Masters at Arms (16 page)

“Well, um, Jerry says I can trust you—or
he’ll whup your asses.” She smiled sweetly to belie the threat.
“So, how about leather flogger? St. Andrew’s cross? Cunni and
fellatio?”

Marc’s cock throbbed. She had him at flogger,
one of his favorites. Jerry knew and had probably planted the idea.
Fucking patriotic of him.

“Mind if I warm up your backside on the
loveseat first? The kid here needs to see how erotic spanking is
done.”

Orlando glared at him, but didn’t speak
up.

“Sure. Let me go change into something
more…appropriate.” She smiled and flounced off toward the dressing
rooms.

“We’ll be waiting!” Marc called after
her.

“You don’t have to make me sound like a
fucking virgin.”

Marc turned to smile at Orlando. “Good, then
don’t act like one. When we restrain her on the cross, I’ll let you
have first crack at her. Her ass will be pretty sore by then. You
can work on her tits and pussy.” Marc glanced down to see the bulge
in the kid’s pants. Yeah, he was coming around.

Fifteen minutes later, as he polished off his
beer, Marc looked toward the dressing-room entrance to see Bianca
strutting toward them in a short, short plaid skirt and a
schoolgirl’s white blouse. She held a wooden ruler between her
breasts.

Holy shit!

Marc adjusted himself surreptitiously to keep
from strangling his cock and stood up.

“You’re late, young lady. Mr. Jerry sent you
to me for your punishment thirty minutes ago. What do you have to
say for yourself?”

Her pupils dilated again as she caught her
breath, and then she cast her eyes down to the floor. “I’m sorry,
sir. I was with my friends and just lost track of time.”

Marc took the ruler from her and laid it on
the table. He had raided Jerry’s private toy stash while Bianca was
dressing and picked up one of the leopard-print cuffs lying beside
the ruler. He handed it to Orlando, then picked up Bianca’s hand
and extended it to the kid, whose hands shook as he wrapped the
cuff around her wrist and tightened it.

“Is that too tight?” Orlando asked.

“No, Sir.”

The kid’s pants tented at the title. Marc
grinned, then he turned her around and pulled her cuffed hand
behind her back while he secured the right wrist and clipped the
two together. She kept her head bowed, causing his cock to throb
even more. He couldn’t wait to turn her over his knee. He picked up
a borrowed necktie and blindfolded her.

Grabbing the ruler almost as an afterthought,
he motioned for Orlando to take one arm and Marc took the other as
they led her to a darkened corner, keeping her from running into
any obstacles along the way. He pointed to the far end and Orlando
sat down, then Marc lowered Bianca over the armrest at that end
until her head rested in Orlando’s lap. He wouldn’t be able to
smack her as hard with his left hand, but the ruler would sting
enough.

Marc lifted her short skirt.
Oh, yeah
.
No panties. Her round globes were white and begging for some color.
“Tell me why you’ve been sent to the principal’s office,
Bianca.”

“Because I was talking in class, Sir.”

Marc reached out and rubbed her ass cheeks
vigorously to get the blood to the surface. Then he indicated for
Orlando to do the same. The kid’s hand reached behind her to gently
stroke her ass. Well, it was a start. At least he was touching her.
He motioned Orlando’s hand away with the ruler.

Smack!

She gasped in the most sensual way. His cock
strained against his khakis. Her left cheek soon displayed the mark
of the ruler, holes and all. “Tell me what your mouth should be
used for instead.”

“Fucking, Sir.”

“Good answer.” She visibly relaxed.

Smack!
The right cheek soon bore a
matching welt.

Marc nodded to Orlando indicating her head.
The kid moved his hand up past her cuffed hands and traced a path
up her arm to her hair.

“Tell me how you want to please us with your
mouth, pet.”

“By sucking your cocks, Sirs.”

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

“Oh!” The pain and frustration were evident
in her scream. The last blow landed across her upper thighs,
causing her to squirm. Enough of the damned ruler. He needed to
feel his hand against her ass, between her legs.

“Stand!” With his and Orlando’s help, she was
lifted onto her feet again. The disappointment written on her face
told him she thought her discipline had ended.

Not even close, pet
.

