The Slut, Marked

"Morning, hero. You saved my bacon out there," she said in a quiet contralto. "I appreciate it."

"The heroes are the other guys who shot that traitorous S.O.B. They saved both our bacon -- bacons?"

"I know. But thanks for leaping on me and bruising my rib," she laughed. "That bullet you took would have taken out a kidney ... maybe my liver." She reached over and touched my hand. "I'm on R&R for a few days until my ribs are better. You, on the other hand, look to have a million dollar injury."

A million dollar injury was the kind of injury that didn't hit anything critical, but left you injured enough to get out of combat forever. Well, "forever" enough until the Rangers got desperate for any warm body, and we weren't there yet.

"Well shit!" I exclaimed. "I'd rather be back in the unit. Those guys are the best." I thought about what was waiting for me back state-side, and put that thought aside. "How bad is it, anyway? Will I be able to play the cello, doc?"

That was a variation of the old joke. She knew enough to come back with "Depends... could you play before the accident?"

"Rats. You mean I had to know before now?" Then the smile left my face. "Seriously, how bad is it?"

"You'll walk again. Probably be able to do everything again. But when it rains you might have a twinge or two. It might take some time. Do the therapy. If it hurts, remember that you're a Ranger. Once in, never out. There was a lot of tissue damage, but nothing you won't get over. It'll be hard, and I don't mean that will be hard. That will still work. The porn you're always mooning over on your iPad is famous in the unit you know. You know your nickname in the unit is PW -- short for Pussy Whipped."

"Yeah. I know. And I am, too. Proud to admit it." I wasn't going to go into the bad details that were only 'maybes.'

"They'll probably evac you to Germany and then home after a while. Gotta get you healthy enough so that you won't have to explain why you got shot not being here." She laughed. "Hey guy. If I don't see ya, I'll see ya. And thanks again."

"Sure. Keep the guys in one piece."

She left and I was staring at the ceiling. I reached over for my iPad, and clicked it on. The background pic was Lyn's face. It fell, face down on my chest, and I closed my eyes and remembered.

*******************************************

Two days after the gang-bang, I went back to the ROTC frat house in the early afternoon. In about an hour, my buddy came in and saw me.

"What time does Lyn start?" I asked.

"You still hung up on her?" he replied.

"Just what time?"

"Well, she was here last night, too. She hasn't gone three days in a row that I've heard of. You could try her dorm, I guess. She's in Montrose Hall. Same Montrose..." I just looked at him. He explained. "She's Carolyn Smith-Montrose. One of the Montroses. And no, I don't know why she does what she does."

"Who ever knows about women?" was my reply, but I was only making a joke to cover my confusion.

In any case, I wandered down the hill to Montrose Hall. She was in the registry, fourth floor, room 417. I trudged up the steps. She wasn't home. I sat in the hall with my back against her door, pulled the camo hat down over my eyes, and waited.

"Well, aren't you the persistent one?" she said as she stepped over me, sometime later. I had been asleep. It was a trick I picked up almost immediately in Basic: fall asleep anywhere in about three microseconds.

I looked up. Painted on jeans again. Leather bomber jacket over some kind of cream colored blouse. Boots that came up to her knee. The boots had about a three inch heel, and would have made her ass twitch just so, but she wasn't walking right now. Right now, she was straddling my torso, with her door key in the lock.

"I'm going to open the door now, so don't fall backwards and kill yourself," she said.

I felt the door behind me give way. I tightened my abs and just sat there, my head would have just missed her crotch if she came any closer. She didn't. She just stepped to the side and walked into her room. The door closed.

With a sigh, I got up, and knocked on her door.

"Who is it?" came from inside.

"It's me. Rob. Rob Ortroski. You know... the guy who was sitting outside your door waiting for you."

"Oh, hi! So nice of you to stop by. Come on in."

I opened the door and found her putting away the bomber jacket and brushing her hair. I was struck again by her unusual beauty. That and her attitude. Dynamite, pure nitroglycerin, maybe C4, 'cause it sure was packed into some interesting shapes.

She was in the process of getting dressed. Or undressed first, I guess. She shucked her boots and then her blouse and bra. I reached over and looked at it. 38C. "Reducing brassiere" from Victoria's Secret. I tossed it on the bed.

