Amanda, CIA Agent Ch. 09

Then she spotted it, the same roguish grin he'd used on her the night before. "No leniency for getting shot?"

It's working, she thought. Her pulse quickened. "Not a bit."

I'm more than just a random fuck, she told herself. You're going to be mine, even if you don't know it yet.

He rubbed his chin. "Ok. But first, you're going to make good on your own promise." He nodded at Carnes.

She opened her mouth to protest, but she saw Carnes was watching, his eyes still focused on the gap in her shirt, his face a study in lustful desire.

"Can I have my phone back now?" He raised himself onto his tiptoes.

"Oh. Of course. Here."

He took the phone, grabbed her hair, and planted a long, wet kiss on her mouth. Frank hooted, and at the sound, Cliff Mayhew entered, pulling her curtain halfway down its track.

She wrenched her face away. "Arnold. You don't just kiss a woman without permission. You've got to at least take her out first."

He hit a button on his phone, and she felt her own phone vibrate. With a sigh, she answered. "I'm right here, Arnold."

"Will you go to dinner with me tonight? They're serving burgers in the mess hall."

She saw Grant nodding dramatically.

She winced. "Um. That's a tempting offer, but I'm sorry, I don't feel up to it. Because of getting shot today."

Grant frowned at her.

Arnold's eyes widened. "You got shot?"

Grant sighed, then nodded. "She's not lying. Five rounds to the chest." He motioned Carnes closer. "Take a look." He tugged at the edges of Amanda's shirt.

She turned her head. From beyond the curtain, the other Marines could see her feet, but not her upper body. However, Frank and Cliff could see everything, as could Arnold. She tightened her grip.

"Not much to see. My body armor stopped them."

"Arms at your sides," said Grant, in the same authoritative tone he'd used the night before.

Her eyebrows lifted, and her forehead furrowed, as his familiar words resonated. After a beat, she released her shirt, letting it hang open, and dropped her hands into the gaps between her hips and the rails of the gurney.

Her mouth went dry. What would it cost to get Grant to bed her? Would he take her dignity, and her self-respect?

"Good girl," said Grant. He brushed the fabric aside, letting it fall over the sides of the gurney. "See, Carnes, just bruises."

Carnes stepped closer and stared at her breasts, whose lovely, rounded shape was quite evident beneath her bra.

Frank and Cliff were more circumspect, having the decency to look away when she turned toward them, but then they returned their gazes to her chest.

Grant smirked. "You haven't ever seen a woman without her shirt, have you, Carnes?"

He shook his head. He reached out and cupped her breast.

"Let go, Arnold." She knocked his hand away.

Grant put his mouth to her ear. "You're the one who gave him your fucking number. You can't lead him on and then squash him like a bug." He gave her a hard look.

She turned her face away. This wasn't going at all the way she expected. Her own words came back to her: Don't be so mean.

"Fine," said Grant. "I'm out of here." He turned to leave.

"Wait."

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder.

Shit, she thought. She took Carnes' hand and returned it to her breast. He wrapped his hand around it, gripping her too firmly.

"Not so rough. They're sensitive."

Carnes relaxed his grip, but only slightly. "If you took five rounds, how come you only have three bruises?"

She sighed. "One is underneath the edge of my bra."

"Perfect," said Grant. To Carnes, he said, "Pay attention. Important dating skill." Grasping Amanda by the elbow, he pulled her upright. "Suppose you and Amanda are out on a date, and it's going well. The mess hall burgers are great, and Amanda's laughing at your jokes, so you go to kiss her."

Carnes resumed kissing Amanda. She tensed but didn't pull away.

"She's kissing you back, and you go to feel her boob. See, she's keeping her hands at her sides. You want to take her bra off, smoothly."

Her brow furrowed again, and her arms went rigid. "Gra-ant!"

"That's it, keep your hand on her tit, she's breathing hard already. Put your other hand on her back. Feel that clasp? You're going to unfasten it, one-handed. Put two fingers on one side, and your thumb on the other, and squeeze them together until both hooks come out of the eyelets. That's it, you got it! Now, just pull the straps off her shoulders."

Carnes stared at her bare breasts, his eyes wide. He licked his lips, and tentatively extended his hand until his fingertips brushed lightly across her exposed swell of her lower breast. He drew back his hand to adjust himself.

Amanda struggled to contain the sound that threatened to escape her lips. Even muted, it betrayed her suppressed arousal, and her concealed need.

Carnes nudged Grant. "I see four bruises. Where's the last one?"

