Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
Chapter One
Amanda pulled at the rope, desperate to climb the high wooden wall. Muscles strained, ligaments ached, her lungs screamed for air, and all the while there was that maniacal laughter in her earpiece. She really hated wearing a micro-talkie on an endurance run, but it was required as part of the training.
“What’s the matter, Private Pittypat, that last hurdle too tough for you? Why don’t you run along home to your daddy and leave this to the men?”
“Not… gonna… happen, buster,” she choked out, reaching the top.
Grabbing the edge with both hands, she hoisted herself up and onto the deck.
“Oh, please, you’re like all the rest who’ve tried, tried and failed. This is one instance where the phrase ‘grow some balls’ truly can’t apply,” Abel sneered.
“Why would I want to do that?” she replied, catching her breath. “Those things are soft, gooey, and oh so tender. A pussy, on the other hand, is tough. Those suckers can take an ever-loving pounding.”
“Well, aren’t you just the fucking poet? Move it, recruit! You may have beaten the last wall, but you’re on the clock. Fifty seconds and counting.”
Amanda jumped to her feet. “What? No, wait, there’s no time limit on this!”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? So sorry, guess I had a senior moment. Forty-five now, looks like you’re going to be just like all the rest,” he shot back, and laughed again.
“Not if I can fucking help it, you bastard.”
Amanda raced to the other edge of the platform and surveyed the area. The finish line was off in the distance. Not too far actually, she could probably run it with ease, even in her drained state—that wasn’t the issue. The problem was that she’d never make it in the allotted time. There was a cable on her right, which she could use as a zip line, but she had nothing to wrap around it.
Or did she?
She grinned, yanked off her top over her head, pulled off her bra, threw her top back on, and headed for the cable. Two seconds later, she was careening down from the tower, the wind whipping her short brown hair about her face. Her nose crinkled. Something was wrong, something was burning. Suddenly, she realized what—the fabric of her bra. The friction was literally roasting it and it was going to snap. She looked down. A fall now would probably break a leg, at least. Pulling her legs up so that her knees were practically in her face, so as to reduce her wind resistance, she tried to boost her speed. If she could get closer to the ground before it burned through, she might make it. Down, down she went, and she could feel the heat coming from the textile.
It broke.
She brought her arms in and went into a roll as the earth raced toward her. The landing was the tricky part. Impact her head or feet and she was going to get hurt. Get her shoulder down first and roll, and she had a chance. At least she was landing on grass and not stone. She made contact, her left shoulder compressing under the force of her body; she tucked her head in and rolled across the ground. Pain rippled through her shoulder blade and back, but it was manageable. Nothing she hadn’t dealt with countless times before. She came out of the roll, sprang to her feet, and took off.
“What was that, something you saw the monkeys at the zoo do?”
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” she shot back.
“That’ll be for the judge to decide. I’m launching a formal protest: illegal use of non-combat–issued material.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your bra. Oh, and by the way, nice rack. Got a great look with my binoculars. I’ll post the video on YouTube later.”
“Fuck you!”
“Anytime, anyplace, baby.”
Amanda tried to brush off his continual insults. She knew the drill; it was mind games in an effort to trip her up. Well, it wasn’t going to work. The finish line was before her and now she could see the digital clock. Ten seconds. She gave it her all. Five. Pain built up. Head swam, muscles ached. She dove across. Spinning around, she looked and smiled.
Two seconds left.
There was Abel, sitting at the review desk—a small portable military table—a smug little grin on his face. The other members of the team—Baker, Charlie, and Delta—stood off to the side and applauded. They moved to encircle her and offered their congratulations.
“Way to go, Jane, you did it,” Delta said.
Baker nodded. “First woman ever to finish the course.”
“Finish, not complete,” Abel snapped, getting to his feet.
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Really, captain, you’re going to protest?”
“Hey, I’m not cutting her any slack just ‘cause she’s a girl. Colonel, we need a judgment call here!”
Amanda turned. A small Quonset hut stood off to the side, nestled under a large oak. Out the door came Col. Arthur Major. The guys always had a good laugh about his name. Not to his face of course, not unless they wanted a month of KP duty. He stepped over to Abel, heard his side of the matter, and turned to Amanda. She swallowed hard. What would he say?
“Sorry, Abel, I’m giving Jane this one.”
“What? But, sir—”
“No, while a bra is not combat gear—”
“Not here, anyway,” Charlie snickered under his breath.
“What was that, sergeant?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Uh-huh. Well, keep your opinions to yourself. Anyway, as I was about to say, her bra is military issue, which means she can make use of it as she sees fit. As I recall, Abel, you tore off your trouser legs to do the same when you finally completed the course. It was… what, your fifth time?”
“I, um, well, yes, sir.”
