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Donnie’s 1983 Chevy K10 rumbled along the dark back road. You double check that your seatbelt was tight enough. It made you nervous every time he'd cross the center line, even if there weren't any other cars coming. This truck was Donnie's baby. He wouldn't really let anything happen to it. Even so, you couldn't tell if the swerving was another one of his tactics to scare you or if he was just that intoxicated.
You had desperately tried to get the keys away from him before you left AJ’s bar, but Donnie trusted his drunken instinct more than your sober driving. It was useless to remind him of his numerous DUIs he already had under his belt. Crime doesn't count when you're hunting buddies with most of the guys in the sheriff's department. Part of Donnie's problem was feeling invincible. He gets by with everyone turning a blind eye to his behavior.
Without warning, Donnie whipped off to the side of the road, dangerously close to wrapping you both around a tree. Your first instinct was to grab the door handle and close your eyes, but the impact never came. After taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you look over at him expectantly.
“Gotta take a piss,” He grumbles in your direction.
He pulled the keys from the ignition, slid out of the driver's seat, and braced himself on the door for a moment before walking around beside the truck. You felt the truck rock a bit as he put all his weight against it with one hand. Donnie didn't bother shutting the door, so you tried your very best to ignore the sound of him relieving himself. You look out your window into the woods. There wasn't much moonlight, so you couldn't see anything past the glow of the headlights. You wonder how far you could get if you took off running into the trees. How long would it take Donnie to find you?
Last time you ran off, it was after a fight and it only took him an hour to track you down. Donnie knew the woods in this county like the back of his hand. He taught you a very valuable lesson that day. You couldn't run and you damn sure couldn't hide from him.
Donnie getting back into the driver's seat and slamming the door made you jump, bringing you back to reality. You settle back into your seat, face forward, and mentally prepare for the rest of the ride home. When the truck doesn’t start, you look over to find him staring at you with a wicked grin.
“Come on, Darlin’. Sit next to me, I promise not to bite ya too hard,” Donnie said as he patted beside him on the bench seat. His words oozed with an artificial sweetness.
As much as you don't want to, you oblige. You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide over to sit next to him. Donnie’s large, warm hand rests on your thigh, just barely obscuring the healing bruises he had left there days before. His gaze bounces from your body to your face. You could tell exactly what he wants from you.
He leans in close to your neck, languidly peppering it with sloppy kisses while creeping his hand up your thigh. When he kisses your cheek, the alcohol on his breath makes your eyes water. Roughly, he pushes your dress up over your thighs and exposes your underwear.
“Don't wear this shit out the house again. You had every man in that bar starin’ at you. You're lucky I didn't knock your ass out, embarrassin’ me like that in front of all them people,” He forcefully grips your thigh as you nod.
You really want to roll your eyes and remind him that he was the one who told you to wear it. Sober Donnie loved how this dress accentuates your curves, how the dark blue brings out your eyes, and how it cuts off just below your ass, showing off your legs. Fortunately, you were smart enough to keep that to yourself.
“Matter of fact, I’ma take care of that, right now.”
Donnie reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife. In one smooth motion, the knife is open and pressing against the top of your dress, right between your breasts.
“D-Donnie, don't, please.”
“I don't think you're in a position to be tellin’ me what to do, Darlin’.”
With a firm grip, he presses the knife down. The fabric of your dress is thin and immediately begins to tear apart underneath the blade. Donnie only gets halfway down with his knife before he finishes ripping it all the way down with his hands. When the open air hits you where your dress once laid against your chest, your nipples immediately perk up. You wish your body wouldn't respond to his antics.
Mentally, you were curled up in your closet, knees pressed to your chest and safe. Physically, you were in the cab of your husband’s truck, vulnerable and exposed. The husband who once vowed to love and protect you. Now, he consistently broke those vows. If it wasn't him beating you unconscious on a bad day, it was him sleeping with someone else's wife on a good day. There weren't any great days anymore. Only days where you go through the motions and days where you're trying to just make it to the next sunrise.
Today was one of the days where you were trying to make it through to the next day in one piece. Donnie was trying his damnedest to see to it that you didn't. As you zone out, Donnie was continuing his assault. He gropes your breasts before pulling and pinching at your nipples until it hurts. You try shoving his hand away, but you're met with a scowl and a sharp, painful tug at your nipple causing you to squeak.
“If you ain't gonna let me have any fun playing with ya, can ya at least do me a favor and give me some head? I ain't asking for much,” Donnie sighs and exasperatedly tosses his hand up in the air, seemingly giving up on torturing you for the time being. He folds his knife up and tosses it on the dashboard. You’re able to breathe a little more easily now that it was out of play.
“Then we can go home?”
