Chapter Eighteen #3
I don’t know what he sees in my eyes—I don’t know myself what’s reflected right now except for sheer humiliation and pain—but it hardens his already harsh jaw and sharpens his already unforgiving features.
It makes him push the mouth of the gun at the seam of my lips as he says, “You called for me, didn’t you?
With this mouth. You screamed my name to come save you and I did.
So it’s time you pay the price. It’s time you open it when I tell you to open it and do exactly what I tell you to do with it, you got that? ”
I somehow manage to nod.
But it only enrages him further because he clenches his teeth as he continues, “So open those goddamn lips of yours and wrap them around the muzzle of this gun. And wrap them good, yeah? Because I want you to suck. I want you to suck it like I know you wanna suck me.”
“I d-don’t—”
He presses the gun so hard to shut me up that my lips get smushed against my teeth.
Then, with flaring nostrils, he says, “You like lyin’, don’t you, baby?
We’re gonna talk about that too. I’m gonna teach you what happens when you open your mouth and the first thing that comes out of it is a lie.
In fact, we’ll start now. Just for that pathetic fuckin’ lie, I’m gonna leave the safety off. ”
My eyes go wide and I start to shiver. Or maybe I was shivering this whole time, I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t look away from him and his brutal but hypnotizing eyes. “Because you know it’s a lie, don’t you?”
I nod again.
His eyes go back and forth between mine.
“Yeah, you do. That’s why for the last two days, I can’t fuckin’ escape you.
Everywhere I turn, there you are, your big blue eyes, your golden hair, your buttercup fuckin’ scent.
There you are, lookin’ for ways to touch me.
Bandaging my wounds with your soft hands; pressin’ your ripe little body up against me on the horse, rubbin’ up on me like a cat in heat.
Asking for it, begging for it, drivin’ me fucking insane.
That’s what you wanted just now. You wanted my mouth. ”
I did. I do. He’s right. I didn’t realize it myself, not until a few moments ago, not until he spelled it out for me, but yes, I’ve been doing all those things for the past two days.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he rasps. “It’s because I ate your pussy so good that you’re addicted to it now.”
It should be embarrassing, but it’s not. Somehow none of what he’s saying is embarrassing to me. Maybe because I’m past all that now. He’s stripped me of dignity, tied me up naked so that I don’t have any shame left.
“So how about you show me how much and maybe I’ll give it to you.
Suck the mouth of my gun like you wanna suck me.
” His voice drops lower. “And I’m not just talkin’ about my lips.
Suck it like I know you wanna suck somethin’ else, somethin’ much harder.
As hard as this loaded gun that just saved your life. That fuckin’ saved my sanity.”
If words alone had the power to do it, I’d be branded.
I’d be tattooed with them. Every single depraved and humiliating word would be written on my skin.
As it is, I know I’ll never forget them.
Not until the day I die. Or the fact that as depraved as they are, I still find myself obeying him, and I do it because I could hear the hitch in his voice at the end there.
His sanity sounded like s-sanity.
And I know somehow, as scary as he seems right now with the gun in his hand, he’s also scared. Still scared of what could’ve happened. So I open my mouth and wrap my lips around the muzzle of his loaded gun.
And suck.
His nostrils flare the first time I do it.
The second time, his jaw clenches, and on my third suck, I feel his chest vibrate with a low growl.
When I notice a flush painting his sharpened cheekbones next, something happens to me.
Something strange and new but also old and familiar.
Something that tastes like this metallic object he’s making me suck but also like a quickening in my lower belly.
It’s heavy and sticky, swollen and wet.
It’s my pussy. It’s pulsing down below, throbbing from this lewd thing I’m doing. From the way I’m swirling my tongue around the barrel, vacuuming it in my mouth, trying to drink from it like I would if we were really kissing.
I have to clench my thighs at that. And since my thighs are bare just like that throbbing place in between, I make a mess.
I’m all wet and leaking and my thighs slip against each other.
They also make a wet, slick sound that causes me to suck the gun harder.
It causes me to open my mouth wider and go up and down the barrel, gagging myself on it.
Or maybe it’s him who’s making me gag on his gun, shoving the thing in and out of my mouth, pumping and pumping.
I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t just pretend that I’m thinking of kissing his mouth.
