ROMANCE: CLEAN ROMANCE: Summer Splash! (Sweet Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (New Adult Clean Fantasy Short Stories)

by Michelle Woodward

  Iliana’s face turns cold. “Watch what you say about those jerks, Hank. I’m one of them.”

  “Yeah, about that. How can you DO all of that weird stuff?” Hanks asks.

  “Whoa, whoa,” George cuts in, feeling the tension rise up in the air between them. “This isn’t some stranger you’re talking to, Hank. Remember what you said about reserving judgment? Come on now, she’s a former SEAL, man. If she’s doing this, she has her reasons.”

  Iliana considers the strong-jawed man, cocking her head to one side. “Thank you, George,” she says, but the look on her face is thoughtful.

  “Why’d you leave the SEALs, anyway?” he asks, saying out loud what he and Hank had been truly wondering about all these long years.

  She ducks her head, letting the long curtain of her hair conceal her face momentarily. The silence between the trio is long and heavy; as the moments tick by, Iliana considers the trust bond between them. What finally decides her is Hank’s action from the night before. Certainly, he rushed to her side because of some misguided jealousy, but there was also that bred sense of protecting your own kind; even after so many years, even after she dropped out, she knows that Hank considers her one of his own. You always do. Navy SEALs swim together, run together, dive together, and work together. They live and they die together.

  “Growing up,” she begins, “my daddy was mean. A lot of people never knew because on the surface, he was a terrific family man. Mama always looked so well-cared for. He would open bottles for her, trim the hedges, drive me to school. In reality, it felt like we couldn’t even leave the house without him having to know everything. When we would come back, he would have to know every single detail of where we had been and who we had talked to; he would check in with the people with mentioned, as if we had committed a crime and he was looking to see if our alibis ever panned out. I can’t even say that he had booze to blame it all on. He was just mean.”

  George and Hank are quiet. They have to be, since they are re-evaluating the adolescence they spent growing up next to the monster. It’s hard to believe, but maybe that’s the whole point. After all, there’s no doubt that men like that exist in this world, and that they’re very hard to detect, especially if they’re working hard to hide it. But Iliana is talking again.

  “So one day, my old man did all of this up until it was time for me to leave for college. He didn’t want me to go; after all, it’s harder to control your daughter when she’s miles and miles away. So I told him I was going whether he liked it or not, and that’s when he punched me square in the mouth and kicked me out to the curb. I guess he figured I’d come back with my tail between my legs because I had nowhere else to go. That night I ran, and when I was too tired to run, I slept.”

  “Where?” Hanks asks, before he can stop himself.

  “Sometimes on the street, sometimes in some dude’s car.” A pause here and neither man presses her. “Someone suggested I join the Navy, and I figured it was the right place for my personality. My whole life, I was this dominant aggressor living with another dominant aggressor. Turns out the only place I like to take and give orders is in the bedroom. Either of you know anything about dogs?”

  “Some,” says George. “Had a pet schnauzer as a kid.”

  Iliana shakes her head. “Animals have a chain of command that makes more sense than human; if you think about it, a dog that is happy is one that feels like its owner is in charge; with someone else making the decisions, a dog is free to just dog about, growing, evolving, and being happy. That’s how I feel about what this lifestyle, you know? I thought that being in the navy would let me work out some of my aggression, but I don’t do well with authority. Don’t get wrong, SEALs work hard and play hard, but by the third week, I knew that I just wasn’t a team player in the way I needed it to be. So I left.”

  “George always thought it was because you couldn’t handle it,” Hank says, and gets a punch in the arm from the other man. Iliana smiles.

  “No, that wasn’t it. It just wasn’t the right fit for me. I will say though, that they do discipline very well. After I left, I felt so aimless, like the whole world was against me and I had to fend for myself. It made me so grim and angry at the world. That’s when my weed dealer invited me to a party and I met Master Slick.”

  “Fun name,” George mumbles.

  “I was a virgin when I met him, and you’re none too popular in the lifestyle when you’re so fresh and new. Some people feel like they have to train subs, but Master felt differently. He said I had been a submissive my whole life, that I didn’t need to do a thing. He would take care of everything.”

  “Was that Slick at the club?”

  Iliana shakes her head sadly. “No. It ended up not working out. I wanted to experiment with being a top, and Master felt that that threatened his alpha status, so we parted ways. It was very painful, but after it was over, I got to try being a Domme, and I found that I liked both roles equally well, depending on the changes that were going on in my life. That definitely helped tame the aggression a little bit, and it focused me. Now I’m going to be an animal doctor, so, you know, just a normal girl after all.” She smiles wide.

  George and Hank are momentarily speechless. The summer wind curls around their hair like an old friend, chilling their arms just a little bit.

  “I don’t exactly know what to say to all that,” George speaks up finally. “I guess I’m glad you found your way in the world.”

  “And what about you two?” asks Iliana, her smile gently teasing. “Are you happy?”

  There’s no answer, just smiles and shrugs all around. It’s an interesting moment, hanging on the precipice of possibility so delicate that it becomes what is known as one of life’s pivotal moments. “It’s hard being a Navy man, I know,” Iliana says, breaking into the awkwardness with her butter knife of a voice. “Sure might be fun to give someone else control of the reigns for a minute, wouldn’t it?”

  She is joking, but also, she is not.

  “Psh, no girl can control me in the bedroom,” George bursts in, blustery again. “Especially not one who was too wimpy to make it through Hell Week.”

  It’s been six years, but once a SEAL, always a SEAL. “Are you saying,” Iliana asks slowly and dangerously, “That I can’t rise to the occasion? Oh honey. Do not be fooled by ninety pounds of female. I’m as bad as I was back then. I can bring grown men to their knees and make them like it.”

  And just like that, the air on the porch has changed. It’s an ultimatum, a challenge is what it is. And it’s one that Hank and George cannot help but answer. Bad SEAL blood, perhaps. Never step down from a mission.

  “You’re on, baby girl,” says Hank.

  “Yeah, which one of us are you going to take on first?”

  Iliana looks from one man to another. It goes against her principles, really, to make light of the way she lives, but she’s always been as good as her word. Besides, this might really be very exciting.

  “Both of you,” she says finally, a mischievous little grin lighting up her features.

  George and Hank look at her incredulously. “Both of us at once?” George asks, gulping a little.

  Iliana nods. Let the games begin.

  * * *

  I know they want me. I know what they are thinking, that they’re drinking in my body and face and wondering what it would be like to dominate me, but the fact of the matter is I want them both at once. That was hard for them to wrap their minds around it at first, but I told them that their very first lesson about my world is that nothing is done without consent. It’s hard to get men like that to open up about what they feel and want, but I told them it needed to be done if we were to actually do this.

  George was very forthcoming. He wanted to be tied down and spanked, and he didn’t care if it was me or Hank doing it. Good old George; he never did quite manage to find a way with words that worked for him, but amongst friends, he never hid who he was inside. Hank was a tougher nut to crack. You know the
type, wound up tighter than a fist punch arcade game at a fair. The harder it tries to contain itself, the harder it springs out.

  I delivered the contract later that week to each of them separately. It was fairly standard: hard and soft limits, toys allowed and not allowed, possible safewords. When I got them back, Hanks’ definitely took me by surprise. What a dirty boy was hiding under that camouflage all these years. He’s a man who speaks my language, who craves giving over control in a way that only few people truly can. He may not understand the psychology of what I do, but I think this is going to be a real breakthrough for him, at least according to the points he checked off in the contract. How interesting this is going to be—it turns out he is the kind of person who thrives off of the thrill of being caught in the most compromising positions. Which does not come as a surprise, really, considering the repressed sexuality of the world in which he works. Men who have high-stress jobs like that are usually the ones who keep everything bottled up; sometimes, you just want someone to acknowledge how you truly feel inside in a new and kinky little way. I laugh, remembering this. So much fun, indeed.

  After our meeting, during which we discussed the contracts at hand, George and Hank looked at me, apprehensive until the last. I could see it in their eyes; they were still not able to take me seriously. In their eyes, especially George’s, I was still the weakling who couldn’t make it through BUD/S. So you can say that perhaps I feel like I have something to prove. And that’s nothing a little punishment can’t fix. I guess you can say that I’m still SEAL-ready at heart.

  I prepare with care for this occasion. I’ve rented my favorite room at the club for the night; I’m a regular there, so I know the room will be set up exactly how I like it. I’m dressed from head to toe in pale grey silk, almost like a harem concubine. One of my favorite things is giving off the impression that I’m far more submissive than I actually am in domination scenarios; it gives me almost the element of surprise, and I like how off-balance it throws people. Of course, the outfit also works for when I want to give my pleasure over to somebody else, but there’s been nobody since Master Slick that I’ve trusted quite so much, so it’s nice to be able to put the silk to good use. Besides, one of the scarves can be used as a terrific blindfold, which makes it doubly handy.

  As I test each of the metal hooks and chains in the room, I think with excitement about the evening ahead. I think I’ll start with some wine. And I’ll make them feed it to one another while looking deep into each other’s eyes. I can feel this sexual energy between them that they’ve been denying for oh-so-many years, and I want to make them connect with each other in this new way, to establish a trust that will hopefully last throughout the evening. Then I want them to lick the remaining droplets and any excess off each other’s lips. With their tongues.

  I softly caress the red velvet couch with my right index finger. Yes. It will do very nicely for that part of the evening, reflecting the ruby tones of the wine I have.

  What’s next? Oh, there are just so many options! It makes me a little giddy to think about it, but I reign myself in. I have control over the situation; they are my pack, and I will make the decisions here so that they can know what exactly is expected of them. That’s the real fun here.

  In his contract, George specified that restraints would be something that he is willing to try. So I think I’ll shackle him to my favorite one. While he stands there, weight coming off a little at the wrists—not too much, I have no desire to loosen any of his joints, I’d like to keep my new pet—I’m going to have Hank indulge in one of his fantasies. And what are those, you may ask.

  You see, Hank is about as straight as they come, but what he really wants to do is to be forced to take another man’s cock into his mouth. Since he and George have known each other for years, I figure, whose cock better to try than his? A smile slips around my lips as I think about this. I’m going to tell him exactly what to do. My idea is that George needs to earn his release, so at first, Hank is just going to tease him. He’s going to lick him up and down, but not take him into his mouth. No, no. Before he can do that, George must recite the tenants of Basic Crew Training that we learned during SEAL camp. It’s my little nod to the Navy, so sue me. If he gets them right, I’m going to let Hank slide George’s cock into his mouth, but if he gets it wrong, he’s going to feel the end of my crop across his thighs and have to start again.

  The crop has a little heart at the end of it, and I know from personal experience that it stings. George is really going to feel the love, so to speak.

  Mmm. This is quite delicious to picture. Hank is going to bury George deep into his throat for as long as he can; I just love the sounds he’s going to make, those gasping, guttural noises that you emit only when something is truly obstructing your airway. And when he has to draw back from George’s cock, I’m going to give him exactly two seconds to recover before he has to ask for more.

  And yes, he has to ask for more if he wants to continue playing. In fact, he has to say, “More, Mistress?” No, not mistress. What is it they call authority figures in the Navy?

  Oh yes. More, Commander? it is.

  Yum.

  Man does not thrive on sensation alone, so to titillate the visual cortex, I think I’ll give George a little striptease while Hank sucks on him. I’m going to start by running my hands over the silk of this costume. Whoever said that BDSM is all about pain clearly does not know the sheer sensual pleasure of cool silk weaving its way around your body. I’m quite naked under this because I like the way silk feels against my nipples; I feel like a baby cat getting scratched across the belly as it stretches, and this never fails to make me a little moist between the legs.