“And here, Jane has done it on her second. Congrats, my girl, I’m damn proud of you,” he said, offering her his hand.
She smiled and shook it, and then he left in his Jeep while the others gathered around to further congratulate her. Even Abel did so. Standing there surrounded by the guys, she felt like a minnow among sharks. Yeah, in a hand-to-hand fight she might be able to take any one of them, but it was a little intimidating to be alone with the four toughest guys on the base. It excited her.
“So, little G.I. Jane, code name Jane,” Abel said. “Now that you’re one of us—”
“One of us, one of us,” the other three chanted.
“All right, all right, guys, lay off. Still, as that’s now true, you going to share your real name with us?”
“You going to share yours?” she shot back.
He raised his hands in a mock surrender gesture. “Ah, touché. Okay, we won’t go there. However, there is one other thing: the initiation. Guys, you think she’s up for it?”
Delta chewed his lip. “Gee, I don’t know. No offense, Jane, but you are a girl.”
“You all do it?” she said.
They nodded.
“Well, considering my shoulder is throbbing, my ankles are aching, and every muscle in my body is sore, no offense back, but I think I can take anything you guys did without so much as batting an eye.”
Abel grinned. “You heard the lady, gents. Prepare her!”
It took all of about five seconds for the others to grab her, bend her across the table, and hold her tight. Her first instinct had been to fight back. Considering the training she’d had over the years, defense was virtually automatic for her. Yet, she knew and trusted these men—even Abel. Yeah, he’d been tough on her, but only to force her to dig deep, find her strength, and power through any obstacle. Then she saw him pull a formidable fraternity-style paddle out of his rucksack.
She rolled her eyes. Oh, that old kind of initiation? God, what juveniles.
As they stepped around behind her, she stiffened at the tap of the implement to her ass. Her fatigues were tough and thick, but they weren’t going to offer much protection from this thing, especially not in Abel’s able arms. The guy was built like Mr. Universe.
“Okay, let’s see how many it’ll take to make her squeal,” he said.
Crack! The first blow landed. Amanda gasped. She’d felt pain before—some of it truly incredible—but this was something different.
Whack! He struck again. She grit her teeth as her muscles tightened. The guys had her truly pinned, so she wasn’t going anywhere. Of course, deep down, she didn’t want to escape. Doing so would be to admit defeat, that she couldn’t take what they’d taken, and there was no way she was going to look weaker than mere men.
Swat! Whack! More blows fell. She lurched on the table as much as she could, swallowing her grunts of pain. All the while, the fire built up in her ass. Then another smack landed.
“Ow,” she growled through clenched teeth.
“Ha, number eight,” Charlie said happily. “I win.”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the meaning. They’d had a pool to see how long it’d take for her to cry out. Four more followed, and she yelped and howled through all of them, yet didn’t beg for mercy. After that, she was released, and slowly eased herself up to stand before them. Her ass throbbed worse than any part of her body, yet she refused to rub in front of them. They were busy anyway, each of them slipping Charlie a twenty.
“Never thought she’d make it that far,” Baker said.
Abel shook his head. “Me neither. I thought sure I’d break her by four.”
Charlie grinned, pocketing his winnings. “You guys just don’t know women. They can take a hell of a lot, especially when trying to show up us men. Am I right on that, Jane?”
“Hell, yes,” she said, smiling ear to ear.
“So, you up for a night on the town?” Abel said.
“Nope, sorry, guys, I have to get back to the real world.”
“Ah, yes, husband and home,” Delta said. “Just remember, not a word.”
“I know the drill. This place doesn’t exist, we were never here, and I don’t know any of you. But, between you, me, and the trees, one question: you think now Mr. Jones will move me up to full status?”
Silence. The men got very thoughtful-looking for a moment.
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, I think he will. You’re the first woman to ever complete this training, Jane. That’s got to carry a lot of weight at Langley. Abel, you agree?”
“I do, especially once he gets my final report.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “You guys are the best. All together now.”
Amanda put her hand out in front of her. The guys then placed theirs on top of hers.
“Ah-woo, ah-woo, ahhh-wooooo,” they all chanted, and then threw up their hands.
After that came the Jeep ride back to base, which was a bit hard on her. Her ass still pounded. She actually found it amusing, later sitting in her car for the drive home. There she was, now in her civvies, her shoulder felt better, her muscles didn’t ache nearly so bad, and yet still her behind throbbed. It was late in the day, rush hour, and so she had to sit for quite a while in heavy traffic, squirming in her seat. The cushion was molded around her, and thus the sting and fire in her flesh was trapped, cupped, and had but one outlet: internal. Slowly it seeped inside her. The oddest feeling came over her. It was as if a liquid hand was being poured into her pussy. Little by little it filled her, moved about, its fingers wiggling and probing at her delicate insides. Amanda felt her breathing speed up and come in short tight gasps. She turned the A/C up; for some reason she was now hot and sweaty.
