The tip of his tongue darts out, trailing my flesh as he moves down towards my breasts. “Don’t—” His teeth pierce the swell of my left breast before I can finish my pointless demand. I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut as he leaves another mark on my skin. Once he’s satisfied, he renews his path with his mouth, leaving hickeys on both of my tits and several across my stomach. And all I can do 1s just take it. Because that gun in his hand is keeping me pliant—,ust like he planned. When my body is well and abused from his teeth and tongue, he lifts up and forces my thighs open. I strain against him, but it only hurts me in the end. He’s too strong. His pointer finger curls in the edge of my thong, tracing the lining from the juncture of my thigh, down towards my center. Before he reaches my clit, he pulls the material out and runs his finger up and down the fabric, his finger a mere inch from my pussy. I want to cover my face because I know he’s feeling my body’s betrayal. “These are soaked,” he rasps out, his lips still wet from his saliva. “That’s called discharge,” I snap, hoping my lie turns him off. He smiles in response. “As much as I hate to say this to you, I’m no stranger to a woman’s pussy and what it feels like when it weeps for me.” I curl my lip in disgust. “Last time I checked, most girls weep because they’re upset. Take a hint.” He chuckles. “Little mouse, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He then pulls my thong to the side, baring my pussy to him, and the arousal glistening from within. He mutters a curse under his breath as his eyes devour every inch of me. Another tremble of my lips has me biting down on the traitorous flesh. Keeping one finger hooked in my underwear, he points the gun in my face with the other. I recoil, pinching my eyes shut and letting loose a startled yelp. “Relax, I just want you to suck on it.” It takes several seconds for his words to process. To process that he didn’t pull the 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.