You have a decision to make

"What the fuck is this shit?" your husband demands with an angry snarl on his face. "What the fuck are you doing? We had a deal?"

"And we're changing it," the gangster answered before turning to you. "Kill him and we're gold sweetheart. Go ahead, put a cap in him."

"Lisa don't do anything crazy! The gun probably isn't even loaded! They're just playing with you! With us! Come on baby! You don't want to do anything stupid!"

You raise the gun, trying to quell the tremors as you consider the possible outcomes of the next few minutes. Killing your husband would put you forever at the mercy of these ruthless men. They'd always have this on you, and you'd never be free of them. But not killing him meant a certain road to **** and **** and ignominious ****. And though the thought of being fucked hard by multiple men has your pussy flowing with nectar the thought of your **** chills your heart.

And here in front of you is the architect of your problem. If your husband didn't sell you out for cowardice and greed, life could have gone on. It's his fault that this happens. His fault.