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“A second red-orange spearhead leaps straight at O'Shaughnessy. The whole world seems to stand still. Then the gun behind it crashes, and there's a cataclysm of pain all over him, and a shock goes through him as if he ran head-on into a stone wall.

A voice from the car says blurredly, while the ground rushes up to meet him, 'Finish him up, you guys! I'm getting so I don't trust their looks no more, no matter how stiff they act!' ("Jane Brown's Body")”
― Cornell Woolrich, The Fantastic Stories of Cornell Woolrich

“His fear-inflamed mind sent the control-signal to his finger-joint to fold back. The trigger sliced back. The blast seemed to lift the booth clear off the floor, drop it down again. A pin-wheel of vacancy appeared in the glass, flinging off shards and slivers.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Marihuana

“Just inside the doorway he puts down the bags, motions her to stand by them a minute. He saunters out ahead, carefully casual. Peers up one way, down the other. Nothing. The street's dead to the world.

Then suddenly, from nowhere, ping! Something flicks off the wall just behind him, flops at his feet like a dead bug. He doesn't bend down to look closer, he can tell what kind of a bug it is all right. He's seen that kind of bug before, plenty of times. No flash, no report, to show which direction it came from. Silencer, of course.

He hasn't moved. Fsssh! and a bee or wasp in a hurry strokes by his cheek, tingles, draws a drop of slow blood. Another pokk! from the wall, another bug rolling over. The insect-world seems very streamlined, very self-destructive, tonight. ("Jane Brown's Body")”
― Cornell Woolrich, The Fantastic Stories of Cornell Woolrich

“He's prowling back and forth like a lion with distemper now. There's a shiny streak down one side of his face. "I shouldn't have let her go ahead - I ought to be hung! Something's gone wrong. I can't stand this any more!" he says with a choked sound. "I'm starting now -"

"But how are you -"

"Spring for it and fire as I go if they try to stop me." And then as he barges out, the fat lady waddling solicitously after him, "Stay there; take it if she calls - tell her I'm on the way-"

He plunges straight at the street-door from all the way back in the hall, like a fullback headed for a touchdown. That's the best way. Gun bedded in his pocket, but hand gripping it ready to let fly through lining and all. He slaps the door out of his way without slowing and skitters out along the building, head and shoulders defensively lowered.

It *was* the taxi, you bet. No sound from it, at least not at this distance, just a thin bluish haze slowly spreading out around it that might be gas-fumes if its engine were turning; and at his end a long row of un-colored spurts - of dust and stone-splinters - following him along the wall of the flat he's tearing away from. Each succeeding one a half yard too far behind him, smacking into where he was a second ago. And they never catch up. ("Jane Brown's Body")”
― Cornell Woolrich, The Fantastic Stories of Cornell Woolrich

“Tell me, Lucy. Did your husband ever spank you?â€� Dubh asks as he gets on his knees behind me, still not relenting with the gun.
“Yes,� I choke out. Painful memories fill my head and a tear slips out of my eye, landing on the ground. He hums as if he already knew the answer well.
“Your husband only did it to bring you pain. To force you into obedience. I will never do that, sweetheart. I’ll bring you pain, but I’ll show you there is ecstasy to be found in it. So what I want you to do right now is bring your fingers to your sweet little pussy and push them inside. I am going to spank you and you are going to come.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“No. Some you put to the bullet. Some to the tongue. Reckon we’ll have to see, yet, which way this is going to turn.”
― J.D. Jordan, Calamity: Being an Account of Calamity Jane and Her Gunslinging Green Man

“I slowly take the gun out of his hand and hold it tight before I aim it at his head.
He just grins and scoots toward me until the barrel is pressed against his forehead. “You are a crazy fucking bastard, Dubh Burton. You have frightening mental issues. So many that I know you can never heal. But I suppose I do, too.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“I slap him again and keep the gun pointed at his face with my other hand. “How does it feel, not being in control? Not being able to touch me? Only being able to look,â€� I taunt. “Do you want to come?â€�
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine as he stares up at me. It’s empowering. I am the one in control. I am the one who’s calling the shots.
This time, he will be the one begging for mercy.
“Not good enough. Give me a verbal answer.� I tap the barrel of the gun against his nose tauntingly.
“Yes,� he growls.
“Have you no manners, Dubh? What do civilized people say when they want something?”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“He can’t touch me. Not this time.
“Come for me, Dubh. Show me what you have to offer me.�
“Fuck, Lucy,� he groans as he keeps thrusting in the air. And finally, spurts of pearly white cum shoot out of the tip, onto the floor.
“Goddamn you,â€� he curses as he spills more onto the ground.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick