M/F, Consensual, Eager, Beheading, Strangulation


Visiting the Elysium Snuff Resort had always been one of Julie’s dreams, the biggest (and, given the nature of the resort, the last) item of her bucket list. Just… not like this.

For all but the richest and most glamorous, the barrier to entry was the cost. Elysium had a reputation to uphold as the snuff resort. Even with the prices heavily discounted for snuffees, a reservation could easily run the average person’s life savings— not that the average snuffee would need to save that money for anything else, but still.

To an up-and-coming model and influencer like Julie, having the means to come to the Elysium Snuff Resort was as much an aspiration as it was a goal. Really, becoming a model in the first place had been a means to an end. That end, being, her end at Elysium Snuff Resort.

The cruel, tantalizing irony of being able to come, but not participate, was not lost on her.

As the resort’s automatic double-doors slid open, Julie was blasted by the aggressive air conditioning, far too much for her sheer blue bikini to keep her warm. She let out a long, exhausted, frustrated, horny sigh.

Beads of water fell from Julie’s long, blonde hair as she squeezed her ponytail with a resort towel. Some droplets fell on the resort’s opulent, gold marble flooring. Others, onto Julie’s lithe, sculpted body, painstakingly crafted via the strictest of diet, workout, and lifestyle routines.

It had been a long day of photoshoots and filming. Her agency had fully booked her schedule for her stay at Elysium. Brand deals, ad spots, social media posts, scripted video logs… Elysium was the perfect backdrop to practically anything and everything. From the agency’s perspective, it had cost them quite a pretty penny to send Julie here, and they were going to get their money’s worth.

Julie’s stunning beauty was turning heads as she made her way through the hotel’s hallways. Elysium had a culture of free use and free snuff— but, with limits, chiefly for legal reasons. As Julie raised her right arm to fix her hair, or adjust her bikini, or any other motion that made her hand visible, the black wristband signaled to any of her prospective partners that she was not on the menu. After all, her agency didn’t want their merchandise damaged.

She stepped in the elevator and pushed the button for floor 15, though she held the door for another guest, holding a woman’s severed head under his arm like a beach volleyball.

“Floor 14,” he said. Julie pushed the button. “Wait, no, floor 21.”

“Did you upgrade?”

“Sort of.” The man motioned to the head he was carrying. “She was kind enough to give me her room.”

“Not like she’ll be needing it anymore.” Julie smirked, and stared into the dead woman’s face. Slack jawed, dull, glassy eyes, cum stains all over her face and hair, an adorable, sprightly beauty, probably fresh out of college. Lucky rich girl, Julie thought.

And the man, too, was quite the catch himself. He could’ve easily been one of her coworkers, a fellow magazine model. She couldn’t help but imagine his toned, chiseled body holding her down and having his way with her, or his thick, muscular arms holding her in a chokehold until she passed out or passed away. With one hand, his long fingers thrusting inside her pussy, sending mind-melding bolts crashing through her body; with the other hand, his fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing the life out of her, or caressing her chin as he snapped her spine—

“Want to join her?”

The man’s voice jolted her back to reality. Only then, did Julie realize she had started fingering herself over her bikini bottoms to her fantasies. “N-No… I can’t. I’ve got a black wristband.”

“That just means I can’t force you to do anything. Not that you can’t volunteer.” He glanced at her panties, soaked from more than the pool and shower, and raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Yeah, but my agency won’t let me.” The elevator bell rang, and the doors slid open. Julie waved a hasty goodbye and slipped out the door. Good timing, she thought. If she’d stayed in that elevator any longer, she probably would’ve given right in.

Another sigh.

Her agency had been good to her. She’d moved to the big city with nothing but an instagram account and a dream, and they took a chance on a girl like her. Not to downplay her own talents and skills, of course, but it felt wrong to stab her agency in the back like that.

Whatever. Julie resolved herself to go back to her room, sleep it off, and prepare for the next day’s shoot.

At least, that was the plan.

When Julie arrived at her room, she realized two things. One, she’d forgotten her purse downstairs. No room key, no wallet, no phone. Second, however, it seemed she’d forgotten to close the door to her room all the way shut.

Under normal circumstances, this would’ve immediately put Julie on high alert. She wasn’t stupid. In such a situation, there was a very real possibility that someone had broken into her room.

But right now, she was too tired and too pent-up to care. How fortunate, Julie thought. She could call up someone on the resort staff and have her purse delivered to her room.

And so, Julie pushed open the door to her room and came face to face with a naked man.

