59 comments/ 391783 views/ 139 favorites After Boot Camp By: Moxy Irish If you are reading this and you haven't read its predecessor, "BOOT CAMP", you really should. All characters are the property of Moxy Irish. * * * * * I. Recruit Emma Castille had won the game. Her male opponent had beaten her at the contests of strength, but she had outshined him in the contests involving stamina, intellect, and beating her own best time on a course. As well, the recruits that had been voted off were allowed to make one last vote. Castille won the vote unanimously. The ragged, sleep-deprived recruit barely kept her feet as she was announced the Best Recruit of the camp. She hadn't slept in 65 hours and the only thing she cared about was falling into bed. She had nearly made it back to her rack when the producer of the show stopped her. "Congratulations, Miss Castille! Congratulations!" She smiled tiredly at the producer and stepped into the female barracks, heading for her rack. She murmured, "Thank you, Sir. I need sleep, Sir. I'll be ready for conversation tomorrow." The producer blinked at the "Sir". Man, there was something to be said for conditioning. He continued, not truly understanding how tired she was. "Oh that is over with Miss Castille. You don't have to call anyone 'Sir' anymore. And if you want to sleep, we have your room at the hotel ready to go. It's fully stocked, and there are *gifts*." His voice ended on a cajoling note. She fell into her rack fully dressed and pulled the blankets over her, turning her back to him. "This is fine, thank you. Goodnight." He stood there a bit nonplussed. There were gift baskets and food and a *robe* for heaven's sake! Taglieri prowled silently up to the man and murmured quietly in his ear. "She'll be fine here. Let her sleep. The gifts and hoopla can wait until she is awake enough to enjoy them." The producer jumped at Tag's voice, never having heard the Drill Instructor's approach. The tone of voice he used was polite but didn't brook argument. Without a word the producer turned and made his way out the door. Tag uncovered Castille's feet. They were encased in her still damp boots. He gently wrestled them off of her and folded the blankets up putting a hand on her thigh. The cloth of the fatigues was cold and brittle from having been soaked with water earlier. His hand moved to her waist and he unfastened her pants, easing them off of her. She made a distressed noise and tried to roll away from the movement that was pulling her out of sleep. His voice was a low, rumbling purr, "Shhhh, Emma. I need to get these wet clothes off, then you can sleep." She murmured, "Tag?" His voice was soothing as he finished stripping the pants off and tucked the blankets around her cold feet, "Yeah, Baby. I'm here." She rolled to her back and forced her eyes open. He took the opportunity to pull the blanket down and unbutton the heavy camouflage over-shirt. Her blue eyes blinked at him slowly and she murmured, "Traveling money." His dark eyes met hers and he smiled, charmed. She was fuzzy around the edges and cute as hell. He gently removed the shirt and left her in her undershirt and panties, pulling the blankets up to her neck. "What, Hon?" She purred at him, turning onto her side. "Traveling money. I have an extra quarter-mill in the bank now. I don't have to be home for a while...was thinking of visiting San Diego..." He chuckled and kissed her forehead, "Hmmm, I know a good place to stay in San Diego." She smiled with her eyes closed and purred at the kiss and the sound of his voice. There was a teasing tone in her sleepy words, "They have room service?" Tag smiled as he rose off of her rack, "Oh yes, Baby. They have room service." Her heavy eyes closed again. Within a minute she was sound asleep. Tag settled onto a nearby rack and watched her sleep for a while. Her face looked completely innocent. It showed none of the grit and will she pulled up from the depths of her being to endure the final tests and win the game. He had been so impressed with her actions during the contests he could barely stand it. Emma was something else. He meant to make her His. Tag's eyes were heavy and he shut them for a moment. He was tired himself, having stayed near Emma during the entire battery of contests. A hand gently shaking him roused him and he opened his eyes. Caff was grinning at him. Caff's voice was a low murmur, "It's noon, Tag. Tag looked around confused, Emma was still sound asleep on the rack next to his. Noon? It couldn't be! He had put her to bed at 2am! He stood up and stretched, gave Emma a last look and then followed Caff out of the barracks. He needed a shower, a change of clothes and some food. He was starving. Emma started making small "waking up" noises around 4pm. