Time Loop Snuff Doll (M/F, noncon to con, choking, beheading, mutilation, revival)

—-

At the sound of her alarm, Corrina woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Her fingers quivering, she reached up and touched her neck. She was alive. She could breathe.

Slowly, Corrina took in her surroundings. It was her room. A twin-sized bed took up nearly a third of the space in her apartment room. Next to her work desk, a small rack of assorted weights, resistance bands, and a rolled up yoga mat. To her side, her alarm clock read 6:00 AM— her usual wake-up time, for her morning exercise regimen.

Corrina was an avid athlete, and took great pride in her commitment to personal fitness. A yoga routine to start the day, biking to and from work, a spot of weight training in her free time, and a jogging route in the evenings to clear her mind. All her life, Corrina had worked very hard on herself—

But it didn’t matter last night. Or was it tonight?

The last thing Corrina remembered before passing out was the sensation of fingers around her neck.

Someone had been following her on her evening jog, she was certain of it. Corrina had been fairly confident she could outrun them, outmaneuver them, outfight them, if it came to it. But she’d been wrong.

The assailant had followed her into that alley, had slammed her head against the moldy brick wall before she had a chance to respond. Blood flowed from the massive cut in her forehead, blocking out sight in one eye. It hurt, a dull throbbing pain. She was dizzy. Adrenaline and primal fear clouded her judgement. Corrina could hardly register what was happening to her.

A tug at her waist. A horrible tearing noise. Corrina looked down with her non-bloodied eye— her joggers were around her knees, half her panties dangled around one of her meaty thighs, the other half in tatters on the ground. The assailant caught Corrina looking and slammed her head into the brick wall again.

She saw stars. This couldn’t be happening, she thought. The abject horror and denial was met with another sharp blow to the head. Corrina blacked out for a moment, slipping in and out of consciousness as the assailant’s strong, firm hands groped her ass, her legs, her inner thighs, and threw them open painfully fast. Corrina didn’t know it at the time, but her slit was dripping.

Corrina was roused from her temporary respite by the rhythmic shaking of her body. She was being pounded from behind, pressed repeatedly into the wall as it ground against her, as the dick in her pussy violated her. Blood from her forehead soaked into her sports bra— all that was left of her clothing. While she had been unconscious, the adrenaline had soaked out of her body.

All that was left was pain. It hit her all at once, as her rapist fucked her harder, and harder. The agony was unbearable, a hot, searing pain that left her unable to think, unable to do anything but scream.

And unable to do anything but moan.

But the rapist wasn’t looking to attract attention. As Corrina’s cries transposed to moans, he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed with all his might. Corrina’s voice went silent at once. But the lack of oxygen had an unexpected side-effect— as her brain cells began to die, as the rapist continued using her toned, lean body as a cumrag, a tingling numbness began to flow throughout her.

Corrina’s brain, damaged by oxygen deprivation and head trauma, could no longer form thoughts. But she could feel. She could feel good. And she could want more. Her inner walls squeezed his shaft as hard as he squeezed her neck, as the both of them got closer and closer to release.

Her eyesight began to fade. But she was so close. She was so close, he fucked her harder, and she…

At the sound of her alarm, Corrina woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

As she looked around her room, Corrina confirmed the date on her phone. October 25th, the same date as the previous morning.

Was that a dream? But it was so vivid. As she recalled the details, a luminescent blush spread across her face, arousal and shame in equal measure. That must’ve been it. She must’ve dreamed of being raped and murdered. She never knew she was such a pervert, used like a whore in some dirty back alley like that, and choked out and discarded like a disposable sex doll.

It was so embarrassing. It was so violating.

It was so hot.

-

Corrina could remember everything she did that day. Everything that happened at work. Every stray email, every surprise phone call, sudden demand, all of it lined up with her dream, as if it were a premonition of what was to come.