Amanda's nostrils flared. "It's further down. You don't get to see." But even as she spoke, she knew Grant would respond. She put her hands over her face.

Too late, she remembered his instructions. What would be his reaction? Would he tie her hands now, or would he hold her down? Would he wheel her back behind the double doors first, or would he do it right here, in front of Frank and Cliff?

Would he undo her pants himself, or teach Carnes to do it? Should she resist, or submit? Was she frightened? Embarrassed? Humiliated? Aroused? She felt lightheaded, and realized she was hyperventilating.

Fighting the urge to gasp for breath, she took slow, measured sips of air until her dizziness subsided. A moment later, she had decided.

She had no control over Grant. She could only choose her own reactions. Her priority was to assure he came to her billet later. She still valued her dignity, modesty, and self respect, but she would sacrifice them all if necessary.

A length of rubber tubing hung from a stand beside her gurney, and now she detached it and held it in her shaking hand. Raising both arms above her head, she wrapped the tubing around one wrist and gripped the steel handle attached to the frame of the gurney.

Grant had been speaking to Carnes, but now she caught his eye. "Tie my hands," she told him.

He stared at her.

"I know what you plan to do to me, and I can't stop you. It's going to be extremely humiliating. Go ahead, take my dignity. But please don't make me participate by holding my own hands in place. Leave me that one little scrap."

He nodded. To Carnes, he said, "Tie her hands."

Carnes looked uncomfortable.

"You wanted to see."

"Yeah, but --"

Grant whispered in his ear, and Carnes smiled. He knotted the tubing around both her wrists and secured them tightly to the handle.

Amanda leaned back her head and looked past her jutting elbows to the ceiling. He's going to do it now, she thought. Lowering her chin, she tried to check the closure of her pants, but her own body blocked her view. She turned her head to the right, and saw Frank and Cliff, staring at her semi-nude body, waiting. She took a deep breath.

Carnes' hand rested on her tummy, but he paused there for a long moment. His face was flushed.

He wants me so badly, she thought to herself. But it would be so embarrassing. Her heart pounded, and she bit her lip.

"The last bruise looks just like the others, Arnold. You don't need to see it. Why don't you kiss me instead?"

He kissed her then, but as she kissed him back, passionately, his hand returned to her waist.

"Please don't, Arnold, not in public, in front of everyone."

Her mind raced. What could she offer instead? The idea of doing anything sexual was unappealing, and she didn't like to set false expectations, but public exposure was far worse. She gritted her teeth. "Let's wait. We'll get burgers in the mess hall. Then you can undo my pants in private later."

He seemed to consider her offer, but he didn't withdraw his hand.

"Or maybe --"

She tilted her head back to look at the tubing binding her wrists, and fresh arousal stirred deep in her belly. Frank and Cliff were still watching, as was Grant. They would all see. Her face burned.

"Maybe you'd like to play with my breasts instead."

He groped her methodically then, reveling in her soft, firm flesh while the others watched, and her nipples hardened to points. They can't take their eyes off me, she told herself. They wish they were fondling me themselves. Her breathing quickened.

Despite this costly sacrifice, only a short interval passed before Carnes tugged again at the button closure of her pants.

"Wait," she told him. He stopped, but again he didn't lift his hand. She knew her respite was temporary. He could take down her pants at any moment. With her hands tied securely, she couldn't stop him.

Turning her head, she met Grant's eyes. "Why? I let him feel my breasts. You all watched. He's a real man now. Plus, you've completely humiliated me, and I've proven my obedience. Isn't that enough?"

Grant smiled his smile at her again, then nodded at Carnes, and immediately she felt his fingers moving, opening the front of her pants. Then he tugged at the sides, working them off her hips, and without thinking she lifted her bottom. When he had them down to her knees, she rested her hips.

Why are you helping? she wondered. Whore, said the voice in her head.

Grant touched her shoulder, as he bent down. "Carnes will never forget the day he lost his cherry."

Shit, she thought, he's planning for Carnes to fuck me, right here, in front of Frank and Cliff.

Lots of guys have fucked you, she told herself. Carnes won't last long.

But getting fucked in front of an audience was a different proposition. Sadly, it wasn't unprecedented, but it would still be extremely humiliating.

However, with her hands tied, she was powerless to prevent it.

Carnes stood close, his eyes trained on the junction of her thighs, his mouth slightly open, his hand poised above her lower abdomen. Grant nudged him, and his finger began to trace the upper edge of her final bruise, which was bisected by the waistband of her panties.