  The clothes will come off slowly. Didn’t I mention? George has to earn it, too. He’s got to watch what his lower half is doing while Hank has his lips and tongue on him. If he can’t control himself, my clothes stay on and he’s going to lose his place as being the taller of the two men. Height equals dominance, in case you didn’t know. So here’s the thing—SEALs are all about that control, and he’s got to prove himself. Oh, you thought it was me with a mission? No, darling, no. If George can contain himself for long enough, he gets access to me, the main prize of the evening.

  I don’t give myself to just anyone. I give myself to the man who can control his cum for long enough not to disgrace himself in front of his team. I mean, really, we’re all professionals here.

  I step in front of the glass cabinet that would ordinarily hold booze in any other place. Here, instead, it houses an array of lube and different scents, for those who like to play with that stuff. I pick up a bottle of grapefruit-flavored lube, my little nod to Master Slick; truly, he was the one who taught me everything I know. It’s going to come in handy for the next portion of the evening.

  Playing to my new subs’ tastes, George is going to have his wrists and ankles tied together next. I’ve got this lovely little contraption that I’ve been meaning to put to use, and now I’m finally going to be able to. I’m very excited. Basically, it keeps a person in place when they’re tied up like that so they don’t have to worry about their balance and can focus on doing something else.

  In this case, it will be my pussy. And he will be attending to it with his mouth.

  Did I mention I have a throne to sit on? It’s not like the one at Westeros; this one is very comfortable to sit in, get eaten out in, whatever you happen to fancy.

  As for Hank’s role, well, I’ve promised him that at some point, my friend Carlos will come to pay us a visit. He asked me when that would be, and I asked him what the fun in my telling him would be. Isn’t that the whole point, I asked, drawing one of my fingernails across his thighs, that there’s a chance you could be caught all night. It could be with a cock in your mouth, or it could be with your cock in another man.

  Does he know I’m a SEAL, Hank asked me, shivering a little at the scrape of my nail against him.

  Yes. He knows all about your staunch, standup upbr
inging, I told him, bending close to his ear so that he could feel my breath on it. And he’s going to be very, very upset if he finds you in a compromising situation.

  Hank closed his eyes and suppressed a moan.

  That cock in the ass bit? I forgot to say, didn’t I? While George uses his tongue to pleasure me—and he better do it well, too, or I’m going to ridicule him like no tomorrow, Hank is going to be making sweet, sweet love to his dirty starfish. That’s what all that lube is for. He’s going to plunder the depths of that round, sweet little bottom with his fat cock as I watch, locking eyes with him throughout the whole time. He gets the supreme gift of watching me as I come, and the pleasure of knowing I know. There are no enemas in my dungeon, no sir. When Hank removes his cock from his fellow SEALs’ asshole, I want it to be stained with filth and with his own cum. I want him to know that in the end, he couldn’t control himself, that he couldn’t keep away from his deviant desires any more than I could.

  They call me Mistress for a reason. Little Iliana always gets her way.

  THE END

  Her Untamed Cowboys

  All of time and space exist somewhere, but her world is narrowed down to one pinprick of space on the skin of the universe. There is nobody in any place in all the world that can hear her, nobody from her past or her future. In fact, there is nobody to hear the stifled screams of her inner horror but her own mind. Her mouth is pressed into the bed, the springs around her squeaking with his exertions. Her arms, well-muscled and dark, but still too weak to fight him off, are bound behind her back, and the inner sanctum between her thighs is being invaded. She tries to clench her muscles, to block him off, but he is ramming into her like a weapon of yesteryear. This is what his ancestors did before they plundered and pillaged whole villages—they took great armies of men, great, angry men, who used the strength of their bodies to lift huge battering rams and take down the fortresses of cities. White men, blood made thick in their veins by years of inbreeding, the same kind of inbreeding that they forced upon the thousands they enslaved, treating them no better than mating animals.