s, thinking the ginger girl would make for the better souvenir. 

Edgar came in, shirtless and covered in blood. “Just pop her in the sink over here dear.” Mary called. “Quick, up to the shower now”.

Olivia joined him in the shower, helping him wash the blood of her sisters off, feeling proud as the last woman standing. She offered Edgar her virginity, but Edgar, a bit spent, declined for the time being, though they exchanged contact information.

When they came downstairs, their father, Gerald, had arrived home. He shook Edgar’s hand, and congratulated him on a job well done. Edgar, Gerald, Mary, Olivia and Roger, sat down for dinner and enjoyed each other's company in their new, simplified family. Edgar waved goodbye and drove home just before sunset, so as to still enjoy the view of the moor on the way back.

Dominic stood at the front of the university lecture hall and surveyed the sultry sea of female models. Even with seven hundred seats, it was standing room only as the women waited for him to begin. Dominic cleared his throat and smiled.

“Good afternoon, ladies! I’m Dominic Cutmore. Thank you for coming to learn about my latest art project. I’m on the tightest of time frames as I must unveil it this evening, so I’ll get right to the point. The piece is called ‘Sisterhood.’ It celebrates the sacred unity of women and the eternal bond you all share. It’s safe to say nothing like this has been done before.

“I need a diverse group of twenty-four women. When I say diverse, I mean nationality, race, age, height, weight, hair color, tattoos, and other identifying features. We’ll be doing a mix-and-match of sorts…”

Dominic described his project in detail to the captivated audience. When he finished his pitch, he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt and took a deep breath.

“So, now that you know what the project entails, who’s interested?”

At least five hundred hands shot into the air, accompanied by an equal number of smiling faces. Dominic exhaled.

“Oh, I’m so glad to have this much interest! The rest of you are free to leave. Thank you for your time.”

---------

Dominic had a clear vision for the piece and selected twenty-four models in about ten minutes. Graduate assistants gathered contact information from the others for future projects as Dominic led the chosen women across the hall to his spacious studio. The university provided him with excellent facilities, equipment, and a generous salary as an art professor. It was a win-win, as Dominic generated tremendous buzz for the university’s art program.

His studio contained all the equipment, materials, and staff needed to complete his extraordinary project. Following his instructions, the twenty-four ladies undressed and queued up beside a familiar machine. Dominic walked several times up and down the line, periodically asking models to swap places. Finally, he surveyed the order and nodded in satisfaction.

“Please lie face-down on the bench,” Dominic told the first woman in line, a nineteen-year-old Japanese model with spiky green hair and flowery tattoos.

She grinned as she stepped forward and stood naked before the artist.

“Thank you so much for selecting me! This is the best possible way to launch my modeling career!”

Dominic smiled. “You’re very welcome. It was an easy decision, given your unique look. You’ll be a wonderful addition to the piece.”

“My parents said modeling would be a dead end, so I can’t wait for them to see me in your exhibit. They’ll be so proud!”

“Without a doubt. It’s a rare opportunity for you,” Dominic replied, gesturing to the bench.

“Right, of course!” she exclaimed before lying down. “I admire your efficiency. You picked me five minutes ago, and here we are.”

“Here we are, indeed. Scoot forward two inches, please,” Dominic said.

“Sure, no problem,” she replied, quickly adjusting her body.

“Perfect!” Dominic exclaimed. “This will just take a moment, my dear.”

He closed and locked the lunette around her neck before pulling a metal lever. The guillotine’s blade dropped, swiftly and cleanly decapitating the young model. Her head fell into a metal bin, where it was immediately retrieved by one of the medical students Dominic hired to prepare the models. She carried it to a work table while two other students retrieved the woman’s nude body from the bench. They used cautery pens to stop the bleeding and cauterize all the blood vessels in her neck stump and the underside of her head.

The trio finished this task within a minute and carried the head and body to the next station, manned by three cosmetology students. One of them adjusted the model’s facial expression and combed her hair before submerging her head in a vat of epoxy. The other two students carefully lowered her body into a large tub of the same epoxy.

At the same time, Dominic called the next naked woman in line, a voluptuous blonde from Sweden in her fifties. Her large nipples were rock hard from watching the first woman’s decapitation.

“This is such a sexy project!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been modeling for thirty years, and I’ve never been so excited about a job. It’s an honor to be part of this!”

“The honor is mine, my dear,” Dominic replied. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh, I was born ready,” she remarked, lying on the bench. “This is, without a doubt, the pinnacle of my career.”

The blonde scooted forward until her neck was in the lunette. Dominic closed and locked it before pulling the lever. The woman’s head fell into the bin, the medical students retrieved it with her body, and the meticulous process continued.

Meanwhile, the cosmetology students carefully lifted the first model’s head and body from the epoxy. Dominic handed off guillotine duty to another team member and joined the trio.

“She looks amazing,” he remarked. “Excellent work! Let’s get her body posed before the epoxy hardens.”

Two students carried the body to an extended metal platform while Dominic retrieved a bottle of superglue. He applied the glue to the model’s feet and then assisted the students in standing her upright at the left end of the platform. They adjusted her pose until she stood tall with her hands in front like she was holding a bowling ball.

“Wonderful!” Dominic exclaimed with a grin. “One down, twenty-three to go.”

Two hours later, all twenty-four models had been decapitated, epoxied, and posed in a neat row on the platform. Their severed heads lay on the floor nearby. Dominic pursed his lips, looking back and forth between the tattooed Asian body on the far left and the eclectic collection of heads.

“Let’s try the redhead with the pigtails,” he told a cosmetology student.

She nodded, picked up the desired head, and placed it in the arms of the Asian model’s headless body. Dominic flashed a thumbs-up.

“We’re off to a good start here, team.”

---------

An hour later, after much debate, Dominic and his team reached a consensus and finished placing all twenty-four heads. Industrial dryers blew at top speed to dry the epoxy coatings. The team then buffed and polished the nude women’s flesh to a shine. Finally, they stepped back to survey their handiwork.

“I love it!” Dominic exclaimed. “Excellent work, everyone. Let’s move these ladies next door to the gallery.”

---------

The new art piece was installed along the gallery wall with twenty minutes to spare. The staff then set up tables with champagne and hors d’oeuvres as Dominic and his team changed into formal attire.

Soon, the guests began to arrive. Most skipped the refreshment table and gravitated immediately to ‘Sisterhood.’ They spoke in hushed tones, gesturing to the artful arrangement of headless women and severed heads as they attempted to interpret the deeper meaning.

Dominic circulated through the gallery, introducing himself, answering questions, and posing for photos beside his masterpiece. Toward the end of the exhibition, a young brunette with glasses tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes?” Dominic asked, immediately transfixed by her silver stilettos and form-fitting green cocktail dress. Her ample bosom threatened to overflow the garment. “May I help you?”

“Oh, certainly! I’m Samantha Duplaix from Modern Art Magazine. I’m writing a feature on ‘Sisterhood.’ Do you have a few minutes for some questions?”

“I do. What would you like to know?”

“First, I want to verify a remarkable rumor. Did you create the piece this afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Dominic replied. “These women were walking and talking four hours ago, so we were on a tight timeline. The heads needed to roll rather quickly.”

“Impressive! And it’s already making waves in the art world. ‘Sisterhood’ has been hailed by critics as bold, visionary, and groundbreaking. Art Weekly declared it ‘the most fearless depiction of womanhood ever conceived by an artist.’ That’s high praise! In your own words, what’s the meaning of the piece?”

“It’s the interconnected nature of the global sisterhood. That’s why the models hold each other’s heads, not their own. Women need one another on an elemental level, which I aim to represent in this piece. They’ve all lost part of themselves but gained much more.”

“Fascinating,” Samantha remarked, furiously tapping notes on her phone. “Was recruiting enough models for a piece like this difficult?”

“Not at all. I had over five hundred vivacious volunteers this afternoon.”

“One last question before I let you get back to your other guests. What’s next for Dominic Cutmore? Are you planning a larger piece with even more willing women?”

Dominic flashed a smile. “I see ‘Sisterhood’ as a small step along the ambitious artistic path I plan to walk. So, yes, I’ll be creating larger pieces. Much larger, but I’m not ready to discuss those quite yet.”

“Fair enough. On a related note, do I have what it takes to become one of Dominic’s dolls?”

Samantha removed her glasses and smiled demurely. Dominic nodded.

“You would be positively divine, my dear! And your timing is impeccable. I have a sexy concept for a solo nude decap piece you’d be perfect for. If you’re not busy, we could skip the rest of this gathering, head next door to my studio, and get started on it.”

Samantha’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that, Dominic!” She blushed. “I have a confession. I took this assignment primarily to proposition you, though I knew working together would be a long shot. Give me a moment to send these notes to my editor.” Samantha tapped a few times and smiled. “All done! I’m officially yours forever.”

“Splendid! Let’s go make some art.”

---------

Moments later, Dominic ushered Samantha into his studio. He showed her the equipment, explained his artistic process, and described his vision for her piece. She loved the concept, stripped naked without a moment’s hesitation, and promptly laid down on the bench.

Dominic gently secured the lunette around her supple neck. He then pulled the guillotine lever, decapitating Samantha and swiftly catapulting her to international acclaim in a new art piece entitled ‘Let Them Eat Cake’ about the enduring legacy of Marie Antoinette’s beheading. Samantha’s nude body stood holding her severed head on a silver platter. It was magnificent!

The hot young journalist-turned-supermodel became a global sensation overnight as she began a world tour of museums and galleries. Losing her head for the sake of art was the best career decision Samantha had ever made.

Context: In this world, women are the top and men are the bottom. Women are the ones who regularly snuff and kill men, though of course, both parents have power over their children. Here it's women who do family restarts.

Story: I was watching reality TV with my neighbour, Angela in her house. I was confident that Pixie was going to win. Suddenly, Angela, suggested that we spice this up. We all place bets on our favourite constants and everyone who loses has to go snuff their families. I was confident that Pixie was going to win, and so obviously, that's who I bet on. However, to my shock, Gizelle won. It was completely unexpected.

"Well, Gizelle won, so Pam, I guess you are going to have to restart your family. Don't worry, I can set you up with good guys."

"Do I have to? I mean, it's just stupid reality show."

"Oh no, you don't. Remember when I snuffed my brother because I lost a bet? You are doing the same thing. Don't be a sore loser, Pam."

"Uh, fine. A bet is a bet."

A little unhappy, I strutted over to my house. I opened the door and my two sons, Paul(21m) and Jack(18m) were watching a football game. I grabbed Jack and pressed him against my vagina, ready to suffocate him.

"Geez, mom, what's up?" Paul asked, pretty chill. "I am sorry honey, I lost a bet with Angela and the terms were that whoever losses has to snuff their family." "Oh, mom, you should be more careful. Can I ride you before you kill me?". "Of course, baby."

I continued to push Jack against my pussy, he licked as best as he could, but after a few minutes his breathing stopped and he was dead.

I told Paul that it was now his turn to die. "Alright, mom."

He began riding me. "Oh baby, come in me, baby, come in me. Give me your seed." "I am coming, mom, just about there." Soon he came in me and filled my pussy with his seed. I got up and kissed him deeply for 20 seconds. "Alright, Paul, time to die." Before he could reply, I snapped his neck. I once again kissed him. And then moved to the bedroom of my daughters, Sarah(20f) and Kristen(19f).

I entered Kristen's room while she was busy on her phone, "I am so sorry, baby, but I lost a bet with Angela and the terms were that the loser has to snuff their families. I am so sorry baby, but I have to kill you." "Oh mom, it's fine. A bet is a bet. Gotta keep your word." "Is there any way you would like to die?", "Yes, I would like to eat your pussy and then you could snap my neck." I kissed her deeply and told her, "I love you so much, baby." And then pressed her on my vagina. She began to lick with all her zeal and she was rubbing herself, as well. She was very good at it, and when I came, I used all my strength to snap her neck.

It was almost over, now only my husband and Sarah were left. I went to Sarah's room and she immediately said, "Oh mom, I heard you over in Kristen's room and I completely understand. Sometimes we make stupid bets. Happens to the best of us." "Oh, what did I do to get such understanding children? Tell me, do you have any preference?", "Yes mom, I want you to wrap my head in a plastic bag, and then I will slowly suffocate to death. I snuffed my boyfriend just yesterday like this and it was so hot.", "Alright, honey." I went to the storage room and got a plastic bag and a rope. I came up and kissed Sarah. "Alright honey, time to die.", "Yes mom, I am so excited." I soon wrapped her head in a plastic bag and I tied the rope around it, just tight enough to prevent air entry but not to squeeze her neck. Wouldn't want to make her uncomfortable. She soon began grasping for air, and within a few minutes, she was dead.

I had snuffed all my children and now only my husband was left. I found him sleeping in our bedroom and decided it would be easier to just kill him in his sleep. Anyways, I couldn't take more sex. I got the gun from the nightstand drawer and shot him. His head burst open.

I kissed his forehead and then took out my phone to photograph their bodies. I clicked all the photos and then went back to Angela. "Alright, it's over. According to our bet, I have snuffed my entire family. Here are the photos to prove it." "Wow, you actually for did it. Don't worry, I can hook you up with my cousin." "Yeah, whatever. Since I have no one at home left, let's just watch TV." "Sure", Angela replied. She turned on her TV and the host of our favourite show announced that, "I am sorry but due to a counting error, Gizelle was accidentally declared the winner, after a recount, the real winner is Pixie. I am sorry for the inconvenience."

Does anyone know of any novel-length (or longer) works that feel like they'd been in the guro erotica genre? Something with an actual plot line and not just a collection of short stories and greater than ~50-60k words long?

Could be a fanfiction, webnovel, ebook, etc. Don't think I can be picky on the format, just not sure if anyone's ever written a longer piece of content for this genre.

Mark, a promising young architecture major, woke up this morning with the soft mouth of a whore on his cock. As usual. But it wasn't the usual whore. He groggily remembered his drunken fun last night; dragging home a free-roaming rape cunt by its hair, fucking it in front of his room-bound whore which he and his roommate had picked out from the college's selection during freshers week. The Room Whore (they didn't bother giving it a name or memorising its id number) was a long-legged model type. Small, perky tits. Toned ass and tiny waist. While Mark and his roommate, Wes, were in classes, it exercised for hours on end to maintain that pert young body. The biometric monitor around its throat made sure of that, shocking it mildly when its heartrate slowed (and much less mildly if it tried to leave the room).

It had been fun to play with for the first few months. Mark enjoyed a new set of holes. At home, he'd had his mother and sister to rape, but neither were prime fuckmeat material. His Dad mostly just kept them around for sentimental value or some shit.

The Room Whore woke him and Wes up with its mouth on their cocks every morning, which usually led to Mark skullfucking it until its pretty face was dripping with tears and strings of spit. Its throat was so thin that he could see his own cock forcing its larynx out of the way. Sometimes he just shoved his cock down its throat and jerked himself off through its stretched skin. He couldn't feel his hand as much as he would bare, but the tight contractions of the whore's throat as it choked added enough suction to get his morning wood off.

The first few weeks, the Room Whore puked on his cock. Even after he punished it in a few severe ways, it still did it. After talking to the dorm manager they managed to solve it by feeding the whore only once a day, right in the middle of the afternoon. After that, it had nothing to puke up in the mornings.

...Except Mark's cum. Which was only really a problem for Wes, who usually fucked its face after Mark. But for some reason, Wes barely minded. He made the Room Whore lick it back up or snort it up its nose. And anyway, it was the Room Whore's problem to clean the sheets everyday, along with the rest of the dorm. But since the midterms, Mark was a bit bored of the Room Whore. There were other cunts everywhere on campus, but he liked the comfort of his own bed. Plus, he wanted Room Whore to watch its replacement.

So he snatched a free-roaming cunt labeled #W1-440802 and dragged it back to his dorm with him. Wes was out at some swim tournament or whatever, so it was just the Room Whore waiting inside. It was freshly showered, naked, knelt on the floor with its ass presented to the door. On its back balanced Mark's stack of textbooks. Exactly how it was meant to be. It never did anything wrong. Nothing even indicated that it had thoughts, even though it wasn't one of the lobotomised rape cunts. Still, Mark harbored growing hatred for it.

He tied it to the desk chair and turned its biometrics monitor onto the test setting, shooting electrical pulses into its neck every thirty seconds.

He turned it towards the bed, then he fucked the other cunt in front of it. The public cunt was sexier in a pornstar way. Big tits with tiny pink nipples, sloping hips, blonde pigtails. He raped its ass, which seemed to hurt it but it was loose from its many public assrapes. It wasn't crying nearly as much as he wanted, so he grabbed the stapler off his desk. He snapped it open and forced it against Pigtail's pink nipple. He rammed back into its ass at the same moment he shot a staple right into its titmeat. It cried out and clenched around his cock. Room Whore's eyes bulged in shock. Of course, it was frowned upon to ruin the college's property (besides the abuse cunts), but no one would know that it was Mark that did it, since none of the cunts could speak more than a few basic words. Plus it wasn't like he killed it. It could still be installed in the bathroom or locker room as an abuse cunt.

Getting his bearings in the morning, he realized he hadn't untied the Room Whore or gotten rid of Pigtails. The blonde cunt's head bobbed on his cock in lieu of his boring usual slut. It, of course, hadn't left since he hadn't given it permission. He checked the time. 8:30 am. Exactly correct. Maybe Pigtails used to be a room whore.

His own Room Whore still sat in the chair, arms wrenched behind it, eyes red from tears. His cock hardened. He hadn't seen it cry before. Maybe this was the way to hurt it- make it watch other cunts suffer.

He pulled Pigtails up by its blonde handles. It's heavy tits were armoured in silver staples. Constellations of shiny metal lines completely covered its nipples like pasties and spread out across the rest of its tit meat. They overlapped like chainmail embedded in its pink skin. A few stray staples were jammed in its flat stomach and down lower, lower....where he found five clustered on its clit.

He pressed his thumbs into each nipple with a sadistic grin aimed at the Room Whore. Pigtails gasped into his shoulder, its chest shaking in a way that made its tits jiggle hilariously. When he pushed into its clit, it broke down into heaving sobs.

He spread it open on display for the Room Whore, its legs wide on the edge of the bed. He throat raped it without breaking the Room Whore's eyecontact, slamming his hand against Pigtail's abused clit and tits like bongos, savoring the feeling of its sobs around his dick.

He came into its stomach, then made it stand over the Room Cunt and finger its own throat until it puked his cum onto its face.

By the time he was dressed for class, the Room Whore face dripped with fresh tears and regurgitated cum. He untied it.

"What a mess. Clean it. But don't forget todays exercise."

He dumped the naked blonde cunt near the dorm block's garbage cans. Someone would put it where it needed to be.

Hello, its Max again. Welcome to my next story. I do like age difference dynamics in my Snuff City world as well, they're quite fun, and I love milfs in snuff stories. Maybe my next story will be an age difference between and older dilf and a younger slut? Thanks for the support for my first few stories, here's my next one, and make sure to leave me comments and reviews on what you think. Thanks!

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Jacob walked into the building, the young man of 19 wearing a nice white button up shirt and office acceptable khaki pants. He had a nice fit frame and sandy brown hair that was somewhat made into a neater hairstyle than he usually made it. He felt a bit uncomfortable, even with no underwear on this was more clothes than he was used to wearing, especially around the house. He was a new intern at this office building, which managed the paperwork and organizing of documents for different companies in the city. His mom had landed him a job here thanks to one of her friends who works here. He walks through the cubicle-filled office space, taking in the sights. Most were filled with modestly dressed fems, though occasionally he saw a bottomless femboy sitting on a toy in their chair as they worked, or a girl with her tits out of their blouse or shirt while they were on a video call.

He made his way to the office in the back, where Miss Genea worked. She was said friend of his mother's they had met at a bar a few years ago and enjoyed each other's company... and each other's bodies, as he had seen a few times while sneaking peeks on them. He knocks on the office door, glancing through the windows to see Miss Genea at her desk. She was a hot woman in her thirties, a rare age for most girls to live to unless married. She had tanned smooth skin, and a massive set of tits from years of birthing kids for men she had been bred by. They strained to come out of the black office dress suit she was wearing that showed lots of cleavage, even showing that she was wearing a purple bra under the dress. Without the bra, she would be showing her areolas with that much cleavage. Her thick brown hair was curled on her shoulders.

"Come in," he heard her call through the door. He stepped inside the impressive office, a medium sized room with a chair across her desk, a couch to the side, and frames on the walls. There was a modern art painting, her degree framed on the wall, and a portrait of herself decorating the walls, and behind her was a large window showing the city outside, the street about three stories down. On her desk were her stationary equipment, and a few photos of her kids of various ages. She also had a plastic bag that some takeout food have been brought to her in sitting on her desk.

"Mr. Carnan," Miss Genea says, looking at him. "Welcome to DocSort. I'm doing your mother a favor by putting you on our staff as a paid intern, so don't go embarrassing either of us, understand?" She says, looking at him sternly with her harsh.

"I understand, Miss Genea. I'm thankful for the opportunity," he says, his eyes going to her breasts while he spoke to her. "So, um, what will I be doing here?"

"As an intern, you'll be spending about half your time shadowing and learning from the other employees about the tasks and systems we operate here, and how to organize and properly sort the private documents of our clients," she says. "Your other half will be spent organizing our own files and making sure to-" An alert on her computer drew her attention. "Ah, this day's initial fuckstop list. There go half of our other interns. Oh, and Sarah, damn, she was a good one. Oh well," he brought her attention back to Jacob.

"Um, am I allowed to use the fuckstop?" He asks her, smiling and blushing a bit.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, you can use the fuckstop during your breaks. But if you're on the clock, you're expected to stay on the office floor. If your urges get TOO strong, you're free to fuck and breed and snuff the fems here," she says. "Just know that if your work falls behind because you're spending all your time fucking and not working, it will reflect negatively on your performance review. Any other questions?"

"Yeah. Can you show me your tits? They're super hot and distracting," he tells her, staring at her chest.

She scoffed. The arrogance of a horny young guy! Still, she knew it was important to sate him. She unbuttoned a few buttons of her dress shirt, and tugged down her bra, letting her tits show more freely, evenly tanned across her breasts. "There you go."

She continued her orientation even as he undid his pants and took his cock out, stroking it to a full erection while staring at her tits. "Now, for today, I'm going to have you shadow Lessa. He's a femboy that's been with us a few months, so he should be able to give you the basics of the job easily enough. After that I'll have Jenny show you how I like the filing cabinets in my office organized. It'll be a bit hard for her to bend over to properly show you with her baby belly, but she should manage just fine." Her eyes narrowed as she watched him keep stroking, more. "Are you going to finish in here? If so, please use the trash can to keep from make a cum mess in my office."

"Can I finish in you?" He asks, stroking his massive and long cock still as he looked to her face.

She huffed. "Fine. Let's not take too long, I have an appointment in an hour." She stands up from behind her desk, and now he can see more of her body. She has a bit of pudge around her belly, and her hips are wide, perfect for child bearing. She's not wearing any pants or skirt, just a pair of violet panties that match with her bra that show off her thighs and her plump ass even more as she moved and turns around, bending over her own desk. "Just make sure to finish deep inside. And if I get pregnant with your kid, I'll let your mom know," she says. She reaches behind her ample ass to tug down her panties to reveal a slightly damp pussy with a trimmed bush around it.

He moves behind her eagerly, groping her plump ass he had only seen so far when she came to visit his mother for some lezzing out. He rubbed his cock against her butt, feeling its softness. "You have an amazing ass, Miss Genea. Mom's lucky to have such a hot friend like you."

Miss Genea chuckled, looking back at him over her shoulder. "Your mom's a hot woman herself. I can only imagine how many times she's looked amazing while cumming on your cock, boy. Now let me have a bit of it, so we can get back to work."

He took his cock head and pressed it against her pussy entrance, and then he pushed it and sank a few inches. Both of them moaned as his cock entered her loose and mature puusy. "Its not tight at all! Just really warm and wet," he teased, as he slid in and out of her with a moderate thrusting pace.

"Hush you," she grunted, feeling his cock enter her pussy. "Nrgh... girls get looser when they're my age, after they've had a few kids. Your mom would know," she teased back.

"I do have another work question," he grunts as he slides in and out of his new boss's pussy. "Could you get on the list of fems going to the fuckstop?" He asks.

Miss Genea listens to his question, even as his cock slides in and out of her baby making hole. "Mmmf, of course. All fems are on the company fuckstop list. Any of us could get selected at the start of the day to go down and keep it filled. And if it runs empty, another list is generated. Why do you ask?"

