tagNovels and NovellasBreaking Article 134 Ch. 05

Breaking Article 134 Ch. 05

byKillerMuffin©

Taking his comb onto the porch, I sat in the swing and slowly worked the tangles out of my hair. Considering the position of the sun, it was near noon. "How did you find this place, sir?" I asked the moment he stepped out onto the porch. He scratched himself, then sat next to me on the swing. I snuggled against his side, one leg hanging with his, the other on the swing. He told me it belonged to a friend of his uncle or something. He'd used it before to relax, hunt or fish.

I listened to the rumble of his voice, not the words, as he talked. He wrapped an arm around me and started the swing rocking. He paused a moment when I slid my fingers into my pussy and began a leisurely rubbing. I slowly brought myself to a silent orgasm, laying against him and enjoying the feel of his heat, the smell of his skin, the sound of his voice. He hummed when I came, then resumed talking about his military career while I dozed off against him.

The major had taken himself off somewhere in the Porsche. He'd considerately enough left me a little note saying he'd be back before nightfall. He also ordered me to bathe. I was highly insulted. I went for a nice, long, anger-sapping swim in the lake instead. It was impossible to remain hotly furious in that freezing water.

Despite all of my worries that I'd been abandoned, the major arrived just before the sun started to go down. I heard the car from my position, in the water at the end of the dock, but studiously ignored him. I concentrated on dog paddling instead.

He was pretty hot under the collar when he finally thought to look for me at the end of the dock. He'd been yelling my name for a while, interspersed with orders to get my little ass there now. My traitorous little ass was twitching at the dirty little thoughts of the major running around in my head.

Disgusted with myself, I climbed onto the dock and sauntered unhurriedly toward him. I wouldn't want him to think I was actually obeying. He put his fists on his waist and glared at me, a muscle in his jaw ticking. I was suddenly reminded of Drill Sergeant Green and his favorite pre-ass-smoking-exercise-session phrase, pain will make you think.

I stopped in front of him, dripping all over his shoes and slacks. I looked up at him sidelong, a little smile playing at the corner of my mouth. "Hello, sir."

"Just get your ass in the house, Wright."

Inside the door, I stopped dead. The major ran into me, nearly knocking me over. I rubbed my eyes, just to make sure I wasn't imagining things. The table had been covered with a white cloth, a silver service for two, and an elaborate centerpiece with flowers and candles. The major had soft, string quartet music playing from a radio on the counter.

I stared at this, my eyes bulging in horror. I was a hick born and bred, all the way to the marrow of my bones. Three pieces of flatware comprised my fine dining education. Five, if you counted the corn on the cob holders. Feelings of social inferiority swamped me. The major shoved a box into my hands, drawing my attention from my newest nightmare.

Diffidently, I opened it. Inside was layer upon layer of white cloth. "Put it on. I'll be back in twenty minutes." I dried myself off and put the thing on. It turned out to be a peignoir. I felt like an idiot.

The major approved of it rather vocally. He seated me at the table and served the first course from a set of sacks in the fridge. I nibbled at my meal, too nervous to dig in. I wondered at his motives for this little presentation.

The man wanted conversation. We discussed everything from politics and religion to sex and mud tires. In all of my fantasies about this man, not one time did he ever say anything other than fuck words. In all of my romantic dealings with the opposite side of the species, not one time did I ever find one who was interested enough in what I had to say to actually converse with me. Especially not when there was sex readily available.

The longer we talked the more I enjoyed his company. Other than Sergeant Mendez, who was married and therefore neutered in my mind, I hadn't ever sat down with a man and just had a conversation. A glimmering of respect for the major began growing somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Respect that hadn't been there before, at least not for him as a man. I considered it further and what I discovered startled me.

In my astonishment, I did something that I could not forgive myself for. Rage surged through me at this latest mental indignity he'd forced on me. Shoving the chair back and springing to my feet, I threw the napkin onto the table. "You are not going to do this to me, sir," I snapped, glaring at him with all of the misplaced, righteous fury I possessed.

"Do what, private?" He looked amused. That made me angrier. I considered throwing something at him.

"I will not like you, you can't make me do it." I bared my teeth at him. "Sir."

"That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Why the hell not?"

"You are a major. I am a PFC," I explained to him as if he were not only two, but mentally challenged to boot. "Sir."

