USE ME LIKE A BITCH

In the saloon bar called Den of Evil Bitches a party was going down.  Located in the centre of a frontier town called Donkey’s Tail, where anything went and you could get away with murder, the bar was a right dive with sawdust on the floor, bullet holes in the walls and a hangman’s noose in the corner. This occasion was to celebrate Big Gun’s blowing away of his twenty first Native American Indian with his Colt 45 Peacemaker revolver pistol.

Signs of debauchery were everywhere: a whore from the Top Titty whorehouse was sucking the cock of a grizzled old miner who was almost comatose (was he feeling any tongue action?), a bent cabaret singer called Marly was licking the balls of another equally gay piano player while he played a drunken out of tune waltz. After a few minutes they swapped positions. Everywhere you looked, something was happening. Upstairs in the private rooms, mattresses were being pounded by sweaty cowboys fucking two bit whores. Where was the man himself? He was arguing with a holy man.

“I tell you, General Custer is a pussy!” shouted the voice, way too loud, at the person not a metre in front of him.

“No, no. Custer is a military God. He was meant to die so he could direct his fight from Hell! This I know, after all I am a man of God,” retorted the other, equally drunk and unstable.

“You’re wrong holy man. The only god is this, the barrel of a gun. Custer fucked up, pure and fucking simple. Custer is a worm eaten corpse. What, you disagree do you?” whispered the cowboy, now in perfect control.

“Yes I do, has it occurred to you, you’re wrong? Power comes from the good book, the bible. I talk to Custer’s spirit every morning,” replied the Preacher, placing his book on the small two seat table, next to the large pistol. They complimented each other disturbingly.

“Not many men have dared to disagree with me Preacher man. I shot the last one in the back only yesterday, he’s now being measured up for a coffin by Tom the cabinet maker over yonder,” nodded Big Gun, pointing to his cocked Colt that was a foot from him. He could reach it immediately and blow the man of God to hell, if he saw fit.

“I know. I heard about that, I blessed his corpse before Tom took it to measure it up for a coffin. Even evil men need the last rights before they descend to hell. I’m not scared of you or any man, my God protects me.”

“Your blessings won’t do him any good where Small Harry has ended up. He dared put me down in front of the towns’ folk so I sorted him out, permanently. With this gun, I am God!” shouted Big Gun, picking up his big gun off the small wobbly table. He glared menacingly at the bible basher.

“Every man has the right to the hand of God and his blessing, even you Big Gun. Even you!” preached Preacher man. He visibly cowered from the bigger man and grasped his bible to his chest, as if it would save him from a .45 calibre bullet at point blank range.

Big Gun stood up and towered over the terrified little holy man, bellowed, “Open your mouth Preach and suck my pistol. Do it now mother fucker! Now!”

“Aargh! No, no, I won’t. You’re gun belongs to the Devil and his evil actions, as you do. I won’t do it!”

“Yes, I work for the Devil. Now take the barrel in your mouth and suck it,” ordered the angry killer.

“No!” shouted Preacher man. His defiance was stopped by a single bullet fired into the table top straight in front of him. The bang deafened him and the table split clean in two and toppled to the floor; the bullet missed a pair of holy bollocks by two inches. A single empty glass rolled out of sight.

“Okay, okay, you and the Devil win. I’ll suck the barrel of your evil gun.”

“Good boy. I always get my way. Now suck it. Suck my pistol.”

Preacher took hold of the large gun metal tube that was the barrel of Big Gun’s pistol and placed it carefully in his mouth with a shaking hand. His other still clutched his bible. With wide eyes, the holy man sucked the barrel. It was still warm from the shot. He would be holy in more ways than one, if he screwed this up.

“That’s right, just like you’re sucking a cock. It looks like you’ve done this before. Have you?” asked Big Gun, holding the gun in his trigger hand and watching Preacher man suck the barrel with interest.

Preacher man tried to shake his head and speak.

“Ah ah, don’t do that. Just keep sucking the gun barrel; when you’ve done that, you can suck my sweaty cheesy cock too,” laughed Big Gun, almost blowing Preacher’s head off when he laughed.

My Lord will protect me and save me from all evil and the Devil’s actions. May Sweet Lord Jesus watch over me and deliver me from evil and not let me get my head blown off. Also bring Big Gun away from evil and show him the way to the light, amen! prayed Preacher man. He continued sucking, hating the taste of gun oil and gun powder residue. What choice did he have? His God seemed a long way off from this awful scene.

“Right, that’ll do. Now you can suck my cock while I drink a new whiskey,” said the gunman, before addressing the barman, “Hey, barman! Bring me a new whiskey and fill the glass to the top. Do it now!”

“Yes Big Gun, on my way,” shouted the barman. He filled the glass up as he ran over to the corner where Big Gun was tormenting the holy man. The barman noticed the broken table but kept his mouth shut. He knew what Big Gun was capable of.

“Put it on the floor and leave the bottle,” shouted the cowboy. With his free hand he pointed his instruction, in case the scared barman didn’t understand, due to fear.

“Now where were we?” asked Big Gun, to Preacher.