"If you got called, I would totally go down and use you," he groans, his cock throbbing inside her at the idea of snuffing her.

She felt her pussy gush a bit at that. How shameful! A grown woman such as herself, having a mini orgasm at the mention of being snuffed by this kid like she was some high school graduate fresh out in the world. Still, it was rather sweet, and the milf found herself blushing. "You don't need to flatter your boss. Younger girls are more fun to fuck and snuff anyways," she huffs, pushing her hips back into him as her juices started to drip to the floor.

"I mean it! You're so hot, Miss Genea, I've watched you fuck my mom, and sometimes I wanna walk in on you two and snuff you both while cumming in you!" He gripped her hips firmly, thrusting faster into her, pushing most of his cock into her with each thrust.

She had to grip the desk to keep herself steady, her large udders swinging under her as she was railed. "W-words! Nrgh!" She groans as she gets hit by an orgasm by his flirting. "Plenty of guys have... have said that just to put a baby in me and then leave me for some younger slut..." she pants.

Jacob meant it though. He needed to show her. He looked around the office, and his gaze landed on her fast food bag and some zipties on her desk. He reached over her thick body and grabbed the bag, emptying it of some napkins and a couple of sauce packets on the floor, and then grabbed a ziptie. "I mean it Miss Genea! I'm gonna snuff you, right now!" He says, and puts the bag over her head.

Miss Genea gasps as the thin cheap bag is put over her head. In surprise, she legs go of the desk, and the two fall to the floor, Jaboc landing on her body. This sinks his entire cock into her, and she moans out into the plastic. It smells like orange chicken and fried noodles in this bag, but she's more focused on how much his cock is throbbing inside her.

"J-Jacob?" The milf groans, as he keeps thrusting into her as he starts to put the ziptie around the bag where her neck was. "Hold on, before you snuff me, I have to finish some wo-!" Her works are cut off as he closes the tie cutting off her air. She moans and huffs in the bag, as she feels the air get thinner, and get less oxygen. He was actually going to fucking snuff her! She felt her pussy clench in preparation of another orgasm.

The bag wasn't a great bag, and some air still getting in through a tiny tear in the corner. But not enough to replenish the oxygen she was using by her panting and huffing and moaning under him. With the bag secured, Jacob pinned her arms to do her sides so she couldn't take it off while he kept thrusting into her.

Jacob felt his first orgasm cumming. He slammed into Miss Genea again and again, and then groaned loudly enough for the office floor to hear as he came inside the milf's pussy. Miss Genea felt his warm seed gush into her womb, the sensation increased by her difficulty to breath. It made her cum again, her juices squirting out onto the floor and onto Jacob's crotch.

Jacob wasn't done though. He flipped her onto her back, keeping her legs spread and holding her hands down near her thighs as he slid into her again. This time he could see her face a bit through the barely opaque bag, part of her face covered by the chicken mascot of the Chinese restaurant on the bag. "See? I'm not taking that bag off, Miss Genea. I'm gonna snuff you now. No need to be concerned about work or getting pregnant or anything." He thrusts into her again, watching her try to moan in the bag as she started to really run out of air.

Every attempt to breathe or suck in air took more effort for less results. She felt her lungs tug and push, but nothing useable was going in them, and only unusable carbon dioxide was coming out. Her pussy and body tingled, her large tits heaving with each attempted breath and making them jiggle and bounce, in addition to the motions her body made as the young stud fucked her. This was bliss, she was going to die cumming on the cock of her friend's son. How hot. Her moans became pitiful grunts, her arms unable to move up to the bag in Jacob's grip. Her head leaned back as she started to enter her death throes, her body spasming as it naturally tried to fight its fate. Her pudgy belly jiggled as she moved, her tits shaking more. She felt her pussy clench around Jacob's cock, milking it as best it could before she lost more of her senses.

"Fuck, your body is so hot!" Jacob said, slamming into her harder. "I'll be fucking you for a while even after you die, Miss!" He groans, his orgasm starting to build up again. As Miss Genea's body started to cease its twitchings, he felt her cum gushing around his cock again as she had a deathgasm. He groans and sinks his full length inside her, keeping it deep inside her as he fires his seed into her womb for his orgasm.

The last thing Miss Genea feels before everything goes dark for her is the warmth of something entering her belly from the young stud's cock.

Miss Genea let out the occasional twitch from her corpse as she lays there, sprawled out and expose on the floor. Cum leaks from her pussy as Jacob pulls out.

He looks at his handiwork, his mom's friend and his boss now a snuff slut lying on the floor of her own office. Her tits are out, sitting there plump and fat. He can't help himself as he leans in and starts to suckle on them, feeling their warmth. No milk anymore, but still, they're fat and juicy tits he can't help but love. He takes his mouth off her nipple and straddles her chest, taking her tits and rubbing his cock between them. He groans as he thrusts into them a bit while smooshing them against his cock. "Fuck boss, your tits are so soft around my cock!" He groans, his slimy and messy cock lubing itself between her breasts as he fucks them. After a few minutes of enjoying this, he groans as he cums, splattering his cum on her breasts and the bag over her face.

With his fun finished, he stands up, sated and satisfied. He probably won't need to use the fuckstop later now. He leaves Miss Genea's office, and her body on its floor, as he goes to find this 'Lessa' femboy so he can start his training as Miss Genea said he would.

The final battle of round one has arrived, and the audience is thunderous in their excitement. Everyone currently living were up in arms to see the last two contestants. Audrey kinda felt astonished, the sight of so many pleased with her work tickling her the right way. She roamed her eyes over them, looking for the final guest of the tournament. She only had the intention to carry this guest part for only the first round. Though there might be other things she can do later. But for now, her eyes landed on their target.

Smiling, she brought the microphone right to her mouth, then glared through the speakers with a booming voice, “We are almost at the end my lovely audience. You shall see every challenger in action at this moment, so I hope you have enjoyed it!” She then turned to the person she chose, locking eyes with her as she sent her lancer’s chainsaw deep into the man she was riding. With spotlights shining at her, Audrey saw the woman turn towards her, allowing Audrey to properly announce it, “And for the last guest of the round, I summon Kait Diaz!”

The armored woman stood tall as her name was called out, walking through the portal the moment it appeared. She stepped through the portal with a grin on her face, seeing the four announcers turn to her. Audrey and Selina smiling, the robot Kyle coated in blood from the last guest she decimated. Aria is still Sif’s footstool, and the goddess herself was rather joyful at her presence.

Before she could give a sparky comment, Audrey raised her finger up, “We'll get to you in just a moment,” the succubus closed the portal and turned back to the arena. To fit the theme of the two competitors, the stage was set for the hanger bay of a star destroyer. There were grounded and crashed TIE fighters about, useful for some cover. With the arena ready, Audrey began her first introduction, “First up is a former member of Death watch before hooking up with an Ahsoka. After that, she became a leading figure in the Mandalorian Rebellion of the Empire. The night owl herself, please welcome Bo-Katan Kryze to the show!”

The first gate opened next to a smoldering wreckage, Bo-Katan walking out in full armor. Her boots rattled against the deck as she presented herself to the crowd. Her helmet was tucked under her arm, with her free hand on her blaster. At first glance, she looked entirely normal. That is, until the cameras paid better attention to her lower regions. Her codpiece was more loose, and the velcro could be seen at the edges. It looked to easily be removed, which recalled the purpose of the Battle pretty well.

She scanned the terrain for a second, weighing her options. There were starships smashed into the hangar just next to her had some height to them, and she had all her equipment on her. She just needed to see what her opponent was planning.

“And in the second gate,” as if on cue, Audrey starts again, “She is a captain of the ruling First Order. She looks hot, that's for sure, but she still has yet to prove if she fights well. She’s here, that’s for sure. Please welcome Captain Phasma!”

The door on the other side of the small hangar lifted open, and the woman that stepped out glimmered in the overhead lighting. Clad in her chrome armor, Phasma marched into the arena with her blaster shouldered and ready for action. She steps over the debris without looking, focused on her opponent down the way.

In terms of armor, she had her full set on. Her entire bulky plates were fitted onto her body, but one thing was different from Bo. She had a very noticeable lack of an undersuit, only what appeared to be imperial issued underwear to cover her groin some more. Even from here, the mando could see the bulge. She gave a small smile seeing how overconfident Phasma was being as she got into position, her cape draped across the floor as she stood with assurance over the situation.

“I’ve heard a great many stories about you, Lady Kryze,” She utters without making a move. She was still focused only on her target, “I will be thrilled to give you a swift demise.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, chrome whore,” Bo laughed, not even holding her guns out yet. She just scouted the area and her enemy carefully, not feeling threatened in the slightest, “After all, you can barely handle a janitor and an idiot, let alone a fucking mandalorian.”

Audrey gives a laugh over the speakers, “Well, seems our final contestants are getting along just fine. I hope you enjoy this,” she ends off, turning the microphone off to finally turn towards Kait, standing up to join the young soldier. Following her, the other announcers abandoned their posts to converge on their target.

Taking her lancer out of her hands, the ladies upstairs could care less when the bell rang out. Bo reacted almost instantaneously, unsheathing her blasters at a rapid pace and charging forward. Phasma stood her ground as the mando worked to close the distance, returning fire as the shots bounced off her glimmering plates. The impacts pushed her back some, and her own rounds did little to deter the aggressor. The red bolts flew off if they landed at all, while Bo kept moving, getting about three fourths of the way before using her jetpack to close the distance.

Phasma didn’t anticipate the change of speed, susceptible to the tackle as Bo jumped into her. Her footing was all that saved her from falling to the floor, standing in a way that bought her time to turn and push the mando off. But Bo didn't leave quietly, and gave a solid kick right to Phasma’s chestplate. The trooper could feel her breathing stiffen to the impact, but she determined it wasn’t bad enough to stun her. She quickly took out the hilt of her spear, extending the blade with a flick of the wrist. When she did that, Bo landed on the ground hunched over, giving Phasma a good opportunity to retaliate.

Bo did get nervous for a second, knowing she was in a vulnerable spot for an impaling. She braced to dodge the thrust, not sure if it could break through beskar. But as she prepared, she was surprised to see Phasma swing it into her, using it like a bat. The brunette raised her arm up to block the strike, smiling under her helmet, bitch doesn't know how to use her own weapons?! This is going to be easier than I thought!

In response to the pitiful offense, Bo raised her blaster and with the lack of distance between them, had a perfect aim to put a round right into the exposed skin. Her blaster rang out, Phasma recoiling in a howl as Bo struck her dominant shoulder. The ugly mark burned into her skin and immediately caused her to lose her grip on the spear.

In the middle of her cries, Bo takes the weapon by the shaft and yanks it out of Phasma’s hands. As she does, she sends another kick and this time it knocks the captain back significantly. She spins with the stolen weapon, turning back to promptly face her opponent. To Phasma’s bewilderment, she could hear Bo’s laugh through the helmet, “Who taught you how to fight? A protocol droid?”

Phasma lowered her head as she glared at the Mandalorian, stiffening her fist. Just as she was about to charge, a drone came down towards her, beeping as it carried something heavy. Bo backed off for a second, willing to give her opponent somewhat of a break before demolishing her. The drone dropped a battleaxe, one that Phasma did not recognize. She held it in her off hand, stabilizing it with her injury while it glimmered in the bright lights.

“Come and find out, Kryze!” Phasma roared, raising the weapon up high as she surged forward. Bo quickly got out of the way as the axe came down on her, sinking into the ground as Phasma growled. She yanks it out of the metal to prepare another swing, cutting Bo off from an attempted counter attack. She was fast though, and ducked under the blade with no damage to her body. Everyone was anticipating her head to go flying at that moment, but Bo wasn’t going to give them the pleasure.

As they battled, Kait already had an arm stripped from her. Her trigger finger arm was cut by her own lancer, with Sif grabbing hold of it proudly as she let the limb drop. Audrey was quick to catch it, down on her knees behind Kait as she ate the gear out. She would be moaning if it wasn’t for Selina gut fucking her mouth with her tentacles, hanging from the ceiling with her claws. Aria was finally able to stand, only to be railing Kait’s ass so hard her legs were going numb.

“Fuck, this girl feels amazing!” She moaned, pushing in and out of the tight opening she was abusing. Her aching balls clenched as she took every moment to rail into her, pulling the girl by her ponytail so Selina had better access.

“Get out of her ass, Aria,” Audrey demanded from below, shoving her tongue as far up into Kait as she could. She put the hand of Kait’s severed arm right onto the Asari’s rod when she didn’t get an immediate response. She growled even with her tongue busy, “Now, slut.”

Aria turns to Sif in shock and bewilderment, but all that greets her is a subtle nod. Groaning, she stops what she is doing, then slowly removes her breaker out of Kait’s rectum. She was annoyed, but knew it was wise not to resist, not when the moment her tip was free, Audrey punched Kait’s own arm up that very hole. She borrowed it roughly, the floor underneath pooling with more blood as it went nearly shoulder deep, stopping at the muscle toned girl’s bicep.

She cried out in overwhelming pain through the tentacles, feeling as if her ass, which was already aching from the Asari’s abuse, was turned inside out by her own hand. It punched up through her body, making a nice protrusion just above her pubic hair. It was pushed all the way in until just the bleeding end was visible. It dripped freely, and no one was going to stanch the flow from either severed end, making the pain just that much more blinding.

As Kait was reeling in pain from the Announcers, Bo was continuing to dodge strikes from Phasma. The hulking trooper was infuriated on how the mando was toying with her, doing way too many theatrics to be here just to battle. She was enjoying each near miss, and floated past the danger effortlessly. With a roar, she attempted one heavy swing, but her blade didn’t even clip Bo’s helmet as it sank into the wing of a TIE fighter.

She lodged it in good this time, and it gave Bo a nice opening to dive between the trooper’s legs. As she did, she hooked her hand under the chrome colored panties, then with a harsh rip, she tore the fabric off, letting Phasma’s dick immediately drop. She swooped under the cape, and finally after that, she could hear the captain’s rage as she released the ax, then turned towards her.

Her pale dick was glossy to everyone around, Phasma taking a bad moment to watch the crowd all torment them. Seeing this, Bo thought of a nice plan. She lunged forward, slow enough for even Phasma to register it. Just as she was about to land a punch, Bo was caught by a hand, then spun around into a wall, lifted up by her throat.

“You dare to humiliate me, Mando Bitch?!” She spits out, reaching down with her other hand. Bo glimmered under her helmet as her plan was working when Phasma ripped off her loose armor, leaving her unashamed pussy to clench as it was opened up. The Captain rubbed her fingers into Kryze, rage surging through her helmet, “You will pay for your treachery.”

The shining helmet gleamed as Phasma readied her stiff member. She padded her dick against Bo’s entrance a little bit, teasing the waters and getting the Mando's fluids well and running. Which that part wasn’t hard with how much Bo was doing her best not to show her want for this. Her helmet was the only thing hiding her giddy expression when she felt the tip break through her folds. Her snug pussy clung to the assaulting rod warmly, making both girls moan lewdly into the arena.

Phasma growled at her victim, wordlessly rutting into her to push her dick inside. Bo lifted her hands up to grab the arm that was holding her neck, not to fight back, mind you. This was just for her own enjoyment and to spur Phasma on. And sure enough, as she faked her struggle, Phasma seemed to have grown more confident, sending another few inches into her at that moment. Bo even attempted to kick at the soldier’s armor, to very little effect other than sinking her further.

Finally, with a very wet squelch!, the mando could feel Phasma’s balls press against her ass, giving her just what she needed. The Captain tilts her head up as she rests in Bo for a while, feeling how gripping her canal is as they look at each other through their helmets. It takes some prompting with her hands tightening around her arm, but eventually Phasma began to pull back, then push all the way back inside, filling Bo with the sense of fullness she had been longing for.

Within that first thrust, Bo shivered in climax immediately. She had to restrain her moan enough to make it appear she was being violated instead of gifted. And it was hard once Phasma began to move, pulling out to just slam directly into her rectum again. The slaps were palpable to the Mandalorian, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy while she made the most of the distraction. Her hands fell, making it appear to Phasma that she was losing control. A laugh followed by, “How pathet… pathetic that you c-can't last… longer.” she moaned, and with that Bo confirmed what she was in for. Her hands fiddled underneath Phasma’s radar, activating stimulants for herself and helping to gauge her opponent by switching sensors. She could tell that just by how heated Phasma seemed, she was getting exhausted.

Hell, Bo got disappointed when, only a few minutes in, she felt cream being dispensed into her ass, Phasma holding her close and pushing as far in as she could so she could feel the entire length. It filled her up a little bit, but then spurted to a stop. She frowned under her mask, angered at how little endurance her opponent seemed to have. She cackled a bit, taunting the Captain, “Is that all you got, bucket head? What a fucking joke…”

Bo practically felt a feeling shiver down her spine as she looked at Phasma, seeing the rage through their masks as she was lifted off the wall, and the soldier switched holes, penetrating her pussy hard. She snarled, and spun her around so she was facing outwards towards the crowd. There, Phasma locked her arms under Bo’s shoulders and then under her head, locking her in place as she began to pound upwards, “Nothing to say now, bitch? Fucking take it.”

Bo could hear how forced that was from here. She was obviously panting, and unlike Bo, she had no reason to. So she must be reaching her limit already. And all she needs is a little more out of her to steal this victory. All it will take is be a willing fuck toy. Easy! Ahsoka and Sabine did it dozens of times in her world, and only Sabine died. So it shouldn’t be too bad.

Phasma attempted to regain glory by pounding her opponent, but no one was fooled by her lazy movements. Least of all Bo. She was having to do more work in her submission than her opponent was forcing her to give. It was embarrassing how much she was trying. Bo nearly felt bad for her, until she came again. Only 20 seconds in and she was already feeling Phasma’s balls clench in another orgasm. And this one seemed to hit her harder than the last. While Bo was practically bored at her pathetic rapist, not able to hold on for a minute without spasming, Phasma’s legs bucked, and she hit the grown onto her knees, gasping.

At that moment, Bo made her move. Not to outright kill just yet. But she did slip Phasma’s blasters out of their holsters and discarded all of the soldier’s weapons. Then, she kept going. “Not yet. You don’t get to rest yet. Not till I’m through with you.”

“Wha- oh fuck!” Phasma cried out as Bo slammed her hips back, doing all the work as she worked to drain the troopers balls. And by the First Order, she was. Her cunt stroked the chrome woman’s cock mercilessly, and Phasma couldn't push her away. It was ruthless, and Bo was not stopping, taking another two loads before she even squirted herself. And she kept going regardless. Phasma’s fight was draining rapidly, nothing stopping Bo from slamming their hips together.

And as Bo fucked herself on Phasma’s rod, Kait was receiving a volley of lead to the gut. Sif held the lancer up and said, “Hey girls, let's light this bitch up some.” They looked at her and didn't waste time. Audrey and Selina cleared away, leaving Kait with cum splattered all over.

“Wait, I'm almost done,” Aria shouts from behind the soldier as she jacks off, racing towards climax.

“No can do, deary,” Sif smirks, and shoulders the rifle and slips her finger in the trigger well. The others went behind her as she aimed down, towards the guest's stomach. Her eyes were half shut, and Aria's head was tilted up in near orgasm. But Sif counts in her head, and time has run out, and she doesn't wait to pull the trigger.

In an instant, dozens of speeding bullets ripped through Kait’s body, the armor piercing sound so strong that it went right through her uncovered body. Aria caught many of the bullets right behind Kait, a mix of purple and red being tossed everywhere as they were riddled. Aria also had the added bonus of the ones that expanded inside Kait rather than just full metal jackets, so they struck her like shrapnel.

Sif held the trigger until it started to click, and no more shots were fired. The barrel of her gun smoked warmly as she lowered it to view her work. Both of the victims stood for just a few moments longer, wobbling and feeling the searing pain all throughout their bodies. But Aria had the worst of it, with how her biology didn't have adrenaline, she had nothing to numb the pain, and when she collapsed, she fell instantly to the darkness, the final announcer from the start lost in a frozen gaze as her body drools cum and blood. Kait managed to take a few steps forward, the severed arm still well wedged in her ass before her battered thighs finally gave out.

She dropped to the floor head first, busting her face on the glass. She did her best to squint her eyes open, observing the battlefield below. Most of it was unused, but that wasn’t a huge issue. She tracked the activity in the corner of her eye, watching from above as the fighters were mashing against each other. Or rather, one was pummeling herself down the other.

Bo’s lust and gluttony was incredible, but so was her need to release just one more time. She had counted each of her orgasms compared to Phasma, and she was severely disappointed with the results. They’ve been going for a few minutes, with Bo ravaging the member inside of her to milk as she pleased, and she somehow had less orgasms. Nine in fact, compared to her opponent’s 17. What she lacked in endurance training, she made up for in virility. Should Bo live long enough, there would be no doubt to produce offspring of this hopeless stormtrooper.

Bo let it slide one more time, with their orgasms syncing up. Phasma wailed in agony as her balls were drained for everything they were worth, barely staying straight up on her knees as she felt the Mando’s walls close on her to squeeze out each drop. And when she stopped, Bo spurred into action.

Not concerned with her filled womb, she quickly pulled herself off the ravenous cock, making herself feel the way it popped out and cum began to pour out. Not stopping for shaky legs however, she jumped up with her jet pack, flying over Phasma’s fallen stance. While flying, her cunt was raining cream all over Phasma, splashing her armor in her own extracted seed. She was an angel in the air, soaring with grace in front of so many. Kait could see her from here, and how she sticks the landing behind Phasma.

Her first target was the cloak still draped around the soldier. That has to go. She squatted down right behind her, bringing her hands to Phasma’s collar. She unclipped the cloak and pulled it off the chrome clad trooper. She was at first gonna just toss it away, but the fabric actually felt pretty soft. Instead of discarding it, she decided to keep it, swinging it around and putting it on herself. And she was fortunate to do so too, as there was a pocket on the right with several of the retractable spears stashed.

“Heh, I can see why you like this. Warm, cozy, and all your toys readily available!” Bo told the dazed futa, standing up to feel the cloak cover her entire body. It draped to the floor just as it would Phasma, though there was a bit more on the ground given the height difference. But she still felt rather powerful in it, looking over the woman she stole it from. Scoffing, she pressed her boot into her back, and with very little difficulty, brought the giantess down to the floor.

“So,” Bo started as she dove into the cloak pocket, snatching one of the hilts and bringing it out. It ejected with more force than Bo anticipated, but she managed it quickly. Twirling it once in her hands, she planted her foot on Phasma’s ass, “How about I show you how you actually use a spear, you dumb bitch!” she shouts, before pulling the spear back, then shooting forward with it.

She didn’t go for either hole, punching right through the middle as the fully obstructed path led to more pain all throughout. Phasma was nearly too exhausted to react at first, but the searing pain caught up with her a little too late. She panicked at the last second as the tip of the weapon seared through her throat, destroying her mouth in just a single second. But she raised her head up just a little at the very end, trying to make it go out her lips, but instead, it bounced up and ripped through her eye.

It impaled her eyeball, not stopping until the point blasted out her helmet, the polished armor cracking under the refined pressure. It shattered the durasteel and protruded out far enough to where her eye was out of her helmet, the shaft covered in blood. It narrowly avoided her brain, leaving her just barely alive to feel herself cumming and splattering the ground to her demise. She couldn’t speak, only able to groan in agony as Bo moved around her. She came to a stop in front of her, ducking to the ground so Phasma could see her face. Or her helmet at least.

“I’m assuming you sucked some generals off to be a Captain, right?” Bo laughed at her, intent on making her last moments excruciating. But not slow, as evident by her moving her fist down to press it right in the middle of her visor, Phasma feeling the vambrace’s arsenal hovering against her helmet. Bo chuckled one last time with an astounding, “Well, maybe your brain just wanted to get fucked itself,” Before activating her switchblade. It thrusted forward instantly, burrowing through the helmet and spearing Phasma’s forehead, instantly killing her. She goes slack, and Bo can feel her body relax in eternal rest.

She yanked her blade out just as soon as it entered, taking her time to enjoy the sight in front of her. Such a pretty set of armor, with a very stupid person inside it. A very stupid corpse now… She rose up, basking in the applause from the audience, and in turn, looking up at the display in the box above her.

Kait was still gasping for life watching the victorious kill, that chance at recovering gone the moment she felt a heel press against her neck, “Hey, I’ve always wanted to try curb stomping! Makes sense to start with a gear!” Sif cheered, the foot moving away for just a second. Kait anticipated the blow, shivering moments before the foot came back down on her, shattering her vertebrae and popping her head off with the force received. She came off in a gorey explosion, the energy left in her head too little to keep her alive for more than a few seconds longer.