Once home, she was out of the car and into the house before the garage door was halfway down.
Okay, where is he? Ah, his study, of course!
She bolted up the back stairs of their modest Colonial style home, taking them three at a time, and then down the hall to the spare bedroom. The door was ajar, and she threw it open.
“Surprise, darling, I’m home!”
Walter jumped in his seat, his nice leather desk chair leaning so far back she thought he might tumble out of it.
“Holy crap, girl, give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”
Amanda laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought sure you were expecting me. It is quitting time.”
Leaning forward, he checked the clock, and then reached for his mouse. “Wow, is it that late? Man, guess I was really in the zone. Sorry about that, baby, but I’ve got a chicken in the rotisserie, be done in about half an hour.”
Walter’s office was unlike the rest of the house; it was a hodgepodge of utter chaos with complete nonsense dribbled across every surface. While the room was small, it seemed huge given the massive amount of papers, books, sketches, and assorted mishmash he had assembled there. It was his sanctuary, his one bastion of maleness in the entire home. It was here he wrote and created his incredible stories. Thus while his real name was Walter Seraph, the nickname of ‘Walter Mitty’ was quite appropriate.
She opened her mouth to speak, but froze. Did he just minimize a file on the screen? I could have sworn I saw a different title and name there a moment ago.
Part of her training had involved taking a mental snapshot of a room in an instant, and it carried over to her regular life. She almost always knew when Walter was planning a surprise party or had bought her something special and hidden it. As she looked again, she saw that the screen showed his new children’s book and his name below the title.
Naw, I’m seeing things. After the day I’ve had, it’s to be expected. “Ah, so we’ve got time for… us, that what you’re saying?”
His brow wrinkled. “Us? Oh, ohhh—that. Really, baby? You just got home. Work that stressful today?”
She grinned. “You have no idea. Come on, my man, race you to the bed.”
Amanda didn’t look back; she just took off, her clothes going every which way, although she was careful to leave her panties on until she was safely under the covers. No sense trying to explain her red cheeks to dear Walter. She almost chuckled to see him, naked except for his shoes and socks, standing in the doorway as he desperately tried to get them off, a trail of clothes behind him in the hall. It took a minute, but he managed, and then joined her, their arms and legs intermingling as their lips found each other. Her muscles had recovered, and her shoulder didn’t hurt nearly as bad as her ass. They rolled about, hands sliding across supple flesh, fingers prodding, legs squeezing. Amada was already at half speed, and it didn’t take long to get Walter to match her. When she shook hands—literally—with his hard cock, she knew he was ready. Lying back, she pulled him onto and into her.
“Whoa, baby, me on top? That’s a switch.”
“Less talk, more fuck. Come on, my man, show me what you got!”
He laughed, but obliged. Thrusting hard, he went deep, and Amanda groaned. The pleasure upfront connected with her burning backside, and she went thermal. Instant climax. Never in her life had she known such a high. She tried to wrap her arms about him and pull him closer, but this was the one area where Walter was her superior: he was taller and had a bigger build. Granted, she was the muscular one and could easily bench press twice what he could, but at over six feet he dwarfed her. As he rocked his hips, his cock slid easily in and out, going deep to her g-spot where it set off multiple waves of delight. As she bounced in bed, it was as if she was getting smacked in the ass with each slam of his hips into her. Multiple orgasms followed, and then he came too.
Huh, Walter: one, Amanda: twelve. Can’t ever tell him that though, he’d never believe it.
A few minutes later, wrapped in each other’s embrace, they exchanged light kisses.
“So, tough day, baby; you want to talk about it?” Walter asked.
“Eh, it’s all financial crap. I don’t want to bore you. Besides, this was just what I needed.”
“Well, I’m happy to give you what you need. Man, you sure were wild today. What got your engine on fire?”
“Fire? Oh, um, I don’t know, just something seemed to… motivate me.”
“Whatever it is, try to bottle it, and take twice daily. Oh, the chicken!” he said, bounding out of bed.
Amanda tried not to laugh. There was her man, buck naked, sprinting down the hall. Rolling onto her side, she rubbed her still stinging seat, and tried to figure out what had just happened. None of it made sense. Over the years, she’d gone on dozens of missions. She’d had the bottoms of her feet beaten with rattan sticks, felt a whip across her back, and gotten the ever-loving shit beaten out of her in countless fights. Yet, she had always managed to give as good—or better—than she got. But during all of those times she had felt mere pain, and she’d been trained to take it, deal with it, and resist. In most cases, she’d even fed off of it; pain was strength, but never pleasure.
So, what was different about this? She couldn’t figure it out, but she was determined to do so.