If the man in the elevator was a hunk, this man carried himself with the poise of a prince, with a slender, handsome build. His long, auburn hair had been tied back loosely. His bangs were swept to the side, behind them, a strict, cold stare.

“That was fast. I thought I’d have time for a shower and a quick smoke,” the man said. Julie noticed the towel around his waist and the steam flowing from the open bathroom door. “It seems the resort does its utmost to live up to its reputation.”

Julie just stared at him. Why was he in her room? What did he want? Why was he being so casual?

“Come in. And close the door behind you. I’m not much of an exhibitionist.” The man sat down on the hotel bed, and motioned for her to approach. “What’s the matter? You are the snuff slut I ordered, yes?”

The elevator, Julie realized. The man in the elevator had asked her to press the fourteenth floor, and she’d gotten off at the first available opportunity. She was on the wrong floor. Her room was directly above this one, and she’d simply been too worked up to look carefully at the room number.

She should go. She had to leave. She had places to be, a photo shoot to attend, a life to get back to. She had a black wristband.

One that she was slowly motioning to hide behind her towel.

How disappointed would her agency be? Her manager? The people who had stood behind her and believed in her all this time?

But what did they expect? Bringing Julie to a place like this, she thought, like a whisper from the little succubus on her shoulder. Julie had never explicitly mentioned it, but they’d known her long enough. They must have known how much of a masochist she was. How cruel it was to bring her here, of all places, for a stupid work trip.

Julie bowed her head. Still hiding her hand behind the towel, she tore the wristband off. “Yes, my name is Julie, and I’m the snuff slut who will be taking care of you today, sir.”

“Excellent. Come here and service me with your mouth. I want to see if your skills are as good as your looks.”

“At once, sir.” Tucking the torn bracelet in her towel, she set it to the side and knelt before the man who was going to take her life. Before she looked up at him, though, Julie took stock of the room.

The resort’s VIP rooms came fully stocked with weapons of all kinds. Blades, firearms, ropes, if you could name it, they had it. And clearly, this man was an important guest of some sort. Julie’s heart was ablaze with anticipation. She could almost feel the exquisite pain of cold steel carving her body up, the delicious scorch of a burning bullet in her skull, the dizzying euphoria of deadly oxygen deprivation.

Her killer was waiting.

Julie peeled away the towel covering his lower half and was met with a cock practically the size of her head and as wide as her forearm. Suffice to say, on the large side. But Julie was no stranger to oral sex.

She looked up at her killer and kissed his shaft, brushing her excess hair behind her ear. Pumping her hand slowly, she got to work.

Her mouth and throat fit around his cock like a glove, carefully sliding down to take him all the way down to the base. She struggled at first with his size, but gradually grew accustomed to it. All the while, there were never any gaps in her pleasuring. When she pulled back, when she came up for air, her hands took over for her mouth.

It was an impressive display, the man decided. He was, at first, intent on studying her motions carefully, to judge if he was truly getting his money’s worth, but quickly found himself distracted. It started with the loving stare she gave him. Those beautiful, stormy blue eyes, dazzling with delight. Those cheeky little smiles, woven between intense bouts of cocksucking. The way her whole body danced to support the bobs of her head, the way her tits and ass jiggled and were accentuated by that tiny, tantalizing, blue bikini.

He almost didn’t realize he was close. And he almost didn’t realize that he was, in fact, a tiny bit dissatisfied.

For all her eager effort, the snuff slut wasn’t sucking as fast as he wanted. Both of them knew it was due to his sheer size, but both of them knew just as well that it was no excuse.

Without saying a word, the man grabbed Julie by the ponytail and thrusted his hips, pushing her all the way down and stuffing her throat with his meat. It caught her off guard— and without a chance to take a breath. Another sharp sting at her scalp, as the man grabbed another handful of her beautiful golden locks and began fucking her skull in earnest.

With the ferocity of his motions, it was like her forehead was being repeatedly rammed into the man’s steel abs. Between the oxygen deprivation, the dizzying speed, and soft blunt force trauma, Julie’s head was spinning. The pain settled in, and she loved every moment of it. She threw her fingers inside her pussy and began fucking her fingers as fast as she could, her other, pinching her nipples as hard as she could.

Finally, as Julie was seeing spots, her vision fading, on the verge of blacking out, she felt a warm, bitter liquid flood her throat. With a grunt, the man came, riding out his first climax and cleaning off his cock with her tongue and lips. With a pop, he pulled his still-hard cock out of her mouth and released his grip on her hair.

