by Selena Kitt
She squirmed. As always, the pet name brought memories of being turned over his knee, of being subjected to his hard hand—or worse, his belt. His breath against her ear tickled, and it increased her squirming. He slid a knee in between her thighs, and she gasped.
"Oh, Drew."
"Like I said, apple cheeks, I'm going to miss you too. I need you, too. Can't you tell how much I need you?"
She wiggled under him, spreading her legs to feel the bulge in his pants against her heat. Her head lolled and she sighed. "Please, Drew? Oh, I need you too." Irene kissed his chest, over and over, covering his pecs with her lips while her thighs tightened against his hips.
He grinned and obliged her, pushing his pants and boxers to his knees before thrusting inside. She moaned, her back arching and her breasts pressed against his body. "Oh, gods." His teeth found her throat and he bit down, heedless of the marks it would leave. She cried out and her nails raked down his back, her legs wrapped around his hips while he filled her, over and over and over.
When they had both reached their pleasure they lay still together, wound around each other. His voice was thick and rich, and she loved the way she could feel it rumble against her chest. "You're mine, Irene. Always."
She pressed her face into his shoulder. "Yes. Always. I belong to you." She squirmed, embarrassed to admit it. "I love you, Andrew Watson Breckridge." Saying his name aloud felt like a prayer, and the adoration welled up, the pride in her man, her soon-to-be-soldier, edged out the terror. "Not yet, right? You're not leaving… yet?"
He hesitated. "Irene, I told you. I'm probably leaving for boot camp right after."
"No!" She clung to him, full of fear once again. Only a couple months had passed since the twin towers fell. When they did, her enthusiasm for his career choice had evaporated.
"Irene, this is not a discussion. I told my Mama I'd wait until after her birthday, and that was last week, remember? I told you this on our first date."
He did. But that was before everything changed, before it happened, and I didn't care. I wasn't scared then.
His fingers on her chin turned her face back to his. "Irene. Are you going to keep fighting me on this or do you need a spanking to remember who's in charge here?"
She closed her eyes, her face flushing and butterflies tickling her stomach. "I just don't want you to go."
His voice gentled. "That's not up to you, is it, Irene?"
Her voice was soft, acquiescent. "No."
"Will it help you remember that if I tan your butt?"
Hesitantly, she nodded. Shame flooded her chest, but the knowledge that he would—could—demonstrate his dominance, his leadership… it comforted and soothed her in a way nothing else ever could.
"Come here, then." He shifted over, sat up and patted his thighs. She crawled over, no longer embarrassed to be nude in front of him, not after the summer they'd had together. When she had found a comfortable spot, she folded her arms under her face so she wouldn't be tempted to reach back. He leaned over her prone body and pulled the belt out of the loops of his jeans, still tangled around his knees.
Her head popped up. "No, Drew, not the belt!"
His voice was stern now, and her belly quivered with a different kind of trepidation and desire. "That's not up to you, now, is it, apple cheeks?"
That spike of desire flashed up from her cunt to her brain and she swallowed hard before laying her head back down. "No."
"Good girl." He lay the belt to the side, and began to spank her. Each slap echoed around the trees, but they'd scouted this hill from several directions, and there was a reason they'd chosen it. She tried to relax into the slaps—they didn't hurt much, yet—but she kept remembering the belt and her thighs would clench. It wore on her nerves, the knowledge of how much more it was about to hurt. I don't like to wait. But she had to wait; he almost never whipped her with the belt without a warmup. He squeezed the firm flesh of her buttocks and she moaned. "Good girl. You getting ready for your spanking?" He never called it whipping, even though most people in the south said whoopin'. He only said spanking.
She squirmed. "You are spanking me." He slapped her, particularly hard, on her right thigh and she squealed. "Ow ow ow ow!" His rough hand repeatedly found the most tender spots on the skin of her thighs. "I'm ready!"