She looked up at him. "Arnold."

He met her eye, his face coloring.

"Please don't pull down my panties."

He nodded, but his gaze slid back down, visiting her bare breasts again before settling on her crotch.

Grant nudged him again, and she felt the tip of his finger cross her waistband, sliding over the thin fabric. Her breath caught in her throat. "Please don't touch my, um, mound, Arnold. Not in front of everybody."

His fingertip continued lower.

"Please. Wait," she repeated, with a squeak in a high register.

He paused, licking his lips.

Oh, God, she thought, he's nearly touching my clit. She fought the urge to pull herself upward, toward the stimulation she craved.

Frank's face entered her view, as he tried to get a better angle. And there was Cliff, looking over his shoulder. She flushed, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her forehead.

"Not here, Arnold. Take me back to your place, and I'll let you, um, undress me all the way."

Her mouth twisted, and her voice shook. "You can pull down my panties."

He looked at her face, then back at her crotch. His finger slid a fraction lower, onto her clit.

The noise from her throat was involuntary, as was the jerk of her hips. "I'll let you fuck me."

* * *

Amanda pressed her hand against the dashboard of the Fiat as Carnes braked hard into the intersection. The vehicle leaned into the corner, then its engine whined.

"Isn't there a speed limit on the base?" She clutched the doorframe.

"Nah." He waved one hand dismissively as he kept his other palm on the bottom of the wheel. A pothole knocked the car off course, and the tires squealed as he swerved back into the proper lane.

"Um," she said, ready to protest, but they turned into a side street, then parked. Arnold was halfway to the front door of the modest prefab ranch before Amanda hauled herself out.

He's got a lot to learn about manners, she thought, following him inside. They were met with a blast of techno music.

Within the cramped, dimly lit living room stood a knot of soldiers, including Cliff and several Marines from his squad. At the far end, Frank and another man danced with a pair of pretty blondes. Through the kitchen doorway, she spotted Grant's back.

Frank saw them and handed Carnes a beer. The two blondes escorted Amanda into the bedroom. "Sorry about the noise," said the first, closing the door. "I'm Kelsey Garnet, Frank's daughter. He's told me all about you."

Amanda concealed her surprise. Kelsey was in her early twenties, petite, with a trim figure. Her big, blue eyes were liquid pools. She's far better looking than her father, Amanda thought.

"I'm Mallory. Cameron's girlfriend." Amanda remembered Cameron Starling was a Marine in Cliff's squad. He was 25. They'd been a couple for six years, since twelfth grade.

Kelsey squeezed Amanda's hand. "You're so sweet to do this for Arnold. Cliff's asked me twice--"

"Arnold's had a thing for her since forever," interjected Mallory.

"-- but I just couldn't. Not judging," Kelsey hastened to add.

"I hope it's not creepy," said Mallory, "but I asked Grant for your sizes. I mean, you can wear what you have on if you want, but -- oh, my God, is that, like, human blood? Grant said you're a badass, but...."

Kelsey took her hand and pulled her toward the bathroom. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you need a shower." She turned the water on full and began unbuttoning Amanda's shirt. "Oh, fuck, those are real. Arnold's going to piss himself."

"Ignore her," said Mallory. To Kelsey, she said, "Arnold's already seen them. Apparently, so has everybody else." From behind, she unlaced Amanda's boots, then unfastened her pants. "No judgement here either," she murmured in Amanda's ear, dropping her clothes into a garbage bag.

Kelsey reached around Amanda to unhook her bra, as Mallory slid her panties down her legs.

Amanda watched her plain lingerie disappear into the garbage, then looked down at her naked body, suppressing the urge to cover herself with her hands. We're all young women, she told herself, just like in gym class at Rutgers. No need to feel embarrassed. But it bothered her that she was the only one naked.

Kelsey pulled aside the plastic curtain and helped Amanda into the shower. Grabbing a bar of Dove and a loofah mitt, she began washing Amanda's front. Mallory rolled up her sleeves and bathed her back.

Amanda bristled. "I'm perfectly capable --" Her hands chopped the air as Kelsey's loofah scrubbed the undersides of her breasts. Her nipples hardened, and she tilted her head forward, trying to hide her pink face behind her hair.

"I know," said Kelsey, smiling sweetly, "but you deserve to be spoiled." She angled the shower toward Amanda's head and rubbed in some expensive-smelling shampoo from a tiny bottle.