As Kait dies, Audrey turns back to the announcer booth, walking over to give her big speech. Giving a look down below, she saw Bo draped in Phasma’s cloak retrieving her codpiece and other discarded weapons, leaving the ax and the spear stuffed in Phasma as she heads towards her gate, “And the final battle of the first round has finally closed! We have enjoyed your support for this first round, and we can’t wait to keep going with the battles. We will work to get our next contestants, Tali Zorah and Miss Martian, up to speed for Round 2. Until then, we thank you for coming, and cumming for us. Enjoy the show!”

This story is sexual snuff & torture, but not gore focused. You won't find blood & guts here, just female suffering to enjoy.

Deep in the woods of Vermont, Ben's family had owned an old chunk of land for generations. Once, it had been a neat little logging town, but it became a ghost town in the 1920s. Barely any buildings still stood. It wasn't on any maps. But Ben found a pretty good use for it. It's where he killed women. No one around for miles and nothing to interupt him, he got creative with ending whores. And an industrious man, he found a way to turn a profit. He built a little lucrative snuff film industry, his collection of patrons growing every year. All the more incentive to work hard at what he loves most, taking bitches out of the world.

Cunt #271 - Humiliated to Death

The 271st cunt Ben killed was a damn pretty little thing. Ass-length caramel brown hair, soft as anything. A tiny swoop of a nose. Perfect pillow lips and white teeth that were the clear work of braces and a master orthodontist. A bit tall, very lean, curving in all the right places. But the reason he picked her wasn't her tight twenty year old body. No, something far more interesting to play with: her perfect life. She was valedictorian of her high school, almost a full ride scholarship for some political-something degree, only daughter of loving parents, (and his favorite) volunteer at a battered women's charity. How quant! She dressed perfectly, wrote perfect blog posts for her university paper, posted perfect ( and chaste) photos on Instagram. All of her clean, sweet life gave him an idea for her murder. He could beat or hang or drown her, but he wanted to see what it would take for a cunt to do it to herself. What does it take to make a bitch give up on her bright future?

By the time the drugs wore off, she was in the Bitch Butcher cabin, as Ben was calling it lately. He'd made one major decor change in the large main room- a wall-to-wall metal bulletproof plate across the center. It divided the space into two. Ben laid comfortably on a long victorian couch on one side. The bitch to be butchered was embedded in the new metal wall itself, folded marvellously and uncomfortably. On Ben's side, her head was locked through a hole not even a hair wider than her thin neck. Her tits were squished through smaller holes, crushed to a barely existent diameter at the bases. They were very nicely sized, big enough to flop like meat balloons through the holes, but perky and tight even before they were. Now her nipples pointed aggressively forward, the skin over her whole tits impossibly tight, like they might pop. The only other part of the whore visible was her cunt and ass. Her hips folded through a large hole, then her legs bent back through two holes for her thighs, locking her legs back somewhere behind her, probably hitting her armpits. By the nature of the setup, her weight was held by her neck, tits, and the small of her back above her ass. Her spine probably ached as she woke, but her physical suffering was purely a happy accident. Ben's goal was to break her soul.

"Morning, dumb bitch," Ben said as her eyes fluttered, "You overslept. Lazy, lazy."

The panic on the girl's faces as they discovered their situation always made Ben feel great. They felt so much fear. It was delicious.

Discreet cameras around the room picked up every angle. He didn’t like the whores knowing they were going to be famous. Unless, of course, he could torment them with it. Like now. For this tramp, Ben set his nice DSLR camera, with a second special lense beside it on the couch in her line of sight. He also left her phone there.

He stood and stoked the slut's long, soft hair. It hung all the way past her tits to the backs of her folded thighs. Probably eight years of growing it out. So no haircuts since she was twelve, besides no-doubt expensive conditions and trims. He gripped a handful and yanked hard. Her head wrenched to forward as much as her tight neck restriction allowed. Already, tears filled her eyes.

"Look down at your cunt, you horny slut. Look at you spread your legs for me. Such an easy girl. Both holes on display for me, but you don't even know me, do you? You'd really give it up to a stranger just like that? I didn't even by you dinner."

The slut cried. Her eyes stared in wide horror are her own holes on display like a hunting trophy.

Slowly, enjoying her panic, Ben reached his hand to her cunt. She had had a clean patch of hair above it when he got her, but now it was perfectly smooth, just how he like it. She had small inner cunt lips, barely noticable in the bubblegum pink gash in her pale white skin. A very tiny clit. Ben had had to search around for a while to find it while she was knocked out.

Her position forced her cunthole entrance open. Ben laid one finger on it. The slut freaked out. She screamed bloody murder. Behind the wall, he heard her legs and arms banging into the metal.

"No?" Ben asked softly.

"No! No! Don't touch me! No!" Her voice was hilariously desperate.

"Don't touch you? Don't you mean don't rape you?"

"Don't! Don't! Let me go!"

"Don't what? Because I'm gonna rape you unless you tell me not to."

She seemed reluctant to say the word rape. He loved when they were. As if if they didn't say what was happening, it wouldn't be true.

"Don't...please!" She cried. Her tears were really flowing. He circled her hole with a finger.

"Say don't rape me."

"Don't- oh god- don't rape me! Please don't rape me!" Ben grinned. He stepped forward and pressed his hips flat against her cunt. He felt her panicked body heat through his pants.

"Feel that? Well now you've got me hard."

Her legs kicked against the other side of the wall again. "I'm gonna rape you. And you're gonna kill yourself."

She sobbed once, scared and confused. "No-"

"Well, yes. Here's how. I'm gonna rape you in every conceivable way and there's nothing you can do to stop me. And the whole time I fuck your holes I'm gonna fuck you life too. And so the only way out for you, little bitch, is to reach the gun I left on a stool to your right. It's loaded. Safety off. Very easy to use, even for women. You can shoot yourself. Okay?"

He stepped back and grabbed her phone off the couch. While she was out he'd had fun looking through it. It opened with face id. He chuckled at her red, wide-eyed face in the camera.

He snapped a picture of her, getting all the important bits in. Her cunt and tits looked even more pink in the phone's camera.

He turned it so she could see.

"Should I take another or is that alright? You can smile in it if you want."

She didn’t answer. Her mouth hung open. Dumb bitch. "Well I think you look lovely. So sweet. I'll post it on Instagram now."

That shook her out of her stupor.

"No! No, wait! Please don't!"

"Oh I know, it'll get taken down for nudity. But I'm sure a few people will see it first. Real friends have notifications on, right?"

"No! Please! Rape me instead! Fuck me please!"

"You're so stupid," he laughed, "I'm raping you anyway. I already told you that."

And with that, he posted it to her Instagram.

She seemed to take that badly. Her breath stalled, then hyperventilated.

He took the opportunity to pull a dildo from his bag of tools and ram it down her throat. She gagged. Her tongue flalled under its silicone balls. He facefucked her with it hard, squelching her stupid throat, bashing her useless vocal chords. Glug! Gkug! Gluckmk! It sounded like she was trying to say 'no' every few rams. He filmed with her phone. Her eyes locked on the camera. He could almost see her impending death in them. Kill yourself bitch, he thought.

He turned the camera to her cunt and ass. Her asshole was twitching hilariously with each ram of the dildo.

"Oh I almost forgot!" Ben said.

He yanked the dildo out of her slobbering face with a suction slurp noise and dropped it on the floor. He pulled her driver's licence from his bag. He'd punched a hole in it. He forced a safety pin through the soft skin of her belly right above her cunt - oh. she screamed, ha! - and fastened the ID to her.

"There, better. Full name, address, birthday."

He filmed her newly labeled holes. Her photo on the ID was wearing a school uniform. Few years ago, then. How sweet.

He ended the video and posted it to PornHub. Under her name, of course. He'd signed her up while she was out cold. It was a great profile. She was a nasty girl, into all kinds of hardcore kinks.

He let it upload while he absentmindedly tugged at the ID, enjoying the girl's squeals of pain.

When it finished, he hit the power on his projector, which he'd aimed at the wall the cunt could see. He cast the video to it and pressed play, on silent. Her own face, holes, and tits, in distress reflected back to her on the wall.

He grabbed the DSLR with its special lens.

"Time for something higher quality," he said. "This is a macro lens. I don't expect you to know what that means, little girl. It means I can take very, very, very close-up photos."

He started with her tits- each nipple. So close up he could see every milk duct. Then her inside belly button, a small scar below her collarbone, a blemish on her cheek, the holes in her earlobes for earrings. Close up on her eye to see the ring of muscles in her iris, then it contracting when he blared the flash in it. Inside her ears, up her nostrils, down her throat (red and obviously beaten-up). Then the money shots. Her asshole. So detailed he could see every tight muscle. Her pink virgin cunthole. Close-up of her clit, then again with it spread open and exposed.

He posted these photos to a webpage. While she watched, he posted a link to all of her socials, with the image of her clit as a teaser. It was so zoomed in and detailed it wasn’t clear what body part it was, just that it was clearly her intimate body.

He showed the the webpage. Every private inch of her body was shown in excruciating detail.

"See this heading up at the top?" Bed pointed out to her, "See, it says before? Isn't that fun? Everyone's probably clicking on this page right now and thinking 'before what?' well... I'm sure all the men will know exactly what it means."

He leaned down and bit her left nipple hard. He ground his teeth while she wailed.

His phone dinged.

"Oh look, a visitor on the page! Okay, that IP adress is...." He cross-referenced his list of everyone she knew- "Oh cool, it's your university professor. Professor McDermind. That's a good start."

"He...he'll call the cops."

"Right, and?"

"They'll..."

"What?"

"Um"

"Spit it out, retard."

"They'll find me. They'll come find me."

Ben smiled. "Do you want to be found? After they've seen everything? Now that you're a porn star?"

Her mouth gaped like a fish. He let her think about that. Her answer would surely change pretty soon.

He stuffed his cock into her cunt. There was nothing she could do to stop him. No way to keep him out of her body. Her limbs flailed behind the metal wall.

"Kill yourself if you don't want to be raped," he said.

She didn’t. Not yet.

But the gun fired. Ben jerked at the sound of it ricocheting off the metal in front of his head. He laughed.

"Oh! Good one! Man, that's fucking hilarious!"

He kept raping her cunt.

It felt great, of course. Tight, scared, hot. But raping her was clearly not enough.

He pulled out and added a sheath to his cock. It was silicone and made him about the width of a coke can in the middle, tapering out at the tip and base. At the head though, there was also a metal disk. A battering ram for her cervix, essentially. Complete with rounded-tipped spikes on its surface- not sharp enough to stab her womb entrance, just pulverise it. Like a meat tenderizer. He forced his cock back inside her hole, a much tighter fit now as he pushed the widest bit in.

Man, she really had a voice on her. Her screams were fantastic. Sobbing, screeching, begging.

Her cunt stretched around the coke-can width of the sheath. It took a while of short thrusts to stretch out her hole before Ben could really ram the metal tip into her cervix hard. But when he could, the feeling of the heavy impact deep inside her delighted him. It was padded with silicone on his side, of course. The feeling wasn't erotic on his cock, but each flinch and wail of the girl made him ram in faster.

Soon he was close.

He pulled out before he came and took off the sheath. He liked cumming inside the cunts he killed, but for this one he'd thought of a funnier way to fill her with his jizz. He jerked his cock, enjoying her heartfelt cries, and came into a glass cup he'd brought. He held it up in front of her face. She shut her eyes tight. Oh, that wouldn't do.

He cranked her eyelids open with metal wire eye speculums. Immediately, her unnaturally wide eyeballs shot around wildly. The wonderful look of fear, with no way to hide it.

Just because he could, he leaned in and licked her right eyeball, pushing his tongue against it hard. He felt it roll around panicked.

He held up the glass of his cum again. Her face trembled with tears.

"Eyes or nose?" he asked.

"What....I don't understand...please stop."

"Do you want my cum in your eyes or your nose, you stupid fucking bitch?"

"No...no..."

"Is that nose?"

"No! No, I mean, yes. Nose. Please not my eyes. Please don't."

"Beg me for my cum in your nose."

He held up her phone again. He made sure she saw him go live on her Instagram. Five people joined.

"Oh good, your manager from that charity for beaten whores is watching. Hello Carol! Say hi to Carol."

"No..."

"Say hi to Carol or you'll get my cum in both your eyes and your nose."

"Hi...." she choked a sob, "Hi Carol."

He showed the people watching her tits, which were getting so red and tight they were almost purple. He propped the phone on a tripod and grabbed a syringe. He sucked up his load of cum in it.

"You said eyes right?"

"NO-"

Too late. He unloaded the cum directly into her stretched eyes, layering them in a thick white film. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

Before she could really react, he pulled out the vial of cum he'd collected while jerking off to her naked unconscious body that morning. He rammed the syringe up her left nostril and plunged it in. She gagged instantly. He injected the last syringe full into her other nose hole.

White cum dripped from her nose and eyes. He quickly covered her mouth with a fist. She struggled for thirty seconds without air before giving in and breathing through her nose, snorting his cum deep into her sinuses.

"That's right, whore. Get my cum in your lungs. Breathe in your rapist's cum."

He was out of his own cum but he wasn't finished filling her up. He pulled out the mason jar he'd asked his friend, a racehorse breeder for. He'd made sure to label it so the cunt and the livestream viewers (her mom had joined!) could see that the nearly full jar was horse jizz.

"You're going to lose the ability to speak now, bitch. Any last words?"

She opened her mouth to speak and Ben slammed a metal spider gag into her mouth. It locked behind her teeth and cranked her jaw as wide as it could go before breaking. Inside, her tongue spasmed. Dribbles of his cum slid down her throat from her sinuses. She made some noise, probably an attempt at words. But it was too late for that. Her time as a speaking creature was over.

He used a much larger syringe to suck up the horse cum and squirt it down her throat. She gagged horribly. He pulled it back and coated the last bit over her tongue.

No more valedictorian speeches.

He stood back and read the livestream chat for a while. They all seemed very concerned. Her mother begged people not to report it so the police could track the location of the video. Hilarious. Now fifty people were watching, and her mom wanted to keep it going. The stupid bitch apple didn't fall far from the stupid bitch tree.

The whore couldn't see much anymore, so he read out who was watching and what they said. Her texts were blowing up too. He responded back saying she knew about the stream- it was all her kink actually. What a nasty little cunt she was, saying that to her own aunt, best friend, and an actual abuse victim from the charity. Exhibitionist pervert.

"Gonna kill yourself now? I'll give you some time to."

She gurgled something that sounded like "no".

"Really? You really love me, huh? You're letting me have all my fun with you."

He grabbed two large syringes, sucked up the rest of the horse cum, and this time attached thick needles to them.

"Time for a boob job."

He injected the cum directly into her tits, stabbing various places around her nipples to plump up her taught flesh. There wasn't enough to grow them a whole cup size, but the young perky tits swelled up noticeably. He stabbed finally directly into her nipples, injecting until they puffed further out from her ballooning tits, like when they first develop in puberty.

Her screams were much more humiliating now that her pried-open mouth bubbled with horse cum.

Ben was getting hard again, so this time he raped her ass. At the same time, he pressed a vibrator on max against her clit, hard. After a while, she did get wet against her will.

"Oh you like getting ass-raped?"

Her breath hitched. Her gaping cunt twitched. Tears mixed with cum fell down her cheeks onto her bloated tits.

He waited, raping her ass good and deep, filming her stretched cunt get wet. Eventually she moaned. Her ass clenched around him. Her cunt got pinker and shiny, her empty hole flexing with his thrusts. He pushed the vibrator harder. Her orgasm built against her control.

"Yeah, cum from getting ass-raped in front of your mommy. Everyone's watching. They'll see you cum. They know your belly and face are filled with cum. They know you're choking on horse jizz and you're still going to cum. I'm gonna cum up your ass so both ends are full-"

The gun fired.

Her ass went impossibly tight around Ben and he came into her guts. He watched her face, all holes stretched and coated in cum, turn to abject horror.

She'd shot herself alright. But with her head locked in front of the metal wall, she couldn’t make it quick. At best she'd hit her spine, but from the way her cunt and asshole still spasmed, he knew she hadn't.

He pulled out and grabbed the DSLR camera.

"Good girl. Times up. Now, let's take the after photos."

In the time it took her to die, he photographed every ruined hole, her battered cervix and inside her ass(with a flashlight and speculum), her destroyed tits, and her ID above her cunt.

He hoped she was still aware enough to see through the milky cum over her retinas as he uploaded the images. By the time she was dead, her mother had typed so many distressed messages in the livestream that Ben had to use her dead cunt as a fleshlight one last time.

The food in large batches behind the pane looked somewhat unappealing, yet probably edible.

"Hi, what would you like?" asked the cafeteria attendant behind the counter. She wore a black uniform and burgundy apron. She did not look to be not much above college age herself, if at all.

"Tofu and rice, please," Ellie responded, and received a smile in return for her own. She hadn't learned the name of this woman yet, but she nonetheless always maintained a warmth in her interactions with her and any other service workers. Small things go along way to make everyone's day a little bit brighter.

The moment was cut short by a tall figure approaching from behind Ellie and somewhat carelessly brushing past her to lean onto the counter. It was boy with a blue jersey, which was filled by broad shoulders.

"I'm holding you to your promise now. You said at the end of week you would let me take you out!" he said in a booming voice to the woman behind the counter.

She rolled her eyes and grinned. "First years..." she sighed. "Alright, I'm almost on break. I just need to finish up."

Ellie received an apologetic look, from which the boy noticed her. "Oh, my bad babe," he said to Ellie.

The woman handed a plate of food off to Ellie and checked her watch. "Okay, I'm off."

The boy made his way around the counter. "Don't worry, I'll pay for this," he said, picking up a plate and smashing it on the edge of the counter. The woman raised her eyebrows, but without too much surprise on her countenance. He picked a thick white shard of ceramic off of the floor and jammed it into her temple, no less casually than if he were turning a door knob. She stood there, looking up at the jock. A hand jerkily waved by her head to feel the shard sticking out of the side of her face. A drop of blood trailed down her cheek. She collapsed and the boy made quick work of grabbing her under her arms and hauling her limp body out of the cafeteria.

Ellie shook her head and walked into the dining hall. She scanned the rows of long tables. Along them a few friend groups were clumped together in conversation. It usually wasn't too busy at lunchtime.

She picked out Lucia, who was giving her a casual wave. Sitting next to Lucia was her roommate and their don, Eric. Across from them sat Nick, Claire's roommate, slouched back in his chair. Sitting with lifeless eyes a few seats from them, was a pale girl with a dark ring around her neck. Her shirt was torn to reveal bare breasts, with pretty pink areolas, adorned with semen.

When she got to the table, Ellie greeted each of them, set her lunch down, and took a seat next to Nick. Kneeling in front of Nick's seat, was Claire. Her head was buried in his crotch. Her hair was neatly slicked back into a ponytail, a hair style which very much so matched her personality.

"Hi Claire." Ellie made sure to be polite.

Lucia leaned forward, spreading her elbows on the table. "Where's Jack?" she asked, eyes narrowed and a sly smile on her lips.

"He's at the library, doing some homework."

Nick grabbed mindlessly at Ellie's supple chest with one hand while holding Claire's head down with the other. Ellie found that male students took a particular liking to her breasts. Both the massaging of her tits and knowledge that she was fulfilling the needs of her male interlocutors was satisfying. Satisfying enough to cause a tingling moistness between her lower lips, the realisation of which was often the cause of her blushing. With further groping or use of her mouth by male students, that tingling tended to ignite into a fire in her loins.

Fortunately, Jack made often enough use of her that it was never too long before the emptiness between her legs was filled. In fact, Ellie felt familiar sensations building in her right in that moment of Nick's absent-minded touch. The snuff of the cafeteria worker was also still fresh in her mind. She straightened her back and shifted in her seat.

"Poor Jack," Lucia said, pouting and suppressing giggles. "Is he stressed? Doesn't he know he has a hot roommate, desperate to be snuffed?"

"I am dedicated student, I'll have you know!" Ellie crossed her arms. "...and eager to learn!"

"I'm sure you're serving him well, Ellie," Eric said reassuringly. "You must be, or he would've snuffed you already."

Ellie blushed.

"Does that mean I'm doing something right?" Lucia winked at Eric.

A groan from Nick drew Ellie's attention from one set of horny roommates to another. Claire gagged with each push of her head down onto Nick's cock, which was slick with her drool. Her hands were clenched by her sides. She was trying to keep herself from fainting, Ellie thought. Judging by the stiffness of Nick's body, he was quite pent up. Ellie wondered if he was planning to snuff the straight-laced girl.

Nick grabbed Claire's hair with both hands and held her down on his cock, griding his crotch into her face. He let out a jagged sigh and removed his hands from Claire's head. Up from under the table she came, gulping down Nick's load and wiping her lips with her fingers.

"Hey Ellie!" Claire responded, very belatedly. "Oh, Lucia, will you still show us your haul?"

"Yesss! Ellie, my room after lunch!"

After they had finished eating, Lucia led Ellie and Claire to her and Eric's room. Upon their entrance, Ellie noticed that Lucia had, for obvious reasons, erased Vivian's name on the whiteboard and replaced it with her own. But, Lucia had kept the little hearts that Vivian had drawn, which were quite cute.

In Eric's room, Ellie and Claire sat on Lucia's bed. Lucia posed before them in a new pair of jeans. She had shown off a few new pieces. Eric didn't seem to care much about the fashion, but made sure to get a good look whenever Lucia undressed.

"Cute?" Lucia asked about the pants, which hugged her thighs and which she had to hop a bit to get into.

"They fit really well!" Claire answered.

"I like them too." Ellie said.

"Okay, good. Now I wanna show you guys some bikinis!" Lucia took off her shirt, under which there, of course, was no bra, and her new pants. She reached for the black two piece swimsuit on her chair and put it on.

Lucia posed as Ellie and Claire complimented her. It was a simple, but really cute bikini!

Eric got up from his chair, unable to focus on his studies with the amount of skin on display. No one could blame him for his hormones, especially considering the three freshly college-aged girls present in his room, freely available to him for fucking and snuffing. He stood behind Lucia, placing a hand which covered most of her lower back signaling her to bend over, and pulled down her new bikini bottoms. He lined up his member with her vagina and slid in, grabbing her waist to pump into her.

"Can you be quick? We're in the middle of something...."

"Yeah, whatever." Eric said, keeping his pace.

Ellie saw that Claire tensed at Eric's brazen use of their friend, and her thighs pressed together under her dress. Claire brushed a hand gently, but not so subtly, over one of her small breasts. Seeing her innocent friend in such a state brought Ellie's mind to the desire being stoked deep within her own loins.

The somewhat annoyed expression which Lucia had put on was broken as she let out a moan which refused to stay in. From this, Claire's breath became slow and ragged.

There was a knock at the door. Eric pulled out of his roommate and opened it. He made no attempt to cover himself. Standing there was a boy. He squirmed on the spot, a tent apparent in his pants. He peaked in around Eric at the mostly nude Lucia, as well as at Ellie and Claire on the bed.

"What can I help you with George?" Eric asked. George was a student of the same house but whose room was on the floor above.

"Well, I haven't been able to, uh, make use of a cunt in a few days and so I was feeling quite pent up. But the building's fuck-stop is empty right now. I'm sorry if I, uh, interrupted you," he looked back to Lucia, who had taken a seat on her chair and was lightly circling her clitoris with her fingers.

"It's absolute no problem George! This is exactly the kind of thing I'm here to help you with." Eric kept the door open with his foot while he looked back into the room at Ellie. Was he going to offer her? Her heart picked up and she swallowed. But Eric's gaze shifted to Claire, who's eyes were open so wide it was as if they were taped back. She certainly had had the same thought as Ellie. Eric nodded and turned back to George. "You can bring Claire here to fill a lunette in the fuck-stop just for your use."

Claire gasped.

"Okay," said George, still a bit hesitant in his request.

"Have you met Claire, George? If not, I'm sure the walk there will be a good opportunity for introductions, before you make use of her!" He turned back to Claire and gestured her over with a "C'mon!" Claire rose and walked to the door stiffly. She looked up at George.

"Hello," she said, in little more than a whisper.

"Hi..." George replied.

"Have a nice death!" Ellie said to Claire.

"Have fun!" Lucia added.

"Thanks...."

Eric guided them both out the door and closed it. "The shy ones are so cute together."

"You done with don duty now? Cause I need more of that cock." Lucia said to Eric with a big smile on her face.

"Ellie, could you let Nick know he has to request a new a roommate?" Eric asked her.

