Venom

023

TW in this chapter (this one has a lot of heavy stuff sorry not sorry): heavy degradation and praising, heavy edging, gun and heavy knife play, slapping and heavy spanking, blood.

"You know, I don't think looking at a gun with those eyes is a sign of mental stability," Dean said, noticing Helen's lustful eyes. She bit her lip, flashing a white smile. "But who am I to judge, after all?" he added, for he was the one who had had the idea of fucking her with a gun in the first place.

Helen was thrilled and ready. Her cunt already creaming, needy. "I never said I was mentally stable," she purred, looking up at him as he positioned himself more comfortably between her legs.

The barrell brushed under her chin, forcing her to lift her head to meet his shining eyes. "From this moment until I tell you otherwise, you will not make a sound. Alright?" he stated, removing the safe. One flicker of his finger on the trigger, and she'd be dead.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" he pushed.

She swallowed, her throat bobbing against the gun. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl," he praised her, sliding the gun between her breasts.

She bit back a moan when the cold metal brushed against her entrance. The weapon gleamed with her juice, and Dean felt himself harden even more - if that was possible - at the sight of it. He stretched out the gun over her mouth and she obediently licked it clean.
A second later, it was back between ger legs, rubbing her clit with the hard metal, slightly entering her sodden cunt. She pressed her teeth on her lip, squeezing her eyes as a moan burned her back, begging her to be let out in a scream.

The gun pushed deeper, her insides tangled in a painful knot of pleasure. Her climax was already building back up.
Dean leaned in, kissing her hip. "You're doing a good job, doll. Do you already need to come?" he asked, moving the gun over her wet folds. Her pussy clenching was answer enough. "Don't come," he ordered, and she let out a cry.

"Please," she breathed, muffling a moan under the word.
The gun slipped out of her and she cried out. "No! Please," she begged again, squirming to find pleasure.

He roughly slapped her thigh, leaving a red handprint. "Stop it. You don't deserve it," he growled, leaning over her and licking her wetness, already clenching again. "You still haven't learned your lesson, you little slut," he added, grabbing the knife from the bedside.

She followed his movements, sweat coating her hairline and chest. Helen licked her lips in anticipation.

"Now, this blade is very sharp," he started saying, sitting back between her legs. He barely touched the tip of the knife and a drop of bright blood spilled from his fingertip. "Which is perfect for what I have planned for you," he grinned, looking at his hopeless prey, spread out under him, ready to be marked. "This will hurt," he informed her, giving her one last chance to stop him.

She only smiled. "It better."

He scoffed and leaned over her mouth, kissing her. He didn't let her tongue slither in, pulling back from her tasty lips. "Who do you belong to?" he asked, his lips grazing hers.

"You," she breathed, trying to get his mouth on hers again.

"Exactly. This will serve you as a reminder. Forever."
Her hands were tied up to the bedframe with his belt. She whimpered, needing his touch now.
"Silence. You don't want me making a mistake, now, do you?" She shook her head. He nodded, then leaned over her hip, brushing the silky skin there.

He shifted the knife in his hand, pressing the blade on her flesh. Then he traced a short, straight line downwards, a line of blood following him. A drool of red gore slid down her side, staining the white sheets.
He looked up at her tight face. But she was being quite. Following his orders. When he lifted the blade, she was panting through a satisfied smile. Sadistic girl.