That thought lodged itself in her head and refused to let go. If it was a premonition, surely she knew what was coming next. There was no way she could focus on her work after that.

She raced home after work, had a quick bite, and changed into her joggers. But before she went out the door, she stopped herself.

If that dream was real, she was heading out to her death. She was going to be killed. She was going to be raped, beaten until she was barely conscious, then strangled to death. Every last ounce of reason was screaming at her to stop. To stay home. To do some evening yoga, to relax, to at least bring some fucking pepper spray.

Corrina stopped herself. She shut the door, and went back inside her apartment.

And she was out the door five minutes later. Underneath her sports bra and joggers, she slipped on a set of frilly, gorgeous lingerie. It was horrible for running in, the way it dug into her flesh and constricted her movements.

But it accentuated her supple, full breasts. It cut into her meaty hips. It highlighted the contours of her firm ass, curvaceous and juicy from a lifetime of training.

If she really did have that encounter, maybe it would help her special someone get even more into the mood. Corrina didn’t bother locking her apartment door and set out on her jog.

-

“Someone’s prepared,” the rapist growled. “You didn’t wear this last time. Were you gonna meet someone after this?”

Just like last time, Corrina had been stalked and followed to the back alleyway. Unlike her “dream,” however, this time, she was pinned from the front. As her bare back ground against the wall, she got a good look at her attacker— an older guy with long, shaggy hair. Beneath his baggy clothes, she could sense his chiseled build. In another life, perhaps they could’ve been workout buddies.

Probably not this one, though. If the state of her clothes was any indication, torn to shreds and her lingerie on full display.

“I…”

“Or what, you got all dressed up for little old me?” The rapist seized her neck. “I’m flattered.”

As the rapist forced himself onto Corrina, she found herself moaning openly. Perhaps it was because Corrina was not resisting in the slightest, but he was much gentler this time— not that it was a high bar, given that he had quite literally killed her previously. Still, the scratches from the rough brick wall on her back and butt began to bleed. When her moans were too loud and threatened to attract passerby, he would slap her across the face to silence her.

Corrina couldn’t get enough.

“Y-you can be rougher,” she moaned.

As if he needed permission, he thought. No, perhaps, from another perspective, it was more of an invitation, a reminder.

He exited her dripping wet pussy, grabbed Corrina, and threw her backwards on a nearby set of boxes. Corrina wanted to whine about the sudden orgasm denial, but the man stepped up to her face as it hung backwards off the edge of the boxes.

He slapped her across the cheek with his dick, fully erect, nearly the width of her wrist, Corrina thought. The man lined up the point to her lips and forced his cock into her mouth, his pace just as feverish as before. As he fucked her throat, he could see the tip of his cock ravaging her neck, running up and down.

Corrina’s head was spinning. She could barely breathe.

“Damn, your throat’s loose. You must be such a whore.”

The man gripped Corrina’s neck and tightened her throat walls around his shaft. Corrina’s airway was completely sealed, now. With the last bit of conscious thought, she reminded herself to stick her fingers in her slit, masturbating with all her remaining strength. This was it. This is what she’d been looking forward to all day.

She felt like she was floating, as the electric climax tore through her body. Her muscles spasmed, her tits bounced everywhere, her legs thrashed against the boxes, as she felt the first splashes of white-hot semen in her cocksleeve of a throat.

And then her consciousness faded away.

And then she woke up at home, to the sound of her alarm, in a cold sweat.

-

Corrina met him in the alleyway at the same time once more. This time, she had abandoned all pretense that she was going for a jog— she’d carefully done her makeup, she’d picked out a new lingerie set and garter belt, hidden behind nothing but a body-length trench coat.

“So you are remembering these time loops,” he remarked.

“Yes,” Corrina said. It came out like an admission of guilt.

“And you still come out here.”

She nodded. A fierce blush crossed her face. It was so shameful, but she couldn’t deny what she wanted.