After messaging Nick, Ellie was feeling like a third-wheel as Eric picked up Lucia from her chair and threw her on his bed. She spread her legs wide, picking up the pace of her hand's circling. Eric grabbed his metal water bottle and kneeled over her on his bed. His hand replaced hers. He dug two fingers into her vagina, keeping his thumb pressed into her clit. Ellie leaned back and touched herself over her shorts, enjoying the show.

"You want to cum, don't you, you fucking slut?" His thumb moved up and down over Lucia most sensitive part. Her abundant wetness was apparent from the squelching of his index and middle finger exploring her cunt.

"Yes! Please, Daddy, let me cum!" Lucia said, revealing to Ellie the full extent of her snuff-slutiness.

From the tip of Eric's cock leaked a string of pre-cum. He pulled his fingers out of Lucia's pussy. She whimpered briefly before he put his whole hand over her vulva, covering it completely, and began rubbing over her clitoral hood with his palm. Lucia let out a moan from deep within her and Eric raised his bottle over his head. He slammed it down onto Lucia's head. She reeled and let out a groan of pain and pleasure. Eric did not stop furiously rubbing her pussy when he took another swing at her head. And another. Each time the metal made contact with Lucia's skull Ellie heard a dull thud and Lucia writhed.

Ellie, whose own wetness had seeped through her shorts, lost count of the number of swings Eric had taken. Lucia was jerking and babbling nonsensically, her eyes darting about the room. It seemed that she had lost control of most of her bodily functions. As Eric continued wailing on her, she let out a sound which could be only described as a scream of ecstasy. Ellie was nearly pushed over the edge herself, and just barely caught herself. Lucia jerked violently until her jerking settled to twitching. Her head lay limply to the side and her jaw hung open, drooling. There was little life left in her eyes.

Eric got between her legs and groaned as he entered her sopping wet hole. "Fuck.... It feels so good to fuck brain-dead pussy. Her cunt's still convulsing."

Ellie looked at her good friend, who was just moments ago trying on new clothes, now without a single thought in her mind and with a body barely able to continue breathing. Soon enough she'd lose oxygen and even more of her braincells would die. All for one man's orgasm. Lucia was certainly getting some more cock as she wished, but Ellie did not think she was all that conscious of it.

"I guess she wouldn't mind if I took some clothes?"

"Uh, not anymore, I guess." Eric laughed as he plowed Lucia.

Back in her own room, Lucia's brand new clothes in a bag on Ellie's floor, she smiled, proud that she had won her bet with Lucia. It was not as though she could brag to her, though. She opened Vivian's group chat and posted a picture she had taken of Lucia staring off at nothing while Eric humped between her legs, adding a heart and the crossed-out eyes emoji. "Claire had to go to the fuck-stop too."

"Lucia was such a snuff slut, but Claire must've been so tight, I never saw her getting fucked!" a girl wrote.

"Lucky guy hehe" added another, to which Ellie reacted with a laughing emoji.

She was still quite horny from the whole affair, but decided she best get to studying. She quite a bit to get through before Monday—the woes of a philosophy student.

A thick textbook with two columns of tiny text on each thin page lay open before her on her bed. It was comprised of the most important works from Descartes, Spinoza, Hobbes, Leibniz, Hume, Kant, etc. The editors noted in the introduction that they included a few female philosophers in the new edition which Ellie had. How progressive! She skimmed their sections and found that, included, were even short descriptions of the way in which each of them were snuffed. Thus, it made sense that Elisabeth's letters to Descartes suddenly stopped short.

She lay on her stomach, propped up on her forearms. Her feet kicked lazily up in the air behind her. There was this one passage in Meditations on First Philosophy that she just could not grasp no matter how many times she read it over. A full year of this?

Her trance was broken by the door opening. It was Jack, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He sighed as he let it flop to the ground.

"Tired?" Ellie asked over her shoulder.

"They're giving us so much shit to do already. It's stupid." He sat on the edge of her bed.

Ellie tried to focus on the words on the page, but she couldn't make sense of any of them. That Jack eye's were surely crawling over every inch of her exposed skin made her shiver. Her thighs, lower back, and shoulders were exposed from a short pair of comfy shorts and a casual cami top.

Jack placed a hand on her thigh. He moved it up and down, worming his fingers between her legs. Ellie felt her erect nipples pressed against the fabric of her top and her bed covers. Each breath she took was shorter and his touch came closer to her needy vulva.

Firm hands grabbed at the waistband of her shorts and began to tug. She lifted her hips to assist him in his casual stripping of her. Two fingers glided on her lower lips, slippery with abundant arousal.

"Goddamn, you're fucking wet."

"Haaa- I watched Eric snuff Lucia earlier" Ellie spoke with hesitation, held back by the tension in her whole body.

"Oh? New roommate, huh...."

Jack pulled his fingers back and presented them to Ellie. She sucked her juices off of them before any of it could drip onto her book.

Jack got up. Ellie did not pay much attention to what he was doing. Her mind was consumed with the image of his hard, veiny cock, and of the head, sticky with pre-cum, spreading open her flower. There was a ruffling and Jack put something next to her bed. He tugged his shorts down and mounted her, cock between her thighs. His balled fists on either side of her waist held her in place as he easily slid into her cunt.

When your vagina is copiously wet, words cannot describe the sensation of a hard thick cock taking the first thrust into it. Ellie panted, making little effort to hide how much she enjoyed Jack's casual fucking. The deepest parts of her were quickly reached by his manhood. Her walls gripped him with lust, the powerful desire to feel every inch of him within her. With each thrust he let out a grunt. His pleasure was music to her ears. To be useful to a man, to meet his sexual needs, greatly amplifies any pleasure that is derived merely physically. Thoughts of his seed seeping into her unprotected womb, his sperm piercing her fertile egg, filled her hormonal mind.

Jack grabbed something from the floor and resumed his fucking. He clapped against Ellie's soft ass louder now. With the shaking of the bed, she felt no shame in letting their neighbours hear her slutty moans. Domineeringly, he pulled her arms behind her and held both of her wrists to her back with one hand.

Jack puled something over her head and her vision was covered by a translucent film. It was a plastic bag, the one in which he had brought his textbooks back from the store. He grabbed the bag at the base of her skull, twisting it, and sealing it off. Ellie heart pounded in her chest and her breaths became dangerously rapid. She thoughtlessly tried to break her arms free of his grasp in a moment of self-preservation, but it was of no use. Jack's animalistic strength and force both terrified her and turned her on all the more.

Was this it? Was she going to suffocate in a plastic bag with her roommates cock buried deep inside her. The air of the bag was warm, and she found less oxygen in it with each heave. Her vision went blurry and her mind went foggy. Her eyelids were heavier than Sisyphus's boulder. Jack's pace quickened and his grunting grew louder and primal.

Soon, Ellie did not feel Jack's grip on her wrists, nor his hand on her shoulder pushing her back towards him, nor his hips clapping against her ass. She felt only pleasure in its rawest form. There was only a warmth and fullness between her legs, inside of her. That same warmth held her mind in cozy embrace.

In this moment it was not the readings she had to do, nor the lectures she had to attend, nor the degree she wanted to complete, nor the career she wanted to pursue that occupied Ellie's mind. Her future and her personhood were nothing. The only thing left in her dimming mind was serving her purpose. Nothing else which she had ever hoped or wanted for measured close to the ultimate purpose she had long known she, and every other woman, was designed to fill.

Jack made one final thrust. Warm liquid filled her womb. From Jack's seed, an energy rushed through her whole body and soul, exploding in her last orgasm.

The only light left in her world was his seed and his cock, both filling her. But quickly, that light faded.

Ellie usually thought of herself as a girl. But now, she was a woman.

❦

Jack let go of the plastic bag around his roommates head after he was sure she was dead. He caught his breath. Never before had he had such an intense orgasm. His cock had begun to soften, but the lips of her pussy still gripped tightly, almost refusing to let him pull out of her corpse. But he brought himself to pull out and a river of thick white semen followed. Goddamn, that was good.

He wiped his cock on her ass before turning her over and pulling up her shirt. Her tits were fantastic. He would certainly miss groping them. But maybe having some photos would console him? He snapped a few of her breasts and then of her cunt. Holding her up by her dark hair, he made sure to get one of her pretty face too. The white ribbon she had tied into a bow in her now disheveled hair was pretty cute, he had to admit. He moved the photos of her into a new album he titled 'Roommates.'

On the Nut website, Jack pressed 'Request new roommate' and put in his building and room number before he picked up the body of the girl he had known as Ellie—a cute Asian girl and philosophy nerd with big tits—to dump it into the bin by the elevators. In that bin, where she was carelessly splayed, the last few drops of his load leaked from her pussy onto Lucia's face. When he returned to his room, he erased her name on the whiteboard on his door.

  Anya tapped her fingers against the metal push cart, impatient and already ready to go home. A small yawn escaped her and she made a mental vow to chug a Monster Energy after her work was finished. The hum of the elevator was a cheese grater on her draining patience. It was not helped by the itchy fabric of her stupid uniform. It was cheap lace that rubbed against her tits and belly every time she moved. The uniform was a frilly thing in the shape of a maid outfit. Its skirt was short and stood up much like a tutu, which exposed Anya’s thick, lace covered thighs and otherwise pale skin. Black fabric barely managed to hold back Anya’s bulge. The top of the outfit was all lace, covering her tits and crawling up her shoulders. A dinky little apron sat on top of the black skirt, doing little to protect Anya from the gore of her work. Her arms were exposed, save for white gloves that went a couple inches up past her wrist. Honestly, her hands were the most covered part of her body with that stupid uniform.

  The elevator dinged and Anya’s frown twitched. Finally. The doors slid open with a low groan that begged to be greased and Anya stepped into the room. The moment she stepped inside, a pool of blood made the bottom of her feet sticky. Anya’s nose scrunch as she inspected the place. The smell of gore would have been overpowering to most, but Anya was used to the scent from her many long ass night shifts. She pushed her cleaning cart inside and up against the wall, then turned back to three living women still in the room.

  It was quite the display. Two of the three living women were spit roasting a lovely, skinny little corpse. Anya recognized them both from the brief document she had been given to describe their “customers”. The girl closer to Anya was Rose, a former fighter in arenas and absolute powerhouse. She was a thick, though muscular woman with plump tits and a massive cock. Opposite of her was Sister Mary, an aged nun with silver hair and a face so lost in desire that one would think she had never fucked in her many years of living. Granted, that was because it was true. The gorey situation had broken Sister Mary and turned her into a drooling slut for corpses. They were sharing the corpse of Rose’s lover, whose skull had been blown out during a particularly brutal game of Russian Roulette. Hands reached around Sister Mary to grope the nun’s tits. The third living woman was behind her. Her large, black wings were spread as she buried her fat cock into the nun’s ass. It was the Sphynx, an ancient beast who had corrupted Sister Mary during their game.

  Anya watched for only a moment, enjoying the sounds and smells of their brutal sex. Then she turned to her cart and pulled out the first of the tools she needed. It was a long, sharpened kitchen knife, though small spots of rust revealed that it had been used before. Anya approached the crowd, though they were too lost in their fucking to notice her. She assessed the situation before deciding that Rose would make her job the hardest. That was her reasoning for taking care of Rose first.

  Anya reached up and pressed the knife to Rose’s throat. Rose looked back with wide eyes, but she did not have time for other reactions before Anya sliced. The blade cleaved through Rose’s wind pipe and caused a fresh gush of blood to pour out. It drenched the corpse of her lover and soaked the floor. Anya scrunched her nose at yet another mess she would have to clean.

  Rose collapsed backward and Anya dodged to avoid the fighter’s body falling on her. Rose crashed to the ground with a loud thump as her dick, still hard and pointing straight in the air, exploded with waves of thick spunk. It was a fountain of cum, spraying her lover and herself. Some of it managed to splatter all overr Anya’s chest and skirt. It was stinking, sticky, and flooded the floor with sperm. All the while, Rose’s body twitched and spasmed as she clutched at her gushing neck. Anya stepped back from the flow of red and white. She looked over at the other two women who were watching with horrified faces. Apparently, they were not too horrified, because they kept plowing the corpse and each other.

  “Hi. Welcome to RR Bullets. We hope you enjoyed your experience. Please leave a good rating, assuming whoever sent you here is still alive enough to do so.” Anya’s voice was droning, as it was a phrase she had repeated so many times that it had lost any real meaning.

  As Sister Mary kept fucking the corpse’s skull, she gasped out her words. “Wh– What do you mean? Good rating? Are you the one that brought us to this sinful place?”

  Anya’s lips thinned to a frown. “No, ma’am, I just work here.”

  The Sphynx chuckled and drove Sister Mary down on her cock. Hard. Sister Mary made a gurgling sound as her eyes flew open wide. Cum bubbled up at her lips, then gushed out and down her chest. Sister Mary’s eyes rolled backward as she choked on the thick burbles of spunk. She desperately sucked and coughed, though no air made it through the thick slime. All the while, the Sphynx turned to Anya and spoke. “You will be getting a glowing review from me, darling.”

  Anya blinked slowly, then moved past the Sphynx with her cart. She tossed the knife onto it and reached into the lower shelf. What she pulled out was a hefty rope. Anya carefully tied a noose into the end of it. Due to her job, Anya was quite good at the knot. It only took her a second to get it fully tied. Then she turned to the Sphynx. The Sphynx was paying Anya little attention. She was far more focused on continuing to choke Sister Mary out with wave after wave of cum. The nun’s face was starting to go blue. Anya stopped just behind the Sphynx and took a short breath.

  Everything moved rather quickly. One moment, Anya was looping the rope around the Sphynx’s neck. The next was a flurry of feathers as the Sphynx dragged Anya around and wing slapped at her. Anya let out a frustrated cry and planted her feet as best she could. The grip of the concrete floor helped her case. With each movement, the rope tighten. Anya tugged it hard. Once. Twice. All the while, the Sphynx clawed at the rope, desperate for breath. It did her little good. On the third tug, there was a wet snap and the Sphynx’s wind pipe was crushed. She collapsed forward and clutched her throat. Wheezed breaths could not manage to bring air to her lungs. The Sphynx collapsed ontop of Sister Mary, who swung back and forth on her dick. As the Sphynx choked to death, one last blast of cum forced its way up Sister Mary and flooded her nose, her last avenue for air.

  Anya sighed. Bird patrons were the worst. Always wing slapping as they tried to “live”. It was ridiculous. Anya dragged the Sphynx by the rope across the concrete, which tore at the bird woman’s flesh with each drag. Then she tossed the rope upward and caught it on a hook that was hidden in the darkness of the ceiling. Using the hook as leverage, Anya hoisted the Sphynx into the air and tied the end of the rope to the table. That would ensure that the Sphynx’s body stayed out of her way and keep any excess blood from spilling out. Sister Mary, who was twitching and coughing, slowly slid off of the Sphynx’s cock. There was a loud, wet pop as she collapsed to the floor, the dick free from her ass hole. A wave of cum gushed from her abused pucker, though that did little to empty her clogged throat.

  Sister Mary looked up at Anya with foggy eyes. She would have begged for help were there enough air in her body to do so. Instead, she choked and coughed. The thick slurry did not free itself, even as she gagged. Anya pushed her down with a foot on her back, ensuring the nun could not struggle. The last gasping wheezes of Sister Mary’s life soon faded and she was left to twitch and writhe. Her thrashing was almost enough to knock Anya over.

  Anya stepped back and surveyed the room. Satisfied to see that all of the women inside had become corpses and pleased that she only had to do the work of murdering two of them, Anya stepped off of Sister Mary and back to her cart. Corporate wanted all of the bodies packed in bags, which was always the hardest part of Anya’s job. It was also her least favorite due to the gorey mess. It was not unlike trying to put a camping chair into a bag, except both ends had the feet and both ends get caught on the opening to the bag. She had complained several times to her manager that they were just going down a shute to get incinerated, but her manager told her “Tough luck” and to “Get over yourself”. With those pissed off thoughts in mind, Anya dragged the bags out and opened them up to be used.

  “Oh, darling, it’s cute that you thought a little rope would take me out.”

  Anya looked over at the Sphynx, who was gleefully rocking back and forth in her noose. Flapping her wings kept her from choking to death again. She was reaching up to pull herself free, though the space was too short for her to get leverage on the noose without whacking her wings on the ceiling. The Sphynx’s lips curled into a playful smirk and she winked at Anya. Anya blinked. Then her nose scrunched. The Sphynx’s smirk melted to a frown, “Come now. There is hardly a reason to be so rude.”

  Anya quickly grabbed another rope from her cart. This time, she rushed behind the flapping wings. They were hard to wrangle still, given the sheer power behind their movement. It took Anya snapping one of the wing bones to get it to fall still. The Sphynx cried out as she dropped, unable to lift herself with one wing. There was a crunch as her neck was broken by the rope. Anya took the moment, while the Sphynx was limp, to tie up her wings. A noose was not the only knot she could tie. Anya was quite skilled in shibari from her partners outside of work. The rope crushed the Sphynx’s wings against her body. Feathers poked up and around the network of knots, carefully positioned to appear like a spider web. Anya stepped back to admire her work. It was one part of her job she actually enjoyed.

  The moment did not last long. Anya turned and decided to start on Sister Mary, knowing that she did not have time to waste on actually caring about her work. She strode over to Sister Mary and hoisted her up over her shoulder. A thick bubble of cum oozed out of Sister Mary’s mouth and down her back. Anya’s face screwed up into a scowl. She was thankful that was the only bodily fluid on her– until the body twitched and jerked. Then Sister Mary’s bladder relaxed. Her large, hot cock gushed a fresh stream of piss all over Anya’s legs. Anya let out a frustrated cry and threw Sister Mary on the ground. That did not help her case. The movement caused the nun’s cock to pop upward and spray Anya’s chest.

  Anya stood there, her breathing heavy. “You… stupid bitch!”

  Sister Mary gave no response. Her corpse finished its golden stream with a slow dribble down her cock and onto her hips. Anya scowled with disgust. She drove her high heel into Sister Mary’s rib cage. There was a snap at the impact and her flesh squished inward as the chunk of bone was pushed inside. The stinking smell of piss made it clear that the nun had been dehydrated before she died. Anya growled to herself and kicked her again. That time, her foot punctured the soft flesh of Sister Mary’s belly and squished into the organs underneath. When she pulled it out, a fresh gush of blood followed. Several splattered organs came out with it. Anya watched the flow with a satisfied grin. Then she leaned down and hoisted up Sister Mary’s corpse by the hair.

  With a frustrated growl, Anya used Sister Mary’s hair to wipe off as much of the piss as she could manage. It did little more than tangle up the nun’s hair, but it made Anya feel better about herself. Not that she was done. Anya backhanded Sister Mary. Her hand left an ugly welt in its wake. If Sister Mary were still alive, it would have elicited a yelp or scream. Instead, there was only a hollow sound from the way the slap echoed in her slack jaw. Anya let the corpse drop, its skull cracking hard on the ground. Once it was there, Anya pulled her cock out from the skimpy fabric. It was a beefy beast. The dick flopped obscenely in her hands, far too big to be comfortably held by one hand alone. Anya aimed it at Sister Mary’s face and let out a long sigh of relief. Her stream of piss gushed faster and harder than the corpse’s had. It soaked Sister Mary’s hair and ran down her front, creating yellow rivulets over her tits. Much of it even got in the corpse’s hung open mouth and drenched the floor. Anya laughed at the sight. She took great joy in her particularly petty revenge.

  Anya wiped the last drops of urine off on Sister Mary, then grabbed her leg and dragged her off to the first bag. It was just as awkward and hard to stuff as she anticipated, though that came as no surprise. Much shimmying around corners and awkwardly pushing legs together eventually culminated in a stowed away woman. Anya dragged the body bag over to the hidden chute and paused for just a moment. She aimed her cock at the corpse and forced out one more weak stream all over where her head was positioned. Anya grinned at the wet spot in the burlap.

  As Anya stowed her dick back into the shitty underwear she had been forced to wear, she looked back at the room full of corpses. On cue, the Sphynx started to thrash and choke. She had come alive again, but there was already a wicked crunch as her struggles against the tightening noose crushed her windpipe. Anya snorted and strolled past her writhing corpse, giving her a firm slap on the ass as she passed. The Sphynx made an angry gargle. Then she fell silent.

  The next corpse Anya was after was Mina. She was a scarlet-haired, muscular beast. However, unlike all of the other corpses in the room, Mina lacked a cock. It was rare that Anya got to play with such a specimen. Most of their clients had the women ordered in with cocks added on. Clearly, this client felt much the same. There was still some mercy, though. One pussy among the sea of shlongs. Anya scooped up the corpse’s muscular legs and hoisted them over her shoulders. This forced a fresh spring of blood to pour out of the blown-open brain matter. Chunks of bone and flesh dangled freely, only held on by strings of sinew. It was a common result of taking a bullet to the skull.

  Anya took a deep wiff of the cum stained cunt. Her mouth watered and she leaned forward. Her tongue ran along the soft flesh and scooped up the stinky, sticky spunk. It tasted of salt, tinged with the metallic tang of gore. Mina had taken quite a load before she died and Anya drank deep from that thick, white well.

  A splatter of brain matter on her shoe brought Anya back to her job. She grumbled to herself, “Messy ass, stupid ass whores…”

  Disenchanted and frustrated, Anya held Mina’s corpse in the air by a foot. She shook it aggressively and snorted to herself at how Mina’s boobs jiggled. Anya’s eyes glittered with amusement as she brought the corpse back toward the bags. About half way there, though, she stopped. She was right beside the Sphynx, who, despite being dead thrice over, sported a rock hard dick. Anya looked between Mina and the Sphynx… and decided: Fuck it. She was going to get some enjoyment out of the bitch with the cunt.

  Positioning a corpse was never easy. Even before rigor mortis set in, the body flopped around uselessly and weighed what felt like a metric ton. Anya was used to such labor, though, and managed to position the Sphynx’s cock in the open bullet wound. A grunt and a groan later, and Mina was pushed all the way to the Sphynx’s hilt. Anya stepped back and grinned at her work. Then she whipped out her cock. “You make a better piñata than a cock sleeve.”

  Anya started by patting Mina’s leg with her dick. Then she smirked and reeled back. She threw all of her energy into slamming her cock down into Minas’s belly. It slapped the bare flesh loudly and caused ripples of jiggling to spread across Mina’s torso. Anya kept at her ruthless assault. With each whipping, reddish welts blossomed and Mina’s flesh jiggled. The blows were hard enough to make her tits bounce. Anya laughed with childish glee as she battered the corpse. Each slap made a satisfying thwack and caused a fresh gush of blood to splurt out all over the Sphynx’s torso.

  The fun was cut short when the Sphynx choked back to life. The Sphynx twitched and thrashed, foaming at the mouth as she fought for breath. Anya rolled her eyes. “This is getting old. Don’t you think?”

  The Sphynx could not manage a response even if she wanted to. Her wings strained at the ropes, but that did little more than use up more energy. There was a long, wet slurp as all of the Sphynx’s struggling caused Mina to slowly slide from her dick. With a pop, she crumpled to the ground. Anya let out a frustrated whine and grabbed Mina by the hair. She shot a glare at the Sphynx. “You ruin everything.”

  Anya dragged Mina over to the body bags and shoved her head inside of one. Realizing that the bag, which was much too small for the job it was given, did not want to fit over Mina’s shoulders. Anya let out a dismayed whine and dropped Mina to rub her face. “Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”  With each fuck, she slapped Mina’s ass and watched it bounce. She pushed and shoved the woman deeper into the bag. When it inevitably tore, Anya’s cry of dismay was much louder than before. She gave Mina several more slaps in the process of stowing her in the burlap. By the end, Mina’s feet were sticking out of one end and her hair was spilling out of the top. Anya realized she would kill someone again if she kept it up and told herself the boss would not care enough. Mina was in the bag and he would have to deal with it.

  Anya turned back to the rest of the corpses. The Sphynx had gone back into relative stillness, though she swung back and forth slowly from her noose. Drool oozed down her neck and chest. Anya pushed past her to get to Rose and her lover: Lila. The two were laid next to each other. If it were not for the bullet hole and exploded brain matter, it would have been a cute scene of two people in love sleeping together. It made Anya sick. The last time she had tried dating someone, they had told her to “Sleep more” and that “Red bull isn’t a good substitute for water”. It was stupid and that relationship only lasted as long as it did because Becky was a good lay. Any other attempt at a relationship had gone similarly poorly.

   Anya crouched down in front of the bodies. She lifted their heads by the hair and mashed their faces together. “Mwah, mwah, mwah. Ohhhh, Lila,” Anya mocked, “I love you soooooo much!”