"You don't need that," I said. "They're perfect as is."

"Yeah, that's what everybody says. It's hard enough to have a conversation when I'm talking to a guy and he's talking to my boobs."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"No, you really don't do it... much. You actually look at me. My eyes and stuff, face."

"That's easy. I'm not going to be marrying just your tits. I'm going to marry you. The fantastic legs, the ass that is out of this world, the mouth that's always wearing just the right shade of 'fuck me' red, the smile that lights up the room. And the eyes. So intense. You know that they change from the light gray that is the color of the sky over the ocean after a storm to a cobalt blue, right? Nice hair too, but I'd rather see it waist length."

"You seem to have cataloged me physically pretty well. I suspect a bunch of guys could do that. So, what's my major? Why am I doing that stuff with all the guys? Do I have any brothers or sisters? What about my parents? You know: the me stuff that isn't just the packaging."

"Jeez, I just met you in a gang-bang and you want me to get all psychological on you? The answer is, I dunno. Maybe you can fill me in after the engagement, but before the wedding. I'm just a dumb GI, on leave, who was thunder struck two nights ago."

"Again with the marrying schtick? What is with that?"

"You're the one who said I was persistent. That is, if you can get over the gang-bang stuff and the Montrose stuff, and just be Mrs. Ortroski."

She put on the sweater with the zipper again. Then started the struggle with her skin tight jeans. "Here be useful." And she stuck her foot at me.

I grabbed the ankle of the pants and pulled. I admit it, I gawked.

"What?" she exclaimed. "You've seen it all before. Nothing has changed."

Well, she was wearing the tiniest electric blue g-string. The color matched her eyes at the moment. She peeled off the g-string and then started to get back into her pants again. Commando, this time.

I stood and circled her waist with my arms. Spun her around so her back was to me and reached down for the waist of the jeans -- like last time.

"Your gang-bang uniform again." I started pulling her pants up. "Who's the lucky guys tonight? I have a doctor's note. You could stay with me and have a one-man party instead." She was now wriggling into her pants, off the ground, suspended in my grip.

"Like last time, huh?" She was referring to my pants-technique, no doubt. This time, however, I slipped my right hand into the still open crotch of the jeans, cupping her pussy. I found her clit, easily.

"No. I have to go," she protested. "Really. It's a... an engagement that I promised a long time ago. Five guys from the basketball team. And they're all black. I wanted to see what that's all about. You know what they say: 'Once you go black...'"

"And," I finished, "'Once you go Ranger you'll never be in danger.'"

"Oh. You gonna be a Ranger, cowboy?" She wriggled out of my grip, and zipped up her pants. She looked at me with her head tilted, like a dog, you know?

"C'mon, Ranger Rob," she said as she took my hand, slung her leather jacket over her other shoulder and headed for the exit. Nobody had to ask me twice.

...

We went to an apartment that was off campus. There they were: the starting five from the basketball team. I'm pretty tall, but these guys were seriously tall. The biggest one said, "What's with him? I thought this was a private party."

Lyn replied, "He's just a guy I brought along in case you guys ran out of steam early." She laughed at this put down of their masculinity. "Seriously, guys. You're going to get me until you can't get it up any more. You need more than that?" And she began to get undressed.

It started with the zipper on her sweater. When her magnificent mammaries came into view, and she began to play with her nipples, the guys saw her point of view. She toed off her running shoes and was pretending to have trouble getting her jeans off. "If you can't get naked before I do, I'm gonna cut one of you off early. Now get to it!" And she laughed again as they started to strip immediately. "Got your all clear from the doc, boys?" Five pieces of paper were presented, as her jeans got 'stuck' on the rounded bumps of her ass.

I stood off to the side watching. I handed her mine too.

"Oooh! Whatever shall I do? I can't seem to get these things off. I think I need some help."

The guys were willing to play along. They hoisted her up, pulled her pants off, revealing her gloriously naked bod. They flipped her over onto her hands and knees and were talking about who was going to get what hole first.

I spoke up. "I just want her mouth tonight, guys. Just once. You can have her wonderful pussy and her tight, tight little ass. I just want her mouth. Not to say you won't get there too, but that's all I want."