“We’ll head home when I'm ready to.”
You nod again, and shrug out of the tatters of your dress, leaving you in only your underwear. The promise of home was enough for you to entertain his request. Donnie unbuckles his belt, undoes his jeans and shimmies them down to his mid thigh. He gestures at his crotch and then rests his arm on the back of the seat.
“Get to it, then. Ain't got all night.”
Getting up on your knees in the seat, you turn towards him and rest one hand on his thigh, while using the other to pull his already hard cock out of his boxers. You lean down and tentatively lick his tip. The bitter, almost sour taste of mostly dried urine makes you recoil a bit. With him being drunk, it was a wonder he hadn't pissed all over himself behind the truck.
Unfortunately, Donnie sees your displeasure as some kind of insult because the next thing you know, he's got his hand fisted in your hair. Yanking your head back, he glares down at you with a dark glint in his eye.
“Somethin’ wrong? You're actin’ like you ain't done this before,” Donnie spits his words at you.
“No, I just-” He cuts you off, tugging on your hair harder.
“If I was you, I'd be real careful choosin’ my next words.”
“I just don't feel good,” It’s not a lie, per se. You didn't want to upset him any more than he already was. Though, you really don't feel very well with the combination of his manhandling of you and the way your stomach was doing backflips.
“Alright, well,” He shoves your face back down into his lap, “Suck on it. That'll do you some good, make us both feel better.”
You groan inwardly. The alarm bells in your head fail to ring louder than the threat of whatever Donnie was capable of, so you ignore them and take him into your mouth. You use one hand to pump him at the base while you bob your head up and down. At some point, Donnie gets bored with your speed and takes matters into his own hands. Using the hand he has in your hair, he shoves you all the way down on his dick as he groans. You're not prepared for the intrusion. You choke and gag, pushing backwards against his hold, but you're nowhere near strong enough to compete with him.
Hot tears spill down your cheeks and you struggle to hold back a sob, but the way your throat constricts around his dick causes him to buck further into your mouth. You somehow endure Donnie throat fucking you for a short while before he's pulling you off of his dick. As you gasp for air, he mumbles something about not wanting to cum yet. There's drool mixed with pre-cum and tears smeared across your face. It feels sticky and disgusting. You sit back on your knees and stare blankly at the fogged up driver's side window, trying to avoid looking directly at your husband.
While Donnie is still preoccupied with himself, you furiously wipe the tears from your eyes and try your best to scrub the spit mixture from your face using your hand. It doesn't work very well, but it's enough to make you feel less gross on the outside. Inside, you feel raw with emotion. Your chest hurts and you feel straight up violated.
By the time Donnie turns his attention back to you, the tears have mostly dried up and you give him a small smile. You know he's not usually like this. He must have had a really bad day and just needs to let off some steam. When you think about it that way, it hurts a bit less. Donnie looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on your breasts.
“Y’know, I’ve got a comfy lap, Darlin’, why don't ya come sit on it?” Donnie pats his thigh and grins at you.
“Can we just go home? Please?” You shake your head at him and scoot backwards.
The smile on Donnie's face fades into a frown. There's no way you could handle having sex with him right now, especially not in this stupid truck. With a growl, Donnie leans forward, hand flying to the glovebox. He pulls out his revolver, and holds it directly to your head.
“Seems to me like you need some motivation.”
There's no way Donnie was crazy enough to kill you. Was he? Definitely not if he was sober, at least. Drunk? There was no telling at this point. This wasn't the first time Donnie has threatened you with his gun, but it was the first time he had actually pulled it on you. Cold and unyielding, the end of the barrel bit into your skin as he pressed it harder into your temple.
Click.
“Don't make me repeat myself, goddamn it.”
“Donnie. Please, put the gun away, I'll do whatever you want.”
Donnie laughs.
You need to want this. He's your husband and you love him. You want to please him, take care of his needs. Well, that's what you try to convince yourself of. You shouldn't need a cocked revolver pointed at your head just to have sex with him.
As your hands shook, you pulled your underwear off and straddled him in the driver's seat. When you position yourself in his lap, the steering wheel cuts into your back, adding to your overall discomfort. It's been made very clear that only one person's comfort matters right now, and it definitely isn't yours. You wish you were at home. At least there you could be doing this on the couch a lot more conveniently.
Donnie snakes his arm around your waist and it feels like it's made of fire. He pulls you closer, lining his mouth up with one of your breasts. The way he licks, sucks, and bites roughly at your nipple makes you want to scream. You could feel the rotten growth of resentment weighing on your chest.
You lower yourself onto his dick, but your body resists. You try to go slowly, but Donnie is an impatient man. He thrust up into you without warning. The minor amount of wetness you mustered up did nothing to help the sting of him stretching you open more than you were ready for. He is, unfortunately, very well endowed and any other time it would have felt like heaven when he slid into you.