Marc led her to stand in front of the
dividing center cushion, facing her toward the social area where
they’d negotiated the scene. He sat down, then reached up and took
Bianca by the arm, pulling her off balance.

“Oh!”

“We have you,” Marc assured her. Yes, she
definitely hadn’t expected more. Good. He liked to surprise
subbies.

He wrapped his arm around her waist while
motioning for Orlando to do the same in front of her thighs.
Together they lowered her over both their laps, careful not to
overstrain her arms. Bianca was positioned so that her abdomen was
over Marc’s thighs and her ass lifted in the air, giving Orlando a
perfect view. Her calves were across the kid’s lap and he reached
out to stroke her legs with his right hand.

“How are you doing, pet?”

“Fine, Sir.” Her voice had gone up an octave
to a high squeak.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Red, Sir.”

“Use it if you need to.” Not knowing how much
pain she could take, it never hurt to remind her, before the
spanking continued in earnest. Hoping to give Orlando and himself
better access to her pussy—he reached down and put pressure against
her right knee until she spread her legs for him with some
hesitation.

Slap!

He brought his right hand down hard against
her pink lower right cheek.

Slap!

Then the left.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Continuing to alternate cheeks, he delivered
the blows in quick succession until he heard her gasp. “Ow! Oh,
please, Sir.”

Marc stopped and rubbed the reddened cheeks,
watching her flesh jiggle beneath his hand. His cock pressed
against her abdomen. “Please what, pet?”

“Please…more, Sir.”

“Are you topping me?” He’d had enough of that
shit in Aspen.

She stiffened. “No, Sir! I…forgot my place.
Please, Sir, do whatever you wish to do to your pet.”

“Good girl.” He moved her right leg until it
slid off their laps and her foot went to the floor, opening her
pussy to them nicely. Orlando’s hand was making its way closer to
the juncture between her thighs. Marc’s next blows went directly to
that vulnerable area.

Slap!

Slap!

“Oh, God! I mean, thank you, Sir!”

He slid his finger between her folds. Wet.
They had agreed that fingers wouldn’t break the club’s
no-penetration limit so he moved down to slide two fingers inside
her. Then he pulled out and his wet fingers pressed against the
sides of her clit. She moaned. When he touched the swollen nubbin
standing erect from its hood, she bucked against his hand.

“Remain still!”

She groaned and he moved his left hand to her
lower back to keep her still. Then he delivered his hardest blow
yet, against her pussy.

Slap!

“Ow! I…um…thank you, Sir.”

Marc decided he shouldn’t be having all the
fun. He moved his hand away and encouraged “Master Pleasure,”
sitting like a lump on a log next to him, to take the reins and
give Bianca her first orgasm of the evening. The young man
surprised him by extricating himself from under her thighs and
kneeling on the floor in front of the loveseat. Marc shifted her
body to give Orlando better access.

His buddy lowered his face to her pussy and
wrapped his arms around her thighs. Marc waited for him to make
contact with her sensitive core; then at the same moment, pinched
her swollen nipple.

“Oh, my fucking God!”

Marc pinched her harder.

“Sir! I mean, oh God, Sirs!! Please don’t
stop!”

He pinched her again. She was forgetting her
place.
Slap!
Her topping annoyed him. “You will ask for
permission to come.”

“Yes, Sir! I’m sorry, Sir!” Orlando’s tongue
must be torturing the poor woman. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Mark grimaced. Her
fevered gasps and writhing body sent his cock into conniptions.
Shit, he wished he could bury himself to the hilt inside her pussy
to get some relief.

“Oh, please, Sir, may I come?”

Marc heard Orlando sucking at her clit, then
he pulled away, releasing the swollen nubbin. The kid nodded before
taking the tiny erection in his mouth again.

“Yes, you may, pet.”

Orlando’s head returned to her pussy, shaking
back and forth in tiny movements as he tormented her clit.

“Ohhh! Ohhhhhhhh, fuck! Yes! Please…” She
moaned, bucking her red ass into the air. Marc’s hand landed on her
sweet globes.
Slap! Slap!
“Please, yes, there! Oh, God! Oh,
God, Yessss! Yessssssss!” Her screams filled the room and Marc had
no doubt she’d turned heads throughout the club.
Slap!
Slap!
Slap!
“Ahhhhhhh! Yessssssssss!”

