Bad Day: Queen For A Day, Part One – Short Story

The saltiness of my blood hit the back of my throat and forced a suction like effect to take place, leaving me to desperately struggle for a breath. My concentration thankfully was broken some seconds later as another fist hit me in the side of the jaw, dislodging another tooth. I felt something grab at my hair and pull my head back, bringing the world of darkness that had been my friend for the last few moments into an explosion of colours and sounds.

“Tell me where the old fucker is or I will jerk your cock off until you spray your seed across my face!” The self proclaimed toughest cunt in the room growled in a thick accent that I’m sure I completely miss-understand, but I’m the one telling the story so that’s the version you’re going to get.

“What the fuck!” I say after spitting out a mouthful of blood and teeth, it got me another closed fist to the side of face. The fucker holding the few strands of hair left on my head readjusted his grip and drove another powerful punch into my nose, spreading it across my face like crunchy peanut butter.

“Don’t try my patience, for I am a full of estrogen and my glands are swelling with milk, in these things and those that will follow you will find that I do not value your life as much as you do! Where I come from we talk with our actions, sucking all the cock we can, and never swallowing! NEVER! But you, you people, you try to make out you have big cocks to scare our mouths in submission, but it never works because no cock is too big! Now tell me where you have taken my brother, and I will make your death one of less pain!” Once again I’m not sure if I heard all his words correctly, but I’m sure my translation is pretty close to the mark.

I forced a smile, and winked at him before finally sealing the deal with a cheeky kiss. He launched himself up from the toilet seat he was sitting on, without even wiping his arse mind you, and rushed towards me thrusting his goons out of the way as he did. Of course this was a mistake that he didn’t fully realise until my fist hit his throat.

He stumbled  backwards clutching at his throat while he tried to catch a breath, but it was never going to happen. I’d hit a lot of guys in the throat over the years, and if I’m honest, it never failed to reap its rewards. As the bucket of love muscles  falls to his knees, one of mine connects with his nose and sent his then motionless body to the ground.

“Who’s next?” I asked with excitement as I turned around, looking down the barrel of a revolver.

“You are!” The goon hissed as he pulled the trigger, but the gun gave him no dice. I did some pretty cool shit that you’ve only ever slightly seen before, and ended up with the same gun thrust in the goons face, as we laid there close enough to kiss and he laughed like a little school boy who’d just realised he’d been calling his best friend by the wrong name for the last two years.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You Englishman, you think I forget that the gun is empty?”

This moment allowed me to smile for the second time in so many minutes. “The difference between me and you is vast, just like the difference between what a gun does with the safety on,” I say as I pulled the trigger, removing half his head. “And with the safety off,” I added afterwards. I’d only just started to get to my knees when a burning sensation erupted in the back of my head and the ground rushed up towards me….

to be continued….

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