He’s already exposed me in every other way.
What’s one more?
“Stay back.” I say helplessly, my voice coming out smaller than I want it.
I search his face for evidence that my voice is doing anything to him like what his does to me.
He gives me absolutely nothing, and I can no longer tell just what the fuck I’m feeling anymore. Is it anger? Fear? Desire?
He reaches out and rips the pistol out of my hand. With a practiced motion, he disassemblesmyweapon, slides the firing pin back in, and racks another round.
Then, the pistol pushes into my mouth. The taste of metal and oil overwhelms me, and his hand reaches out until it clamps around my throat.
Now I know I’m truly at his mercy.
A slow, dark smile blooms as he starts to work the gun against my mouth.
In. Out.
I hate how helpless he’s making me feel right now.
I hate howwethe’s making me.
And I hate that he’s silent this entire time instead of taunting me.
Because if he taunts me, then at least I can have something to work with. I can find a way to hate him. But this? This exquisite torture where he unmasks just how badly I want him to strip away all sense of control from me as he takes whatever he wants, however he wants?
It’s maddening.
He continues to fuck my mouth with my own gun as his fingers begin to tighten around my throat. The pressure is precise and practiced.
In. Out.
I can feel my arousal starting to run down my legs now. I wonder how he’ll kill me.
Will he choke me to death first? Or will he just shoot me?
In. Out.
That’s when my body betrays me one final time as a tiny moan escapes my lips.
The towel falls away until it pools around my feet, andthat’swhen his eyes dart down for a moment. Darkness hazes over in his eyes and I know he can see the slickness coating my thighs.
In. Out.
For a single, reckless moment, I imagine him pulling the gun out of my mouth and shoving it into my soaked pussy.
I imagine myself coming against the cold unfeeling metal and that’s when I realize just how badly I want it.
In. Out.
My vision tunnels, and my legs buckle. He presses closer until all space disappears between us. My tight nipples kiss the rough material of his shirt and sends pleasure ebbing through my body. But it’s not enough.
His powerful knees force my legs apart and pin them by my thighs. Cold air caresses my pussy.
The gun presses deeper into my throat, and I can’t stop another moan punching out of my throat against it.
Then my hips start to move, seeking contact with something, anything, to relieve the painful ache of emptiness inside of me.