When no answer was forthcoming, he rapped him on the head with the pistol barrel which was wet with spit.

“Erm... you wanted me to suck your cock,” whispered the victim, looking at the floor.

“That’s right. I want you to suck my cock,” shouted Big Gun, red in the face from whiskey and an abuse of power. “Get on with it then. Do it was God would.”

Preacher man got off his small chair and knelt in front of Big Gun, who was still seated. Preacher went into slave mode; he passed his tormentor his whiskey glass, being careful not to spill any. Hell would be unleashed if he did!

“Good boy, you’re learning. Now undo my trousers and get my cock out. Make sure you don’t undo my gun belt by mistake or I’ll blow your fucking head off. Get on with it.”

“Yes, Big Gun. Anything so you don’t shoot me, even sucking your cock.”

“Right then. Make sure you do it right and no teeth or I’ll shoot.”

Preacher man put down his bible and tried to undo the buttons on Big Gun’s dirty sweaty trousers. It was hard because the gun belt hung low over the buttons. Please dear Lord let me undo the buttons and get this over with so I can live and continue doing God’s work. Quite easily the six buttons opened allowing the holy man to draw the trousers open and reach in to get Big Gun’s cock out. It was like a small shrunken sausage with grey hairs all over it and blue ruddy veins all over it. A smell like old sweaty socks filled the air, making Preacher man gag. I’ve got to do this; I sucked his pistol barrel and never got my head blown off. My Lord protected me from the Devil then, he will do now.

“You undid my trousers easily enough. Now suck my dick, what the fuck are you waiting for? Instructions from God? Remember, no teeth!” Big Gun shouted, annoyed.

“I’m doing it now,” came his reply.

Preacher took the stinking maggot sized penis into his mouth, almost gagging on the acrid taste. He started sucking it, licking the bell end, taking the foreskin back and wanking the cock at the same time. He thought of holy cherubs to take his mind off this evil desecrating Devilish act. I’ll do anything to survive the attention of Big Gun and his evil actions that will stop me doing God’s work. My heart is pure and my faith is strong, protect me from evil my Lord!

Slowly the small cowboy’s cock became hard and grew to four times its size, a length of eight inches! The holy man was doing something right.

“This is good whiskey,” commented Big Gun, downing the contents of his glass. Carefully he reached over and picked up the bottle, refilling his glass. “Keep sucking just like that. You’re doing fine,” he told the bible basher.

What I’m doing is saving my soul from you, you evil killer who does the work of Satan! replied Preacher man, in his own mind. With swift head movements taking the dick all of the way into his mouth, Preacher made the killer cum. It didn’t take long.

“Oh my fucking god, that feels so fucking good. Hey everyone, look at this! I’m coming!” screamed the cowboy, getting the saloon’s attention. It was his party, after all! A hundred pairs of scared humble submissive eyes looked over.

Then he came. His back arched and he bucked his hips so Preacher man could suck even deeper. Amongst all this, a welter of white spunk made him choke even more. He bit down once more.

Preacher man wasn’t ready for the deep thrust and gagged when the cock hit the back of his throat, he bit down accidentally.

“Ah! You cunt, you bit me twice!” screamed Big Gun. He poured half a glass of whiskey over Preacher’s head and drunkenly fired a shot from his huge Colt 45.

Preacher man closed his eyes and raised his hand to wipe the stinging spirit from them. He was about to remove Big Gun’s cock out of his mouth so he could breath and spit the cum out, when the big fat bullet blew half his head off. A welter of blood, brains and bone spattered all over the place. One eye hung on its optic nerve, staring lifelessly. The other rolled over the floor like a billiard ball, dead to the world. Preacher man fell forwards off his chair, dead.

“Damn, look at what he made me do! Look at this bloody mess! Anyhow, who gives a fuck about Custer or a dead holy man? Not me!” screamed Big Gun, losing control. He took a swig from the bottle, downing half the whiskey and looking down his nose at people in the saloon.

“Hey, get me a whore to give me a REAL blowjob!” he shouted, looking to the bar with wild unfocused eyes. “Now I said!” Spying Preacher’s bible on the floor the killer kicked it next to its owner. He fired two shot into the ceiling to make his point. “NOW! Get me a whore now. I want a real blowjob!”

A whore dressed like a real madam rushed over. “Why, Mr Big Gun, I’ll suck your cock. It looks a nice cock, it really does.”

“Get on with it, bitch!” screamed the killer, alive and in his element of psychosis and violence.

“Please sit down and I’ll do it,” quietly replied the whore, not wanting her head blown off.

“Yes, I will sit down, right now,” replied Big Gun. He sat down on his still warm seat, so he could have his second blow job, this time by a well-dressed whore.

Her name was Emily and she was the best in her business, like Big Gun was the best cowboy and killer. She wore a classy outfit, a red basque and purple flowing skirt. Her feet were barefoot.

“I need to move the body first coz it’s in my way,” said the whore, looking into Big Gun’s soulless green killer eyes.

“Move it now then and hurry up!” he replied.

