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trigger, and I’m not dead. When they do, my eyes snap open, and I glare at him.

“Why the fuc—” He taps the tip of the gun on my mouth, effectively cutting me off. The rest of my words dissipate as he slides the gun across my lips, as if he’s painting them with lipstick.

“Suck,” he orders, his tone deepening with finality. Closing my eyes against more tears, I open my mouth and let him guide the gun between my teeth. I squeeze my lids tighter as I twirl my tongue over the cold metal, cringing from the nasty taste.

“Such a good girl,” he says, pulling the dripping gun out, a trail of saliva following until it snaps.

My entire body locks when I feel the cool metal slide against my clit. I flinch against the foreign touch of an incredibly dangerous weapon.

Pure terror washes over me, and it takes all of my strength to keep from full on sobbing. Holding a gun to my head is far less intimidating than it being held between my legs. A gunshot to the head is instant death, but this? This would be slow and painful. Torturous.

He leans down, close enough for his hot breath to fan across my core. I lift up for a better view just as he looks up at me through long, thick lashes, his mismatched eyes sparkling with delight. Right when I open my mouth to ask what he's doing, he sticks out his tongue, saliva pooling to the tip and dripping off onto my pussy.

"Can never be too wet, can you, little mouse?"

Sitting up, he circles my entrance with the tip of the gun, the metal slipping against my skin.

“Oh my God, please do—” This time, my words are cut off from the feel of him dipping the gun past my folds. Just the tip, but enough to close my throat, only allowing a startled squeak to escape.

He laughs cruelly. “You even sound like a mouse.”

I’d snap at him if I wasn’t frozen solid. I can’t look away. I just watch him push the gun inside me, my rounded eyes barely processing what I’m seeing. What I’m feeling.

Slowly, he works the gun inside me, drawing out both pleasure and pain. I clench my jaw, shuddering from his ministrations but refusing to make a sound. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

He works the weapon halfway in before the gun retreats to the very tip. I’m allowed a moment’s breath before he buries the entire barrel inside me. I suck in a sharp gasp and let my head fall back, no longer having the strength to watch.

This is so, so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.

But when the gun pulls out and sinks back in again, a noise does slip through as a wave of pleasure rocks through me.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Open wider, baby.” The hand still holding my thong to the side nudges against my thigh. Without thought, my thighs instinctively fall further apart.

Another praise, but I barely hear it over the beating of my heart.

“I can feel how tight your pussy is. The way it grips onto my gun when I slide it out—so fucking pretty.”

I bite my lip, but it isn’t enough to hold in the next moan. Or the one after that. I can hear the suctioning and slurping noises as he fucks me with his gun, and shame fills me in response.

The embarrassment nearly overrides the fear. But neither of them is more potent than the pleasure my body is being forced to succumb to.

When he angles the gun in a particular way, he hits a spot inside me that sends my eyes to the back of my head and an unchecked moan to slip free.

He growls in response, my back arching as he continues to hit that spot. My thong grows impossibly tight, biting into my flesh before it’s ripped away from my body, the sound getting lost in another cry.

The tattered fabric is tossed aside, freeing his hand to grip my thigh in a bruising hold.

My heart jumps when he leans down, but he only clamps his teeth on my inner thigh. I cry out from the sharp bite, but it quickly morphs into pleasure when he hits that spot again.

His mouth sucks and his movements quicken until I feel the beginnings of an orgasm settle low in the pit of my stomach.

“Please,” I beg, but I don’t know what for. He tears his mouth away just to clamp down again, lower this time, but still far away from my center.

Too far away.

“Tell me what you learned, Adeline,” he demands, looking up at me, his mouth wet from his biting. The sight makes my heart drop deep into my belly, right to where the gun is driving into me.

“Not to bite your cheek?” I guess, my voice trembling.