"In this place rank means nothing. Here, I am the man and you are the woman and that's all there is to it. Do you understand me, private?"

"We aren't always going to be here." My glare deepened. "Sir."

"You already like me, Wright. Sit down and eat your dessert. You have no idea how hard it was to pick the damned thing out." He picked up his own fork and eyed me over it.

I hated it when he was right. I sank into my chair and glared at the dessert. I wasn't going to eat it, not even if he ordered it. The major was apparently familiar with my mulish expression. He set his fork down, a muted clink on the china. "You didn't like the dinner." He sounded almost, well, uncertain. I looked at him suspiciously, but no insecurity showed in his impassive face.

"I liked it, sir."

"Then it's me. You don't like me."

"I like you, sir." There, galling as it was, I admitted it.

"Then what's the problem, private?"

"I can't have you, sir." I stared at the chocolate confection on my plate and twiddled the small dessert fork.

Abruptly, he was beside me, pulling me to my feet. I sucked in a breath, I hadn't heard him move. His eyes locked on mine, his fingers undoing the placket in the front of his trousers. He grabbed my hand, sliding my fingers into his soft cotton underwear. My hand was full of his hardening penis. My eyes widened. "You have me, private." His voice was visceral, belying the highly polished, civilized veneer of the elaborately set table and his perfect manners.

"That's not what I meant, sir."

"Your hand is on my dick, private."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. Indeed my hand was. Moving my fingers over the hot flesh, I shut my eyes and enjoyed the feel of him. His hand tightened on my wrist before I could get enmeshed into the sensuality of stroking him. My eyes clashed with his. I was not going to be denied, this is what I came for.

"Who do you belong to, private?" he asked, his voice as hoarse as his cock was hot.

"The United States Army." My expression was as unyielding as his. "Sir."

He leaned down and licked at my lips. "You belong to me." His tongue slid into my mouth, hot and probing. Groaning deep in my throat, I sucked at him. His lips shifted, opening, deepening the mating of our mouths. I closed my eyes and sank into him. The major kissed better than most guys could fuck.

His mobile lips tested my jaw line, then the hollows of my neck to my shoulders. He nibbled at the point of my shoulder briefly, then cupped my cheeks in his palms and kissed me with all of the heady romance carefully hidden deep in my soul. Another little piece of me became his.

The major pulled away and looked down at me for a moment. I opened my mouth to say something, what, I hadn't figured out just yet, but he shook his head. He took a few moments to strip himself completely naked, but stopped me when I tried to do likewise. Instead of continuing the will-numbing kissing, we cleaned up the dinner mess.

He was driving me crazy with the hot and cold moods he was running. First he was igniting enough sexual heat in me to start a cataclysmic inferno, then he was doing dishes and whistling as if he were a eunuch. After the mess had been dealt with, we sat on opposite sides of the couch, at his instigation, and began an idle chit chat. Chit chat! He was confusing me and I didn't like it.

He pulled one of my feet into his lap, scooting my butt on the sofa. I tried to jerk it back, he held onto it, stripping off the dainty white slippers I was wearing. Under my suspicious, wary eye he started slow massaging circles with his thumbs on the arch. That felt heavenly. With a long groan, I leaned back and let him rub away.

I desperately wanted to touch him in some way, to communicate my need for him tactilily, but he wouldn't let me close enough. Every time I moved to sit up, he gently instructed me to lay back and enjoy. His fingers roamed up along my calves and back down again. While discussing the merits of his Porsche versus a Viper, I found myself pulled closer to him, until his fingers could move farther on my thighs, up to my belly.

One industrious finger touched the apex of my sex and all pretense of conversation ceased. He lifted the bottom of the peignoir past my hips, making a clear path for his eyes to follow his finger. In a voice as choked as my thoughts, he asked, "Who do you belong to, Wright?"

My eyes narrowed. Back to this again. I opened my mouth to say something with all the zinging sarcasm I could muster. He cut me off by leaning over and using his tongue on my clit. I moaned deep in my throat, it felt so good. He looked up at me again, catching my gaze. "Who do you belong to, Wright?"

"I belong to me, sir." My voice was soft and implacable. Anger and frustration flitted through his eyes, then he dropped his lips to my pussy again.

