by Emily Tilton
It took three minutes, but David’s patience at last had its reward: the sentry turned to look behind him at what appeared to David, even through his night vision goggles, the rocky face of a hill. The sentry wandered over to it, and put his left hand out. His right hand, resting on his shoulder-slung rifle, moved to his thigh.
A beam of light came from the place where the sentry had, it seemed, moved aside a light-proof covering.
“Dropping sentry,” David said into his throat mic, his voice no louder than a whisper. He raised his own silence rifle to his shoulder, aimed carefully, then squeezed off a round whose report blended into the jungle noises.
The sentry fell.
“Go, go, go,” David said calmly into his mic even as his body began to move toward the cave that must lie behind the covering. His squad, including Garmin, Thompson, and two other men from first platoon, hardly needed the order: they ran almost noiselessly beside him.
Two seconds later they stood outside a well concealed cave opening. The sentry’s fall had allowed the opening he had made to close, and David had to admire just how well concealed was the guerrilla cell’s hideout. Faint sounds, nevertheless, reached his ears now: many men, laughing and cheering; a girl crying out in an ambiguous way that sent a thrill of hope, worry, and instinctive arousal through David’s whole body.
With a sergeant’s training, he pushed all that back inside him. He looked to either side to see his squad nod: ready. With pointing fingers David directed Garmin to rip down the covering, which looked to be branches woven over a sheet of heavy black plastic, on the right side, while Thompson did the same on the left. The other men stood back, with David, readied themselves, weapons at their shoulders.
David nodded, and with a ripping sound and a gust of warm air from the cave, the privates revealed the scene of the guerrillas’ celebration over having captured two beautiful, naked American girls for their pleasure. He couldn’t see Georgia and Rian past all the men who began to turn toward his squad, but he could hear one of them.
He heard the smack of leather across what sounded like a bare backside, and he heard Georgia—unmistakably, for him—cry out as the unseen guerrilla whipped her. The emotion David felt at the realization represented the most difficult surge of feeling he had ever had to suppress, but the master sergeant in him won out for a moment over the man: he would be able to deal with his emotional thoughts soon, and maybe even with Georgia by his side—if he managed to finish rescuing her.
It had not been easy to summon the stones necessary to ask the lieutenant to ask the captain to let David take a squad into the jungle, and he imagined the captain had had an even more difficult time with the colonel of the battalion. But B Company had lost two SRDs: members of their units. Waiting a day, under the circumstances, made no sense, even if the higher-ups thought the tactical situation demanded it. David had always lived by the orders of his superiors, but if the lieutenant had not at last given him the go ahead to get his squad together and grab rifles and night vision goggles, he thought he probably would have gone rogue and done it anyway.
Now the immediate reward made him feel he hadn’t made a mistake: for starters, they had caught what looked like two squads of guerrillas—a whole cell—literally with their pants down. The men who turned to face the American rifles—five of them now that Garmin and Thompson had recovered from taking down the curtain—had their cocks in their hands instead of their weapons.
“Down on the ground!” David shouted in high school Spanish. “Everyone! Face down now! Hands out.”
The ones closest to the end of the cave, where David could now make out two cots, with naked feminine bodies on one of them and a bearded man holding a punishment strap standing over them, had just begun to turn to see what had happened while the front six or seven of them had obeyed David’s orders.
He had the wild thought—the kind of thing that always seemed to flash through his head on a mission—that he should humiliate all of the guerrillas for the degradation he could now too clearly see they had enforced on Georgia and Rian. He wanted to order them to hump the ground while the American SRDs walked among them and critiqued their sexual performance. Pushing the idea away and hoping he could remember it, to tell Georgia in hopes she would laugh, he repeated his order to the enemy. “Face down. Right now.”
The one whose cap seemed to make him an officer had a sidearm, unfortunately, and David had to shoot him in the kneecap. That made the rest of them comply, though the bearded one with the strap, on his knees before going face down, gave David a look full of a defiance that David couldn’t help finding admirable.
David looked to either side of him to make sure the rest of the squad policed all the weapons and started to secure the prisoners, Then he strode to the end of the cave to stand over Georgia and Rian, whom the guerrillas had placed in the humiliating but very sexy position that showed Georgia’s butt plug—the one David had put in her bottom himself.
The one with the homing beacon.
The girls seemed dazed, as well they might be: the whole scene in the cave had now lasted less than a minute.
“Honey?” David couldn’t help saying, just as he couldn’t help putting his hand on her back. “It’s me. David.”
Her eyes went wide, because of course his full body rig, black from head-to-toe, meant she had no idea who had rescued them.
“Oh,” she said softly.
David looked at Rian, who gazed up at him from between Georgia’s thighs, past Georgia’s well-reddened bottom-cheeks, with parted lips, her face shining lewdly with Georgia’s very evident arousal from the guerrillas’ erotic discipline.
“You’re here... to... rescue us, Master Sergeant?” Rian asked.
David frowned, though he felt sure the girls couldn’t see his facial expression. Rian almost sounded as if she hadn’t expected the Army would come for her.