"I don't know about that. I think you need to be warmed up a little more before I start your belt spanking." The emphasis was for her benefit, a payment for the snark. She groaned while he continued to spank her bottom, spreading her cheeks and lifting them to be sure every square inch was hot and red.
"Please, Drew. I'm done. I know. It's not up to me. I'll remember."
"Good girl. I'm glad you remember. You're still getting the belt." She whimpered. "Hold still."
He wrapped his big hand around the buckle, and doubled the leather over. She squeezed her eyes shut. CRACK. Each impact of the leather seared her skin and she winced. Lines of heat built and layered until she knew sitting on the motorcycle would be painful. He continued, up and down her round bottom until she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to sit comfortably at school for the next week. But as her pain grew, so did the sense of calm in her heart. As long as Drew is in charge, all is right in my world. She didn't tell him that, of course. It was her own secret thought, not something to admit to a man she'd only known for five months.
When it was over, her whole body flamed with pain and desire. Desire he sated, finally losing his pants altogether before he plunged into her cunt from behind, his hips thumping her sore bottom while his fingers tightened on her nipples. She shuddered and shrieked her way up the peak to a new climax and quieted on the way down.
The pain he increased, by squeezing her bottom hard before she climbed onto the back of his new motorcycle. She leaned her helmet on his back and wrapped her arms around his waist so he could take her home.
* * *
"It's good to see you back from boot camp, Drew." Irene's mother turned back to the stove to finish stirring the gravy.
"It's good to see you too, ma'am."
"Oh, Drew, call me Marianna."
"Yes, ma'am. Marianna."
She huffed a laugh and carried the pot to the table. Henry had gone to college, so it was just Irene, Franklin and Tanya.
Tony leaned back in his chair. "How does the military agree with you, son?"
"Very well, sir. It's a challenge, but I'm doing well."
Irene leaned against Drew, delighted with the additional muscle he'd put on.
"How is the motorcycle repair going?"
"Eh, same ol', same ol'. Still working. Fixed up a pretty chopper the other day. I'll show ya tomorrow, see what ya think of the new chrome parts."
Marianna served him a heaping plate full of pot roast and mashed potatoes. "Pass him the salt, would you, Tony? Drew, how is the food there?"
"Not bad, ma'am. Not as good as Mama's or yours, of course. But not bad. How's your massage therapy business going?"
"It's going well, thank you for asking. I've started to take some clients that are a little further away, so I'm looking into getting a more portable table."
Franklin leaned forward. "So have you killed anyone yet?"
Marianna put her hands on her hips. "Now Franklin, that's ridiculous. Drew just got out of boot camp."
Franklin, ever the brat, remained undeterred. "It's a legitimate question."
Drew broke in. "The legitimate answer is no, Frankie."
"Oh." The boy sounded so disappointed that Drew ruffled his hair, but his words raised Irene's fear again. If… when he deploys… He'll kill people. Or one of them might kill him. She put down her fork, appetite lost. The need to be with him, to be close, overrode her sense.
"I'm going to live with you," she blurted.
Drew raised his eyebrows.
"On base. As soon as I graduate."
Tony spoke into the shocked silence. "No. Yer not."
Drew shook his head too. "Your pop's right, Irene. You've been want
ing to go to college for years. You can't be a teacher without a degree."
"I don't care."
Tony folded his arms. "I do. Much as I've grown fond of this boy here, yer not goin' to run all over the world for him jus' yet."
"I'm eighteen, for gods' sake. I can go if I want to!"
Drew's voice cut through the hubbub of her siblings and her mother adding their protests to her father's. "No. Not if I tell you not to, apple cheeks."
Face flaming, she turned back to him, her mouth gaping in shock. "You don't want me with you?"
He put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her nose. "That's not what I said, now is it? I agree with Tony. You won't be able to get a college degree if you're moving every six months. I might stay in one place the whole four years—I might be moved all the time. I don't know. You should stay here and get your degree."
"I don't want to! I want to be with you!"