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked. There was a large man in a chair beside her rack. Her unfocused eyes took in the battered Levi's and the black t-shirt. Her blue gaze flicked up over his face...clean shaven, strong jaw, sensual lips, black hair that looked like fur...her eyes flicked up and met his warm, chocolate gaze, Ah yes...and brown eyes she could lose her soul in. Her voice was a husky drawl, "God, I hope you're breakfast." He smiled with pure masculine pleasure and chuckled, drawling, "Now why,..." he rose from the chair and sat on the edge of her bed, "...Miss Castille..." he slid down into a lounging position and threw a leg gently over her body, "...would you want C-rations..." his voice remained a purr as he gently rested himself on top of her, "...when you could have eggs benedict and mimosas at a 4-star hotel?" He braced his arms and dropped his head so his face was a few inches from hers. She did what she had wanted to do for weeks and raised her hands to his head, running the tips of her fingers through the short, black, hair. It *did* feel like fur. Her blue eyes were smoky with arousal as she met his, her voice husky, "Benedict Shmenedict." Then she raised her face and traced his lips with her tongue. He groaned and took her mouth. Both of them had waited for over three months to taste the other and they ignited as one flame using their lips, tongues, and hands to devour each other. Emma's hips were arching up to his, her limbs wrapped around his body. She was burning under him and the only thing Tag wanted to do was bury himself in her, but he knew he couldn't. She was mewling incoherently when he reluctantly broke the kiss. His voice was tinged with regret and lust, "Not here, Em. It's not private enough and the TV people are going out of their freakin' minds waiting for you to make an appearance." She breathed hard for a few moments getting her passion under control. "God I hate those friggin' TV people." He chuckled at her tone and lifted off of her so she could rise. She shook herself and started getting up, turning to point a finger his way, "Alright, all right. But you started it. *You*, Sir, are an evil Tempt..." she struggled for the male version of 'temptress', "...tor...a.dor." He laughed outright, "Is that like 'Conquistador'?" She grinned, "Very similar but they wore different hats. I think it is more like 'Matador'." He grinned back, "Conspirator?" She rose off her rack and started finding her clothing and purred, "Comforador." "Concilator?" "Gratifi-or." He was chuckling outright and desperately seeking an answering word, "Confiador?" "Vel-oc-i-rap-Tor." He lost it and started laughing out loud, "I am *not* a Velociraptor!" She grinned as she dressed, "Oh yes you are. You are my Sweeeeet Velociraptor." He shook his head smiling, "Oh my God. Velociraptor, huh? I couldn't be 'Shmoopy' or something? Well never tell Schell or Caff, I'll never live it down." She just grinned and winked then headed to the showers. The rest of the evening was a whirlwind. She was spirited off to the hotel and showered with gifts. The TV people bought her dinner and she gave exit interviews to the cameras. Several grinning cameramen gave her a giant gift basket full of hotel mints congratulating her and letting her know they had been rooting for her. She didn't see Tag in those hours and missed him. And oddly enough, she kind of missed the heavy scheduling, PT rituals, and yelling Drill Instructors. Man, there was something to be said for conditioning. The wrap party was that night. She had been given back her street clothes and showed off her newly toned, muscular body in a little black dress. She grinned when she saw Tag. He played it cool, but his brown eyes followed her, burning, and she knew what that meant. The rest of the recruits were there and they all had fun conversing, reminiscing, and dancing. Tag, McCafferty, and Schell were dressed in street clothes and working their way through the crowd of recruits and TV people. They all found it funny that the recruits still watched them like hawks and straightened their bodies whenever one of them approached. Castille was the only recruit that hugged all of them and spoke warmly with them, laughing and joking. The other recruits were impressed by her bravery, none of them knowing about the strangely bonding experience the foursome had in the Briefing room. Tag and Emma managed to keep their hands off of one another, but they would check in with eye contact regularly. Emma had just finished dancing with Ex-recruit Davis when Tag sidled up to her murmuring low, "So, Castille, trying to make me jealous by dancing with all the men?" She looked at him with a wicked grin, "Hmmm, I didn't know I could make you jealous, Taglieri." She looked around the room until her eyes landed on Thompson. He was a big, good-looking man, whom Castille happened to know was very happily married with a new baby. Her voice grew teasing, "My, my, my, Marine. Will you just *look* at Recruit Thompson. He's very handsome tonight. You know I always thought he was dishy. I think I'll go slow dance with him in my Tiny. Black. Dress." Tag chuckled