Go for the Peacemaker

I throw myself toward the Peacemaker the second it skids across the floorboards. My bare knees slam down on broken plates and spilled cans, but adrenaline buries most of it beneath pure panic. The revolver spins once and then comes to rest nearby.

Mars and Lizard are still crashing into cabinets behind me, roaring and cursing and smashing holes into the tiny trailer while I scramble across the floor with my wrists still tied behind my back. I can almost feel the Colt in my hands already. Then Lizard sees me. “Oh, you sneaky little bitch...”

I touch the revolver first with my fingertips. That is all I manage before Lizard crashes into me from the side like a wild dog. His shoulder drives into my ribs hard enough to knock the air out of me while his hand clamps around the back of my neck. My face slams into the filthy floorboards beside the Peacemaker.

Pain detonates through my jaw. The gun skitters away again..“No!” I scream. Lizard kicks me viciously in the stomach before I can crawl after it. Agony folds me instantly. I curl around myself on instinct, **** for breath while the camper sways around us. Somewhere above me, Mars grabs the revolver off the floor with one huge hand. Lizard jerks me upright by my curls.

“She went for the fuckin’ gun!” he shouts. “Told you! Told your dumb ass she’d do somethin’!”.I gasp against the pain in my ribs while blood drips slowly from my mouth onto my chest. Mars looks down at the Colt thoughtfully. Then at me. Then back at Lizard.

Mars slowly opens the Peacemaker’s cylinder. The soft metallic clicks sound deafening inside the camper. One by one, he dumps rounds into his palm. My stomach drops lower with every bullet. Lizard’s grin slowly spreads. Mars leaves one round in the cylinder. “No,” I whisper.

Mars ignores me, snapping the cylinder shut. Then he spins it, the rattling metallic sound filling the camper while the chamber turns and turns. Lizard starts laughing again. Mars grabs my jaw with his free hand and forces my head upright while I struggle weakly against him.

His fingers feel like steel cables digging into my face. The Peacemaker rises slowly until the cold steel barrel presses against the center of my forehead. Cold enough to make me shake. “We let the Fates decide,” Mars says calmly. Terror floods through me so hard my vision blurs.

Lizard crouches nearby, practically vibrating with excitement. “Pull the trigger,” he says immediately. “Do it. Do it right fuckin’ now.” Mars watches me for a long moment while the lantern swings overhead. The camper creaks softly in the desert wind. The revolver never leaves my forehead.

Then Mars smiles a little. And cocks the hammer back. "You bitch," he rasps, shovinging me down onto my chest and kicking my legs apart. He doesn't bother with preamble, but shoves the cold, unyielding metal inside me, a brutal replacement for their own spent cocks. It's a shocking, deep invasion, all hard edges and impersonal chill.

"You better scream for this, you hell-whore," Mars snarls, his face a mask of sweaty rage. "You better shake and cry and cum all over this pretty toy. Or else I start pulling the trigger." He begins to work it, a crude, mechanical sawing motion that grinds against my sore, overstretched flesh.

The threat is real, but it's also a distraction. He's watching my face, waiting for the performance of broken pleasure. I let a choked gasp escape, my body arching in a convincing imitation of overwhelmed sensation. Tears, real ones born of raw friction and strategic effort, well in my eyes. "Please," I whimper, the word tasting like ash, "not this, not like this..."

Mars's grin is a gash of yellowed teeth. "That's it," he encourages, his rhythm becoming more vigorous. "Give it up for me." I throw myself into the performance, meeting each brutal thrust with a ****, grinding roll of my hips. The cold metal is a stark, painful contrast to the earlier violations.

Mars pulls the trigger. The click echoes through the camper like a snapped bone. I scream instantly anyway. The sound tears itself out of my throat before I can stop it, my entire body jerking against the revolver while cold panic floods every nerve in my body.

For one horrible second, I swear I feel the bullet already inside my guts. Lizard doubles over laughing beside us, slapping the counter hard enough to rattle the cabinets while Mars just watches me calmly with the smoking lantern light reflecting in his dead eyes.

“Aw, listen to her,” Lizard wheezes. “She thought that one was it.” He stirs on the floor with a groan, pushing himself up on one elbow. His eyes are glazed, but they fix on the scene, a slow, malicious understanding dawning. "Make her beg for it, Mars," he croaks, his voice a dry rustle. "She likes it rough."

I focus on the raw friction, on the building pressure deep inside. My breaths come in sharp, theatrical hitches. "Yes," I moan, the sound torn from my throat, "just like that." I let my hands claw at the stained carpet, my back bowing. It's a grotesque pantomime, but it's fueled by a very real, rising need.

Mars watches, enthralled by the spectacle of my supposed submission, his own powerlessness forgotten. The act is a crude, degrading symphony of sound, the wet, sloppy noise of my overused body, Lizard's cold, twittering laughter, and Mars's heavy, grunting breaths.

Mars slowly cocks the hammer back again. The metallic sound makes my stomach drop. I fuck the chrome phallus with a frantic, animal intensity, my hips pistoning, driving it deeper with a bruising **** that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with survival. “No,” I whisper. “Please don’t...”

Click.

I scream harder this time, loud enough to hurt my own throat. Tears spill down my face as I recoil instinctively against the barrel pressing into my forehead, every muscle in my body locking so tight it aches. Lizard is practically shrieking with laughter now, bent over with one hand clutching his ribs while Mars grins wider for the first time since I met him.

Sweat stings my eyes, mixing with the tears still tracking through the grime on my cheeks. I can feel the cool, slick mess of their combined releases leaking out around the relentless intrusion, pooling beneath me. “She got them pretty blue eyes all bugged out,” Lizard cackles. “Do it again.”

Mars pulls hammer pulls back slowly, deliberately. I cannot breathe anymore. My pulse pounds so violently I can hear it roaring inside my skull louder than the desert wind outside the camper. The frantic rhythm becomes a blur of motion and sensation, a **** race against his promise of mutilation.

Every harsh thrust of the cold metal is a plea, a demand. I ignore the ache and the degradation, focusing only on the building pressure, on forcing my battered cunt to a point of cataclysmic release. My cries shift from fabricated pleasure to guttural, focused effort. "Come on," I snarl through gritted teeth, more to myself than to him. Then he pulls the trigger again.

Click.

This time the scream that leaves me sounds broken. My climax, when it finally tears through me, is nothing like pleasure. It's a silent, internal detonation, a wave of pure, unfiltered sensation. I cum in a silent scream that radiates from my core. My body seizes, not in ecstasy, but in a violent, all-consuming convulsion.

I fold forward against Mars’ grip, shaking uncontrollably while laughter fills the camper around me. Lizard is crying from it now, smearing tears from his filthy face while Mars holds the Peacemaker steady between my legs like he has all the time in the world.

The silence after I cum is profound, broken only by the ragged sound of my breathing. Mars pulls the Peacemaker from my wrecked cunt with a brutal, yanking ****. I cry out, a raw sound of genuine shock at the conclusion of my violation. "Enough of your devil tricks," he growls, tucking the Peacemaker in his wasteband. "Papa Jupiter’s gonna wanna see this."