Marianna tried to be comforting. "He'll be busy, honey. He might even deploy overseas soon, what with the state of the world as it is."
"Deploy… soon?" Irene turned her face back to Drew, and her heart thumped against her ribs painfully. "I thought you weren't going to deploy yet."
"Probably not. They said it could be a year. But it could be soon. I just don't know. And that's the point. My world is unstable right now. I can't offer you a home."
"I don't want a home, Drew, I want you!"
His voice became soft. "I want you too, Irene, but I want what's best for you. And what's best for you is to get a degree."
"No."
"That's not up to you, is it, apple cheeks?"
She swallowed hard and her eyes widened before she snuck a quick glance around the table. No one seemed to have picked up on his meaning and she relaxed marginally. They all thought apple cheeks meant she was the apple of his eye. Which I am. Or because her frequent blushes around him were more visible on her pale skin. Which they are.
"Maybe."
"Let me be clear, Irene. It is not up to you. You will stay here and go to college. You will get a degree. When you have it, you may move in with me."
"But Drew—"
He laid a single finger on her nose and she screwed up her mouth to glare at him, but one look at his serious expression and she quieted.
"Not up to you. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
After dinner, when they'd ridden out to their spot and sat cuddled together in a sleeping bag against the February chill, she made the mistake of insisting that it was up to her. "I could just move. Get a job somewhere near base. So really, it is up to me."
Drew held her gaze until she dropped hers, sinking under the weight of his regard. "No. It's not. If you want to continue to belong to me, you will obey me. If you so blatantly disregard my orders, I will not spank you. I will simply ignore you." Her eyes snapped back up to his. "What will be worse, Irene? Knowing that you displeased me enough for me to cut you loose? Being in the same city as me but not seeing me? And if you do see me out and about, being ignored by me? I will not tolerate this kind of defiance, do you understand me?"
Her breath came in a horrified pant. For a long minute she couldn't speak, just inhaled the frosty night air thickened only by the heat rising from their skin and the scent of pine from the trees around them. "You would do that? You would… would break up with me? Just because I wanted to be with you?"
He shook his head. "No. Not because you want to be with me. I'm thrilled you want to be with me. I love you. But I am the alpha in this pack, and you will obey me or you will not be in my pack."
Ice cold hate for his rigidity stabbed through her chest. How could he? How dare he? And yet her core responded with desire. That was one of the things she loved about him. His incredible self-discipline. The fact that he would enforce his rules, no matter how much he didn't want to… It spread heat between her hips and she could feel her heart yielding to him. Belong to him. Yes.
She showed her desire and compliance with fervor, purring as she tongued his cock and balls. She scooted further down in the sleeping bag to suck, lick and nibble until he groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair. She raised her eyes to meet his, trying to show in the most visceral way she knew that she understood, that she wanted him as her alpha. What an awkward choice of words. But it's really the only one that fits. When he pulsed and spurted deep in her throat she swallowed every drop, full of satisfaction she could make his body respond the way it did. When she shifted back, rearranging the sleeping bag so that she could make love to him, he stopped her with a hand on her cheek.
"Do you need a belt spanking to help you remember who you belong to?"
Her heart ached and she shivered, her breath coming short again. Much as she loved his tender touches, it was his harsh ones that lasted the longest. If there was one thing Irene never stopped wanting, it was to feel his touch in her flesh for as long as possible.
She nodded, eyes lowered. "Please. Yes."
This time he pulled her into him, a strong arm around her waist, her bottom thrust out by the arch in her back. He unzipped the sleeping bag, exposing her bare ass to the frigid air. She clung to him, her face buried against his neck as she whimpered and cried at each TWACK from the belt. No warmup this time, he raised welts from the very beginning, and didn't let go until she was sobbing and her fingers balled in the fabric of his shirt.
Chapter Three: 20
Drew came back from his first deployment in a dark mood. Irene had been given the old guest room, the bedroom farthest from her parents' room while she attended the community college; Tanya moved into the bedroom closest to their parents. Franklin, having the most advantageous birthday and having skipped a year in middle school, was in college himself.