and growled in her ear, "Careful, Sugar. You are about to get a big load of manly possessiveness dumped on your head." She grinned, liking this game very much. "Ohhhhh, there's Harris. Isn't he a picture in those black jeans? I wonder if he'll like my outfit?" Tag grinned, but his voice was a dangerous purr, "Last warning, cupcake." Her loins started getting hot at his tone. Her eyes found Ex-Recruit Gentry. Gentry had been a thorn from the beginning and had been voted off early. He was a good-looking 25 year-old who was used to getting by on his pretty face. He was lax and disingenuous and Castille had never liked him. She knew Tag had really disliked him. She growled out a purr, "Will you just look at that pretty, pretty man over there? Poor Gentry, you know I never really gave him a chance. I think I'll give him a chance now..." she made to walk away toward Gentry and yelped softly when a strong hand gripped her arm pulling her back. Tag leaned down and whispered in her ear, "That's it. You are *so* going to get it. Don't say I didn't warn you, Troublemaker." She chirped with alarm when he backed into the shadows taking her with him. No one noticed that they were gone as the loud party continued in the compound. When Tag was far enough away from the others, he turned and dragged Emma toward the main building. She laughed and struggled half-heartedly. The next thing she knew she had been tossed over one broad shoulder and carried into the building. She shrieked and laughed as she rode over his shoulder, beating playfully on his leg and grabbing his ass. He grinned, "Careful, Castille. I could bring you up on charges for that." Her voice was a teasing purr, "Oh really? Charges? Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Well inform "Charges" that I'll happily be up on him anytime he wants, and that really, I wouldn't mind a bit if "Charges" found himself *up* me." Tag laughed, smacking her ass, and entered the Briefing room. He closed and locked the door before bending and setting her on her feet. His hand snaked to the back of her neck before she could step away and she purred out a moan, held fast. His voice was a lusty growl, "Hmmm, well considering you are a *very* bad girl, Castille, I see you being up on "Charges" quite a bit in the future." She leaned into his body with a whimper of lust, her blue eyes smoky and begging. He dropped his head taking her mouth hard, one hand at her neck, the other dropping to her buttocks. He pulled her against his hips as his mouth slid in a sensual burn over hers. Castille's body went into a riot of pleasure. She unashamedly murmured against his mouth, "Take. Me." Tag reined in his passion, using more self-discipline than he had ever needed in his life to do it. His brown eyes had deepened in color and were burning as he looked at the aroused woman in his arms. He slid the hand at her neck to her ass and shoved her roughly full against his hips. "In a minute, Sweetheart. You have an appointment over my knee first." He had thought she might protest. Instead her knees dropped as she moaned, and he chuckled, tightening his hands on her buttocks, catching her. "Castille, you and I are *really* going to have to talk about you and spanking sometime soon." He half carried her to one of the chairs in the room and slung her over his lap. If anything she moaned louder and murmured, "God, I cannot *tell* you what it does to me when you manhandle my body." He purred, "Rrrrruh." The woman was trying to kill him. "I have found that manhandling your body is one of my greatest pleasures in life." His large hand stroked her legs and the seat of her little black dress. It had ridden up so that the tops of her stockings and the bottoms of her garters showed. He murmured, "Well, well, black stockings and dancing with other men. I see I'm going to have to keep an eye on you." She chuckled, "Yes, it seems I'm a brazen hussy, Sir. Of course I suppose it doesn't matter that the dress and stockings were for you?" He grinned and kneaded the cheeks of her buttocks through her skirt. "Not one whit." She laughed outright, clasping his lower leg and kneading the muscles there like a kitten. "Well it appears I'm incorrigible. What you gonna do about it, Drill Instructor Taglieri?" His hand landed hard on the seat of her skirt and she yelped then moaned happily. His palm landed again then roughly kneaded her some more. His voice was a growling purr, "Keep you standing, Hellcat." He slid her skirt up over her bottom and his cock surged as he took in the tiny, black silk panties that showed off most of her backside. He made his tone disapproving and tried not to grin, "Well these are just indecent! Clearly not regulation." Her bottom jiggled as she laughed, "Oh, yes, those. Now *those* aren't for you. Those are definitely for the other men." She shrieked, laughing, when his hand swatted her hard. His voice was grim, "Oh yes, I see I have my work cut out for me." He began spanking her