  There were more smoochy noises before Anya continued, pretending to be Lila. “I love you too, my sweety-kins. But…” Pause for effect, “I have a confession to make!”

  “A confession, my coochie-bear!?”  “A confession. I am… secretly in love.--”  Anya gasped, fighting back giggles at her antics. She put on a serious face. “Who the hell are you in love with?! How could you replace me?!”  “I’m sorry, my love! But Anya’s huge, fat, juicy cock is just too delicious for me. I can’t help it. I’m leaving you forever. I’m going to go live with Anya and suck her dick forever and take her cock up my butt. You can’t stop me!”  “Lila! Noooooo!”

  Anya cackled an evil sort of cackle. She tossed Rose’s head to the side and pulled Lila close. Using her hair to puppet her skull, Anya guided Lila’s lips up and down her cock. A soft groan of pleasure escaped her and her hips twitched against that cold caress. Cum oozed from Lila’s mouth and coated Anya’s cock. Anya slid Lila up and down. Once. Twice. On the third time, she brought Lila back up to her tip.

  Lila’s lips were positioned over Anya’s lower head. The descent was slow as thick wads of cum and slurry of crimson and pink filled up most of Lila’s throat. Anya groaned in delight. Her eyes rolled backward as she slid through that moist tunnel. Leveraging Lila’s hair, she thrust the corpse’s skull faster. She pushed herself deeper into the cavern of gore and cum. Already excited from the treatment she had given the various corpses, Anya came quick and hard. She pumped her thick load into the well of bodily fluids. Her genetic material was tossed away in a pathetic excuse for a cum sock.

  Anya let Lila’s skull slide off of her dick with a wet squelch. The last of her cum was, therefore, sprayed all over Lila’s half-obliterated face. A sigh escaped Anya. If there was one thing that kept her working in this wretched place, it was cumming on dead bimbo bitches. She looked over at Rose and snorted. Scooping up Rose’s hand, she continued her ridiculous pantomime. “You bastard! You came in my wife! How daaaare you! With this hand, I will strike you down.”

  Anya hit herself a couple of times with Rose’s hand, then snorted. She spoke for herself. “Oh yeah? Your stupid slaps don’t mean shit. How about I show you why Lila came to me.”

  There was a soft slap as Anya dropped Rose’s hand. She crawled over Rose so that she was straddling her, then flopped her dick between the former fighter’s fat tits. They were oiled up with sweat and gore. Flecks of crimson painted her chest and neck. It was blow-back from when Lila blew her brains out. Those fat, juicy tits were still warm. Anya rolled those tits over her cock and they swallowed it whole. Only the tip poked out on the other side. Anya’s hips thrust into that warm, squishy meat. With each thrust, she smeared the cum slurry from Lila’s throat all over Rose’s tits. Her fingers sunk into those boobs. Those fat milkers.

  Anya’s eyes rolled back and she thrust into Rose’s honkers with reckless abandon. Her fingernails, painted black with pink sparkles, tore into the soft, malleable flesh. Blood bubbled up around her finger tips and the smell of it made her thrust faster. Harder. Like before, it did not take long for Anya to blow her load. Her spunk sprayed out all over Rose’s face at first. Then she pulled back to paint Rose’s chest in semen. It punctuated that oiled up look with a lascivious white.

  “That was quite the show you put on, Darling!” It seemed the Sphynx was awake again.

  Anya rolled her eyes at the Sphynx. She stood on shaky legs and stretched. Then she grabbed both corpses by their legs and dragged them over to the body bags. The Sphynx had pulled herself up with one hand so that the rope was not actively choking her, but her arm was shaking from strain. Anya guessed that she would not be able to stay up for very long. “Lady, I don’t get paid enough for you to critique my ‘performance’, okay? How about you just keel over and die?”

  As Anya spoke, she went back to the awkward task of stowing bodies in bags. Lila, as skinny and light as she was, was easy to wrap. Rose provided more of a challenge. The Sphynx continued to mock Anya as she fought to stay alive. “Come now. There is little need to be so glum. Every moment of your display is so amusing to me. Why, you’re even humorous now!”

  On cue, Rose’s bag split open down the middle. Anya stared at it for a long moment. Then she tore off a big chunk and balled it up in her hands. She stormed over to the Sphynx and shoved it unceremoniously in her mouth. The Sphynx squawked indignantly, but could not manage to shove it out. Anya sighed. “There. Now I don’t have to listen to your annoying ass.”

  The Sphynx huffed in frustration. She let go of the rope, presumably because dying was better than watching Anya be a stick in the mud. There was a loud snap and she was stuck dangling again with a broken neck. Anya turned back to Rose and grabbed a new bag. It took her several minutes for her to shove the woman inside.

  There was only one corpse left, aside from the Sphynx. Anya strode over to the purple skinned, fat cocked corpse of Kirana. For a stoic paladin, the tiefling was looking rather cum drunk and pathetic. Anya rolled her onto her back and watched the corpse’s cock spring up to half mast. It rivaled Anya’s in size, though both were still beat out by the Sphynx. Anya rolled it around in her hand and massaged the last splurts of cum out onto her fingers. It was an amusing and intoxicating sight watching a corpse cum. It was then that Anya decided what to do with her last doll.

  Anya dragged Kirana over to her cart. Once there, she grabbed her last coil of rope. It was a softer, velvet rope designed for shibari use. With practiced precision and a grin on her lips, Anya started tying. She tied up Kirana’s tits so that they stood tall and proud, though bruised from the sheer pressure of the rope. Her tits would be purple from bruising were her skin not already that shade. Similarly, Anya tied up Kirana’s cock and balls. Little knots ran up either side of it to create a ridged effect. Anya admired her work by giving Kirana’s tits a hard slap. They wobbled, but stayed upright with the help of the ropes. Then she looked back at that fat, delectable cock.

  There was only a moment before Anya gave in. She peel out of her underwear, glad to not have to feel the detestably itchy fabric on her sensitive regions. Then she spread her ass and sunk down on that bound up cock. Each little rope ridge brought a shot of ecstacy up her spine. Fireworks of pleasure went off in Anya’s mind. She moaned obscenely, without a care of others hearing her. Kirana’s cock rubbed against her g-spot and every little bump made it all the more intense. Anya’s tongue lolled out as if she were a dog and she slammed herself down as far as her body could manage. A scream of ecstasy rocked through her as she pounded herself up and down, milking the corpse’s cock all the while.

  The stimulation seemed to be doing something for Kirana’s corpse as much as it was for Anya. She could feel Kirana’s cock and balls pulsing. Throbbing. Anya moved faster. She leaned back to fondle Kirana’s balls. It all started to build up. Anya’s eyes rolled backward. Then Kirana came. It was an entirely instinctual response from the last bits of energy that remained in Kirana’s body. Thick, half cooled cum splurted up Anya’s ass. It made the dick pulse and pleasured Anya further. The more full Anya got, the more each little bump and groove filled her body with erotic stimulation. Anya cried out as she gripped onto Kirana’s tied up tits for support. 

  Anya’s orgasm crashed into her like a semi-truck. Cum poured out of her like a fire hose. It drowned Kirana’s face and swallowed her tits. Her hair clung together with ropes if sticky white. It went in her nose and mouth. Anya sighed with relief as her balled were emptied. Slowly, carefully, she pulled herself free. Each little ridge from the rope brought another orgasmic shiver and splatter of cum. When she fully stood, she took a moment to appreciate the spunk in her trunk. It was cooler than a living person’s cum, though still pleasantly warm. Anya wiped her dick off on Kirana’s leg and stretched. She was feeling far more relaxed than when she had begun.  “Finally! It took you long enough!” The Sphynx again.  Anya snatched up a gun off her cart. She spun around and shot the Sphynx three times. Once in the skull and one for each boob. That shut the bird woman up real quick. Anya looked between her pistol and the Sphynx, her ears ringing from the noise. Then she huffed and chucked the pistol back onto the cart. “Fuck you…” She muttered.

  It seemed that Kirana was the easiest to stuff in a bag. The only trouble Anya had was getting her dick to lay down. It was a shame to have to undo her rope creation, but it was easier than trying to pack the bag with an extra tent. She tied off Kirana’s bag, then turned to the hidden shute. It opened when she tapped on the wall beside it. Anya hoisted up each body bag, then stuffed it into the shute. The thing was barely big enough to hold bodies. Sure, she had told her boss that, but his response was as it normally was: useless. Once the five bodies were deposited, Anya turned back to the Sphynx. Her nose scrunched as she realized those damn wings would be an issue.

  Dragging the Sphynx down was the easy part. The harder part was pulling her heavy body over to the shute in a timely manner. It would be a real pain in the ass if the Sphynx woke up again. Anya grabbed a saw from the cart and started sawing through the Sphynx’s wings. The grind of bone against the metal rang up the tool. It was a rather foul feeling, in Anya’s opinion. By the time she was done, there was a pile of feathers and bone chunks on the floor. Anya tossed the saw to the side and rushed to stow the wings in their own separate bag. Then she bolted that bag down the shute. “I am not dealing with you again!”

  The bag tore several times as Anya shoved the Sphynx inside. She tied it off just as the bag began to wiggle. “No. No no no.”

  Anya shoved the squirming bag into the shute. Just as she slid the Sphynx inside, she heard the bird woman call, “It was lovely playing with you, darling!”

  The shute shut with a metal clang and Anya’s shoulders relaxed. She rubbed her face and let out a long sigh of relief. That was all the heavy lifting done. Anya turned back to the room and went very still. It was an absolute, gorey disaster zone. A firm reminder of why Anya hated her job.

So, as you know, I am the actress Carla Johnson and I am the star in the recent box office hit, A Tale of True Love. In that, of course, there's the famous scene where Josephine (my character) kills her entire family to be able to divorce and marry her true love in a wonderful tale of female empowerment. Why should only men be able to do that when the laws are equal?

What you people may not know is that the people who are killed in the movie are my real lifel husband and my real life four children, Logan(22m), Amber(21f), Linda(19f) and Jack(18m). The director believed that some authenticity would be good for the scene. My family was very supportive of me, I could not have imagined a more loving and supporting partner and children. Do you have any questions for me?

Orbiting the cosmic void, a metal planet pulsed with radiant energy. Inside, the small God that called it home laid with contentment, sprawled lazily across a continent-sized techno bed.

Galactica swung her feet giddily in the air, her oversized headpiece humming with activity, channeling data across three timelines simultaneously. Her crystalline eyes sparkled with mischief as the universes played out before her in vivid flashes: heroes joining forces with villains, unexpected alliances, and cosmic stakes rising to unimaginable heights.

But her fun was abruptly interrupted.

A sharp, unexpected pain lanced through her stomach, sending a jolt through her being…No…her future being. “Oof!” she muttered, clutching her midsection.

“Mmm, what’s that about?” she mused aloud, already shifting her consciousness into her future counterpart.

Galactica’s senses snapped into place within her future self. In an instant, she was standing before Doctor Doom, his menacing green cloak swirling around his imposing figure, gleaming armor reflecting the dim light. His hand gripped a strange techno-magical sword, its edge buried deep in her stomach.

Doom’s voice was cold and final. “You should have stayed out of my way, child.”

With a twist of the blade, Doom wrenched it free, and her future self crumpled, her metallic form crashing to the ground with a dull thud. Doom raised his boot and brought it down hard, stomping on her head.

Galactica’s eyes snapped open in the present, blinking once. A moment of stunned silence passed before she sighed dramatically.

“Well, that was rude,” she muttered, as though inconvenienced by a minor errand. “Looks like I won’t be safe here forever.”

With a groan, Galactica shifted upright. “Guess I’ll have to hide. Ugh, work.”

Her headpiece began to glow as she tapped into the universal database, scanning for solutions. The simplest answer flashed in her mind: a pocket dimension.

Closing her eyes, she began to sift through the multiverse, seeking abandoned realms. It didn’t take long before she realized how few options were available. Most pocket dimensions were jealously guarded by cosmic gods, eldritch horrors, or divine caretakers. And the few that were unclaimed… well, they had issues; negative gravity, reality disintegration, entire systems where math no longer worked. The thought of dealing with those made her shudder.

Her search dragged on for what felt like hours (a whole two nanoseconds by mortal standards) before her eyes brightened. There, among the collapsing cosmic ruins, was a decaying universe. Its fabric hung on by mere threads, as if its creators had long ago given up.

Galactica grinned. “Perfect.”

Her headpiece flared with energy as she projected her consciousness into the decaying universe.

“Okay,” she muttered lazily, “let’s see how much work this’ll actually take…”

Her crystalline eyes narrowed in surprise. The decaying realm resisted her influence, groaning and shuddering like a toxic, uncooperative machine. The effort to bend the universe to her will proved more challenging than she’d anticipated.

“Seriously?!” she groaned, flopping backward into an invisible techno-chair she conjured from thin air. “This world is practically dead. Why is it still—”

She paused mid-sentence, a thought forming in her mind. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as her head lolled back in exaggerated frustration. “Anchor beings…” she muttered dramatically.

“Great. More work. All I wanted was to watch my favorite characters duke it out with explosions and drama…” She pouted, flicking her hand as if pushing away the responsibility. “Is that really too much to ask for?”

Her muttering trailed off as a sudden spark of inspiration ignited within her. “Wait…” she said, a childlike grin creeping across her face.

“What if I recruited them?” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.

She jumped excitedly, clapping her hands together in giddy anticipation. “Yes! Why do all the work when I can get them to do it for me?”

Galactica’s fingers snapped rapidly, and one by one, the women appeared in her massive, techno room.

First, Wanda Maximoff arrived in a flash of crimson light, her eyes wide with confusion. “What the hell?”

Then came Peni Parker, disoriented as she landed. “Uh… Where am I? This isn’t my world.”

Luna Snow followed, her icy aura dissipating in the warmth of the hot room. “This place… is wrong.”

Mantis floated in next, her serene expression faltering as she looked around. “I’ve never felt a presence like this before…”

Magik stumbled forward with her demonic sword in hand, narrowing her eyes in a blend of curiosity and suspicion. “Where the hell are we?”

Hela entered, her presence a looming shadow. “Who dares bring me to this place?”

Storm followed, her sharp eyes scanning the space for danger. “Something’s off here…”

Squirrel Girl bounced in with her usual unshakable cheer, but even her voice trembled. “Well, this is unexpected…”

Finally, Black Widow appeared silently, her gaze immediately locking on Galactica. “Care to explain?”

The women all turned to the sight of the colossal, mountain-sized woman towering above them. Her presence was overwhelming.

“Well,” Galactica said, her voice light and casual, as if explaining something obvious, “I’m Galactica, and I’ve been helping you all in the shadows, fighting against Doom’s forces.”

The group went quiet, unsure how to respond. Wanda narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “Helping us? I don’t remember any giant cosmic woman helping us in the shadows.”

Galactica’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Ah, you see, it’s a subtle thing. You probably didn’t notice me because I prefer to stay behind the scenes. But I’ve been influencing events, nudging things along, you know? Keeping things in your favor.”

The women exchanged skeptical glances, not entirely convinced by her words.

“Alright, fine,” Hela said, her voice low and skeptical. “If you’ve been helping us, then what is it you want?”

Galactica sighed dramatically, her face twisting into a faux-pout. “Well… Doom’s going to kill me in the future, and I need your help. I need to create a safe place, a pocket dimension, where I can hide from him. He’s gonna have it out for me, apparently.”

“Wait,” Hela interjected, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You’re a cosmic being, and you’re asking us for help? You can’t handle this yourself?”

Galactica straightened, her posture exaggerated with exasperation. “Fine, you caught me.” She spread her arms wide, as if revealing a secret. “I’m being lazy.”

The room fell silent. Several of the women exchanged glances. Luna Snow raised her hand cautiously. “You’re what now?”

“I’m lazy, okay?” Galactica said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “Being a god isn’t as simple as it seems. It’s actually really mentally draining. And I thought, since I’m saving you all from a grim fate, you’d be open to doing me a solid.”

The women shifted uncomfortably, some still unsure if they should trust her. Black Widow spoke up, her voice calm and measured. “And what do you need us to do?”

Galactica smiled, her expression sharp and full of too much satisfaction. “Well, to make sure Doom doesn’t find me, I need you to… eliminate a few people. Just a few.”

The room went dead silent.

Magik was the first to respond, her grin turning sinister. “Eliminate? I’m in. Who do we need to take out?”

Hela’s lips curled into a smile, dark and calculating. “Hell is always hungry for more souls.”

But several of the others looked horrified. Dagger raised her hands defensively. “Wait. Killing people?”

Wanda’s eyes flickered with slight hesitation. “This… isn’t what I was expecting.”

Squirrel Girl stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m all for a good fight, but killing? That’s… that’s a bit much.”

Galactica paused, her expression thoughtful. “Oh. Right. Mortals and their morals,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I forgot how touchy you all get about that. Well…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as an idea sparked within her.

‘Ah, mortals,’ she chuckled to inside her head. ‘So easily manipulated, especially by their own emotions.’ She recalled one of the most powerful human emotions, one that had toppled empires and driven even the most rational beings to act irrationally...Lust.

“I suppose if you really don’t want to kill anyone, you could just capture them and bring them to me. But…” She leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Killing them is definitely more effective, though.”

With a flick of her fingers, her energy pulsed through the room, creating a subtle but powerful shift.

Microscopic drones appeared in the air around her. They were designed to be undetectable, invisible even to the women’s enhanced senses. Galactica felt the drones buzzing to life, ready to perform their work.

She focused on each of the women individually. The drones swarmed, slipping into their bodies unnoticed, moving through their skin, veins, and tissue, their microscopic presence undetectable.

In a flash, the drones infiltrated the neural pathways, weaving through the synapses of each woman’s brain, adjusting their chemistry and psychological responses. The drones did their work, amplifying the women's emotional states and tapping into their most primal desires. Now the act of violence, the thrill of the kill, was subtly altered to become something more pleasurable, even addictive.

Lust would now course through their veins, intertwining with their natural instincts for combat. But it wasn't just any lust it was a dark, intense sexual bloodlust that would make every act of violence feel like the most exquisite, orgasmic release.

It was done in an instant. The women wouldn’t feel a thing. They still believed they were making their own choices. But inside their minds, something had shifted. They were no longer just merciless they were now addicted to the rush of victory through violence.

A sly grin crept across Galactica’s face. She had them where she wanted them.

“And here’s the fun part!” she continued, snapping her fingers. In an instant, 17 holographic pictures appeared in each woman’s hands. “These are the people I need you to deal with. Capture them or kill them, don’t care to be honest—just make sure they’re dealt with.”

As the women examined the images—faces of mostly women—they exchanged uneasy glances. Before they could ask anything more, Galactica teleported them into the universe. The room was now empty except for her.

Galactica smirked, watching them disappear. “Now, let’s see how well they play together…”

Desiree surveyed the enormous crowd of conference attendees from her vantage point on the main stage. She had an audience of at least five thousand for her demonstration. SnuffCon just got bigger and better every year!

She knew most of the people were either snuff nuts or snuff sluts, but several fuckstop owners and snuff film studio bosses lurked among them. They were the ones Desiree needed to impress. Meeting her sales quota all came down to this demo. Show time!

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Desiree began with a wave.

The twenty-four-year-old wore black stiletto heels and a blood-red sleeveless mini-dress with a plunging neckline to show off her ample double-Ds as they threatened to escape from the skin-tight silk garment. A hint of areola peeked out at the audience. Desiree’s wavy black hair cascaded onto her shoulders, perfectly framing her smiling face. Her skimpy dress was so short that her signature lack of panties was readily apparent to the first five rows. They reveled in the sexy view of her shaved pussy.

“I’m Desiree Dawkins, the VP of Marketing at SnuffMatic Corporation,” she continued, gesturing to the closed blue curtain behind her. “Who’d like to see what’s back there?”

The crowd cheered and applauded. Some eager snuff sluts jockeyed for position near the stage, no doubt hoping to be the first volunteers.

Desiree laughed. “Well, let’s take a look!”

The curtain opened to reveal a towering steel wall twenty-five feet wide and thirty feet tall with many rows of evenly spaced holes. Two vertical beams on either end of the wall extended another thirty feet to support a massive angled blade above the intimidating machine.

Desiree gestured to the menacing metal monstrosity with a flourish that freed her right breast from the confines of her tight dress. She paid no heed to the sexy wardrobe malfunction.

“Behold the never-before-seen DecapMatic XXL industrial-grade guillotine! It boasts ten levels of benches, each with ten lunettes, so we can lock a hundred necks in this bad boy. It’s heads-down the largest and most efficient guillotine on the planet! SnuffMatic’s world-class engineering team has meticulously designed our patented SlutReaper blade to slice effortlessly through the supple necks of horny women. It’s twenty-five feet wide, four feet tall, weighs fifteen thousand pounds, and is razor sharp.”

She paused for dramatic effect and surveyed the stunned audience. Desiree was in her element. Her other tit popped free of its silk prison. She didn’t care.

“Would you believe we’ve never done a full-scale test? And a successful test would destroy the world record for most decapitations in one blade drop, currently sitting at sixty-nine and held by the cocksuckers at SnuffCo with their Decapitron 3000. Well, there’s only one way to remedy the situation. Let’s load this gorgeous guillotine with snuff sluts and let that beautiful blade drop, shall we? I need a hundred female volunteers up here on the stage! It’s a delightful day to die, ladies!”

Dozens of horny honeys pushed and shoved their way to the steps, all desperate to lose their heads. Fights broke out as the rest of the crowd cheered. Desiree counted the women off as they clambered onto the stage. The raucous spectacle continued for several minutes before the last few ascended the stairs.

“…ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine,” she announced. “Hmm, we’re one short. I guess that’s to be expected on the last day of SnuffCon. Almost all the sluts have already been snuffed.” Desiree shrugged. “I guess I’ll get in on the action, too. We absolutely must have an even hundred. Ninety-nine just wouldn’t do.”

She turned to her fellow snuff sluts and grinned.

“All right, ladies. Let’s strip and throw our clothes into the crowd.”

The women furiously undressed as a tempest of T-shirts, shorts, dresses, bras, and panties rained down on the delighted audience. Within fifteen seconds, all hundred ladies wore nothing but smiles.

“All right, my lucky snuff sluts,” Desiree continued, “please walk behind the DecapMatic XXL and use the ladders to ascend to each level. Don’t worry! There’s a bench and a lunette for everyone.”

The naked horde thundered around behind the steel wall, bare breasts bouncing and asses jiggling as they clambered up the ladders. Beautiful heads poked through the lunettes one by one until all hundred openings were occupied. Based on their rapturous facial expressions, it was clear that most of them were furiously finger-fucking themselves.

It was a truly majestic sight to behold! The eager women had a plethora of skin tones from pasty white to chocolate brown, every natural and artificial hair color imaginable, bewitching eyes of various hues, and a hundred horny smiles. With SnuffCon being a worldwide conference attracting attendees from every corner of the globe, the lovely ladies proudly represented fifty-seven nations. The voluptuous volunteers were united in one crucial regard: an all-consuming desire to be snuffed for the enjoyment of others. Their deviant wish was about to come true.

“Perfect!” Desiree exclaimed from her lunette in the bottom row on the far right. “Just a moment, ladies.”

She reached around to the outside edge of the DecapMatic XXL and pressed a button. All hundred lunettes locked tightly around the women’s necks with a delightful series of kerchunks.

“Now that our sexy fate is sealed, there’s only one thing left to do. Who wants me to push the big red button?”

The raucous crowd screamed their approval, though the ladies in the lunettes yelled even louder.

“All right then,” Desiree exclaimed. “The SnuffMatic sales team will be available after the demo to discuss all your snuffing needs. And please feel free to fuck our decapitated corpses and use our severed heads as cocksleeves. That’s what snuff sluts are for, after all.”

Desiree paused and surveyed the mesmerized audience with a sultry smile. Moments like this were what she lived for.

“We’ll all be drop-dead gorgeous in a moment. One hundred headless hotties are coming right up!”

Desiree smashed the red button with her palm, releasing the DecapMatic XXL's enormous blade. It hurtled downward along its vertical track, reaching the top row of necks in less than a second and slicing cleanly through all ten. As the heads began to fall, the next row was swiftly decapitated, their screams of sheer ecstasy cut off along with their heads. The blade continued dropping through all ten rows of snuff sluts before slamming into the stop at the bottom. A hundred severed heads rained down on the stage, landing with a chorus of satisfying thuds. Streams of fresh blood spurted from a hundred neck stumps as the decapitated bodies hitched and jerked in their death throes.

