Jilly looked the picture of cuteness as she approached her boyfriend Mike's house, wearing worn trainers, a tiny miniskirt of roughly six inches in length and a crop top that ended about an inch under her pert breasts, with a large oval cut out to display her cleavage. Her brown hair was done in two pigtails.

She knocked. No answer. She unlocked the door with the extra key that Mike had given her and entered - sure enough, Mike was out. She sat on the sofa petulantly and looked around. Her eyes fell on Mike's PC. Well, that'd be one way to pass the time.

She hopped into the chair in front and booted the computer up. She began looking for a photo folder, hoping to find pictures bringing back memories of the times they'd spent together - and, of course, giving her the chance to admire the body that she loved to show off. She came across a folder titled simply "pics" and opened it, a slight smile forming. The smile soon faded. These were not the kinds of pictures she expected.

The first one she looked at was a drawing of a busty woman having her head cut off.

The second was a photo of a model, manipulated so that her head was lying on the ground and blood was spraying from her stump.

Jilly's eyes went wider and wider as she looked through the folder. Every one of these images showed a woman's head being cut off, most often in a heavily sexualised context. A number of the women were naked. Some were actually having sex as they died.

So Mike had a secret. He fantasised about women being beheaded.

Jilly carried on looking through the folder, unable to tear her eyes away. Then she came across another photomanipulated model. No, wait - was it? It looked like it could have been real. The next few photos showed the same woman, from different angles. Some showed her head. This was real. Her boyfriend had photos of a real beheading victim on his hard drive. He was aroused by them. She carried on looking - more photos of different victims.

Then she noticed a text document. She opened it up. It was a story that Mike had written. Her mouth opened wider and wider as she read it: Mike was the main character, and the story he cut off her head.

She heard the door opening and quickly closed all of the windows before jumping out of the chair. She faced Mike as her walked in and managed a faint smile, her heart beating faster than she knew possible.

He looked so sweet, so innocent. How could he be aroused by beheadings?

"Hey, Jilly", he said. "Didn't expect to see you here." His smile wavered as he saw that Jilly had been looking at the computer.

"You've been on the PC?"

Before Jilly could answer, a realisation came upon her. She was horny. Almost unbearably horny. The thought of putting herself in a position of ultimate submission for her boyfriend aroused her.

Smiling broadly, she strolled towards him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She stared into his eyes. She wanted to say it. She needed to get it out.

"Mike," she said. "You can behead me if you like."

Mike was silent.

"I saw those photos on your hard drive, I know your secret. And I want you to know that it turns me on."

Mike put his arms around her. She continued talking.

"When we first started going out, I promised that I would be at your disposal. From that day onwards I would exist for your pleasure. If you want to cut my head off, then that's fine."

Finally Mike spoke.

"You'd really be okay with that?"

"It's your right as my lover."

"I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I was scared of how you would react."

"You needn't have been. I'm proud to have a boyfriend who's willing to take his sex life that far. Too many boys with a fetish like yours would bottle it up for fear that their girlfriends would disapprove, instead of just being true to themselves and cutting the girls' heads off whether they like it or not."

Mike smiled. "Wow, you're a real masochist."

Jilly smiled. "If you want to put it like that, yeah." She paused. "What will you behead me with?"

"An axe," replied Mike. "I bought one a while back, hoped to use it in a photoshoot if I ever found a willing model."

He strolled to the end of the hall and rummaged in a tool closet, returning holding a large wood-axe in one hand and a wooden block in the other.

Jilly's eyes widened again. So this was the tool that would kill her.

Mike placed the block on the floor. Jilly's heart was fluttering like mad as she knelt in front of it and placed her head on top.

He raised the axe. And paused.

Could he do this?

She was there, kneeling at the block, ready for him to cut off her head. She wanted it. His darkest fantasy was within reach. But could he actually do it? Could he cut off the head of a woman?

His mind travelled back to his early childhood. For as long as he could remember he had been fascinated by beheading. With adolescence this fascination took on a sexual aspect. And now, it ha reached its climax: he would behead a woman for real.

He had to. This was a chance he could not miss.

And so he brought the axe down, cleaving through his girlfriend's neck and into the wooden block. Her head was cleanly severed and fell on to the floor. Her body tipped over sideways and began spraying blood. Eventually, the blood ceased to flow. There was no more movement. Jilly was dead.

Mike looked at what he had done. Jilly was once his girlfriend, now she was a headless corpse. This made her all the more attractive to him. He looked over her bare legs, bare stomach, exposed cleavage, raw stump. To him, a woman was never truly beautiful until her head was removed.

He picked up the head, every bit as pretty as it was in life. He kissed it.

He sat down to think. It was over. He had finally beheaded a woman, and would be unlikely to ever find another consenting victim. But how could he go back to normal sex when he had tasted the forbidden fruit, his ultimate desire?

Then he remembered what Jilly had said to him: that he had the right to behead any girl he liked whether she wanted it or not. Perhaps non-consensual beheading would be an even bigger kick.

His mind turned to Susan. Susan, the girl who he knew had a crush on him. Susan, with her huge black eyes, and her enormous ivory breasts spilling out of whatever tiny top she had squeezed into that day.

He pulled out his phone and dialled her.