May 24, 2011


Posted in stories tagged at 1:26 am by littlesubmissions

Author’s Note: Felt like experimenting a little on this one.

She could feel the weight of the pistol in her hand. Her muscles were clenched hard, her knuckles white to keep the barrel from trembling. Anticipation was boiling inside her, filling her and pouring out. He was

on his knees, waiting

he could hear the clink of footsteps in front of his plastic cage. It wasn’t tall enough for him to stand, too narrow to lie down, or sit, or do anything but kneel. One of the prisoners across the concourse stared back at him mutely, reminding him of his own nudity with

his mouth hanging open

as the cock forced its way between his lips, sliding along his teeth. Wet gagging sounds as it forced itself down his throat. The gun wasn’t for him, it was for the man he had arrested. The terror of the West, a murderer, horse thief, and rapist. The man whose cock he was sucking, because she had said

to swallow every drop

that gushed out of the plastic feeding penis. Sensors in the floor activated if a drop was spilled, and electric shocks screamed through their body as they twisted and contorted to reach the wet, slimy, fluid with their hands. It gushed out faster, and audience members snickered as they choked, blowing long ropes of cum out of their noses, forcing it out the sides of their mouths, catching it in their hands, rubbing it on their skin when they were full, anything to keep it from

hitting the floor

Seeing him still gasping, his throat raw and sore as he licked the cum off the dusty floor of his own jail. Imagining how she would take him back to the East, where he would be her docile western lawman, a creature she kept in a cage like at the zoo. A beast that would beg to be ridden, and thrashed with the cane. Her vision filled with a white hot iron descending towards his flesh to brand him forever as hers and

she gasped, and he looked up at her, and they smiled.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

1 Comment »

  1. Ayesha said,

    “……her knuckles white to keep the barrel from trembling.”? Excuse me Sir, but did u ever hold a gun urself?

    Branding that way mostly doesn’t make for a great scar u know. But then again, the title of ur story is “Fantasies”, while my thoughts were in RealityLand when making that remark 🙂

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