barely-panty-clad seat firmly. She mewled a little and fluttered her feet. His large, warm palm felt great as it moved over her rounded bottom bringing the color up. She yelped softly a few times at some harder smacks but it was obvious to Tag that her spanking was entirely enjoyable. He decided to step it up and walloped her reddening bottom hard. She kicked a little and yelped louder. He growled teasing, "I can't imagine that scrap of silk is giving you any protection. Just remember it was *you* who got yourself into this acting like a Jezebel." She laughed out loud, "Jezebel, huh? Well if *you* weren't such a *Beast*!" He grinned and kept his palm descending in a regular cadence onto her bouncing flesh, "Trollop!" "Rake!" "Slut!" "Cad!" He started laughing outright and whacked her harder. "Ok...Strumpet!" She yelped happily, took a second for effect then barreled out, "Knave! Rascal! Blackguard! Savage! Villian! ROGUE!" There was no way he was going to let her win this one. He drew her panties down to her thighs and spanked her bare bottom briskly, "Oh yeah? Tramp! Minx! Hoyden!..." She started laughing hard. "...Wanton! Harlot! Cyprian! Tart!" She was still laughing as she cut him off, "Oh you are sooo going to lose this...You Brute! Highwayman! Miscreant! Scoundrel! Upstart!" He liked this game and continued to smack her bouncing globes, "Brat! Guttersnipe! Saucebox!" She shrieked, "Saucebox?! Why you Bounder! Roughneck!" "*Wench*"!" "BARBARIAN!" "HOBBLEDEHOY!" She was *dying* laughing, "Hobblede-what?! That isn't a word!" He grinned as he swatted her red bottom, "Look it up, Spitfire." He gave her a last round of hard smacks looking down at her red, bouncing bottom and growling with lust. She kept squirming when he stopped and placed a hand on her ass. "Now that I am the new King of pseudo-insults, I think I'll take my due tribute from a vanquished wench." Her loins churned at his tone. "Mmmmmm, vanquished wench at your service, Your Majesty." He chuckled and stood, lifting her up and tucking her 5'9 frame under his arm. He carried her like that to the table then dropped her feet down and locked his forearms around her back drawing her hard up against him. She looked into the burning brown eyes a few inches from hers and murmured, "I love that you can pick me up like I weigh nothing. You get serious points for that, you know. I'm not a small girl." He grinned and said the words all men of the world should commit to memory, "Light as a feather, Darlin'." She purred and lifted her mouth to his nibbling his lower lip, shaking her hips so her panties fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them as he took her mouth, deepening the kiss until her knees turned to water and she was trembling and whimpering. He broke the kiss and turned her, bending her over the table and yanking up the skirt of her dress. He let out a low growl of lust as he grabbed her warm, red ass and freed his cock. It took him exactly two seconds to put on the condom that he had been carrying around in his pocket since the game ended. She felt him slide slowly and deeply into her ready sex, moaning, "Oh yes, please" as he buried his cock to the hilt. 14 weeks of longing for this lit her up like a bonfire, and she pressed her warm hindquarters back and ground them against his hips. "God Tag, please. Fuck me hard." He gave her a hard smack with his hand then started to thrust hard into her, bending down to bite the back of her neck and shoulder gently. He felt a sweat break out on his upper body as he pumped her sex hard and fast. God she felt good. His mouth continued to kiss and bite her skin as his cock sheathed itself in her body again and again. She was sweet. Sweet and hot and soft. His eyes went black as he felt orgasm rushing up on him. She was panting in short order and screaming in pleasure within a few minutes. She spread her legs as wide as she could and clutched the table, moaning in lust as she felt his teeth. Oh God he just felt so GOOD! His body was strong and solid and made her feel secure. He felt hard all over. Hard and hot and unrelenting. Her body went into fits at his swift thrusts, her sex grasping at his cock. She had never felt the kind of pleasure she was feeling now as this big, dominant male mounted her. She went wild under him, bucking and screaming as her orgasm slammed into her. "God Yes! YES! Oh my GOD! AAIIGH! TAG!" He snarled as her bucking threw him over, hammering her heated sex through the orgasm that washed over him. Good Christ! It felt like he left his body. He panted and growled, lapping at the back of her neck as his emptied cock pulsed in her. He voice was ragged when he spoke, "Ohhhh Emma. You are definitely going to kill me, but I am going to die a happy man." She managed to laugh weakly and raised her head trying to look back at him. Her eyes flicked over the room as she tried to see his face and she murmured, "God, I love this room." After Boot Camp He chuckled and leaned