Desiree’s head landed on its side, facing the audience. She grinned and basked in their thunderous applause. Her thesis advisor would no doubt be delighted with her daring demise. She had always been an excellent student, recently graduating summa cum laude with her MBA in Snuff Marketing and having a bright future ahead of her in the industry. While she was giving up her career and all its potential, her dramatic and unplanned decapitation would make her a legend in the world of snuff. Desiree’s vision faded to black, her short life ending in the sexiest way possible.

Her lifeless head continued to smile until a horny conference-goer picked it up, slid his engorged dick in her mouth, and began thrusting rapidly. As he grunted and spurted thick ropes of cum out of Desiree’s neck hole, another man dragged her naked corpse onto the floor and fucked it up the ass with reckless abandon. More audience members raced onto the stage, jamming their rigid cocks in every available love hole until a wild orgy swirled around the blood-stained DecapMatic XXL. Desiree’s head and body were in for a jam-packed evening of dead sexy debauchery. With any luck, the necrophilic fuckfest would last all night.

The townsfolk stared with dumb eyes and open mouths at the file of ragged killers that rode into town, stared at their giant guns and rifles and hatchets and knives, their scarred faces and wild matted hair and long clayed beards. They rode in silence along the single dirt street that cut through this small city of La Luz, past the decrepit houses made of clayed bricks and thatched roofs, out of which gazed the people, the young and the elderly, all the while a small horde of half-starved street dogs went after the riders to contest the horse droppings left behind.

They came to a hold at the plaza, little more than a widening of the road, and dismounted and two of them walked into the crooked building they identified as the town hall while the others hitched their horses and some sat in the shade and smoked while others went to the tavern and others sought out local merchants and another pissed against the wall of the church nearby whilst scratching his rear.

The mayor greeted Jackson and Strauss as they entered the town hall.

“Thank god you came here so quickly!”

They shook hands.

“So, why did you call us to this shithole of yours?” said Jackson and lit a cigarette.

“Four days ago, they attacked. They took seven of our women and killed twice as many people here.”

“Took?”

“We saw them being dragged to the south. These animals have taken them. And God knows what they are doing to them…”

“Who are they?”

“Savage women…”

“Your people were killed and stolen by a bunch of cunts?”

 “Don’t be mistaken, Sir. These Indians are creatures of the night. They descended upon us like harpies.”

“All right. We will get your girls back, if they are still alive that is. The price is a thousand Dollars for each of the girls. And another hundred for each Indian scalp.”

Michael stood at the door and listened to every word. When the door sprung upon, he ran after them.

“Sir, please wait”

“What you want, kid?”

“Let me join you and help bring them back”

Jackson stood there and looked at him.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, Sir”

Jackson spat.

“Go home kid”

“Wait. They have taken my wife, Mary Jane. We were married just a week ago. Please, Sir, let me help you bring her back”

“You ever killed somebody?”

Michael shook his head.

“You got a gun?”

“No, Sir. But I can be of assistance… I… I can pay you”

“How much?”

“I have a hundred and twenty dollars. It’s all I have.”

“Make it a hundred and fifty and you can ride with us.”

“Thank you, Sir! You won’t regret it, Sir!”

“You get killed, that’s your problem”

An old Mexican with a wrinkled face sat in the shade nearby and smoked a cigarette rolled from scraps and he listened to the Americans as they were conferring and he nodded slowly even though he did not understand a single word spoken.

An hour later saw the Americans ride out town down south into that barren furnace that goes by the name of Chihuahuan desert. The land stretched out like a hammered sheet of copper decorated with Mesquites and Yuccas and Dasylirion and the horses beneath the ragged pilgrims carefully evaded the blades of Agave Lechuguilla as they rode on across rock and bone passing coiled up rattlesnakes and poisonous lizards under the watchful eyes of redheaded turkey buzzards. 

Michael carefully studied his company, studied those cut up half-witted slayers, some of whom had decorated their horses or themselves with human parts as one wore a necklace made out of dried ears and another had adorned his hat with white bones and most of them were disfigured in some way with missing fingers and eyes and ears and one did not have a nose and had no hair and under his hat across his forehead ran deep red scars and Michael wondered if this man, who went by the name of Poindexter, had been scalped and mutilated with a dull knife by some mad savage.

A sudden gunshot ripped him out of his daydreaming. Then he saw the figure in the distance some one hundred yards to the left clutching its abdomen and falling in the dust. Graham watched her fall and put his rifle back into the holster on his saddle and left the file and rode towards her. Others followed.

“Fuckin’ scout”

“Careful, there done might be mawe …”

“They see ever' single step we make- they swarming this here playe”

*****

Michael eyed the girl. She was naked save for her loincloth and leather sandals. She had decorated her arms and ankles witch bracelets made from leather thongs and colored stones and she wore tattoos that wound up her youthful body showing snakes and eagles and wild cats. Her large breasts rose and fell with her flat breathing and her skin was white and drenched with sweat, her gaze staring at the blue sky above as she murmured her prayers. The wound above her navel was small, yet more and more blood trickled out of the gaping hole in her back.

“You gonna stand there all day aw what?”

Graham walked past him and lowered himself over her.

The girl looked at the killer with the long black sweaty hair as he let down his pants.

“God, what you doin’?

With a swift movement he ripped off her loincloth.

“Wanna learn something, kid? If her cunt hasn’t been marked with three black dots, she’s never been used before. Here, look”

He tipped at her vagina with his blackened finger.

“No tattoos… as fresh as morning dew… always check, otherwise you’re in for cock rot…”

With that he thrust himself into the paralyzed girl. She moaned. She clenched her teeth as her eyes filled with water.

“And tight she is…”

“Stop it”

“You shut the hell up kid, I gotta concentrate…”

And with that he proceeded to have his way with the dying amazon in the dust. The boy looked at him with his mouth agape. Then he looked around. Some watched in silence, others saw to their horses.

Michael turned away and walked up to Jackson.

“With all due respect, Sir, but you must end this! This is unworthy of civilized men”

Jackson spat.

“Is that so, lad? In that case, you might want to direct your complaint to my trusted assistant and legal representative Doc Strauss”

Michael could her Grahams grunts and the whooping of the others. Someone whistled. He turned to Strauss, who looked down on him from his mount.

“Please… this is barbaric…”

Strauss smiled at him.

Did you read the Iliad, boy? What do you think the illustrious deeds of Achilles looked like? Take a good look. Listen closely. See what he did to merit the elysian fields. See Graham, an ancient hero, surrounded by his myrmidons”

A scream of utter desperation rang out from the girl, as Graham shot all his seed deep between her legs. Again, whooping and whistling. Graham got up und made room for the next. Michael walked a few paces away and sat down and covered his ears and closed his eyes and wept while the men behind him took their turns.

“All right, saddle up”

Arthur had to kick Michael, to get him out of his stupor. He rose and walked to his horse, past the girl in the dust. He forced himself to look at her. She was bleeding between her legs and from her nose. Her face was swollen and her skin bore the marks of knives. Yet she was still breathing.

“For heaven’s sake, put her out of her misery!”

“Sure, here you go…”

Graham threw a rock at Michaels feet and bared his golden teeth.

“After you, son…”

Michael stared at the rock when he heard a gunshot.

Standing in the smoke above the puddle of smashed bone and blood and brain at the end of the girl’s spurting neck was Arthur. He holstered his gun and walked to his horse and mounted it and fell into line with the others, heading south. Michael followed him.

Graham watched as Cletus dug his fingers through the greasy puddle and pulled out a few strands of black hair, only to toss them away again.

“Fuking waste av ayy good scalp”

*****

The girls stood in a line, all seven of them bound to wooden poles decorated with carvings displaying ancient pagan gods and goddesses and creatures and the poles were darkened with soot and old dried blood. None of them spoke but they all sucked at their teeth, mad with thirst.

The poles stood at the bottom of a cauldron surrounded by red rocks, accessible only through a narrow path. A few paces in front of them stood a wooden block and it too bore the dark shadows of blood that had been spilled over it in some barbarous ceremony.

Behind the block lay the mouth of a large cave from which three amazons emerged and the one walking at the head of the small group had her head decorated with a giant crown made of colourful feathers and the tattoos she wore on her bare chest showed a huge pair of red wings.

She walked past the row and scrutinized one girl after another and came to a halt in font of Lisa, who took the middle place in this row of condemned. The shaman grabbed her chin and looked her in the eye. Then she looked down the girl and saw the puddle of warm urine between her feet grow ever larger. She smiled and nodded to the other two Indians.

One of them held a bucket filled with a reeking viscous fluid in it and the other held a brush and dipped it into the bucket and started to smear Lisas face and hair with the liquid. The girl coughed and choked as she endured the treatment until another amazon emerged from the cave carrying by a pair of tongs a wreath made of glowing fuses. Lisa stared at the wreath with her reddened eyes and begged them for mercy and fought with her bonds, screaming ever louder with each step the Indian came closer.

With a swift move the amazon put the glowing garland over Lisas head. Immediately the skin and hair of the girl were set ablaze in hissing blue flames and the American screamed a series of cruel screams as the flames ate away her hair and skin and turned her once beautiful face into a dark charred grimace that only partially covered the skull beneath in which bubbled her cooked brain. The other girls screamed and watched in horror or looked away and one fainted and hung motionless in the ropes as their friend’s face was turned into a smoking piece of coal. The flames died out after consuming all the reeking fluid leaving Lisa standing there in her expensive blue garment and leather shoes, tied to the pole, with her head reduced to a grotesque shriveled up visage. Small stains of melted fat had hit the shoulders of her dress, which besides that had taken no damage whatsoever.

*****

Pubert and Doodle watched the fire. The others slept on the bare desert ground beneath the clear sky, huddled in their blankets close to their weapons.

Pubert munched on a tortilla and crushed the bites with his tongue, for he had no teeth, save a few yellow molars.

“Damn, that there injin gerl were darn good. Best pussy ay done had in weeks”

“Ayn' there will be mawe.  Whowwl tribe av cunts”

Doodle chuckled and bit his fingernails.

The fire hissed aloud as a dark brown cloud rose from the flames. Stunned, Doodle looked into the blaze, then turned to quivering Pubert, who clutched his spurting throat and with white eyes looked up at the black shadow behind him.

“Hell fuck”

With his mouth agape, Doodle reached for his gun yet before he could raise his pistol, the tomahawk had severed his hand. He held his stump and stared at the spurting flesh, clearly seeing the white bone in its midst.

A second amazon swung her obsidian axe and lobbed his head off his shoulders. It rolled between the legs of the Indian girl that had slit Puberts throat and stared up her naked legs right at her moonlit vagina.

Muzzle flashes lit the camp as shots thundered in the desert night and cut down the two blood-soaked Indians that stood in the light of the campfire.

“Ambush… ambush…!”

The men hollered and the horses whinnied as a rain of feathered arrows descended upon them piercing man and animal. They swore and fired at the shadows and the wounded bellowed their curses and Jackson shouted orders while others ducked the incoming arrows as best as they could.

Michael threw himself to the ground and tried to make out the attackers. The immensity of the impressions and the deafening noise dumbed him down completely. He lay there hidden behind a little rock when suddenly a hand grabbed him by the boot and made him turn around. A tall lean amazon towered above him and raised her warclub like a nightmarish ghoul in the cold moonlight. Michael couldn’t make a sound as he stared upon the instrument of his murder when suddenly the girl flinched as if struck by a shock. The boy looked into her face and gazed straight through a round hole at the white moon. The disfigured warrior dropped the club from her hand and collapsed onto him. Michael reared back and pushed the body off him. He shuddered as he touched the warm wet squishy mess that had been a beautiful woman’s face just moments ago.

Michael kept crawling through the dust, covering his ears and shielding his face whenever a piece of debris was flung his way. He clutched the sand and noticed it was warm and damp and looked around and saw himself lying in the intestines of some shot Indian and he looked down himself and saw that he had smeared himself all over with her fluids. He crawled out of the puddle, wincing at every shot, until he rolled into a small ditch where he threw up and collapsed into his vomit.

*****

A red sun rose to the east and cast its light upon the field of battle. Michael opened his eyes only to stare into she mangled visage of a dead amazon who had received a shot to her head. Half her skull was blown away and her eye hung out by a red thread. He startled and rose and looked around him. The ground was plastered with broken bodies and horses and weapons and countless arrow shafts.

 He watched Arthur as he carefully pulled out arrows of a horse and the horse stood there in silence and bore the pain as red saliva drooled from its mouth. He saw the Americans walk among the Indian girls, killing the wounded with their knifes before scalping and plundering them. He watched Graham standing above one of the girls and she raised her hands to him and was about to say something when he stepped on her throat and squeezed it with his boot. She floundered beneath him, her face turning all red and then purple as she clawed her fingers into is leather boot. As soon as she went limp, he knelt beside her and took out his knife and started cutting the skin at her hairline. When he was done, he wiped the reddened knife at her loincloth and put it in his sheath and grabbed her black hair and, with a sudden pull, ripped off her scalp. He lay it over his shoulder and opened her mouth and rose and pissed into it. Michael turned away and shook his head only to look at Cletus throwing little pebbles into the bared viscera of an Indian girl whose belly had been ripped open by some enormous gun. The sickening sound of the little rocks hitting the girls naked entrails made his skin break out in goosebumps.

“Here, I got somethin’ for ye” Arthur said and handed him a gun and a holster.

“Take it. Doodle won’t need it no more…”

Micheal thanked him and put on the gun belt of the murdered vedette before wiping the red sand and pieces of viscera and bone off his clothes as good as he could.

Meanwhile one of the killers took one of the wounded girls who had her shoulder shattered by some wild projectile that had been fired blindly into the blackness and he had tied her hands behind her back with a rawhide strap and took a knife and scalped her and after he had done so, he thrust his taut cock between the screaming girls legs and pounded her and had the greatest pleasure doing so while he stared at her crimson red tonsure and the name of the man who did this was Mortimer Throckmorton.

The girl wound and screamed and stared at the sweating haggard halfwit until she was able to cut the leather restraints with a small obsidian knife and with a swift movement of her hand severed the man’s member. The slayer screamed a high-pitched scream and fell on his back as a crimson volcano erupted between his legs. The scalped amazon jumped to her feet with bloodshot eyes while Throckmortons dick was still clamped between her labia until it went limp and fell out of her and dropped to the ground. The bewildered men stood there stunned and watched the grotesque scenery unfold before they got a hold of themselves and muzzled the girl with a dozen shots.  

“God fuckin dammit! Nobody fucks one of them girls unless she’s dead” barked Jackson.

Mortimer kept screaming and one of the Americans knelt beside him and tend to his wound while another poured him whisky.

“Saddle up”

“I can’t ride. Not like this…”

“Then go back to town”

“You know they’ll get me”

“Well, sorry Mort, but that sounds like a you-problem”

Mortimer screamed on and cursed his fate and cursed the amazon and looked at his belt to which he had bound the scalp and took it and tossed it away and cursed it too. One by one the killers got on their horses and rode on. Michael was the only one who looked back at Throckmorton who sat alone in a crimson puddle on this field of battle surrounded by slaughtered men and women…

Summary: After a drone strike leaves her stranded and injured in no man's land, a desperate female soldier chooses to stab herself in the heart rather than be captured.

------

Mara stumbled through the doorway of the house, if you could even still call it a house. The door itself had been reduced to splinters long ago, and the windows and walls were shattered. The battle for this part of the city had gone on for weeks, and it had left its mark.

Outside, Mara could hear the murderous buzz of one of the enemy's quadcopter drones as it flew down the street. She tucked herself against what was left of the wall, trying to avoid being spotted. The drones carried grenades that could be dropped at a moment's notice, delivering death in 4K resolution.

---

It was a drone like this that had separated her from her four-person squad. One moment, they'd been creeping down a street towards a reported enemy position. The next, two of the boys were down, their bodies shredded by invisible shrapnel, and the NCO was rapidly bleeding out from a neck wound.

Mara had been "lucky" that her squad had absorbed most of the explosion. Her only injury was a shattered right ankle. If she could make it back to her lines, it was easily treatable.

The problem, however, was making it back. The grenade had rendered Mara's rifle useless, leaving her almost completely unarmed with the exception of her combat knife. Disarmed and injured in no man's land, Mara knew she was fucked.

---

Collapsing against the wall, Mara recalled what she'd been told about the enemy. She'd be up against a brutal foe known for torturing prisoners of war. She'd be beaten, electrocuted, or worse, in captivity. And, if she made it back, her own forces were likely to interrogate her just as harshly on the assumption that she'd revealed some information to the enemy.

No, there was no realistic option to surrender, and yet Mara didn't want to spend the last moments of her life stumbling around this blasted hellhole until a drone or a sniper put her out of her misery.

With tears in her eyes, Mara looked at her knife.

---

The first step was to make it as easy as possible. Mara removed her tactical vest and placed it by her side. With shaky hands, she then unbuttoned her uniform, exposing her bra.

In peacetime, Mara had ambitions of being a model. She knew many men would do anything, pay anything, for a chance to touch her soft, supple breasts. As she undid her bra, exposing them to the dusty air of the battlefield, she felt a pang of sorrow for the beauty that was about to be destroyed.

The next step was to ensure that she was in an appropriate position to do the deed. Mara pushed her back up against the nearest corner and stretched out her right leg. It was about as comfortable a position as she could find.

Now that she was in place, Mara brushed a lock of long, blonde hair off her left breast, then lifted it up with her left hand.

Mara could feel her pulse radiating from her swiftly-beating heart - an organ she was about to silence forever. She held that position for a moment, feeling her heart throb in fear and dread, before bringing her combat knife up.

With her right hand, she guided the point until it was under her left breast, resting in the space between her ribs. A single good thrust, and she could penetrate that space, drive the blade into her heart, and put herself out of her misery.

Now was not the time to be scared, she thought. There were no other options. Gripping the blade with both hands, she took a deep breath, and as she exhaled, plunged the blade through.

---

Mara groaned as she felt the cold steel slice through the muscles of her ribs and her left lung. As it pushed through the muscular walls of her heart, she couldn't help but gasp.

A wave of icy heat and pain spread from the wound as her heart struggled around the blade that had penetrated it. Involuntarily, Mara spasmed. Her back arched against the wall, thrusting her breasts in the air, as her hands scrabbled against the ground, and she gurgled as her body tried to breathe in through ruined lungs.

When the spasm came to an end, Mara could feel her life was almost over. She looked down at her beautiful breasts and the stream of dark red blood trickling from under her left one.

With the last of her strength, she pulled the knife from the wound. The serrated edge of the blade tore her heart up as it exited. The shredded organ spasmed, causing Mara to cough up a mouthful of blood.

Then, the moment Mara had been waiting for: her poor, tortured heart finally stopped beating.

She felt a sudden fist-like clenching in her chest. Her body arched and bucked one last time as it tried to fight the inevitable. As she stared at the burnt-out roof of the house, her mind spiralled away into the darkness.

After one last, quiet, exhale, Mara's head lolled and her hands fell limply to her sides. The knife which she had used to still her heart quietly slipped out of her fingers.

I am looking for stories that was easy to find earlier through asstr (rip)

I remember there was 3 or 4 stories by the same author.

On of them is a girl getting her tits roasted and being convinced her cunt should be cooked aswell. As she have no need for it.

Second story is about tit hanging. Where a girl is hanged by her tits, that slowly becomes loose and in the end she is snuffed.

The last is about a girl, that fucks herself on a dildo which shreds her inside.

You and your siblings, a younger brother and an older sister, have been called to the garden by your mother. At 1 am. She said to go naked. You obeyed, standing naked in the garden. Your mother is standing in the middle of the garden, axe in hand. A beautiful chopping block stands in front of her.

You've dreamed of getting your head chopped off since you were eight, so your cock is extremely hard! Your mother calls your younger brother to the block. He obeys. He lays his head down on the chopping block, and your mother swings. THUNK!

Your brothers head rolls on the green grass, turning parts of it red. Your mother lifts his head up by his hair. She says to you: "I want to hold up both my son's severed heads. Come here."

You obey. You lay your head on the block. Your sister has started masturbating, waiting for her turn. Your mother swings the axe. THUNK!

the axe cuts your head off with ease. Your severed head rolls onto the ground. Your mother picks it up, together with your brothers head. She shows you your body.

It stood up after losing its head, masturbating furiously in a headless dance. You become a bit embarrassed, you knew you were a snuff slut but you didn't expect to get this horny with your head lopped off.

Your brothers body is already still, but his cock has been spurting cum since his head was removed. He never came while he was still alive.

Your mother drops your head on the ground again. You can just barely hear her say: "Alright, young lady, It's time to lose your head! Come here." Your sis, of course, obeys. She walks past your dancing corpse and puts her head on the block.

You hear a distant THUNK as her head rolls. Her headless corpse stands up, just like yours, and dances to your corpse. Your corpse stops masturbating, as hers grabs your cock. She forces your headless body on the ground, her body starting to ride your cock. Your mother grabs your sister's head and lifts it up, along with your head. As you start to fade away, your mother talks one last time.

"The two of you are such pretty snuff sluts, fucking eachother the moment your heads get removed. I'm so proud of you two! Your brother was less prepared though, but oh well. He laid his head on the block so cutely and I don't think he minded getting his head removed either. Oh, and dont worry! Your father's gonna chop my head off, so I'll be a headless snuff slut too! Here he comes!"

Your mother drops your heads again. Your vision grows darker as you hear footsteps. You see your father pick up the axe. You hear another THUNK like you expected, but it's not just your mother losing her head. Your father chopped his own head off, too! Both of your parents start doing their headless dances.

Both of their heads roll next to yours. Your father's headless body starts going to you and your sister's headless fucking, and it slams his own cock in your neckstump.

Your mother's body, meanwhile, goes to your younger brother's body. She slams her own neckstump into your brother's hard cock. Your vision fades completely, as you and your family of snuff sluts fuck eachothers headless corpses, cocks filling pussy and neck with their last orgasms. You die a happy snuff slut.

See female meat version here.

Ladies, don't you have those long stressful days at the end of which you just want to relax with a nice dick meal or to let off some steam by snuffing a male slut after he eats you out while you torture him? Now you can do both at the same time in our fuck stop restaurant's brand new boy meat section!

Our male meat sluts would lie head on the bottom inside in a 45 degree diagonal crate so that only the head is horizontal. There's a hole on the bottom for his face so it can act as your seat and pleasure toy and another hole for his genitals. Below his manhood there's a table for cooking and serving his meat. As his shaft and meatballs are cooked and eaten your own disposable male pain slut will eat you out. After you are done with your meal and his suffering brought you to an orgasm you can press a button and an electrical saw will slice through his neck for that delightfully familiar fuck stop experience.

Some of the dishes we offer:

-All-American Hot Dog: a cooking sleeve is placed around your snuff slut's dick and he is cooked for you. (Note: some edging may be required before cooking to make sure he is erect. A rubber band is placed around the base to make sure he stays hard while cooking). After he is cooked, the wiener is placed in a hot dog bun and toppings of your choice are added. Enjoy him screaming into your pussy each time your teeth tear chunks off of him.

-Grilled steak: this one is simple but always delicious. Salt and pepper are rubbed into your toy's manhood and a small grill is placed under it. A lid is closed trapping cock and balls on the grill cooking both sides at the same time. After it's done, grill is replaced with a plate with a side of your choice. Slice pieces off as you eat while reveling in his pain. Note: we recommend cooking to medium-rare to maximize his pain while he is consumed. For additional suffering try our spicy steak sauce!

-Cock noodles: While still attached, your meat slut's cock is sliced into ribbons and submerged together with testicles into boiling broth. Noodles and veggies are added and cooked until meat is done at which point the shredded dick and balls are cut off and you enjoy your noodles. Note: if you wish to continue hurting your toy while you eat consider leaving testicles attached instead of eating them - even slightest touch on the boiled skin will throw him into agony.

So what are you waiting for? Our finest male meat sluts want nothing more than to die in pain for your meal and an orgasm. Come to our restaurant and treat yourself - you deserve it!

Author's note: Yes, I know how cheesy "relax with a nice dick meal" sounds. I was giggling the whole time while writing that.

About 12 years ago I found a femdom Guro-style website and have been looking for it ever since. It consisted of what was basically a word document with several pictures, both animated and real, along with semi-captions (it's more like a man and a woman are trading pictures with theoretical scenarios), and then some short stories, the one I can remember best is "The Story of Tomo", where a slave boy is picked by a mistress and is pampered before being snuffed. The other stories follow a similar plotline. Anyone know this website or a similar one?

Hi! This is my first time to write guro/snuff, so your thoughts are welcome!

"Oh my god, we're at the Fuck'N'Snuff!" Liza was giddy with excitement as Drew parked the car. He wasn't too keen on spending a Saturday evening at a snuff club with  his sister, but their mom had insisted it was good for Liza to explore the world more. After all, she'd just turned 18 a couple of weeks ago.