“Yup,” David said. “Let’s get you out of here.” He pressed a button at his waist and spoke into his mic. “Lightning Justice, this is Falcon 1. SRDs are safe. We have prisoners to secure. Send in the recovery team.”
“Master Sergeant,” came a voice from the dirt of the cave floor. David looked down, surprised, to see the bearded man who still had the strap in his right hand looking back up at him. “Take good care of these girls.”
“Oh, I will,” David answered, his hand stroking Georgia’s back.
* * *
Three hours later, as dawn broke at last over the hills to the East, Georgia and Rian, dressed in fatigues, sat in Colonel Smith’s office. Lieutenant Stevens, Lieutenant Usher, and Captain Fodor had crowded in there too, along with David.
“Please, sir,” Rian said to the colonel across his desk. “Don’t send me...”
She looked over at Georgia, who nodded decisively, though David could see worry on her face, or at least ambivalence.
“Please don’t send us home,” Rian finished.
The colonel looked at Georgia. “Do you agree, SRD Jones?”
“Yes, sir,” Georgia said, her voice sounding a little faint.
David kept his face stony, but in his mind’s eye he saw the moment in the infirmary, when the medics had checked the girls for trauma and one of them had said, in a kind-doctor voice, “Let’s get that toy out of you, SRD Jones.” Georgia had looked right at David, then, and her face had seemed to say that she didn’t want to have the plug taken out. More, her blue eyes unaccountably told him she felt sorry about... something.
They had taken the plug out, as Georgia whimpered and bit her lip. She had reached her hand out to David, and he had taken it, and kept his eyes on hers. He hadn’t given in to the temptation to cast his glance downward to watch the sexy sight of the medic gently tugging the silicone discipline device from the anus of the beautiful girl he loved, who had turned him on so much even then, just with the touch of her hand.
Certified as trauma-free, the SRDs had gotten to shower before they put on their fatigues and reported to battalion HQ for this m
eeting with the colonel.
“Well,” the colonel said slowly. “I’ll certainly take your wishes into consideration. Centcom is going to want to go back to our corporate partners for a recommendation, I think. In the meantime, you SRDs should feel free just to relax. I’m going to take all of you off active duty until we can figure out whether the SRD program can continue given what just happened.”
Georgia and Rian looked at each other, their eyes wide with alarm. David had to work to keep his face calm as Georgia shot a glance at him, too.
“Sir...” Georgia started. The colonel, who had glanced down wearily at the notes he had been taking for the incident report he would now have to file, David knew, based on the ones the lieutenants and the captain would have to file, looked up at her.
“Yes, SRD Jones?” he asked.
Georgia looked over at Rian to see whether her fellow SRD shared what David began—with a good deal of surprise—to see must be a need the girls felt to redeem themselves for getting captured. When Rian nodded back at her, Georgia continued, “Please don’t. Please... I know this is going to sound strange, sir. But... I think we should be on duty with our platoons.”
Her voice trailed off and she looked at Rian, who now had an apprehensive look on her face, as if she—like Georgia—knew what the request would mean, but knew it would be the right decision.
Georgia looked over at David, with that same anxiety in her eyes. He nodded seriously, then turned back to the colonel. “I agree with the SRD, but I think it’s important that both girls understand they’ll be returning to full duty.” He looked at Georgia, and saw her face start to color. “First platoon has some unfinished business with SRD Jones.”
The colonel frowned, and looked from David to Georgia. “SRD, I don’t get it. As I understand it, you had already received a whipping, and you had...” He glanced down at his notes, a hint of red appearing on his own face. “Received additional disciplinary measures, as well.”
Looking at Georgia, David could see that her face now had turned bright pink. Even Rian blushed at the thought of Georgia’s plug, and how long she had been made to keep it in. The color in the girls’ faces made David wonder suddenly if something specific had happened in the guerrillas’ cave—something that had to do with the butt plug.
Lieutenant Stevens cleared his throat. The colonel looked over to him.
“Lieutenant?” he asked. “Got something to say?”
“Yes, sir,” Stevens replied. “I had imposed one additional disciplinary measure, which the platoon didn’t get the opportunity to impose before the enemy attacked the FOB.”
“Which was what, Lieutenant?” asked Captain Fodor.
“We were going to follow the specifications in the new order, sir,” the lieutenant said, a little stiffly. “After SRD Jones had worn the discipline plug for an hour, the platoon was going to gangbang her to teach her a lesson.”
Chapter Eleven
Even though she had managed to work up her courage in order to ask the colonel for a return to duty, the words themselves made her face get so hot it felt like she had a sunburn. She didn’t know how she suddenly knew she had to return to First Platoon, and it had to start with the part of her discipline that hadn’t happened because of the guerrilla attack. Well, she didn’t know exactly how.
She did know that it had something to do with the sergeant—the enemy sergeant. They had taken the prisoners away to another part of the base, and Georgia presumed they would be flown out to some detention facility soon. She would never see the sergeant, or the captain, or Jose and Roberto, again.