Drew spent a day with his mother, and the rest he spent at the Whileys'. The first day was food and sex and sleep. Marianna and Tony took Tanya to the mall in the nearest city and Drew spent the day relearning the sound of Irene's breathy cries, eating every meal she put in front of him, and sleeping, his body wound so tightly around hers she could scarcely breathe. Still, she lay awake with him, crooning and stroking his skin, over and over and over.
He'd sent her emails, every day that he could. Sometimes they were short. Sometimes they were long. She'd been given a mobile phone for her birthday so she could take his calls any time of day or night—some days she'd been exhausted at school from taking a 3 am call—but it was worth it to hear his voice. She sent him a care package every month; cookies she made, a copy of her most recent grade report, Playboy magazines, motorcycle magazines, aromatherapy oils her mother made.
He brought several of the oils back. "There's no one to use it on me."
Irene smiled at him. "You could use them on yourself, silly."
"Show me." She knelt in front of him and took his foot into her lap. She was wearing a thin cotton dress; the bright blue contrasted prettily with his tanned skin. She admired his foot for a minute—all the marching it must have done. All the places it had walked. She bit back her envy of his boots, her rampant desire to be with him every minute of every day. Instead, she picked up a bottle and dribbled a little on her palm.
"Here." She began to massage his feet, working carefully from the center to the balls of his feet and back to his heels. She tugged on his toes and pressed between them, rubbed her thumbs and knuckles into tender spots and callouses alike. Gradually she felt his body relax a little. She kissed the top of his foot, now smelling like lavender, and reached for his other. He caressed her hair, and she glanced up to see tears streaming down his face. "Oh, Drew!"
He shook his head. "No, this helps. Keep going."
Reluctant, she took his right foot into her lap and added more oil to her hands, then began rubbing. Just another useful skill out of many things Mom taught me. When Irene finished his feet, she continued up his legs, rubbing and pressing. She hadn't studied like Marianna had, but she knew enough. Gradually he relaxed under her hands, and she took the time to cover his entire bo
dy with the oil, kneading his tense muscles. He continued to cry and she bit down on her own tears, trying to focus on what he needed from her, not her own needs. When all of his skin had been anointed, she removed her dress and cuddled close to him, letting him hold her tightly.
* * *
"You made it! Oh gods, you made it!" Irene jumped into the arms of Lance Corporal Andrew Watson Breckridge. Her graduation gown fluttered in the breeze when he set her down and kissed her soundly.
He grinned. "I asked for leave the minute you told me when it was."
She stood still, letting her eyes drink him in. He was stronger every time she saw him; he also seemed older. It was hard to believe he was only a year and a half older than she was now. Of course, she was now more educated.
He'd been shocked when she'd told him. "What? You're graduating already? How is that possible? You've only been going to college for two years!"
"It's an associate degree."
"What?"
"Drew. You said I had to get a degree. You didn't specify what kind of degree. So I'm getting an associate degree. In Machining." She could just see him shaking his head.
"Apple cheeks, your ass is going to be so red next time I see you."
She'd grinned at the phone. "No way. I did what you told me. And you're coming to my graduation and I'm going back with you."
"Irene…"
"Don't you dare. You told me what to do and I did it. I obeyed you."
For a long moment he was silent. And then came grudging admiration. "You're right."
"Hah!" She did a happy dance, twirling with the phone to her ear. "I love you!"
"I love you, too."
"Besides, there's a lot of geometry involved in Machining. I'm actually almost halfway towards my Bachelor's degree in math."
He seemed surprised. "You're continuing?"
"Yes. Of course. You know I want to be a teacher. But I'm going to continue from wherever you are, Drew. I miss you. I need you. I can't stand being apart for so long."
"I miss you too, apple cheeks."
And so he'd come.
He pulled her close and kissed her again. "I'm so proud of you."