Drew looked at Liza as she got out of the car. She was dressed for a good fuck, in a tiny tank top and mini skirt, and her blonde hair in a messy bun.

Since she was only signing up for the "fuck" section of the club, Drew would still have to drive her home later. In the meantime, he'd snuff a slut or two to pass the time.

They entered the club, where a brunette receptionist greeted them. 

"Hi, welcome to the Fuck'N'Snuff! Is this the lady's first time here?" she asked cheerily.

"Yep," Drew read her nametag, "Tara. She's signing up for the Fuck section for tonight." Liza nodded enthusiastically beside him.

"Great! All she needs to do is sign this form here in the computer and we can let her in. You can proceed to the Snuff section, sir, if you'd like."

Liza took the form and eagerly signed it. Drew looked over her shoulder, curious since he'd never had to sign a form. But that was the perk of being a male.

"Wait a minute!" Drew's eyes widened. "This is the Snuff signup!"

The screen showed, "Thank you for signing up to be snuffed tonight, LIZA."

Tara took the computer in shock. "Oh my gosh, my apologies for this mistake. Sir, please snuff me as an apology."

"What about my sister? Can you cancel her signup?"

Liza looked at Drew expectantly, blue eyes wide in shock.

Tara was apologetic. "I can't. It's already in the system. She has to be snuffed tonight."

Liza gasped. "But I just wanted to be in the Fuck section!"

Drew placed a calming hand on her. "It's okay, Liza. I'll just snuff this fleshlight right here and then we'll figure it out."

Tara bent over the desk and presented herself to Drew. "There's handcuffs and a garotte in the drawer. Please accept my apologies."

Drew reached into the drawer and pulled out the cuffs and garotte. Once Tara was cuffed, Drew hiked her skirt up, exposing her bare cunt.

"Take a seat first, Liza," Drew said. Liza nodded and pulled up a chair, eager to see Tara get snuffed.

Drew pushed his cock into Tara, who was already dripping wet. Her fat ass shook with every thrust, and her needy cunt was already clenching down on Drew's cock.

Meanwhile, Liza had her skirt hiked up and was actively fingering herself as she watched her brother fuck the receptionist. She was panting, her face red and her fingers dripping.

"Fuck," Tara gasped as Drew continued to pound into her. "I'm getting close."

"Don't let her cum, big bro," Liza commanded. "Snuff her good."

Tara clenched down on Drew's cock when she heard that, and a loud moan escaped her.

"You hear that?" Drew spanked Tara. "You hear what my sister said?"

"Yes, sir." Tara bit back another moan. Meanwhile, Liza was gasping and whining as she continued to play with herself.

"Tell me when you're about to cum," Drew commanded. He picked up the garotte, ready to wrap it around Tara's neck.

"Oh god, I'm gonna, I'm gonna—"

Drew put the garotte around Tara's neck and began to choke her. Tara gasped and wheezed, and her pussy continued to squeeze and tighten on Drew's cock. Her legs were flailing and kicking as she struggled, and her tongue peeked out between her lips as her face turned purple. She let out one last pained breath and went limp. 

Her cunt clenched one more time, and her cum dripped out as her lifeless body came. Drew continued to thrust into her cunt before painting her insides with hot cum.

Liza let out a load moan as she came on her fingers. Drew left Tara's lifeless body where it was and sucked Liza's fingers clean. 

"That was so hot," Liza breathed. "I think I'm ready to be snuffed."

"Really?" Drew asked.

Liza nodded. "But... Can you be the one to snuff me? I've always wanted to be snuffed by someone special."

Drew nodded. "I'll make sure it's the best fuck of your life, sis."

She smiled widely at that. Drew took her hand, and led her into the hallway.

Above the hallway was a sign that read, "Snuff Section."

Disclaimer: The characters and events depicted in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are eighteen or above. Enjoy.

A Welcomed Tourist Trap

When I came out of the airport, the wet heat of Florida hit me smack in the face. The almost damp air of Miami was not unlike London’s, but the warmth, on the other hand, was utterly foreign to me.

I liked it.

I was glad I had come wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt and super mini shorts over my underwear, even if they made me feel so exposed.

I pulled on my wheeled suitcase and lowered my Snuffelette sunglasses down from my forehead to protect my eyes and—

“Oh, em, gee! Are those real Snuffelettes?” A girl asked me as she suddenly embraced my arm and pressed herself against my side!

The woman could have been the literal poster picture for what first came to my head when I thought, ‘American girl.’

She was taller than me, fit with a slim tummy but with some wonderful breasts and curves. She had a tiny amount of tan on her white skin, a pair of blue eyes, and a mane of wild blonde curls that topped her head and fell to her ass.

I had thought I was being risqué with what I was wearing, but this American girl was only wearing a slim bikini, which, of course, was colored after the American flag that barely hid her nipples, sandals, and nothing more!

I had always been proud of my body. I was slim and fit, but I was also too pale and short, and my shoulder-length brown hair wasn’t much to talk about. Compared to this random American woman, I couldn’t deny that I felt jealous just as much as I liked her.

“I— uh, yeah?” I said like an idiot, unsure of where it would be safe to look at her.

“That’s awesome!” She said. “Like, they look so good on you, okay? But like, you know those sunglasses Look a lot better with some red on them, right?”

“Uhu…” I said.

“Perfect!” She said as she turned me to one side, still holding me, and quite literally power walked down the street, away from the airport’s entrance and the line of taxis I had planned to use to go to my hotel—

And just when I started to think I was getting kidnapped, she stopped in front of what looked like a weird vending machine.

No, not a vending machine.

It looked like one, but it was made of sleek metal. There was no menu of drinks, snacks, or other items to purchase. The machine had only a hole in its center and a red button to the side.

I read the machine's name written on top of the hole, and my eyes opened like saucers.

“Bloody hell…” I said.

That was… that was an actual self-snuff station.

“I always wanted someone with some real Snuffelette sunglasses to snuff me,” the blonde said as she, bloody hell. She just went and undid the string of her thong right here in broad daylight!

There were hundreds of cars going past by and dozen of people walking in and out of the airport that could see her shaved pussy now!

I could see her shaved pussy now!

Then I registered what she said.

“W—wait, you mean you want me to snuff you?!”

“Hell yeah, cutie,” She nodded as she pulled her bikini top over her head. Now, she was completely naked, if not for her sandals.

I mean, I knew consensual snuff had become legal in the States after it did in Canada and all that, but I didn’t expect Americans to be so casual about it!

After the consensual population control movement had gained traction in America, consensual snuff became legal all over Canada and the United States shortly after.

I had heard that Europe and my home country of England were also considering legalizing it. As the proud journalist I was, I had come to the States to investigate the trend, but I didn’t think someone would ask me to snuff them out as soon as I got out of the airport!

“So?” The girl asked me, grabbing her tits and showing them to me, “Are you getting naked or what?”

My pussy clenched.

“I… uh… I am not planning to snuff myself,” I said, and I don’t know why my mouth kept running on its own as I went and said, “Not yet.”

The girl smiled, “That’s alright, sweetheart, I just want you to fuck me and kill me. If you don’t wanna snuff yourself yet, that’s okay, just come and fuck me.”

Before I could answer her, she approached me, and her lips pressed on my mouth. Her tongue went inside to meet mine.

My hands instinctively went to her hair, and I felt her fingers go under my long shirt before they unbuttoned my shorts.

Her tongue left, and we stopped kissing just as she went and kneeled as she pulled my shorts down my legs. She helped me out of them, put her hands on my waist, and our eyes met.

I saw nothing but hornyness in her eyes.

Bloody hell, fuck it.

I went and pulled my panties to the side, showing her my dripping pussy. I still had one hand in her hair, and I pulled her to my crotch as I said, “Eat my cunt.”

“Hell yeah,” she said and put her mouth to my pussy—

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I gasped and moaned as she tongue-lapped my pussy before her lips grabbed my clit and sucked on it.

I was moaning loudly, pushing my pussy against her mouth and holding onto her curls as I pulled her harder without a care about the cars passing by, the people walking, or even the few that stopped to actually watch and even record!

Almost a dozen phones were pointed at us as they took pictures and videos!

I let go of the blonde’s head and pulled my shirt over my head. I threw it to the side, uncaring that it landed in the hands of another woman watching us. Then, I unhooked my bra and dropped it on the ground.

The only things left I was wearing were my sunglasses, my white socks, my shoes, and my pulled-aside panties!

I was fucking naked in the middle of broad daylight, being recorded and watched by dozens right at the airport entrance while a random blonde was eating my cunt!

The blonde ran her tongue once more up my pussy, reaching my clit. She kissed it and then moved her head off my cunt to look up at me.

“You’re so hot,” she said.

“You too,” I said to her.

“Can you lick my pussy too?” She asked me, “I want to cover your sunglasses with my juices before I get snuffed!”

“Get on the floor,” I ordered, and she obeyed without a second thought, laying on her back and spreading her legs wide.

I pulled my panties down and left them on the ground, feeling so liberated that I even went and spread my pussy with my fingers as I went on top of her, and felt my knees touch the hard, hot sidewalk as I put them around her head before I lowered my face to her wonderfully shaved pussy.

I put my hands around her legs, grabbed her ass, and spread her cheeks so both her cunt and asshole were there right for me and dove in.

My tongue met her pussy, and I lapped the delicious, tart and salty juices dripping off it.

“Yes, eat my pussy!” She cried out before she put her mouth back into mine and sucked on my clit.

We went feral on each other’s cunts, licking, sucking, lapping, and shoving our fingers inside each other, only caring about feeling pleasure and giving it back.

I felt two of her fingers go deep inside my cunt, and felt her nails rack the interior and press on just the right places making me moan like the bitch in heat I was!

I grabbed her clit between my teeth and ran the tip of my tongue all over it, making her squeal like a whore!

“This is so hot!” I heard another woman say, and I then listened to the sloshing noises as she masturbated to us.

Bloody hell, I was so close! I was so close!

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” The blonde beneath me screamed, and suddenly a stream of juices and golden pee poured out of her pussy as she shoved her fingers in my pussy, fucking hell!

“I’m cumming too!” I cried out as I squirted all over her face!

My orgasm burned through all my nerves and all my neurons as I was left wanting more and more, so I went and drank her girl juices with joy as she did mine.

She ran her tongue on my pussy one last time and squeezed my ass before she said, “Let me up, I need to snuff myself!”

I went and got up and then offered my hand to her and helped her, which promptly became a sensual kiss as she embraced me and our lips met.

I tasted my juices on her tongue, but we ended the kiss as she grabbed my hand and guided me to the self-snuff station.

“Please finger fuck me, and when I cum, press the button and snuff me!” She said, putting her head inside the hole.

I pressed myself to her side, rubbing my pussy in her leg as I went and kissed her neck before three of my fingers went their way and slowly penetrated her cunt.

She moaned and put one hand against the machine while the other went to rub her clitoris.

I fucked her with my hand, going hard and fast without mercy as she kept moaning, crying, rubbing her clit, and shoving her ass against my hand to make me fuck her harder and faster.

The red button was in front of my eyes, glaring at me. I was unable to look away from it as I rubbed my pussy faster and faster on her leg.

Bloody hell, I was about to press that button.

Bloody hell, I was about to snuff this random woman.

Bloody hell, I wanted to snuff her so much!

She moaned, and her ass slammed faster against my hand “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m close! I’m close! I’m so close! I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum so much! Press the button when I cum! Snuff me when I cum! Kill me!”

I felt in my hand as her hot juices and urine exploded out of her pussy and all over my hand as she screamed in a maddening orgasm.

“Kill me! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Snuff me! Cut my head off and snuff me!”

I slammed my palm on the button.

“Kill me! Kill me! Fucking kill me, bitch, I’m cumming, and I want to fucking die—“

CLACK!

The whole machine shook once, and her headless body fell and spasmed on the ground, squirting and still cumming juices from her pussy and now also blood from her decapitated neck!

Her body continued to spasm and cum before her feet slapped the ground, and her cunt raised, peed one last golden squirt, and dropped.

She was dead.

I snuffed her.

I killed her.

I couldn’t stop masturbating.

I kept rubbing my clit and made the mistake of looking at the hole on the self-snuff station…

I want to put my head in it.

Bloody hell, I want to snuff myself.

I needed to know what it felt like. I needed to experience the blade cut through my meat and kill me as I had the ultimate orgasm. I wanted to kill myself!

“Are you gonna snuff yourself already, or can I go first?”

I shook, startled as I turned to look at a naked woman, just as blonde and cute as the one I snuffed, who was also masturbating like me.

I realized she wasn’t the only one. Various other women in different states of undress lined up behind me to snuff themselves. Some were even fucking each other too.

“I…” I stopped rubbing my clit as a sliver of sanity returned to my head now that the woman had startled me.

I knew what I needed, what I truly desired and wanted, but that second of hesitation was enough to scare me.

“I… I ain’t going to snuff myself,” I went and said it, somehow regretting it.

“Okay?” The other blonde said, “Then move out of the line. I want to cum and die already.”

I moved out of the line and watched as the blonde shoved the corpse out of the way without a thought and put her head inside the machine before she started masturbating again.

I walked away, stealing glances as I tried to recover my clothes. My panties, shorts, bra, and suitcase were where I left them, and I put them on, but I couldn’t find my shirt.

Before I could walk back to the taxis, I made the mistake of taking one last glance back.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cum—!”

CLACK

The other blonde’s orgasming, decapitated body dropped on the ground, squirting and spraying her juices at the girl next in line.

I gulped and walked away, wearing only my shorts and bra but feeling no shame.

I came to the States to investigate and write an article about the consensual population control trend.

I will write my article, send it to my editor in London…

And then I will snuff myself.

Implied themes: >!decapitation, masturbation, violence against a trans woman!<

Depicted themes: >!asphyxia, beating, bone breaking, cbt, dubcon/noncon, F/M, free use, M/F, misogyny, oral sex, public nudity/sex, transphobia (debatable), vomit!<

Sweat droplets roll down Lucy's temples, but she can't wipe them away. Her hands are wrapped tightly around the handles of the gym equipment, shoulders pressed against the vinyl back pad, lungs working with a forced steadiness as her abs flex, legs lifting and lowering with a practiced rhythm. She lets the sweat fall, focused on finishing her set. She doesn't like referring to the equipment by its proper name - captain's chair. Feels too silly. Might as well poke out an eye, strap on a patch, and start throwing around “ahoy"s.

98... 99... 100.

Her sneakers clack against the floor as she drops, taking a swig from her water bottle and swishing it around as she rolls her neck. Her hair is drawn back in a ponytail, and her toned arms and midriff are on full display in her sports bra and yoga pants, glistening just as much as her sweat-slicked forehead. She grabs a paper towel to wipe down the machine before moving on.

Legs - check. Abs - check. That means it's time for upper body and cardio. She looks around the gym. As expected, most people here actually want to exercise, so there’s no ridiculous array of female corpses lining the floor or draped over the machines, no orgy to accompany all the sweating and grunting. This isn't some cheesy porno, just an average gym.

But that doesn’t mean it’s some den of celibacy. There are scattered blood stains - some dating back over a decade, others still not yet dry. One girl over in the boxing ring has undoubtedly already broken several bones and likely won’t make it home tonight. Cocks, cunts, and tits are on display as people of all genders strip to keep cool while working out, and of course a few are taking the opportunity for a quick fuck. But it’s hardly an orgy.

In fact, one such display catches Lucy’s eye. A woman is doing her best to benchpress while her spotter stands over her in nothing but a tank top - totally nude from the waist down, and clearly more concerned with ramming his dick down her throat than minding her quivering arms. Lucy feels her cock begin to strain against her pants and smiles.

A sharp whistle crosses the gym, and Max looks over to see the cunt who’d so brazenly drawn attention to herself. She’s short, fit, with a ponytail and some sexy gym gear - and she’s staring directly at him, curling a finger to beckon him closer. The bitch has some serious guts to be so assertive - or, judging by the bulge in her pants, perhaps serious balls might be more accurate.

Still, though, he finds himself intrigued by her boldness, and she is pretty hot. Pulling his dick out of the warm mouth of the exercising woman below him, Max delivers a hard punch to her inner elbow, quickly making it buckle, the heavy metal bar smashing down onto her trachea. She writhes, pinned in place, eyes bulging, fighting for air, trying frantically to lift the bar and free herself. Max adds some extra weight to both sides before heading over to meet Lucy.

Before he has a chance to say a word to her, the cunt grabs a fistful of his shirt and yanks him forward, dragging him after her as she moves across the room. He digs his feet in, grabbing her wrist indignantly and ripping himself out of her grip. “Hey, what the fuck! The hell's your problem, slut?”

Rolling her eyes, Lucy quotes, “Membership Agreement Section One, Paragraph E: Platinum Member is permitted unrestricted access to the Recreation Room during valid business hours, not subject to the Session Reservation limitations applied to non-Platinum Members. This entails unrestricted use of the Recreation Room Facility and all related Equipment, including any and all Fucktoys on Gym premises.”

Glancing at the platinum badge pinned to her waist, Max scoffs. “I'm not a fucktoy, dumbass. Who the hell do you think you are?”

She grabs his shirt again and pulls him in, glaring into his eyes mere centimeters from his face. “Section Three, Paragraph F: Failure or resistance on the part of a Fucktoy to comply with the commands of a Platinum Member constitutes a breach of this Agreement, in which case Fucktoy's Membership is rendered void. Section Three Paragraph A: If found to be in violation of these terms, Fucktoy will be subject to immediate termination of both Gym Membership and life.”

Why the fuck does this bitch have so much of that memorized? Max grits his teeth when she grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks him forward again. He's about to pull free when it dawns on him that there had been no specific gender identifiers for the fucktoy in that chunk of legalese. Huh. Then... she's probably... allowed to do this? That's... interesting. Different. In the time it's taken him to puzzle this over, Lucy has dragged him the rest of the way into the rec room.

Sometimes referred to colloquially as the sparring room or the playroom, the recreation room is the size of a basketball court, albeit with a lower ceiling. The floor is padded, the dull grey walls lined with racks of weaponry - from staves and nunchucks to swords and spears, scythes and axes to knives and hammers, even brass knuckles. Nothing long-range like bows or guns, though. The point isn't just to torment sluts, after all; it's to get a workout while you're at it.

Lucy's beaten up her fair share of fellow women in the rec room, of course - both before and after her transition - but they all break so quick. She has to crunch two or three cunts into bloody pulp to make the workout even worth it. Ever since she realized the poorly phrased rules technically allow her to use men, she vastly prefers them over their frail, dainty counterparts.

She shoves Max to the floor, making her way to the nearest weapon rack while he stumbles his way back to his feet. There are already a few other pairs spread out across the room, though he can't help but notice that the other groups are all men beating women, like it's supposed to be. He wouldn't be surprised if-

His train of thought cuts off suddenly as something heavy slams into the back of his knee. He falls, clutching his leg as he screams in pain. “What the fuck!!” he yells, looking up to see Lucy standing over him with an aluminum baseball bat. Pointing an accusing finger, he says, “That hurt, you fucking skank!”

In response, Lucy simply swings like she's aiming for a home run, snapping the offending digit backwards like a twig, smashing several other knuckles, and breaking his wrist with a satisfying crunch. Another pained cry erupts from Max as he cradles his busted hand, tears now streaming down his face. “Think you could maybe go a bit easier on-”

Reversing her grip on the bat, she smashes the thick, blunt end of it into his lips like it's the head of a hammer, dislocating his jaw and filling his mouth with blood and broken teeth. Doubled over on the padded floor, he has to cough to get some of the tooth fragments up from his throat to clatter to the floor with the rest.

“Stop fucking talking already,” Lucy commands.

Max looks to the other men in the room for help - surely she can't do this, right? But one of the men just addresses his tormentor, gesturing to another part of the room. “There are gags on the far wall.”

“I know,” Lucy responds. “I shouldn't be long, if you don't mind the noise for now.”

The stranger shrugs, leaving Lucy to her business and dashing Max's hopes for rescue. The woman makes a few practice swings in the air above him, almost taunting him with the hint at what's to come. Rolling her shoulders, she finally orders, “Get up.”

It hurts like a motherfucker, and he has to awkwardly place as much weight on his good leg as he can, but Max manages to shakily rise back to his feet. He's barely up for a second before the bat slams into his stomach, knocking him immediately back to the floor.

“Get up.”

She has a very authoritative voice. Much as he hates the cunt, he can't help but admire her a bit. Fighting to pull air into his lungs, he forces himself to stand. Another blow to the abdomen, this one a bit further to the left. “Get up.” Slam! This time he's pretty sure one of his lower ribs snaps. “Get the fuck up.” Another hit, he's doubling over, losing his lunch across the mat, but Lucy nods approvingly as he remains on his feet, straightening up without her needing to tell him. She hits him again as he struggles to regain his balance, sending him sprawling once more.

While he’s down, she takes the opportunity to peel off her sports bra, relishing the wave of coolness as the open air hits her perky b-cup chest. The cloth is already damp, but she balls it up and uses it to dab the sweat from her forehead. Her dick had gone soft as the blood moved up to her arms, but she feels it stirring again looking at the hot gym bro coughing crimson onto the grey floor. God, what a magnificent instrument the baseball bat is.

She's never been one for the actual sport itself. Nor any sport, for that matter. No, her appreciation for the sleek, simple weapon began when the villain on her favorite tv show used one to beat the holy fuck fucking fuckedy fuck out of one of the heroes. She's jerked it to that scene more times than she can count. But she's always been mildly disappointed that the fictional man went straight for the head. One solid blow to the skull like that, the brain gets too jumbled to feel anything else. Hardly an effective means of torture. That's why Lucy prefers to save the head for last. Draw it out.

She gives her face one more rub with the bra before tossing it aside, turning her attention back to Max. He’s still on the floor, panting, making no move to rise. She sighs. “Failure or resistance on the part of a Fuck-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” he grunts, slurring slightly around his busted teeth. He pushes himself back up to face her. If he survives this, he's lodging a serious complaint about the wording in those contracts.

Lucy swings, and swings, and swings, mostly focusing on his torso to avoid rendering him useless too quickly - though she does shake things up with some limb-breaking shots to fight the monotony. She lets herself get angry, injecting some serious force into each strike, knocking him flat on his ass over and over and making him get back up each time.

She never gets to blow off steam like this, not since transitioning. So many daily frustrations to vent, but she can't even throttle the fuck out of some cunts to keep herself sane anymore. Hell, even when she was a guy herself, other guys were super off-limits. But this isn't a guy, it's a piece of gym equipment, and she feels no remorse for using it for its intended purpose.

She has him hold out his good arm and she switches to swinging lefty to splinter his ulna - a nice compound fracture that tears through the skin, sending a splash of blood arcing after her bat. She can't hold back a quick triumphant laugh. “Fuck yes!” she cheers (at a considerate and respectful volume, so as not to disturb her fellow gymgoers). “Nice!” She follows up with another hit to the same spot, giving his radius a matching break and leaving the arm dangling uselessly.

Each impact ripples up her powerful arms - such a satisfactory, tactile response, such immediate proof that she still has some control over this world. She sees this stranger being crushed beneath her might, and she pictures every little inconvenience she’s encountered in her life, every hurdle, every questioning glance she’s received. Everyone she’s wanted to punch in the face but known she can’t.

She smashes more ribs, obliterates his collarbone. The heavy, dark bruising that gradually appears on his stomach is a promising sign of internal bleeding. Eventually it becomes impossible to keep her boner down, until she gives up, reaches down, and rips open a hole in her yoga pants to let the poor girl breathe unrestricted. She peels her nuts from her leg, giving the sweaty sack a playful jiggle before getting back to work.

In fact, that gives her an idea. Her workout's close enough to done now, so she doesn't really need him standing anyway. Lining up, she swings the bat like a golf club, delivering a devastating blow directly between the man's legs, breaking his pelvis and instantly turning his nuts to jelly. Well, breaking the pelvis, at least. The other bit might just be the fanciful imaginings of her horny mind.

Either way, he's a crumpled ball on the floor now, trying and failing to cup his aching nads with two fucked up hands. A dribble of precum lands on his leg as Lucy positions herself over him, eager to finish this workout so she can go jack off already. With barely a second to register the agony in his testicles, Max feels a fresh pain as his hip fractures under another swing, then his ankle under another.

She goes to town on all his unbroken bits, strands of hair flying free from her ponytail as she pummels him with powerful overhead swings, going at him like she's chopping wood. She beats the ever-loving shit out of the guy until her chest is heaving from exertion, then finally grabs him by the hair and yanks him up into a kneel.