up further managing to catch the side of her mouth with his. "Mmmm, yeah. My kind of 'briefing'." They struggled up and adjusted their clothing, pawing at one another. They both had silly grins on their faces as he shut the lights off and gave her one last swat as they moved out the door. The door clicked shut, the happy couple moving off back to the party. The Briefing room was suddenly lonely, not realizing what it had been missing. II. There was something to be said for television. Emma and Tag both had fat bank accounts now, and the first class seats booked on their flight to San Diego were compliments of the Producer. Emma had never liked to fly. Being trapped in a plane for hours was not high on her "favorite things" list. It was a heck of a lot easier to take in a big spacious seat, cuddled up to the most virile man she had ever known. They had pushed up the armrest separating them after take-off and she was snug under a blanket, her upper body fully in his lap. Tag idly stroked the chestnut hair of the woman on his lap and wondered if this was a good time to bring up the subject of spanking. It was a long flight from Florida to California and he figured now was as good as time as any to fill in some of the blanks. His voice was a low, purring murmur, "Hey, Em?" She turned onto her back and blinked slowly up at him, "Mmmmmm?" He smiled, he loved her fuzzy. "So I was thinking, maybe now is a good time to talk about this whole spanking thing." She groaned and covered her face, "Oh God. Any second the crippling humiliation is going to kick in." He chuckled, "No, Sugar. No need for that. Let's just talk about it. Obviously you know a heck of a lot about it. You made that obvious the first time in the Briefing room. But two days ago, I didn't get lecture material. I got purring, wiggling, happiness over my knee and I need to know what the deal is." She peeked at him through opened fingers, "Ummm..." He laughed and grabbed her hand away from her face, holding it gently, "Ummm...what?" She groaned, "Ummm, Ok. So the first thing you should know is that I've had a...favorable...reaction to spanking all my life. It's like I'm hardwired this way. Spanking in books, movies, anything. It has always gotten to me, even when I was small...It has to do with the men that I find desirable as well." She struggled for an easy way to put it and chose movie examples, "There are Rhett girls and Ashley girls. Luke girls and Han girls. I'm a Rhett girl. A Han girl. I like dominant behavior and confidence in men." She chanced a glance up at him, "Needless to say it isn't a mystery why I find you so attractive." He grinned teasing, "And here I thought it was my pretty face." She laughed and reached up to stroke his cheek, "Yeah, there's that. But it's what's behind your eyes that attracts me...So part of the spanking thing is my attraction to the man doling it out. And part of it is just kind of a mystery. I've always been drawn to it." "Hmmm, what about what happened in the Briefing room with Caff and Schell?" She slapped her forehead, "Gad. Ok, *that* was embarrassing. I really don't like the whole audience and multiple participants thing. But, that said, it still pushed all my buttons. Including the ones that made me *want* to be punished once I found out I was wrong about the whole thing." "You didn't seem like you wanted it." He couldn't hold back a chuckle, "You yelled your head off." She covered her face again, "Ok, enough with the humiliating reminders, you cruel brute." She took her hands away gave him a good-natured but embarrassed smile, "I don't always want punishment that hard, Tag. And I can't say I completely enjoy it while it is happening. But there is something to be said for not being able to control what is happening. When I can't control the outcome my submissive side kicks in, and my submissive side is directly connected to my sexuality. The physical sensation is also connected to my sexuality so it all feeds on each other and drives my body into fits." Tag looked at her a little puzzled, "You didn't seem aroused that night, you seemed totally worn out." She looked up into his face and raised an eyebrow, "Tag, trust me. You could have put me on my back after you had finished with that godawful brush. I was more than ready for you. There was no way I was going to let Caff and Schell see me aroused, that's all. That night was hell to take and it was definitely punishment, but that doesn't change the fact that my body loved it. Heck, despite the humiliation of it all, you did me a favor. It removed all the tension and stress from my body. I went into those tests primed for the competition." She chuckled, "You guys probably gave me an edge." He smiled at her last statement and then asked the question that was most on his mind, "So you like both? You like it when it is easy like the other night, and when it is so hard you yowl your head off?" She murmured, "Yeah, I like both. I need both to be happy." He