russian roulette as you hump your Owners boot. gun shoved down your throat, shaking and crying as you desperately grind against them. they look down at you and laugh cruelly whenever you flinch at the sound of the trigger clicking.
riding them until your legs give out. hair roughly pulled back, drool leaking out of your mouth, and a knife that gets pressed against your throat harder and harder the more you make your pathetic little noises.
“gonna cry for me some more?” they coo, laughing when you jump at the cold feel of the lube on your ass, thighs tense with nerves. “you know I like it when you make yourself look silly, pet. go on, cry all you want. still gonna fuck your ass- no matter how much you fight."