She's not a tv villain, she has no monologue to recite before cracking open his skull with a single devastating blow. He collapses once more and Lucy, arms shaking, manages three more reps. The sound of metal on meat and bone reverberates thrice more throughout the room as she splatters the stranger's grey matter across the floor. After the final hit, she pauses to catch her breath, feeling her arms throbbing with the pulse of blood.

She takes a long drink of water before turning to go. She doesn't even stop to admire her handiwork, walking away and leaving the fucktoy to its final twitches. She got her workout, that's all that matters. Her phone buzzes, and she frowns a bit to see the notification summoning her to the men's locker room fuckstop. Damn. No jerkoff sesh after all.

Before making her way out, she does take the time to run a sanitizing wipe over the handle of her bat, clearing away her sweat. She makes no effort to remove any of the blood from the business end before returning it to the rack still dripping. Membership Agreement Section One, Paragraph A: “Member will use provided sanitation supplies to clean up their sweat after using equipment.” Says nothing about blood.

Dead woman walking or no, Lucy always follows the gym rules. No exceptions.

Jack: "Welcome to Snuff Connection! I'm your host, Jack Reaper. With me today is Liv. How are you, Liv?"

Liv: "Nervous and horny, Jack. That's the best way I can put it. Just knowing I'll be dead within an hour is making me wet!"

Jack: "So you're looking for someone to fuck and snuff you, right?"

Liv: "Oh, yes! I've fantasized about this for years and finally decided to go for it. And on national television, no less!"

Jack: "Well, we're thrilled to turn your fantasy into reality today, Liv. Any preferences for your snuffer or the snuff method?"

Liv: "I'm bi, so real cocks and strap-ons work equally well in my holes. As far as the method, I'm dying to be decapitated or hanged."

Jack: "Good to know. As you can see, our studio has plenty of guillotines and gallows. The only question is, who's going to snuff you? I see several hands raised in the audience. Let's ask these fine people how they'd go about fucking and snuffing you..."

Tell Liv what you'd do to her in the comments.

Hello dear readers.

A great announcement! A new story is published in my personal page. Ever imagined getting forced into chastity for a year? What would you be ready to do for your Domme? Letizia is ready to discover it, and Maximilian will endure the consecuences.

LOS Episode 13. A Story about Love and Death.
When the end is about to come, real emotions flourish and get exposed. A story about sex and temptation. A story about love and death

Illustrations performed by Vario-R

This is an exclusive story, only for my Patreons. You can find it here:

LOS, Episode 13. A Story About Love and Death (Complete, link to Patreon)

Else, you can preview it here:

LOS, Episode 13. Preview

Does anyone know some good cuckold stories, except where the wife/gf/daughter gets snuffed in the end? thanks!

I've been dating my GF for a while and I've been thinking it's time for me to snuff her, especially since she's been so interested in fuckstops lately. Every time we walk by one she just stares at all the girls getting snuffed. So I offered to snuff her earlier, and she just told me that she didn't think I would be very good at snuffing. I was offended at first, but she just told me that I had "the energy of a struggle slut" and that I would be better off being snuffed instead of snuffing anyone, since I would look cuter struggling and begging then I would actually being the snuffer.

Honestly it's kind of embarrassing, but I think she's right. Snuffing her sounds cool and all, but now that I think about getting snuffed myself I just get all these little butterflies in my stomach. She wants to go down to the fuckstops together and see who gets snuffed first and who gets a higher rating, and while I'm really nervous, it sounds really fun and just right for me. But some of my friends say it's a bad look, and it might start encouraging other girls to make their BFs get snuffed with them instead of letting them snuff them.

What should I do?

As the title says, my boyfriend will not snuff me. At all. He always tells me he will, but it never happens!

I tried getting him so mad he’d crack and kill me, tried explaining to him how it’d be the best sex he ever had, and quite literally begged him. And it still won’t happen!

Honestly, I’m tempted to go out and just let the nearest guy do it at this point. It’s so frustrating.

A snuff bunny on a date with a serial killer can't help but ask him about his... you know, body count.

Most recent stories:

Anonymous Dreams and Equestrian Screams (MLP snuff, various forms of "noncon but they love it")

Cheerleaders by the Busload (vore, superheroine, snakes swallowing cheerleaders)

Asian Sisters' Biker Rape Hell (WMAF raceplay, M+/FF, sister incest, gang rape, stabbing)

Cherry and the Promise Ring (MFF, noncon free use, stabbing)

My story index.

Body Count

“One of us is going to have to change, you know.”

Tess almost jumped out of her skin at the low voice in her ear. She twisted in her seat to see the man behind her, banging her hipbone against the mall table she was sitting at.

Her date put his hands on her shoulders, settling her back into her chair, then took a seat across from her.

They were both wearing black hoodies. His was close-fitting around a broad chest and strong arms, emphasizing his physique. Hers was loose, over-large, barely hinting at the curves beneath. The sleeves fell down around her hands.

“You’re exactly like I imagined you,” he said after a moment. She flushed red and retreated into her hood, but he reached in after her, cupping a hand around her cheek, drawing her back out and making her look at him.

Her black-painted lips were slightly open, eyes hooded, squirming in her seat.

“Y-you too,” she said. “

He smiled, and the narrowing of his eyes in amusement made her bite her lip.

“What’s your, um…”

“Body count?”

Tess nodded.

“Three.”

Her heart sped up.

“And your… body count?”

“Three.”

“The same three?”

He nodded.

“Oh, fuck that’s hot,” she mumbled, then immediately clamped her hand to her mouth.

“Give me your bra.”

Tess didn’t think of disobeying. There was a faint red static in the background of her mind as she reached up under her hoodie, fumbled with the clasp, wriggled around inside the tentlike fabric until she could pull out her simple black bra and push it across the table towards him. They’d played these little games by text and by phone, him ordering and her obeying, but there was an insane thrill in playing it out in public. An intensity, an awareness of immediate danger that wasn’t there when it was mediated through technology.

“Stand up. Turn around.”

She obeyed. Thinking it’s what he’d want, she twitched her hoodie up to show her backside cradled in tight, tattered black jeans.

“Go to the bathroom and throw those pants in the trash.”

Fu-u-u-u-uck.

A few minutes later they were tucked away in a quiet corner of the mall. Her jeans and panties were in a mall bathroom trash can, her hoodie barely long enough to cover her ass.

His right hand was between her thighs, his left hand cupping her cheek, thumb between her lips.

“Tell me about the first one,” she moaned.

He leaned in close. “She was a skinny little blonde,” he said in her ear. “Little taller than you. She found me on a hanging site.”

“Ohhhh fuck, more, please…”

“She loved being strangled. I used to fuck her from behind while I wrapped a cord around her neck. She’d cum like crazy.”

“Did she know you were going to do it?”

“She thought it was all fantasy.”

“Oh God!”

Tess’s hips jerked hard against his moving hand.

“She didn’t know, oh fuck,” she breathed.

“I told her eventually. It was beautiful. She tried to fight, scratched me a few times. But I had her on her back on my bed and I already had the rope around her neck.”

Images flooded Tess’s mind, his hypnotic voice drawing them up from her fantasies. Poor little blonde slut on her back, the sudden realization that she was about to die warring with the cock sawing in and out of her pussy, the intensity of that last biggest masochistic thrill.

“I came inside her just before she died, and I felt her cumming around my cock as the light went out of those pretty blue eyes.”

Tess’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she came so hard she slumped forward against him, sagging into his strong arms.

Later that evening, in a dark side street on a wooded road, Tess was straddling his lap in the backseat. His hands were under her hoodie, exploring her body, feeling her breasts.

Her hands were between her legs stroking his erect cock.

“Tell me about the second one,” she said.

“The second what? Say it.”

His eyes locked on hers, a little smirk on his face.

“The second girl you snuffed.”

He brushed her hands away from his dick and began to rub it slowly up and down her pussy.

“It was a couple of years back. Cute teaching assistant in college. Brunette. Leggy. Glasses.”

“How did you figure out…”

“It was a history class. We were on the French Revolution. The way she talked about Marie Antoinette… It was obvious.”

Tess’s breath hitched in her throat. That was all it took. A little bit of yearning in her voice when she talked about a lovely young woman getting her head lopped off, and that was it. She was done.

“I followed her home one day and jumped her on her way in. She put up a little token resistance.”

“But you knew.”

“But I knew. And I pushed her down on the floor and pushed her legs apart and I could see it in her eyes. Just like I can see it in yours.”

“In mine?” Tess panted, glassy-eyed.

He just smiled, grabbed her hips, and thrust inside her. Then they were moving together, him rutting up into her juicy tightness, Tess bouncing her ass on his dick, their mouths on each other’s necks, his nails cutting into her back.

They rode in near silence, the car rocking as they fucked. Little wet sounds as he plowed her, soft hisses and moans, a whimper from Tess when he bit her neck hard, making her cling tighter to him.

“Want to hear how I killed her?”

Tess’s drawn out, guttural groan of lust told him.

“I let her cum a couple of times. And then I took my knife and set the tip right in the hollow of her throat.”

He gently stroked the same spot on Tess’s neck.

“And then I just… pushed.”

Tess came. As the orgasm washed through her she could almost see it, the desperate lust and need and terror, the way the girl must have wriggled. She imagined the girl’s hands on his, the illusion of resistance as the knife’s tip pressed in.

Then agony, and jets of red, and the final involuntary thrashing as her body fought for life and he grunted and pumped her full of murderer’s seed.

He bit Tess again, and the climax that lovely pain sparked inside her made her white out.

The rest of the drive passed in blur. Tess lay stretched out on the back seat of his car, smiling blissfully, not knowing or caring where he was taking her. She felt neither fear nor happiness when the car crunched to a stop, just a rising electric anticipation.

He opened the door and pulled her out, and she saw blackness of the forest around them.

He had put his mask on, and his eyes were bright above it.

“We’re pretty far out here, huh,” she said. Her smile twitched on her face, manic sensations surging in her body.

He grabbed her by the front of her hoodie and dragged her out of the car, walking with long strides into the woods as Tess struggled to keep up. He shoved her hard against the rough bark of a huge tree. For a second, she looked up at the stars through the half-bare branches. Then his hand was in her hair dragging her eyes down to meet his.

Tess made a mewing sound, and he snarled as he lifted her up, pinning her between his body and the tree. He thrust into her with a feral need.

It felt completely different than before, as if by putting his mask on he had shed his civilized persona. It was rough, and bruising, and cruel.

It was wonderful.

“I grabbed the third one off the street,” he growled in her ear as he fucked her. “I could fucking smell it on her.”

Tess gurgled, her head spinning with raw sensation.

“I dragged her into an alley and slammed her head into the wall a couple of times to shut her up.”

“What then?” Tess gasped.

“I raped her. Put my knife to her neck and fucked her until she was squealing like a little piggie.”

Tess gave a harsh whimper, imagining the scene.

“Did she cum? I woulda cum.”

“I didn’t ask. I just took my knife…”

He held up a gleaming length of steel.

“And I covered her mouth with my hand…”

He clamped his left hand over Tess’s mouth.

“And I fucking slaughtered that stupid cunt. Just like this, you fucking snuff cunt.”

He drove his knife through her hoodie and right between her ribs.

Tess screamed into his palm, writhing against the tree as pure red agony flooded her, radiating out from the icy spike he’d stabbed into her.

“Feel that, you stupid, sexy bitch?”

He twisted the knife, and Tess’s body seized up as she climaxed, her pussy clamping down on his hardness as he fucked her.

“You like that?”

She couldn’t reply, so he pulled his knife out, and she had a moment to see it dripping red in the moonlight before he stabbed her in the belly. The point went right through her, and distantly she felt it stab into the tree behind her.

She was mewling and screaming and begging wordlessly for him to stop, or to continue. Then a moment of empty pain as he jerked the knife free, and it was cutting through her, stabbing over and over as he fucked her to death with his cock and his blade.

He thrust deep inside her, and as he came inside her he pulled his knife back, stabbed it into her left breast until his hand touched her soft flesh, and twisted.

Tess’s mouth opened, and fresh hot blood spilled from her mouth into his hand as his white cum filled her womb.

For a few seconds they were floating together in a shared tumult of sensation, breathing hard as blood sheeted out of her wounds to coat Tess’s body under her hoodie.

Then he stepped back, and she toppled over to her side, eyes open, staring up at him as ice filled her veins.

“S-so cold,” she bubbled through crimson lips.

He knelt down by her, stroking his still erect cock. He rubbed it against her cheek, smearing blood and cum across her face, and some insane part of her thought How sweet of him as he drove his knife into her throat.

Tess spasmed, her limbs jerking in sudden need to live, and he laughed as he came again, coating her eyes and mouth with white ropes of semen.

Dimly she heard his footsteps leaving and returning. She took her last shallow, shuddering breath and died on the ground as he flung the tarp over her and began to roll her body up for disposal.

Carri was a tall girl with long, toned legs and deep blue eyes. The fair-skinned brunette had been a track star in high school but gotten a bit out of shape since graduating. For the last few months, however, she had been working hard to regain her athletic teen figure before the holidays, and she was ready just in time to interview for her dream job.

Donning a slinky festive red and green number that showed her toned midriff, she rushed to the mall, unsurprised to find it bustling with shoppers, merrymakers, and not a few sexy young job applicants like herself. Joining the line of hopeful girls, she arranged for someone to adopt her fish and take what little stuff she owned in her tiny, cramped apartment on her phone. The line moved slowly, and Carri's hands trembled slightly as she smoothed out her dress and preened, trying not to feel inferior to the many women in line.

Most were younger and cute, trending busty and short. Surely, I've got the corner on modeling athletic wear, right, she thought. She tried to relax. Carri reminded herself that she was only twenty-two and had another six years before the overmind could assign her to... no, best focus on the positive. She could get this job here and now! She could finally be snuffed tonight! To die gloriously and sexually, her corpse forever beautiful and on display.

The line moved until she was finally inside, out of the cold. She took off her heavy coat and looked about. There they were. The subjects of her envy ever since she was a little girl. The store's front was lined with mannequins, each dressed in gorgeous and fashionable attire. Some were headless, but most had beautiful dead faces wearing dumb, slack-jawed expressions with eyes that looked vacantly past the gawking shoppers and passersby. More than a few reached up to fondle the taxidermied mannequins.

A twinge of anxiety tweaked her stomach; was she up to these models' standards? Her nose was too big, and her hair was boring. Would she need to be decapitated? Most of the line of gorgeous corpses were big-titted sluts with dresses that showed ample cleavage, too. She looked down at herself and flexed her toned abs to watch the taut alabaster skin ripple into small ridges. Surely, this was more impressive than the buxom bimbos. Right...? Carri hoped the casting manager wasn't just after big-titted sluts for lingerie and evening gowns.

She watched a new mannequin being positioned and dressed. One job slot gone, she thought with a grimace. The dead girl only a few years her junior stared across the room even as her naked torso was manhandled. Her stuffed body stayed stiffly in position. by uncaring department store employees who forced her onto a platform, one ignoring even a nipple brushing his cheek as he hurried to dress the lifeless slut.

Carri blushed and squirmed, pushing her strong thighs together at the feel of her pussy moistening as she imagined her own dead body being so roughly handled. But she bit her lip and pushed on, ever closer to the casting agent's office. Now that she could watch the cadaverous models she always aspired to join, hours passed quickly. Soon the redhead in front of her entered the office. Five minutes later she left crying, and it was Carri's turn.

The casting manager, a thin, serious man sat on an easy chair in a surprisingly otherwise empty room. He appraised Carri's body critically as she walked in and closed the door. He gestured to her, and she dutifully spun slowly, showing off her assets.

"Well, you're fit enough for sportswear, but your nose is too big and that mole is ugly as fuck," he grunted.

"My beauty mark?" Carri asked, too surprised to stop herself. She'd always thought it made her distinctive.

"Beauty...ha!" he sneered. "You sluts don't understand beauty. You just assume you're special."

Carri fought back tears, her shoulders shaking and fists balling. It was so unfair, but she couldn't give up yet. "I can be a headless model though." She suggested, instantly abandoning her long-held vision of her big blue eyes staring blankly at adoring customers.

The manager looked up, finally showing some interest. "You really, really want this job, eh?" She nodded. Reaching down and grabbing his cock, he continued, "Well, show me how much. Make me cum and MAYBE we'll put you on display." He unzipped and pulled his flaccid dick out. "I bet you're too pathetic to even get me hard," he sneered.

"Really?" Carri was surprised. Not that he'd want a sexual release, but... "You'd accept a defiled slut as a mannequin?"

"Bitch, the guys fuck all the sluts before they are taxidermied. Hell, most get a few dickings per week even after, though titjobs are preferred since that's the only part left soft. Which is exactly why you're not all that useful with that lithe, muscled physique. Dead tits are better than flaccid abs."

Carri stepped forward, kneeling between the man's legs, intent to prove herself worthy. Bending forward to gently brush his soft penis with her lips, she kissed and sucked on it to coax it to life. The casting manager watched for a few moments before rolling his eyes and pulling out his phone, not even caring about Carri's ministrations as she slurped on his cock. Still, she was encouraged as he hardened, her mouth filling with the man's dick as he grew harder and longer. She suckled with all her skill, wishing she'd taken fellatio classes as an elective in high school instead of body-sculpting. He finally started breathing heavily and looked into her eyes before nutting into her mouth with a grunt and a smirk. Pulling back, Carri swallowed his cum and stood up, satisfied she'd gotten the job.

She wiped her hands clean and smiled. "When will I be decapitated and taxidermied? I bet I'll look great modeling sportswear or swimsuits." He gently touched herself as she thought about it. "Will I-"

"That's all, thanks" the man sighed, tucking his cock back in. "Come back in the summer and try harder."

"But..." She fought against a sob and failed. "But you came inside-"

"Any cunt can suck a man off. You didn't even strip or use your pussy, so clearly you don't want this job badly enough."

"You defiled me, and you won't even snuff me properly?" Carri said through tears, trembling and shaking with confusion and anguish.

The man shook his head dismissively and pointed to the door. "Take a breath mint and you'll be as mediocre as new, you fucking slut. Now shut up and get lost." He turned back to his phone and ignored her.

Carri turned and walked out the door without looking back, devastated. All her hopes and dreams were shattered. She'd wasted so much time slimming down, but she should have been trying to fatten up her tits. Maybe she could add a cup size without getting a belly if she ate more and did crunches non-stop until bikini season? Or would she never get her dream and have to just seduce some man to snuff her before she turned twenty-eight... Birther age.

A single glance at the hopeful faces of the remaining applicants in line broke her. She was sure they all smirked at her as she covered her face and wept imagining their young naked dead bodies being roughly fucked, manhandled, dressed, and displayed instead of her own. Feeling pathetic and ugly, she rushed out, bumping into a few people in her rush.

A strong hand grabbed her as she fled. Looking up, she saw a short, modestly plump man in a long brown robe and beret gripping her upper arm. Wordlessly, he scrutinized her form much like the casting manager had, except this one ran his hands reverently up and down the hard curves of her body, brushing her hard abs, grabbing her small tits, and kneading at her strongly muscled arms and thighs. Was he thinking of snuffing in her? It wasn't how she'd imagined it but, well, she'd take anything at this point.

After a few moments of tactile examination, the man grunted. She struggled to find the right words, but he spoke first. "Come with me, slut," he said softly, pulling on her arm to lead her away. She followed willingly. What else could she do?

The stranger brought her to a small studio in the back of the mall. They stopped outside of the big window of an art gallery being set up, naked bodies of gorgeous young sluts piled along one wall like so much trash, but a few propped up on literal pedestals. Several more pedestal spots were empty.

"I'm doing a series on different types of beauty. I have a muscle slut," he nodded to a dark-skinned corpse with toned limbs, a flat belly, and a round ass dropped across a work table. Brown nipples pointed at the ceiling as the dead girl sprawled tits-up on the rough wooden surface, pussy lips spread and moist, the artist no doubt having fucked her recently, "but I think you're core is better and your figure more feminine, if less curvy."

"You're a body artist?" Carrie asked breathlessly, wiping at her deep ocean eyes with the backs of her hands. She was stunned at the collection of lifeless women on display, all in peak shape and stunningly beautiful. Even if they lacked the clothes she had fantasized about, Carri would be proud to have her naked corpse in such an exhibit, displayed like the sexy works of art that they are. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

"Well, dollifier professionally, but I'm breaking into the scene."

"My naked corpse will be taxidermied and displayed in the gallery?"

He scoffed. "Taxidermied? Don't insult me. I'll plastinate you. Your flesh will be forever soft, your muscles firm. I'll put a warmer in you and replace your joints with smart bearings. I'll be able to make you stiff and cold or as warm and limber as a fresh kill forever. I'll display you, fuck you, whore you out, or dress you in whatever ridiculous outfit works for my gallery... At least until I find someone better. But it's a damn but better than being a cardboard-fleshed mannequin for a mediocre department store with no vision."

Carri's knees buckled. Her twat pulsed a warm gush of moisture that dampened her panties and ran down her thighs. This was more than she'd ever hoped for. The artist reached out an arm to catch her as she fell forward, but she righted herself. "That sounds amazing. But... I mean, if you don't mind, can I be headless?" She asked softly, ashamed to be making demands.

The artist glanced at her eyes as if evaluating a lump of clay. "You sure? Your lovely blue eyes would look so adorable staring stupidly past me as I fuck your corpse."

Carri nodded. Shed thought the same until that horrible manager had made her doubt her facial beauty, and now all she could think about was men passing by her artfully slain and displayed fuckdoll body, commenting on her big nose and ugly mole.

The artist shrugged. "Fair enough. That might draw focus down to your core and belly anyways. That's where you really shine". Without waiting for her to respond, he drew a bitch knife and sank it into Carri's throat in one swift motion.

Her eyes widened as the sharp blade transvered her neck to severe the base of her spine, the tip finding cool air behind her. She went numb and cold. Tingles of electricity needled her phantom limbs. Her killer moved so quickly and skillfully that Carri felt her body fall away and her head lift after only three strokes. He held her barely-living head aloft by the roots of her chestnut hair, and she caught a glimpse of her lithe, drooping corpse supported under her arms by the artist. A torrent of blood flowed down over the small curve of her bust and ridges of her toned midriff to stain the festive, scanty dress on her torso wilting against him. He didn't seem to care as he tossed her head aside. The world spun until she landed inside a rubbish bin, her last sight decaying food and plastic, but her rapidly dying mind filled with glorious visions of her sexy body being cruelly used and artfully posed on display at the gallery. Carri died alone and discarded, but oh so happy!

The artist stripped her naked in the hallway, carefully cutting her clothing free with his knife while his free hand caressed her body, groping her butt and fondling her abs as the decapitated neck stump slowly stopped bleeding. Once she was nude he tossed her clothes in the bin atop her severed head, hoisted her limp corpse over his shoulder, and strutted into his workshop. He tossed her carelessly onto her back atop a redheaded slut so Carri sprawled out and her spine arched over the corpse, her legs dangling off a corner.

His hands cupped and squeezed her petite breasts. He pinched her pink nipples. He molested every inch of her fit body. Then he fucked her lifeless pussy hard until he came into her tight cunt. He slapped her firm thighs and ass cheeks as he pumped sticky goo into her lifeless cunt, admiring how her flesh jiggled ever so slightly. Then he stood her upright, letting her corpse slump off his softening cock. The artist scraped the cum off her dick on her bloody chest, wiping it clean on another slut's hair, and left to find more subjects to kill, fuck, and display.

The plastination process took a week, and Carri's corpse took more than a few dickings during that span. When the artist was ready, he set up the gallery, posing the dead girls in sexy and provocative positions. He placed Carrie's athletic body up against the dark-skinned girl, arranging them as if they were racing in the nude. He titled the piece "Pulling Ahead." It was not the most popular display in his offering, it got good reviews and a few chuckles, and some patrons paid to play with both dead subjects, easily covering the cost of their snuff fees and plastination supplies.

Carri's head was incinerated along with the trash later the same night she died, but her toned torso spent the next three centuries being fondled, fucked, repositioned, and dressed in various outfits over the years, staying as fresh and beautiful as the moment he'd sliced her head off. The artist's works were eventually moved out of the mall gallery and into museums and art galleries around the globe. Her body was ultimately replaced by a truly spectacular Amazonian Latina's corpse and sold to a private collector, where it sits slumped against a desk, invitingly naked and spread-eagle to pleasure visitors during boring meetings even now. Even though she's long been forgotten as a person, Carri would be elated to see her body still occasionally fondled and fucked.

The End