Page 14 of Stranded
He reaches into the back of his belt and pulls out a silver gun. My heart pitter patters erratically and all the oxygen escapes my lungs.
What the fuck?
“Maddox, w-what.” I shake my head, struggling to form a sentence.
“Quiet,” he growls, dragging the barrel of the gun between the cleavage of my breasts. “I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you.”
Suddenly, the reality of this man’s darkness hits me. I have no idea what he’s capable of. And although I have the safe word, I don’t want this to stop, but I’m torn. How depraved is he? How far will he go?
The cold metal of the gun sends a shiver down my spine as he runs it slowly, deliberately over my skin. His eyes never leave mine, maintaining a steady, intense gaze.
He moves it lower, trailing a path between my legs. I gasp, my body involuntarily arching toward the cold, dangerous object.
Maddox chuckles. The gun rubs against my crotchless lingerie, the fabric offering no barrier against the chilling sensation. It’s wrong, but my body betrays me, responding to Maddox’s dominance.
“See, Ivy,” Maddox drawls, a hint of insanity in his voice. “You like this. You like being treated like a filthy little slut and being touched against your will.”
I don’t deny his words. I can’t deny them because it’s the truth.
The sound of the already crotchless fabric tearing shatters the silence. His fingers are rough as he tears them wider, the cool air of the room wafting over my exposed skin. His eyes darken further as they hungrily drink me in. The anticipation is more than I can bear, making me writhe on the bed, eager for his next move.
I can see Maddox grin beneath the mask, a predatory gleam in his eyes intensifying. Slowly, he moves the gun lower. The barrel, cold and unyielding, presses against my clit, sending shocks through my body. I can’t help the whimper that escapes my lips, my body pulsing with desire.
“Like that, do you?” he murmurs. He moves the gun in slow, torturous circles, stoking the fire within me. The combination of fear and arousal is exhilirating. I find myself moaning as my pussy is wet and wanting.
His laughter is low as he toys with me, clicking the gun's safety on and off. The clicking sound is drowned out by the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, each click sending a fresh wave of fear and desire coursing through me.
Then he forces the gun inside me. I gasp out loud, my body accommodating the cold, hard metal. “Wait! Stop!” I shout out the plea, even though it feels so good. Even though I want this, it scares me. I don’t know if the gun is loaded or if the safety is on or not; the uncertainty fuels the fire that’s building within me.
One wrong move and my entire life could end like a flick of a switch. And yet, I trust this stranger. As insane as that may sound. My heart pounds against my chest. The sensation is paradoxically terrifying and tantalizing, pushing me toward the edge of the abyss. The darkness beckons and I’m falling into its heady trap.
With each agonizingly slow thrust of the gun, I’m drawn deeper into a world of depravity. A world where pain, fear, desire, and pleasure blur into an indistinguishable mass.
“Fuck, Maddox,” I moan, my back arching. “What are you doing to me?”
“I’m raping you with a gun, and like a filthy little slut, you’re loving it,” he replies.
I shake my head, strands of hair whipping against my flushed cheeks. The tremor in my voice betrays me as I plead, “No, please stop.” But my body tells a different story, writhing to meet the chillingly cold metal, craving for more of this perverse pleasure.
I try to keep up the façade, playing the victim to his predatory role. Through the dim light, I can see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he watches me.
“Good girl,” he breathes, the mask still firmly over the lower half of his face, adding to his rugged appeal. “I have a present for you.” He pulls his cock out, and my entire body shudders.
I assume he’s going to fuck me, but instead, he starts to stroke frantically with his free hand. The other still slamming the barrel of the gun into my eager pussy.
“Come for me,” he growls.
I do as he says as if he commands my body subconsciously.
I surrender to the crescendo of pleasure. A scream tears from my throat. The sound is raw and primal, each wave of pleasure crashing over me with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. Each surge punctuated by the cold, unyielding pressure of the gun which is a chilling antithesis to the heat coursing through me.
I hear Maddox groan, a sound so guttural it sends another shiver down my spine. And then he sprays his cum over my stomach.
A ragged gasp leaves my lips as I collapse against the ropes, my body spent and trembling from my violent orgasm. I’m in a state of sensory overload, struggling to comprehend what happened.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his ice-blue eyes alight with a fire that burns me. “I enjoyed that,” he murmurs, reaching for the ropes and undoing them. “Sleep well, angel,” he breathes, then leaves.
As the door closes behind him, his absence seeping into the room like a chilling winter breeze, I feel disappointed. He didn’t actually fuck me, not with his cock. The perverse pleasure we shared, the gun inside me, my body seared by his lustful gaze, all of it was maddeningly thrilling. But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the warmth of his skin against mine or the intimate rhythm of two bodies entwined. That unfulfilled yearning gnaws at me as I lay there, alone and covered in his cum.