It was just supposed to be a Halloween themed bondage video, how was I to know it would turn out to be an actual snuff film?

Everything started out like a routine fetish video shoot, the producer paid my thousand-dollar modeling fee upfront, in cash, and led me to the dressing room. From our email discussion, I already knew Iíd be wearing latex, so the outfit came as no surprise. Since heíd inquired about my size, the latex tights, strapless bodysuit, collar, wig and matching high heels, all fit me like a glove. Staring at my reflection in the dressing room mirror, even I had to admit to myself, I looked smoking hot.

Returning to the set, the propís person greeted me, and proceeded to lock my wrists behind my back. Then, he led me over to the pool of bright light at the center of the set. I was surprised to see four expensive HD video cameras arrayed around me, as he locked the padded steel cuffs around my ankles securing me to the ring bolted to the setís floor.

As my eyes became accustomed to the bright overhead lights, I started to notice all the bones scattered across the floor behind me. I instinctively knew that they had to be fake, after all this was a video set, not a charnel house. Still, the huge number of bones was a bit worrisome. While I knew I was playing the part of the doomed damsel in distress, I didnít have any lines, but the director assured me Iíd do fine, just before he shouted action.

Out of the shadows approached a man dressed as Michael Myers, that darkly twisted horror from those Halloween movies. That white face concealing mask, the industrial looking jump suit, even the work boots and of course carrying that large menacing knife.

Reaching me, he roughly grasped me by the throat with his left hand and lifted me as high off the floor as the chains linking the restraints locked around my ankles to the ring bolted to the floor would allow.

I struggled to breathe, his strong grip growing tighter around my throat, making breathing almost impossible. It was in that moment that he stabbed that knife into my belly, a sudden overwhelming explosion of pain, as that razor-sharp blade slid effortlessly into my guts. He held me like that for a timeless moment, with his knife hilt deep inside me, then slowly started twisting that blade back and forth.

Sensing that I was growing weaker by the second, he relented and pulled the knife out of my belly. I thought he might merely allow me to bleed to death, but I was wrong. Repositioning his blade, he stabbed upward just below my ribcage, the razor-sharp blade sliding through my diaphragm and deep into my chest. With the first twist of his blade, my next exhale filled my mouth with the hot coppery taste of blood. Glancing down, I realized the blade of his knife had pierced my right lung, each fresh twist of his blade doing mortal damage. As I hung there dying, I wanted to spit my blood into his face, but that oversized ball gag filling my mouth made it impossible.

The last thing I remember, was the sound of his knife hitting the floor, as he pushed his fingers into my belly, his hand and forearm slipping upward through the knife wound in my diaphragm, the sudden unbelievably painful tearing sensation in my chest. Then, the indescribable realization that he was holding my still beating heart in his hand, as I lost consciousness and died.

Every night, this is the moment when I awake, the wetness of my arousal already soaking the sheets. On the edge, that first touch of my fingers triggers an unbelievably intense orgasm. Still, itís just a darkly erotic fantasy, isnít it? I guess, when I go to tonightís video shoot, weíll see...