Gun Play Kink Novels & Stories

I'm hit by a sharp wave of pain as he thrusts into me gradually it turns to pleasure as he thrusts faster,harder and quicker my brain tells me to fight him off and run but my body aches for more pleasure than ever,I've always been this kind of slut but tonight I feel violated, He turns me over to face him I watch his lips move closer aiming for a kiss,disgusted and irked I kick him in the groin causing him to fall and sprawl on the ground ,I reach for my jacket, he pulls me by my ankle I try kicking him off but he's holding on too tight, restless and impatient I reach for the gun just before me pulling the trigger without second thought, he stays still not moving seconds after blood come gus

"Stretch that tight pussy. Imagine it's my cock, Reese—too big, forcing its way in, making you cry." The resonance hits me at once—the dark thrill of their control, the inner conflict of hating them yet needing this escape from my fears, from Jade's shadow. Tears well up again as I push one finger inside myself, the intrusion slow and deep, my walls clenching around it. It's not enough, but I move as he says, in and out, the rhythm building, my other hand rubbing my clit in harsh circles that border on pain. "Good," Finn praises, but it's mocking, his hand sliding up to pinch my nipple, twisting hard. The sharp ache shoots straight to my core, making me moan louder, my finger thrusting faste

Mafia men and their massive egos. “You think I can’t?” He spat, standing up and walking closer to me. As soon as he was within arms reach, I turned off the light, grabbed his arm and twisted his wrist. I heard the gun drop to the ground. I located it with my foot and pushed it backwards. I twisted his entire arm to his back and kicked him. As soon as I heard the loud thud, I turned the lights back on, brighter ones this time and saw the man groaning in pain on the ground. Bending down to pick the gun, I checked for bullets and sure enough, it was loaded. “Thanks for the gift.” I say, waving the gun at him before stuffing it in my purse.

Survival was more than just pulling a trigger; it meant knowing when to pull it, who to aim at, and making sure they never got back up. Traitors hid behind expensive suits and fake smiles, knives ready to strike my back. But they forgot one thing: I played by the rules until someone played me dirty. And when they did, the retribution I served was tenfold. No one played me for a fool and lived. The cigarette had burned down to the filter. I crushed it into the ashtray, grinding it until the ember died. The tray wobbled on the edge of the table. My hand shot out to steady it, but the booze in my system dulled my reflexes. It tipped over, shattering into a thousand glinting shards.

Being involved in this lifestyle has taught me many things. I've opened myself up to learning new experiences that I love, but there are those I never want to try. Fire and knife play are definitely two kinks I'm okay with watching but never participating in; kudos to those with the guts to play with it.

Bryan shot his pistol three times, then pressed the button on the wall which drew his human cardboard target closer to where he was. “Not bad.” Kimberly shouted in the midst of the gunshots from other shooters, who we’re practicing in the shooting range. His target had a hole on the side of its head, on a shoulder and in the middle of its torso. “My turn.” She said after replacing the bullet ridden target with a new one, and pressing the button on the wall, which pushed it away till it got to forty meters away from where she stood.

Grey pulled a gun, not the one with regular bullets, but with silver. He fired three times. Kade went down, he was hit on the chest, shoulder and leg.

He was built like an athlete. Those are not gym muscles, I mused as I worked him. I kept my eyes on his breasts as I kept teasing his dick with mine. He shot forward, stopping my play. He took my hand and placed it on our protrusions. His was leaking. He was on the edge. I held us together and kissed him again. I didn’t move my hand. He moved his hips, and I gave him space in my grip, but I didn’t help. He began to pump. My hand and dick rested where they were, allowing him to work for his release.