She inwardly grimaced as she grabbed hold of the Preacher’s blood stained jacket and heaved his still warm body to one side. He was heavier than he looked. Though she was careful, she got some blood on her hands. It reminded her not to fuck this blow job up, I could be blown away next!

“Okay, I’m ready,” she confirmed.

Sat on the chair, she leaned forward and held Big Gun’s cock, which was still erect. Was he turned on by the violence? Grimacing to herself again she put it into her mouth. It tasted like a dead slug and gave her no sexual pleasure at all. She started sucking the piece of gristle best she could, working the tip, licking the shaft, feeling his balls and wanking him every now and again.

“Not bad bitch, not bad at all!” complimented the killer, actually enjoying his second cock suck.

The whore mumbled a reply and kept her eyes on the job. I’m in the same position Preacher man was before he was gunned down dead. I thought I’d be shocked seeing a man of the cloth being queer but I’m not, it’s seeing him murdered like a worthless lame dog.

Big Gun took a swig from his whiskey bottle emptying it; he threw the bottle over towards the piano where Marly was still playing out of key music and having his cock sucked by his accomplice. It seemed their blowjobs went on all night. Their action was interrupted when the empty bottle clanged off the piano and smashed into a hundred pieces.

“Hey Marly you faggot, get me a fresh bottle of whiskey. I’m all out of booze. Hurry up now!” demanded Big Gun.

Marly knew better than to argue and left his place at the piano and his gay lover. He reached behind the bar and got a new bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “There you go big man, enjoy your whiskey,” Marly said, smiling at the gun man.

Big Gun took the full bottle and said thank you! Everyone in the bar stopped what they were doing and looked over, shocked! It was the first time that Big Gun had ever shown any courtesy.

“No problem,” grinned Marly, uneasily. Big Gun must be losing his mind, saying thanks like that. Better leave him to his blow job. He went back to his knackered piano and gay friend. Music soon filled the bar again.

Cracking open the bottle with his teeth, he took a big swig of the golden liquor. Followed by another. “This is good fucking booze. And it’s all mine, bitch!”

The whore ignored this slight at her and continued sucking cock. She never liked whiskey, cowboys or guns for that matter; they were a bad combination and things like this happened. Flicking her tongue on his bell end and wanking him faster, she brought him to orgasm now. Aware of his moaning, she speeded up and licked his cock like it was an ice cream cone.

“Oh you filthy whore, that feels good! Better than the Christian faggot, he couldn’t suck cock to save his life. Now he’s dead,” commented the cowboy, looking at the whore and over to the dead holy man. Mad laughter came from Big Gun’s drunken form, his chest heaved and tears came into his eyes. He took another gulp of whiskey and laughed some more.

Definitely certifiable. But most of the frontier men and cowboys around here are, thought the whore.

Big Gun came a second time, with one hand he gripped the whore’s clean blond hair and forced her to take his cock all the way into her mouth. His spunk jetted down her throat making her gag and cough. His orgasm flowed through him, overcoming his drunkenness and making him feel alive. Every bit of his body pulsed with raw primeval energy. He screamed and shouted, took a huge draft of booze to empty the bottle. Tossing it blindly aside, he picked his gun and emptied the three rounds into the crowd by the bar.

When people started screaming and the music stopped, he pointed the huge pistol at the whore and pulled the trigger. The last bullet caught the pretty blue eyed lady of the night named Emily right between her eyes, like an egg shell the back of her head exploded. Before the force of the gunshot kicked her backwards, a reflex action forced her mouth shut. Two of her teeth shattered in this involuntarily act and the piece of gristle in her mouth stood no chance. She bit it completely off and then fell backwards, landing near the dead Preacher. Two sides of the coin, holy and the whore. Both murdered by a now dickless cowboy called Big Gun. Was this divine justice?

“Oh fuck, oh fuck! She bit my fucking cock off! She bit my cock off!” shouted Big Gun, hysterically. “The whore bit my cock off!”

No one was bothered. By the bar two people were lay on the sawdust covered wooden floor, dead. Blood pooled from big bullet holes. A third person, a pretty eighteen year old whore lay crying, propped up against the bar. Her side was weeping blood, this pooled onto the floor joining the dead peoples’ bloody mess. Soon she would bleed to death. Upstairs there was commotion in the private rooms. They heard the shots and screams.

Marly legged it outside to go get the Sheriff. Three dozen people stood rooted to the spot in the saloon, not believing what had happened. Some drank, others stood whispering or shouting for more booze. It was self-service, the barman did a runner. It was too much for him to take; he never wanted to see anymore lawlessness or killing again. Strangely only a few sober drinkers left the saloon before the law arrived.

Big Gun was bleeding to death, his pain shot through him wiping away his drunken stupor and sobering him up. He fell to the floor and doubled over, lying next to the two corpses. He whimpered like a lame dog, begging God and his mother to save him and heal his pain. It was way too late for that. The Devil, guns and booze were a bad mix.

The Sheriff arrived in a commotion and joined the other disbelieving witnesses. With six strong men who were aspiring lawmen, order was soon restored. Big Gun was unceremoniously dragged to jail to hang in the morning. If he was still alive and hadn’t bled to death. Such was old town justice...

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