Something that I thought was snuffed out for good, sparks to life within me. It’s small, but it’s there. My eyes flick to him to see if he’s noticed. He hasn't. He’s just staring at my tits as he roughly grabs them, spewing more sick words. I start thinking of how I can use the slack in the rope to my advantage when something catches my attention; a flash of silver. Looking down, I spot a gun. This fucker left his gun in his pants pocket. He was so eager to get his small dick inside me that he didn’t even take his pants off to do it, leaving the weapon right within my reach.
I stare at the gun, a million things running through my mind, and I run through all of my possible options that could set me free.
If I do this, and it goes wrong, he could kill me. He will kill me.
But is a life like this worth living? As his lifeless sex doll that he rapes whenever he feels like it, is that the life I want to live? No, I’d rather be dead.
A series of memories flash before my eyes. All of them featuring men; men who used me, raped me, and treated me like my only purpose was to be on their pathetic excuse of a penis. Then the night of the fire happened, when we burned the club down to the ground, when we saved almost every girl there.
Blood, guts, and screams of all the sick, fucked up men I’ve ridden the world of, dance along my vision as that flicker inside of me blooms.
Then I think of them, my guys. I think of the way they love me, the way their bodies feel against mine as they worship me. The look of awe and admiration as I stand before them covered in blood, taking my place as their motherfucking Queen.
Then I remember her laugh, her smile, her. Rosie. What blossomed within me morphs into a raging power I can’t contain.
The shield that's been keeping me from feeling everything, both physical and emotional pain, comes crashing down.
He will not win. He will not have me. I am Harlow McKaven. I am Queenie. It’s in my name. I am a motherfucking QUEEN, and I won’t bow down to anyone. They’ll bow down to me.
Wiggling my wrist, I test the grip of the rope. With each twist, it loosens more. I get one hand free, and I don’t waste the opportunity in front of me.
The adrenaline rush that fills my body with the need to live, the need to kill, the need to get the fuck out of here takes over. My hand dives for the gun, wrapping around the handle.
Like the night of the fire, I aim at his head. His pumps stop as his eyes widen in realization. But before he can react, I flick the safety off and shoot him in the face.
One shot. One shot is all it takes. His head explodes; blood, bone, and brain matter fly everywhere, and coat my naked body.
My chest heaves as my ears ring while I just lay there. His body is on me, his dick still inside me.
“Welcome back, Queenie. I thought I lost you there for a moment,” I say to myself before bursting into a fit of laughter that would have the psych ward nervous.
Tossing the gun to the ground, I use my free hand to get my other one untied of the rope.
My body is still weak, but the adrenaline coursing through me gives me the strength I need to push his lifeless body off of me. He flops to the ground on his back, his still hard dick on full display.
I free my feet, and climb off the table.
“Silly little, Triver. Didn’t listen to me,” I tisk. “When I promise someone's death, I always follow through,” I say, like the fact that just moments ago when I pretty much gave up, never happened. I’ll revisit that later. Right now, I need to get the fuck out of there.
But not without a few souvenirs.
Going over to the table, I grab the bone saw. “This time you won't be coming back,” I tell his corpse. Gripping his hair, I hold him still as I saw off what's left of his head. When it detaches, I hold it up so that it’s eye level with me. “You know, most of your face is missing, and it still looks better than before.” I shrug, putting it down as I move to his dick next.
“I got a special spot for you.” I grin, grasping his penis and sawing it off.
When I’m done, I leave his body there; I walk out of that house with his dick in one hand and his head in another, completely naked and covered in blood.
Once outside, I notice that we're not in the city. It looks like we’re in the middle of the woods.
“Well, shit,” I sigh, but perk back up when I spot the car out front. Heading over to it, I try the door, surprised it's unlocked. Getting inside, I growl when I’m not as lucky when it comes to finding the keys in the ignition.
“Wait here,” I tell the head, putting it in the passenger's seat. Reaching over, I grab the seat belt and buckle it in place. “Safety first.” I nod, then open up the glove compartment, finding another handgun. Grabbing it, I replace it with the severed dick and close the compartment, placing the gun on the dash.
Knowing I need to find the keys and leave before this adrenaline rush wears off, I hurry back into the house.
“Thank you, Gods,” I say, finding a set of keys on the counter. Swiping them I head back outside. A red gas can catches my attention, and I grin. Oh the sweet cherry on top.
“Well, I mean it's only fitting,” I say. Going back to the car, I put the keys in the ignition and run back to the house.