"Given the sacrifice you're about to make," said Mallory. "You have a little stubble. Luckily, I brought a new Lady Bic." She lifted Amanda's leg to the side of the tub and bent to shave her calf. She worked quickly, continuing up her thigh.

Amanda huffed. "I can --"

Kelsey followed behind with a handful of baby oil. "I'd give anything to have your legs." She applied extra oil to Amanda's upper thighs.

"There," said Mallory, finishing her other calf and moving to her lower abdomen. "Squat, and I'll do your pussy."

"That, I'll do myself," said Amanda, snatching the razor from her hand and turning her back.

* * *

Not half bad, Amanda thought, as she considered her reflection. Kelsey had used drugstore makeup instead of the exclusive brand she bought at Neiman Marcus, but it was expertly applied, if heavier than she considered respectable.

But then, there wasn't anything respectable about this evening.

Stop it, she told herself. Think about Grant. What you have to do with Arnold is just a little detour before the main event.

Arnold will probably climax as soon as he enters you. The whole thing will be over in three minutes.

And it would be private, unlike what happened earlier. With the music playing, the others outside wouldn't even hear the bed creaking.

She looked down at her magenta scoop neck top, tight as a second skin, and pulled its neckline over the upper edges of her bra. Tugging down on the hem of her black leather wraparound miniskirt only exposed the waistband of her panties. But Arnold would love her outfit, and that was the objective, wasn't it?

The door opened, and Kelsey entered, leading Carnes by the hand. "She cleans up pretty good, huh Arnold?" She elbowed him repeatedly.

"Oh. You look very nice, Amanda." He stared at her body, fidgeting continuously. When he stepped closer, she smelled his cologne. He had so much on, her eyes watered.

"Thanks, Arnold. You look nice too." She waved Kelsey toward the door. "Shoo. Close the door on your way out."

Instead of leaving, Kelsey stood back, holding the door open wide. In a single motion, Arnold bent down, hooked one arm behind her knees, and lifted her, giving a loud grunt.

"Wait." She grabbed at Arnold's neck as he wavered, nearly dropping her. He ended up with one hand around her ribcage, his fingers uncomfortably close to the side of her breast. His other hand wrapped around the back of her thigh. He whacked her ankle against the doorframe on the way to the living room.

Cameron turned down the music, then thumped Arnold on the back. "Good job, stud."

Arnold shifted his grip, and Amanda felt him touching her breast. His other hand slid further up her thigh, more obviously beneath her short skirt, his thumb pressing against her crotch. When he turned, he pointed her bottom toward the group, showing them all her panties.

"Put me down," she said sharply.

Arnold flinched and bent awkwardly to place her on the small sofa. Undaunted, he sat beside her, one arm around her shoulder, the other at her waist. Looming in for a kiss, he pawed her breast through her top.

Scowling, Amanda ducked his kiss, then elbowed him in the abdomen and flung off his arm. When she looked up, she met a dozen disapproving glances.

Her earlier words to Arnold played back in her head. I'll let you undress me. You can pull down my panties.

I'll let you fuck me.

She'd promised him. But she should have specified the venue.

"Seriously? You expect me to let you all watch?"

Mallory snorted. "You let everybody watch this afternoon, when he took off your bra and played with your boobs." She squeezed Arnold's shoulder.

Amanda huffed. 'Everybody' was an exaggeration, but the point remained. Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned back, knitting her fingers together. Finally, she met Arnold's eye, and bit her lip.

He watched her chest rise and fall for a moment, then planted a knee on the sofa and pivoted, throwing his other knee across her. He settled onto her thighs, facing her, with a high-pitched laugh.

He ran his fingers through her thick, carefully styled hair. "Oh, my God, you're so beautiful." Holding her chin, he kissed her full on the lips. With shaking hands, he began to unbutton her blouse. "I can't believe I'm gonna fuck you."

She worked her jaw. He's undressing you in front of the whole squad, she thought. How is this better than three spectators, this afternoon? With a sigh, she slumped back.

Her blouse fell open, and he grabbed the collar and jerked it down, pulling her arms backward until she freed them from the sleeves. A dozen sets of eyes stared at her black lace bra, and she felt heat on her cheeks. He slid his hand along her spine, locating her backstrap, his fingers clumsily manipulating the catch, until in frustration he used both hands to unfasten it. Pulling it off, he flung it to the floor and gripped her breasts, smiling and turning his head to gauge his buddies' reactions. When he noticed her hard nipples, he pinched them.