She looked at me strangely for a second, then shrugged.

I looked around at the five black cocks on these really tall men, who had very long feet and large hands, and decided that I wasn't really outclassed too much. I was seven and a half inches when not hard and nearly nine hard. One of the guys (the power forward of the team, I'd guessed) was really big. Maybe eleven inches, and big around. It looked like he had one of those liter sized bottles of coke strapped on. The other guys were probably a little smaller than me. One was pretty small: 'only' seven inches in this group would qualify as small.

Mr. Small got first dibs on her ass, and waited while one of the others got on his back. He slithered under Lyn, licking her pussy on the way past, and she settled down on his prick. Mr. Small squirted some KY on her ass and mounted up. Lyn shuddered as each of them began driving into her.

Me? I didn't want anybody's sloppy seconds. I stepped up to her mouth with my nine inches and touched it to her lips. I captured her head with my hands and tilted her face up to meet my eyes. Then I began pushing into her mouth. I could feel when it hit the back of her throat. She closed her eyes for a moment -- I couldn't tell if one of the other guys did something to get her attention, or if it was me -- and then she swallowed my cock head. As it passed into her throat and I kept pushing for another couple of inches, I slid my thumbs across her face and popped her eyes open, peeling back her eyelids. She looked up at me.

Pretty soon, she started grunting and gurgling as the guy finished in her ass and was replaced by Mr. Coke Bottle. She had to strain to take him and lost concentration with her tongue on my cock. By now she had to breathe and was getting red in the face. She started to turn away to eject me from her mouth and throat, but my hands gripped her strongly: my palms on her cheek bones, fingers extending back around her skull. She looked up, somewhat panicked.

I slowly slid back, but never let my cock out of her mouth. She breathed deeply through her nose and after a few moments she began to work on the head that was in her mouth. Just before I was getting to my personal breaking point, I withdrew. My cock was hot and red and pulsing with need. I waved in a substitute from the basketball team. He was ready and started to pump into her mouth at once.

The guy in her pussy was finishing up as was the current ass man. The next guy took her doggie style in the cunt, so she didn't have an anal partner this time. The two of them rocked her back and forth, even sharing a high five along the way. These two seemed to have a special rhythm between them. I'd bet anything that one of them was the point guard and the other was the shooting forward. They seemed so good with the give and go.

I sat for a while, going so far as to raid the fridge for a beer. On the couch watching the guys fucking her, I wondered what she was getting out of it. Every time somebody new mounted up, she turned her head for a second to see if it was me. It never was. I was sitting off to her side and she'd turn my way for a second to see. She even managed to reorient herself so she could see me without turning.

Mr. Small came over and sat on the couch next to me during one of his off times.

"What's your story man?" he asked. "She your lady or somethin'?"

I could tell from Lyn's body language that she was listening carefully now. I mean, she didn't stop fucking or anything and the three fuckers never noticed. But she stopped participating for a few seconds, there.

"Nope. Not mine. This is her party. I'm just spectating."

"Oh. You like watching, huh? You want another turn?"

"No," I said, "I like fucking plenty. And with a girl as hot as she is, I'd love it. I'm just not into sharing much... No offense intended."

"None taken. Oh! My turn again. I'm gonna get her pussy this time."

And he did.

At about one in the morning the guys were all tuckered out. She turned and looked at me. This time her blues were almost gray. And they were shooting firebolts at me.

She grabbed a towel and asked for a shower. I waited until I could hear the water come on and then followed into the bathroom. She peeked around the shower curtain and saw that I was dressed again.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Why are you so angry at me?" I asked.

"You ruined the good time I might have had. You made me feel cheap. Like a slut. Or a whore."

"Whore would have asked for money," I pointed out.

She stumbled out of the shower, all wet. "You fucker! What do you want from me?"

"Right now? Nothing. And I'm not a fucker. Never will be one of the guys either."

"What was with that half assed blow-job that you got at the start?"

"That was to remind you that I'm going to marry you some day, and that you'll have to give up this shit. That wasn't a blow job. It was my mark on you."

"Your mark?!" She was really angry now. "Your fucking mark! Who the hell do you think you are? Bastard!"

I got up, handed her the mouthwash bottle. She pushed it back at me. "I don't use that."