The blood in my veins slowed, throbbing and molten. My body was primed, ready. I felt as if I would orgasm with his first thrust into my body, if he would just do it. I arched my back of the couch, panting and begging. He backed his mouth off again, waiting until I met his eyes somewhat coherently. "Who do you belong to?"

"No one." I felt like hitting him again or at least yelling at him. I was getting the female version of blue balls. "Sir."

He slid two fingers into me, rubbing and caressing my clit with the palm of his hand. "You're hot inside, Wright, hotter and wetter than any pussy I've ever had. I've barely touched you and you're dripping. See?" He pulled his hand away and showed me how I'd soaked it. I shivered when he sucked one of his fingers clean. "Who do you belong to, Wright?"

I whimpered and shook my head. He slid his fingers inside again, making me groan and push into him.

"Who do you belong to, Wright?" His voice was rougher. Thrusting fingers punctuated his question.

Visions of the night before and his fingers and that tongue on my pussy ripped through my brain. A grunt torn from my throat was the best I could come up with. He twisted his fingers, then pulled them out, lightly stroking along the lips. I felt my autonomy slipping away, my precious control over my own self, my own fate was leaving me with every stroke of his fingers.

"Who do you belong to, Wright?" he demanded.

"You!" I yelled, thrusting my pussy at his fingers. He pulled them away.

"Say it!"

"I belong to you, sir," I said, my eyes on his, pure fiery defiance. He smiled at me for a fraction of a second, then latched his mouth onto mine. His fingers dove back into my pussy. I howled into his mouth when he took my clit in hand and drove me wild.


The major shifted between my legs, fitting the broad head of his penis to my grasping pussy. "You want my cock, private?"

"Yessir." I wriggled my ass, succeeding only in rubbing the tip all over my slick pussy. I shoved upwards, trying to get him to sink into me, but he wouldn't let me.

"Who owns you?"

"You do, sir," I growled, glaring up at him. If he didn't penetrate me, I swore to fuck I'd bite him again.

With a groan, he began to slide inside. He moved slowly, eyes closed and the tendons on his neck standing out. I shut my eyes and lost myself to the sensation of that thick head spearing my pussy open. My muscles spasmed around his cock, then squeezed, making him seem to grow all that much bigger.

"That's it, take it all," he grunted once his cock was buried all the way. I moaned lightly and wrapped my legs around him. Squeezing with my thighs and heels, I began to move myself on his cock, grinding my pussy against his pelvis.

He pulled out almost all the way, then pushed back in, a long slow stroking of my inner self. I undulated my abdomen just to feel the delicious friction of his cock locked deeply within my pussy. It felt incredible, but it wasn't enough. My insides were twisting, trying to reach the pinnacle of orgasm again, but falling short. The need to cum was driving me crazy.

Bending my legs, I swung them around his front, putting my feet to his chest. It was harder to move and my neck immediately kinked, but I could reach my clit more efficiently. I groped at my breasts for a moment, then slid a hand straight down, finger extended obscenely. My body bucked when I touched my clit, forcing his cock deeper into my pussy.

"Ooo," I groaned, sliding my finger down to his cock to wet it before dragging it back across my clit.

I felt like molten steel dipped in ice. The heat within me was insufferable but the feel across my skin was cold, cold enough to make my breasts tighten, nipples pucker, and my body quiver. I touched his cock with my finger again, then returned to make small, swift circles on my clit. He groaned and started thrusting heavily.

My pussy lips sucked at his cock with every withdrawal and I grunted with him at every inward stroke. My ass clenched and I bucked myself against him, wanting more of his cock. I could no longer keep track of my clit with my finger, so I dropped my legs around his hips again, sinking my wet fingers into his flexing ass. He moaned, wrapped his arms around me and hammered his cock into my pussy.

"Who do you belong to?" he roared, punctuating it with a heavy thrusts of his cock. "Who?"

"You, sir!" I yelled back, wrenching my body off the couch, thrusting as much of myself at him as I could.

Inside of my clenching pussy, I could feel him lengthen. Everything in me was focused on the pure burning friction of his cock churning inside of me. My body clamped down, tightening. I sank my teeth almost viciously into his shoulder, drowning my scream as my orgasm slammed through my body with the force of a frag grenade. He roared again, shoving his cock inside deeper than anyone had ever gone before. His hips jerked, rocking against mine spasmodically, his cum exploding into my greedy pussy.