This is a full-blown sucking, and yes, I’m pretending to suck his dick.
And at this, my body goes in search for it outside of my imagination and I begin to rock against him.
Or rather, against that bulge in his pants that I swear is growing harder by the second.
Just like his breaths.
They are wild and violent, gusting against my spine.
I moan and writhe and suck the gun harder.
I realize my chest is wet with my saliva, all greased up and slippery, and I wish my arms were free so I could wrap them around the gun and go at it even harder.
I wish I could hug it between my breasts and use my spit to go up and down.
I wish I could suck on his real dick the way I’m sucking on his loaded gun.
It’s a harsh wake-up call when he pulls the thing out of my mouth and leaves me bereft. I hate it so much that my eyes open and I whimper. I roll my head back and forth in protest, but he shushes in my ear. “Shh… It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“But I—”
“I know,” he whispers, his arm around my waist tightening and squeezing, pressing me against his frame even harder. “I know, darlin’. I know you want it.”
“I do. I do. Please, please,” I whine, grabbing the rope and trying to arch and rub up against him.
But instead of bringing it closer, he moves the gun even farther away from where I want it. It goes lower and lower on my body, leaving a wet trail of my own saliva as he whispers against the side of my face, “I know you wanna suck it, but it isn’t the real thing, yeah?”
“But—”
“Shh,” he goes again, his tone gentle and soft, a little bit amused too.
“I know. But listen to me, this isn’t my dick no matter how much you want it to be, baby.
And trust me when I say you don’t want it goin’ off in your mouth like my dick either, okay?
So how about you calm down some and let me give you what you want. ”
I know what he’s doing.
I know he’s trying to handle me. Because this is what he does when Rocky gets agitated about something or doesn’t want him to check his hooves. He talks to Rocky, using the same gentle, indulgent tone that he’s using on me.
I probably should say something, something like I’m not his horse or filly or whatever it is that he keeps calling me, but I don’t care. I don’t care how crazy I look right now or how amused he is at my desperation; I want it.
I want him.
So still writhing against him, I ask, “Your d-dick?”
His breath escapes in a low chuckle. “My baby’s got a one-track mind, doesn’t she.”
“You—”
“Not a big fan of guns; I like my knife better. But my baby made me a convert. All I had to do was point a gun at her and she went from being a sassy, pain-in-the-ass wife to my personal little porn star.”
I jerk at his words and from the fact that he’s brought his gun down to my tummy, and at porn star, he presses the muzzle into my belly button. “You—”
“Nah,” he corrects himself. “She became my personal little porn star the moment I licked her pussy.” I moan and twist my hips as he keeps going, making imaginary circles on my belly with his gun.
“If I had known that, darlin’, instead of stabbing that motherfucker for touchin’ you, I would’ve just flipped your dress up and ate you out in front of him.
You moaning out my name while squirting down my throat would’ve probably sent a better message that you’re mine. And you are, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, you are.” He nuzzles the mouth of his gun in my tummy as he chuckles again.
“And I can tell you one thing, that sheriff would’ve creamed his pants watching you come for me but he wouldn’t have dared come near you.
Because everyone knows, no law, no country, not even God is allowed to come between a man and his wife’s slutty pussy. And you’re that, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whine again, rocking and rocking and rocking my hips, every curve in my body jiggling.
“You’re my wife.”
“I am.”
“And yet you keep runnin’ from me.”
“I won’t. I won’t. I promise,” I say, rolling my head back and forth on his chest. “I won’t run. Till death do us p-part.”
“That a vow?”
“Yes, it is.”
He hums. “What else?”
“I’ll listen to you,” I say, my eyes almost in a trance, blinking open and shut.
“Good. What else?”
“I’ll do what you tell me to do.”
His chest goes up and down with a satisfied breath. But then, he goes, “That’s all good, baby, but that’s not what I want and you know that. I know you know that.”
“But I…”
I feel him going down with his gun, lower than my belly button, skimming my pelvis before actually touching me there.
Right where I’m wet and pulsing. And I’m so wet and pulsing that the barrel almost slips through my core.
It almost slides through it, and just as he begins to run it up and down, he says, “Give me what I want.”
“But Arsen, I—”
“Give it to me.”