Only barely conscious, Julie slumped down against the man’s thighs and swallowed, before coughing and gasping for breath. When she recomposed herself, she looked up at the man, still with that cold, strict glare. And yet, (but she dared not assume) his gaze seemed to have softened a bit, a hint of approval, of pleasure.

“How was I? Am I worth killing, sir?” Julie wiped off some of the fluids on her face— cum trails from her lips, mixed with the tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Hmph. I suppose a common snuff slut can only amount to this much, even if it has the Elysium guarantee,” the man said. “You pass. Lie down on the bed with your head hanging off, and savor your last moments.”

“Yes, sir!” Julie could not hide the excitement in her voice, as she watched her killer walk over to the glass case and choose her execution weapon.

His long, dextrous hands traced down from the top shelf, tapping at the glass as he decided against this, and that, and the other… finally, settling on a length of razor wire.

“An excellent choice!” Razor wire! Beheading, suffocation, or blood loss? Which was going to kill her first? She raised her head and presented his neck to him, as he looped the wire around the base of her neck. To Julie, it seemed to happen so slowly. The man pulled the wire, not taut at first, just enough such that her bare skin was fully surrounded by sharp steel, cutting ever so slightly into her.

He stuck his thumb in her mouth and pushed it open, and lined up his cockhead to her lips. Julie could feel the man pull the wire a bit tighter.

“S-Sir, may I touch myself?”

The man looked down at her with a cruel grin. “You were already doing that earlier. I don’t see why not.”

“You’re so kind, sir! Thank you—”

“You talk too much.” He sealed her mouth with his dick and cut off her last words. A few experimental thrusts later, he seized the wire, pulled it with all his strength, and sealed her fate. Unlike before, where he was forcing her into a deepthroat with her hair for leverage, now, the man used nothing but the wire and his hips.

Instantly, Julie’s neck felt like it was on fire. She screamed into the man’s dick with the last of her breath, her eyes rolling back with delirious delight. Her hands were once again hard at work, desperately trying to push her over the edge to her final climaxes.

With each vicious thrust, the wire cut deeper. The man could see the outline of his dick as it ravaged the inner walls of the snuff slut’s throat. His cockhead slammed as far as it could until meeting the resistance from where the razor wire had sealed her windpipe shut, as if her life had been reduced to a flesh condom.

Each time the wire sank further, new sprays of blood emerged from every side of the slut’s head. The force of his movements send the blood going everywhere, onto her body, her breasts, staining her lovely, slutty blue swimsuit crimson.

He transferred the wires to one hand and seized her tits. His fingers sank so perfectly into her soft flesh, yet they retained their shape all the same. Beneath her bouncing boobs, the man felt her heartbeat going wild, her body going positively berserk with pleasure.

For Julie’s part, she had long been consumed by orgasmic glee. As the razor wire bit further and further into her neck, her body spasmed faster, accelerating the process in which the blades cut into her, as if, even without her head, even without conscious thought, her snuff-slutty nature was encoded in her very DNA.

It wasn’t long before Julie’s head was connected to her body only by half her spine and nothing else, held up by nothing but the man’s cock stuffed in her mouth.

Pretty soon, the man realized there was little point to the razor wire. With one last yank, the wire severed her spine, and the man grabbed the snuff slut’s head to finish himself off at his own pace.

When he came, his shaft pierced all the way through her head. His cockhead ran through the back, sealed a moment ago by the iron grip of the razor wire, and came all over the slut’s tits and abdomen. Save a few twitches, her headless corpse was still.

She didn’t have final thoughts. She didn’t think of her agency, she didn’t think of her modeling career. Julie died with a cock in her skull, overloaded with masochistic ecstasy. The man pulled the snuff slut off his dick and looked into her lovely, slutty eyes, rolled back into her head, unfocused and hazy, but clearly still full of postmortem delight.

Perhaps his earlier assessment was too hasty. The Elysium Snuff Resort’s sluts really were top class. He would have to return again, someday.

Then, and only then, was there a knock on the door.

“Mr. Vinter, may I come in?”

“Enter!”

Another gorgeous woman, also clad in a lascivious swimsuit, entered his hotel room and shut the door behind her. “Good evening, Mr. Vinter. My name is Mariabelle, I’m the snuff slut who will be taking care of you—”

The new snuff slut spotted the headless corpse on the bed, still dripping blood on the floor.

“Shall I, um… return another time?” She swallowed, her cheeks flushed with passion at the sexy sight. In spite of her words, she approached him, plucking at the strap of her bikini bra with her fingertips and pulling it off her shoulder. “Or… are you in the mood for seconds?”