Their faces, she knew however, would never leave her mind. But not, strangely, in a traumatic way. Something about how it had all happened, from the disciplinary scene in First Platoon’s barracks, to the attack, to the naked girls’ lewd stay in the guerrilla cave... and all of it revolving on the one hand around Master Sergeant David Heath and on the other around the bearded copper-skinned sergeant of the resistance cell... something about the way David had rescued her, and had seen her crouched over Rian with the pink butt plug still in her bottom and the guerrilla sergeant whipping her... it all seemed to make her feel like she had owned her bad-girl nature in a dangerous way—and with the help of the two sergeants, the American and the guerrilla one, she had made it out in one piece.
One very needy piece.
The guerrillas in the cave had been about to gangbang Georgia and Rian. It would have happened as soon as Georgia had given into the sergeant’s punishment strap and admitted she had the butt plug in her anus as a punishment for dereliction of duty. He had whipped her five times, as she cried out into Rian’s pussy and licked desperately at the wrinkly hood of the redhead’s clit, as if she could pay her friend back in pleasure for the pain of the lashes she received.
Georgia had known she would confess the truth after the sergeant brought the strap down the sixth time. She would tell him about her punishment in the barracks, and then he would tell the captain that he thought the girls were ready to take the cocks of every man in the cave.
She had decided that by telling that sergeant about this one—David, here just across the colonel’s office from her—she would give herself to her new masters. Just as her daddies had demonstrated to her at BGF, getting the firm-handed discipline she had earned made Georgia so sexually needy that she felt the only thing that might truly satisfy her was to be fucked in every one of her wanton holes, by as many hard cocks as possible.
Georgia looked over at Rian when the lieutenant had finished speaking. The other SRD’s eyes had gone wide. “Sir?” Rian asked.
“Yes, SRD?” the colonel said, frowning a little. Georgia could tell the girls’ reactions to his decision to take them off active duty had surprised him.
“Well...” Rian looked over at Lieutenant Usher. “My platoon... I mean, I wasn’t getting punished, when the attack happened, the way Georgia was, but...”
The colonel’s frown deepened, and he looked first at the captain and then at Lieutenant Usher.
“Lieutenant, do you understand what the SRD is talking about?”
Lieutenant Usher smiled. “I think I might, sir?”
Georgia glanced at Lieutenant Stevens, who also had a smile on his face, then at the master sergeant, whose expression gave less away. As she looked at him, he turned his attention from Rian to her, and for a moment Georgia thought she saw something in his face that made her heart jump.
Care. I think... I think he definitely cares about me.
“Well, please enlighten me, son,” the colonel said, shaking his head. “I had thought I understood the SRD program, but clearly there are nuances that have escaped me.”
“Well, I have to say that SRD Brady’s conduct in Second Platoon’s barracks has been rather slovenly,” Lieutenant Usher said. Georgia returned her attention to Rian, now, whose face had gotten rather pink, and who had begun to chew on the inside of her cheek.
The lieutenant continued, “According to the new special order, I feel sure I would have given the order for Rian to have a gangbanging of her own very soon, sir.”
The colonel knit his brows and nodded slowly. “I see. Well, I will say that this seems to go along with what we’ve heard from Centcom about the adjustments to the program—the ones reflected in the new order, I mean. Master Sergeant Heath?”
David looked very surprised to have been called on, but he lifted his head in a way Georgia couldn’t help thinking the single most military thing she had ever seen, and said, “Sir,” in that way she thought only sergeants know how to do.
“You work most closely with the men, and the SRD, of your platoon. What advice do you have for me?”
David gave a precise nod, and glanced at Georgia and Rian, both now looking at him with imploring eyes, though part of Georgia still didn’t quite understand for what exactly she begged, except to belong to him, and to her platoon, again.
“Sir, I think the SRDs should rejoin their platoons. I think Sergeant Samara would a
gree with me.” He hesitated for a moment, very uncharacteristically. It made Georgia’s breath catch in her throat, because she couldn’t help thinking the pause had something to do with her. “Sir, I think Sergeant Samara and I should have the opportunity to debrief the SRDs individually. Then I think the girls should be gangbanged by their platoons in the mess hall, in front of the whole company.”
Debriefed. Georgia almost giggled as she felt the blood mount to her cheeks.
If the colonel caught the double meaning, he didn’t let on.
“Captain Fodor?” he asked, looking up at B Company’s commanding officer. “What do you think of that recommendation?”
The captain, a forty-something man with a black mustache, seemed a bit more attuned to the meaning of debriefing in this particular case. He seemed to have some trouble maintaining the remoteness a CO has to foster as he looked at Rian’s and Georgia’s faces, then over to the master sergeant, before focusing on the lieutenants.
“No objection,” he finally said, “If Stevens and Usher here think it’s a good idea.”
Georgia felt her face getting a little hot, now that it seemed like David’s plan looked likely to go into effect. She had wanted this, right? She looked over at Rian and saw a similar pinkness on her fellow SRD’s face. She had wanted this—definitely. She had even kind of wanted one of the officers to take it... further.
The mess hall certainly felt further.
After an individual, intimate session with her sergeant.
“Master Sergeant,” asked Lieutenant Stevens in a steady voice that betrayed no thought of another way his words might be taken besides the military one. “Do you think you and Samara will be able to debrief these girls thoroughly?”