This time, it felt like he was burning you from the inside out. The flames were crawling up your throat, but you swallow them, for him. You stare at Donnie's chest, trying your best to avoid eye contact with him. Whether or not he'd notice the threat of tears in your eyes again, you didn't know. If he did, he probably wouldn't care, not with the state he was in.
He places his unused hand gently around your throat and gently brushes his thumb against your skin. It sends a wave of comfort over you, reminding you of how sweet he used to be. For a moment, you forget that he's holding a gun to your head to keep you compliant. You're not thinking about how badly you want to kick and scream. You focus on feeling good, wanting this to feel normal.
As you finally adjust to him inside you, you're confident enough to take more control. You begin fucking yourself on his cock. This isn't where you wanted to be or what you wanted to be doing, but you might as well try to enjoy yourself. You balanced yourself with one hand on the door and the other hand tight on Donnie's shoulder. Finally, you find a solid rhythm and the perfect angle that puts stars in your eyes with each bounce of your hips.
“Look at you, Darlin’. You're doin’ so good for me.”
Donnie's voice is gruff as he tightens his grip on your throat. You are keenly aware of how his fingers dig into your skin, but you decide you like it. The pressure keeps you grounded, focused. The desperate moans and grunts falling from his lips were enough to encourage you to pick up the pace. Grinding down on his cock felt like bliss now that you were getting into it.
“Ah, fuck. Fuck. Keep doing that,” Donnie groaned.
You do as instructed, though you begin struggling to keep moving steadily. Pleasure is pooling in your gut and you feel heat building up in your cunt. You are getting so close, but your body needs something more to push you over the edge.
Donnie adds more pressure to his grip around your neck, but drops the hand holding the gun to rest on your thigh. The cool metal feels strange against the heat of your sensitive skin. It's enough of a distraction to cause you to falter and slow down. You let out a pitiful whine and close your eyes as you try to build your momentum back up.
Suddenly, Donnie’s hand is gripping your jaw, forcing you to look him in the face. There's a fire blazing behind his glassy eyes. Confused, you stop moving, coming to a halt with him fully seated inside you. Did you do something wrong?
“Did I tell ya to stop?” Donnie hissed.
He lets go of your jaw, only to rear his hand back and slap you hard across the face. The force flings your head to the side and you grab your cheek. Tears spring into your eyes as your skin stung from the contact. Donnie brings the gun back up, presses the end of the barrel to your cheek this time, and begins thrusting up into you once more.
“You’re gonna look at me while I'm fucking you. Do you understand?”
Your lip quivers in response. If you try to speak, the dam will break and you'll start crying again. Then, you'd really be fucked.
“Speak, goddamn it,” Donnie snarls at you.
“O-Okay.”
You're choking back another sob as you nod your head. You are making sure to keep constant eye contact as you half heartedly start moving again to meet his thrusts. From the way Donnie was looking at you with lidded eyes and the new bruising grip he had on your hip, you could tell he was getting close. His grunts became more strained, thrusts more sloppy. As he cums inside of you, face buried in your chest and his gun to your head, you feel all of that aching resentment bubble to the surface.
The reality of your situation was finally setting in. All these years were wasted on taking whatever punches he threw: the manipulation, the cheating, the abuse. You endured all of it so that you could proudly say you stuck by him through thick and thin once he finally got better. The problem was that Donnie was sick, beyond the possibility of saving. He would never get better. You were stuck with a man you couldn't fix.
What happens to dogs when they bite one too many times? When is behavioral euthanasia the better choice for quality of life? If anyone was qualified to make this decision for him, it had to be you.
While his guard was down, you had the perfect opportunity to make your move. You reach up, grab Donnie's wrist, and shove his arm back towards his own head. Between the alcohol in his system and coming down from the high of his orgasm, he wasn't processing what you were doing. You hold his hand still and inch your thumb towards the trigger. Confusion etched across his face before it clicks for him and his expression turns into dread. You’ve never seen true fear in this man's eyes before. It feels… refreshing. Without a second thought, you squeeze the trigger.
Red splatters against the fogged up window, the headliner, and your upper body. Your ears are ringing something fierce. Donnie's body slumps against you as blood pours from the side of his head, running down your breast and dripping onto your thigh. You breathe a sigh of relief. The euphoria is short lived as you see the flickering blue lights coming up the road through the back window. You glance at the revolver in your hand and back up to the approaching headlights. Another glance down at Donnie has your whole body shaking. Once again, you have to make a choice. With a deep breath, you lift the gun to your head. Without a second thought, you squeeze the trigger.