Our bodies, both taut and perfectly still as the climax raged through us, melded until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began. In that single orgasmic moment, I knew that he owned me. Military conventions, Army regulations, the Uniform Code of Military Justice aside, I belonged to him.

The tide of orgasm receded, leaving me feeling lethargically sated. The Major's body slowly relaxed, half on top of me, half on the edge of the couch. He was heavy and warm, a comfortable blanket on my chilly, sweat covered hide. Twisting his head, he pushed his nose into my neck and lipped at my skin lazily. One of my legs was still wrapped around his hips, the other one was by his side, keeping him in the cradle of my sex. We were still joined in the most elemental way, though the softening of his erection and slickness of our mingled orgasm threatened to break that. Closing my eyes and smiling contentedly, I let myself imagine that we would always be joined in that elemental way, even when he was gone from my body.

"Who do you belong to, Private Wright?" he asked softly, nuzzling my ear. Of course, he had to ruin the afterglow. I wanted to stiffen, working up a good mad, but that took more energy than I had. "Who do you belong to?"

I did not belong to anyone, I wanted to yell, but, I sighed, I wasn't a liar, particularly to myself. I turned my head towards the back of the couch, away from him, denying what I knew was true. The backs of his fingers tenderly traced a loving path down my cheek, past my jaw to my throat. I swallowed, holding my breath. He turned his hand over, stroking back up my throat to my cheek again, petting my skin. Suddenly, I felt tears pricking at the back of my eyelids.

"I belong to you, sir." I didn't recognize my voice. It was hoarse and ragged.

He wrapped his arms around me, cradling me closer to him and pressing gentle lips to the quivering skin of my jaw and neck. His fingers continued to lavish attention to my cheek and lips, stroking my face. They grazed past the lashes of a closed eye, then paused a moment before pulling away, his lips leaving me. I opened my eyes to see him looking at the wet pads of his finger, and flushed clear to my toes. Tears were a weakness I never shared.

With soft fingers on my jaw, he gently tugged my face toward his. Leaning over me fully, he pressed kisses to my eyes, then the tip of my nose. When he didn't move, I hesitantly opened my eyes. He was hovering over me, inches from my face, smiling tenderly down at me. In his eyes was a gentle approval, and something else just as tender and more intense. He murmured something I didn't understand and stroked a finger down my cheek. Mentally, I rebelled, denying whatever it was I saw in his eyes.

"Tell me what I want to hear," he said, his voice deep and gently vibrant.

My mind flashed to a conversation not so long ago. I heard the echo of him, his voice steely and determined. . . . You're mine, you belong to me, I own you... you will admit it.

"I belong to you, sir," I said diffidently, slowly feeling my way through this new and completely unknown territory. He hummed deep in his chest, still smiling down at me.

"Tell me, private."

"You own me, sir," I said, even more softly than before. He groaned again, squeezing me tightly and latching his mouth onto mine. Inside me, his cock exploded from limp to fully erect.

"Again. Again!" he demanded, sucking at my lips and chin.

"You own me, sir." My voice was stronger now, more firm. His hands went to my ass, tugging me under him for better penetration.

"Tell me," he ordered again, licking and nipping along my jaw to my neck, just below my ear. "Tell me."

"You own me, sir." My voice matched his in intensity. He made an unrecognizable epithet and started thrusting heavily into me. My body rocked on the couch, pummeled by the strength of his fucking.

"Again, tell me again." His voice was quiet, but with the strength of a roar.

"I belong to you, sir," I said, feeling the power of it creeping through me. "You own me, sir."

"More," he demanded, pushing up until his arms were locked. His cock felt like it was burning me from the inside out, stroking in and out of me faster and faster until the friction turned boiling hot.

"You own me, sir," I reiterated. "You own all of me sir. I'm yours."

He threw his head back and roared, his cock once again exploding inside, this time emptying his essence, all of himself into me. Grunting, he eased his weight fully on top of me, sweating and panting. I dragged my nails through the sweat on his rippling back. He gathered himself, tilted my chin up and plundered my mouth. It was almost as if he couldn't get enough of me.

He wrenched his mouth away, still breathing heavily. "Say it again."

"I belong to you, sir."

"All of it, say all of it again." He had a begging note to his guttural tone.

"You own me, sir." I suddenly felt shy, but just as implacable as I'd been in my denials of this very admission. "You own all of me, sir. I'm yours."

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