"You should," I said, countering her angry tone with my calmest voice. "You probably have cum between your teeth.

"And as for who I am. I'm the one male on this campus who doesn't treat you like the slut that you're pretending to be. You Carolyn Elizabeth Smith-Montrose. You were named after your father's mother, have your mother's mother name for a middle name, and your mother's maiden name as part of your last name. You have an enormous trust fund -- which I'm not interested in, by the way -- part of which will come to you on your twenty-first birthday with the remainder coming when you turn twenty-five.

"You're majoring in accounting, and planning to get an MBA when you graduate, presumably so you can take over your father's firm. You're an only child.

"You seem to like scrambled eggs for breakfast, though I don't have enough information after only two days. You didn't eat your peas with the meatloaf you had yesterday.

"And from the looks of things, you are a slut."

I'd had a whole day to use the library and the internet. I may be just a twenty year old fresh out of Basic Training, but I'm no dummy.

She was staring at me like I had two heads.

"If you've calmed down," I said reasonably. "You can leave with me. Otherwise you'll have to leave by yourself." I tossed her a towel and went out to sit on the couch with the guys. Chapter 03

Two days later, they were ready to roll my wheelchair onto a military hospital flight back to Germany. I had my duffle bag full of stuff, my discharge papers, dated four weeks in the future, and my iPad. And my Purple Heart and the notice that I would be receiving a Bronze Star for my heroism. I still think the heroes were the guys who shot the S.O.B., not me.

I couldn't even walk yet. That would take the better part of six months to work through the therapy. So I was wheeled onto the plane. They had tie-downs for the chair, and several beds for the guys who hadn't made wheelchair status yet.

The Army hadn't called my next of kin -- in this case, my wife. They didn't want her to know anything about what happened, 'cause we weren't supposed to be in action, let alone in Pak. Even that I had been wounded. I didn't even want to tell her that I'd be coming home. I wanted my homecoming to be a surprise. I could just bet what kind of surprise it would be. I hoped that there wouldn't be any strange cars in the driveway. That I could get her between -- well between whatever the hell she'd been doing.

On the flight back to the U.S., I looked at the happy face of my wife on the iPad. And wondered again what kind of reception I'd get.

*******************************************

She decided to walk home with me after the basketball gang-bang. We walked. After a while we started to talk.

She wanted to know a lot about me. Where had I found out all that stuff about her? Okay, so it wasn't about me. The Internet, I told her. I promised to get her all the addresses where that stuff came from. But really, was she surprised that all the basic info about an heiress was on the scandal sheets?

And then it was about me. Where was I from? Tennessee, I told her. Just down the road from the University. Why was I in the Army? Everybody had to be somewhere while they grew up from a boy to a man.

I didn't, she said. I'm still slutting around like a teenage sex-crazed girl. We came back to the slut issue again. She did it, she claimed, because she didn't know what else to do. And she had to get away from her Daddy.

I thought that was a bit strange. There were thousands of girls on this campus and only a handful of sluts. What did she think the other girls did? Didn't they want to get away from Daddy, too?

We got back to her room. No roommate, it seemed, for a Montrose. She pushed me back against the corner of the wall and the bed. She wanted to neck. I reminded her of the mouthwash.

I would never take sloppy seconds. And I wouldn't put up with her slutting around after we got serious. I told her again. One time with one guy would be one time too many for me. I'd trust her until I couldn't trust her anymore. And if the day ever came that I couldn't trust her, that was it.

She got up from the bed and stormed into the bathroom. I could her her gargle and spit. She took another swig from the bottle, and swished, then gargled and spit again. I heard the toilet flush, the rustle of clothing, and she came out wearing just the electric blue g-string on. Oh she was wearing a U.S. Army green XL t-shirt, too.


"Do I pass muster, general sir?" She stood at a parody of attention, with her breasts sticking out and her ass barely covered by electric blue dental floss.

"Yeah you do," I said and gathered her into my arms.

Her head rested on my chest and we talked and talked some more. I gently fondled her breasts. She said that was one thing wrong with gang-bangs: everybody ignored her boobs.

We fell asleep just like that. Her half naked, sprawled out over my chest. Me leaning on her wall.