Her body convulsed on his lap as she went
over the top. Orlando’s head movements slowed, but he must have
continued to lick her clit, because she bucked a few more times
against his face, milking every last drop out of her orgasm.

Shit, she would have made an interesting
subbie to train. Getting rid of her tendency to top would have been
a challenge he’d welcome. But he didn’t know when he’d be stateside
again. Not fair to make her wait. Someday he’d find the woman who
would complete his Dom side.

But, for now, he and Orlando had needs to be
taken care of by one smart-mouthed subbie. Orlando leaned back with
a pussy-eating grin on his face and a whole lot of her juices
glistening against his lips, chin, and nose. Marc nodded and
watched Orlando’s chest swell.

Well done, man
.

November 2004, Fallujah, Iraq

Damián hunkered down, awaiting orders.
Sergeant Miller signaled for Grant and Wilson to cover the
south-facing wall, while he and Sarge took the east. The insurgent
weapons fire seemed to be coming from the east, which made sense
based on their recon, but he was beginning to think there was more
than one enemy stronghold holding this rooftop in its sites.

Despite being in country four months, this
was his first real battle since arriving in Fallujah. Sure, there
had been some roadside bombings. Those happened almost every
day—and still scared the shit out of him. Never could predict or
prepare for them. But his battle training really kicked in today.
Now, if only they could get out of here with the unit intact.

Damián preferred the earlier days of this
battle for this city, when they’d let him use his sniper skills
against the insurgents. But the shaky truce limited him to firing
only in defensive situations. He knew the insurgents had placed a
bounty on Marine snipers. And for good reason
.

Their latest intel indicated there was a
prime target in a building a thousand yards away and they’d
continue to wait until they had a chance at taking their shot.
They’d taken turns watching for hours today. Nothing.

Unlike most Marines, Orlando saw the faces of
his targets clearly. His high-powered scope homed in on their
faces, their eyes, their weapons. And when he hit center mass, even
saw the expressions on their faces as they fell dead. One shot, one
kill.

But sometimes he replaced their images with
those of the Jerk-off who pimped Savannah’s body out. Or the two
sadists who tortured her. Even her sugar daddy.

Damián sighed.

“He’s gone to ground,” Sarge announced after
getting the latest radio transmission. He ordered everyone on the
rooftop to take advantage of the lull and grab a Meal, Ready-to-Eat
from their gear. At first, he had appreciated being able to eat a
hot meal on the run, but if he saw another beef stew MRE as long as
he lived, he’d barf. They ate in silence, each of them probably
wondering if they’d manage to complete this mission.

Damián’s mind wandered back to what had
gotten him to this rooftop in Iraq. After being fired from the
hotel, he’d tried for weeks to find another job. Nothing. He’d sold
his Harley, but not for nearly as much as it was worth. After a few
months, when he could no longer make rent, he’d been evicted from
his apartment. The only option he could see was to join the
Marines.

It hadn’t been a bad gig. He liked being a
Marine. He’d been afraid it would be like being in juvie hell
again—but the discipline and structure here were different. He
wasn’t just out to survive on his own. He had his buddies to look
after, too. He knew they were looking out for him, too. A band of
brothers. Well, Grant wouldn’t take kindly to being called a
brother, but she was as tough as the rest of them.

He’d also met some good friends he expected
to keep for life. Sergeant Miller, the blunt African-American from
East St. Louis, had fought alongside him on recon and sniper
missions since Damián had been in Fallujah.

Lance Corporal Grant, sitting against the
other wall, had become a great friend, too. She was easy to talk
to. Hard-edged, but honest. He didn’t usually have female friends,
but she was a Marine first—just one of the guys—and a damned good
listener. He’d even told her about Savannah. Damián admired Grant’s
kick-ass strength. Maybe, being a woman, she had to come across
even tougher just to show her worth among the guys.

Grant sure made it clear from the start she
wasn’t here to be a Marine Mattress—having sex with any and all
Marines interested. He liked that about her, not that he hadn’t
noticed her physical attributes. Blonde, five-nine, muscular build.
She just wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship with
the men in the unit. Said she preferred to top anyway and that she
couldn’t picture any of them tied to her bed. Hell and hell no! So,
the two of them were just going to remain buddies.