“I brought you something.” Corrina presented her purse to him. She’d packed a few weapons. Not for her use— but for use on her. Slowly, she drew a small pistol, and a pocketknife “Do you like them?”

The man studied the pistol first. A cruel smirk. He slammed the butt into her head. “You dumb bitch. You want everyone to hear the gunshots? You want every cop in the area to come running?” The man held the barrel up to her temple. “Not a damn chance. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, got it?”

Corrina could only whimper in agreement.

The man threw her against he wall. Behind her, Corrina could hear him flick open the pocketknife as he began to fuck her. She felt the point of the blade cut into her thigh. “Why don’t I care a reminder into you?”

“P-Please!”

He slammed the knife into her leg. Blood gushed down her thigh, past her knees, down her hamstring. The muscles she’d worked so hard to maintain for her whole life, the leg strength that she had trained every single day, snapped, cut, destroyed, just like that. All to pleasure this sadist, who had killed her twice. A man whose name she had yet to learn, whom she was about to surrender her life to for a third time.

The knife hit bone. She lost strength in her leg and nearly collapsed, but the man pressed her against he wall with his thrusts. He stabbed her again and again. A lung puncture. A knife wound in the gut. In the arm, across a finger…

Corrina came with each one. As she howled with ecstasy, the man bludgeoned her with the gun once again.

“How many times am I going to have to tell you to shut the fuck up?”

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He held the edge the knife against the side of her neck. A chill ran down Corrina’s spine. “You don’t seem sorry to me.”

“I am! Please!”

“Convince me.”

She leaned into the blade as it cut open a tiny crimson ribbon in her neck, mixing with the gore from the rest of her stab wounds. Corrina gathered herself, racking her brain, fighting against the rapid blood loss that would surely kill her soon.

But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to die like this. She wanted him to do it.

“124 Parade Street, Apartment 12.” Corrina’s teeth clattered as she spoke. With each word, she could feel her head getting heavier. Her voice worked faster, and more frantically. “It’s my address, there’s a spare key beneath the welcome mat. I live alone, my neighbors work, there won’t be anyone to interrupt us there! You can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want! I’m yours!”

The man pressed the knife deeper into her neck, and began thrusting into her again. “Good answer.”

With each thrust, the blade carved deeper and deeper into Corrina. She could feel her neck muscle fibers snapping, struggling to keep her head upright as her new owner slowly beheaded her. The instant the knife caught against her spine, a white-hot orgasmic frenzy claimed her body. She was a corpse before he finished sawing her head off.

-

Corrina woke up getting fucked.

Her owner was in her apartment— no, her cage, his sex dungeon. As she looked around, her body was already partially mutilated. Her pitiful pocketknife was nothing compared to the tools her owner brought with him. A hacksaw, machete, garrote, a silenced pistol, a baseball bat, all the snuff options she could imagine, he was prepared.

Her pussy was stuffed full of cum, too, not a drop outside. After his latest orgasm, he pulled out and took a breath.

Corrina sat up, and tried to position herself on the mattress to clean off his shaft, to show her devotion. But she fumbled, not realizing which parts of her body were no longer connected. For instance, before she’d woken up, he’d cut off one of her hands— it was on her desk, covered in jizz. He must’ve used it to jack off.

She fumbled into the sheets, falling short of her owner’s dick. Corrina could hear his tongue click.

“You dumb slut. The only thing good about you is your body.”

Her body, yes. Her body, that she had dedicated her life to maintaining, to shaping, to refining. Corrina had believed that fitness was her hobby, that she liked to exercise because it felt good, because it gave her goals to work towards.

But as she lay before this man, she knew she was mistaken. Working on her body was her purpose, because it belonged to him.

Corrina crawled over to his dick and began to lick, staring up at her owner with a loving gaze. She had lost count of how many times she’d been killed, and how many times she’d woken up again. Because none of it mattered, so long as she could continue to serve as his snuff doll.