slipped his arms under her and raised her to his face, "Ok, Sugar. Then you'll get both." Her eyes turned smoky, "Rrrruh. I can't tell you what it does to me to hear you say that...but what about you, Tag? I don't want you to feel put out." She grinned, "Although I *will* try my best to corrupt you." He dropped his mouth and murmured against her lips, "Oh trust me, Darlin'. I'm not put out. I admit it hadn't really occurred to me until you brought it up. But now I can't even think of you over my knee without getting hard. Consider me 'corrupted'." He slid his lips over hers, slipping his tongue between her teeth, touching all over the inside of her mouth gently with the tip of it. She moaned and pressed up to him engaging his tongue in a gentle war, her loins igniting. "Oh! Goodness, I'm terribly sorry!" Tag and Emma broke the kiss and looked up at the blushing flight attendant. Emma groaned and hid under her blanket. "Ummm, Do you, I was, Oh dear. Can I get either of you a beverage?" the pretty woman stammered out. Tag heard a muffled "Ginger Ale, please." from under the blanket and burst into laughter. III. Emma and Tag weren't two minutes inside of his ocean view apartment when their clothes started coming off. Two delirious hours later Tag got out of bed, "I'm going to take a shower, Sugar. Care to join me? Emma's blue gaze swept over his powerful naked body slowly, "Mmmmmm, oh yeah. I'm all over that. Can I join you in a minute though? I didn't get a look at your place and I want to be a Nosey Parker. Is it ok if I'm a Nosey Parker?" Tag grinned and headed into the bathroom, "Be my guest, Castille. Just don't judge me too harshly for my Douglas Adams collection." Emma smiled delighted, "Douglas Adams! One of my favorite authors! Yet another reason you are a GodKing." Tag laughed, "GodKing huh? That's a touch better than 'Velociraptor'." She called back, "Oh you think so now, but just wait until those Titans start springing fully grown outta yer head. That's an Excedrin moment just waiting to happen." She heard him laughing and slid out of bed. He had read her right. The first place she went to was his bookcase. Her eyes scanned the packed shelves with interest. He was as eclectic as she was. Sci-fi, humor, crime novels, history, best sellers, he had at least 20 books that she could see on ancient weaponry. She picked up a worn copy of "The Art of War" and flipped it open. There was a faded inscription on the back of the front cover. 1982, X-Mas To my Son, You have made me proud every day of your life. You were born a Warrior. This book may take you further than the videogames. Give it a try. All my love, Dad She smiled and flicked her gaze up to another line up in the top corner. "This book is the property of Giovanni Taglieri" Her soft smile turned into a grin, Giovanni? She started chuckling, hmmm, she had never been told his first name. She carefully put the book back and scanned the room for his jeans. She moved to them, still chuckling, and pulled out his wallet. Her eyes flicked over his driver's license. Oh yes. Giovanni Taglieri. God *did* love her. Tag heard the door open and smiled waiting her to join him in the shower. Instead she stuck a waving hand through the curtain. What did she have a hold...oh well, hell. It was his driver's license. He heard her laughing and groaned. She stuck her head in, blue eyes dancing, "Giovanni, huh?" He chuckled and shook his head...Oh it was going to be a while before she let this one go. "The only person that uses my first name is my grandmother from the old country. And even she calls me 'Gio'. My whole family has called me 'Tag' since I was ten years old." She couldn't stop the devilish laughter and murmured in a sing-song voice, "Gio-vaaaannnni." He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her into the shower. She shrieked and kept laughing. "You know," he growled smiling, "I have a nice solid bath brush in here." She chirped, "Aak! Ok, ok! I give!" He trapped her hands in one of his and backed her up against the wall purring, "Oh, I don't know. Ten or fifteen good whacks with that brush might make you a little more respectful..." Her blue eyes glazed a bit as she wiggled trying to free her hands. His grip was gentle, but as strong as iron. She grew wet as she realized she wasn't going anywhere. She made her voice cajoling, "Tag. Tag, Please. I'll be good." He nudged her legs apart and shoved a knee between her thighs. Her head rolled back as she rode his thigh. He had made her hot in about five seconds. Her voice turned into a moan, "God, I'm so lucky." Tag's brow furrowed, "Hmmm?" She straightened her head and looked full into his face murmuring, "I've never been with a man who could make me so crazy for him. Never Tag. You can do it with a look, a gesture, a word." Her voice lowered, completely sincere, "I'm so very lucky. I have no idea why you like me so much, but I'm so glad you do." Tag looked at her. He had so much he could