She felt that she was going to die here the moment she stepped into the cheap motel.

To be honest, she felt that way every single time in the year she'd been doing this. From the first time she agreed to meet up with a chat partner on reddit for enough cash to pay her bills and have a proper meal, and every single time after. And if she were even more honest then that might have been a reason to keep doing it. Sure, the money was good, even after she dropped out of university and paid off her loans. She definitely didn't do it for the human contact. Most of her clients didn't want to talk, or even just told her to shut up. She didn't do it for the sex. It was rough, painful and degrading. Okay, perhaps it was a bit for the sex. But mostly it was for the thrill. She could be arrested any time, and that was the good scenario. Meeting up with strangers for money in hotel rooms known for their lack of cameras and security, without backup, without pimp, without protection... anything could happen. That's what made her cunt wet every time she put on her stiletto heels and little black dress to take an Uber to some shady place.

She'd walked in through an empty lobby. The area so undesirable that the few guests they got this time of year didn't even warrant an attentive night manager. Probably just some kid jerking off in a back room until somebody rang the bell. The elevator didn't require a key card and smelled of piss. The hallway reeked of mold instead, half the lights not working. She did a quick check in a cracked mirror. Her makeup was cheap but on point. Her blonde curls framed her innocent looking face. Her tits filled out her deep cleavage. Her fake diamond necklace accentuated her fragile neck. She looked more expensive than the entire hotel combined was worth and felt more trashy than it looked. Just the way her clients liked. Her cunt was bare, smooth and wet under her dress. Her heart beating in her chest, she felt as ready as she'd ever be. She just hoped that only her cunt would get fucked this time. She always said no to anal, but lost count of the times somebody took it anyway, and having her throat fucked always made her sound like a chain smoker for a few days. Fingers crossed it'd be an easy night, but knowing her luck she'd probably get roughed up. Not knowing was the thrill.

She knocked on the door and took her position. Hands clasping her purse in front of her, eyes down, back straight. She heard the door open and knew not to look up. Men liked her acting submissive, it brought out something primal in them, it let them enjoy taking her more. She just saw his shoes, then they stepped back out of sight, making space for her to enter the room and take her 300 dollars for the use of her body for a couple of hours. She stepped forward and repeated in her mind the mantra that kept it so exciting "I'm going to die here". She was right.

The moment the door closed behind her she felt a fist close in her hair and swing her head into the wall hard enough to leave a dent in the plaster. An explosion of pain flashed behind her eyes, not yet shocked or hurt enough for her knees to give way. The hand pulled her head sideways and then slammed it into the wall again, adding a smear of red to the dent. Her legs getting weak now, she finally realized she was hurting and started to raise her hands to her head, breathing in to scream. What felt like a train hitting her stomach made her exhale with nothing but a whimper instead, the edge of the cheap desk bruising her abs as she got pushed down onto it, her head hitting the wood, and the world went black for a second. Her head pulled up, she could see a few drops of her blood fall on the desk, and then it rushed back up to meet her face and the world went black for longer.

Pain in her ass woke her up. Every. Fucking. Time. Even though she said no anal... And then her throbbing head brought her out of her dizzy return to consciousness. She tried to reach for her head, but found her hands unable to move past her midriff or to her front, loosely tied together behind her back. Another thrust into her ass made her grunt. Not even the decency to fuck her cunt first and use her juices as lube, the bastard. She tried to breathe in to scream again, but a hand in her neck pinned her down right away, the pressure on her chest only allowing a little bit of air into her lungs. She forced herself to relax, to let it happen, and hoped it would be over soon. She'd never been hit in the head this hard, but it wouldn't be the first time she had her ass raped. Sure enough, it didn't take more than a few minutes of thrusting into her and a few punches to the back of her head before the pace increased and grunts behind her indicated it wouldn't last much longer. "Go on then, fuck my ass, harder, that's it.." he probably didn't even hear the encouragement, but at least it made her feel like she was in control, that she let him fuck her instead of having it taken from her. And just as she thought it was almost over, the world became a blur as he threw a thick plastic bag over her head. He came inside her guts as he pulled the drawstrings tight and the plastic bag got hermetically sealed. He pulled out and rolled the duct tape around her neck, securing any small gaps that could still let some air in, and threw her on her back onto the bed.

She lay there immobile for a few heartbeats, trying to figure out what just happened. Her legs spread by the pain in her ass, her dress pulled up around her waist, her arms tied behind her back, loose enough to try to pull free, but tight enough that she couldn't reach her neck no matter how flexible she was. Her face was still visible through the clear plastic, but the growing panic in her eyes was slowly getting fogged up with every breath. She could finally scream but it sounded faint. She could finally struggle but in vain. She could finally see her rapist but only through a layer of plastic and condensation. And with every breath, every scream, the air got a little bit thinner. Her breath soon turned to gasps, her struggles soon turned into a panicked frenzy, her pain and anger soon turned into fear for her life. The man straddled her, just observing for a very, very long minute, and then punched her in the mouth. She broke. She knew. She was going to die here.

Her chest moved up in small bursts now, her aching lungs desperate for oxygen. Her body felt heavy, her muscles starting to cramp as she was getting saturated with CO2. Another punch in her mouth woke her up, her lips bursting, a splatter of blood painting the plastic from the inside. She tasted the iron, a fine mist of blood flowing into her lungs with every attempt to breathe. Another punch, and another. One hand around her throat kept her head in place while the other landed on her face over and over again. She felt her cheek split, her eyes knocked shut, her nose break and then crunch under the next blow. Her mind was already slipping away when her jaw shattered. Fragments of her face broke through her skin and pierced the plastic, allowing small amounts of sweet, fresh air into the bag, but too little and too late. Her struggles had dislocated her shoulder, ripped the bed sheets with her heels, broken a rib or two, but now all that was left was twitches and spasms. Still alive, but her brain shutting down, she had no more control over her body and only part of her registered the cock, hard again, sliding into her cunt and fucking her in her last moments. The hand around her neck crushed her throat, the punches to her face turned into wet, meaty thuds, landing on a plastic bag filled with blood.

When they found her two days later and the police finally showed up to deal with yet another dead hooker in a run down motel, two things stood out. The first one was the insane amount of bleach pumped into her cunt and ass, making every kind of DNA recovery impossible. The second was the correction to the initial report when the coroner finally cut off the plastic bag in the morgue and found out if was clear plastic completely painted with blood on the inside instead of a red plastic bag.