say. He could tell her the story of when he realized he was in love with her back in week ten of the game. He could recite sonnets or scold her for having no idea why he liked her. He threw out everything he could have said and touched her forehead with his, murmuring one word, "Mine." Her legs dropped out from under her and her weight rested fully on his bent leg. Apparently he had chosen well. She murmured huskily, "Is it too early to say I love you?" He growled back, "It's about time, Castille. I've been in love with you for weeks." She wrapped her arms and legs around his body. The water falling on them was starting to get cold. They didn't notice. IV. Tag sat in the early morning hours looking out his window. Emma was sound asleep in his bed. He liked his apartment. He liked his town. But there was nothing here he couldn't leave. He had been paid enough by the TV people to live well for a year and do nothing else if he wanted to. Emma, however, had a farm she owned and a working barn. The little town she lived outside of was in the wine country of Northern California. It was only about 40 minutes to San Francisco. He looked at his view again. He was pretty sure he would enjoy wine country. Plus there was all the work he wanted in SF when he chose to work. He looked around his apartment. He didn't want to push Emma, but he was more than willing to have it packed up and shipped when they left for her farm at the end of the week. He sipped his coffee and mused about it. He didn't want anything more than to share the rest of his life with Emma. Then again, he was just that sort of person. He made decisions swiftly and stuck to them. No, he wouldn't talk about moving yet. She might not move that fast. It was best to give her time. The week in San Diego went by in a flash. Tag had offered to take her to the large zoo and famous wild life park, but she had reached for him and murmured that he was the only large, dangerous beast she wanted to see. That had pretty much ended that conversation, and other than some time at the beach they spent most of their time naked making love all over his apartment. He had spanked her for fun a time or two but nothing like what had happened the first time in the Briefing room. He caught himself thinking about giving her a hard spanking more and more. She didn't ask for it, so he didn't bring it up. At the end of the week they flew to San Francisco and drove to her farm outside of Sonoma. Emma's ranch was simply called "Glory". It was a fairly large working barn with over 30 horses boarded and 15 lesson horses. Many of the horses she boarded were champions or placed high in their disciplines. Emma was experienced in a number of riding disciplines and had two large stables with attached arenas. She divided the two stable buildings according to Western and English disciplines and employed four trainers as well as doing a good bit of the training herself. She had six grooms that cleaned the stables, turned the horses out, and cared for the needs of the animals. Two massage therapists came by two or three times a week to work on the horses. Her other trainers had taken on her duties through the end of the month, and if she wanted to, she could take the 16 days she had left and just be with Tag. The stables could get extremely busy during the day, but her house was sacred ground. No one would bother them once inside. Tag explored the large, airy farmhouse while Emma went to the stables to greet everyone that happened to be there that day. He went to her bookcases first. She had three giant ones in what looked like an office and reading room. He perused the shelves...mmm, she was as eclectic as he was. History, sci-fi, novels, sheesh...romance...all women had romance...humor, animal behavior, biology, about 50 horse books, and Hey! He stopped. She had a section on ancient weapons and warfare. He glanced at a couple of martial arts books then laughed and pulled a slim little book off the shelf and looked at the familiar cover. "The Art of War". He chuckled...Of course, of all women, Emma would have "The Art of War". He replaced the little volume and looked around the room. The furniture was wood and fabric and was cozy. Three of the walls held black and white photography and interesting paintings. The last wall held weapons. She had a couple of quarterstaffs and some wooden katana in a large urn. There was a samurai sword mounted on the wall along with a broadsword, a short sword, a couple of daggers, and a pair of si. He lingered there, looking closely at the sheathed weapons and the training tools but didn't take anything down. He went through her cds next, her taste in music was as eclectic as her reading choices. He checked out her entertainment system...needed some upgrades there...ambled through her kitchen...lots of gadgets and copper pans...then he loped upstairs and wandered to the end of the hall looking for the master bedroom. He found it, and whistled upon entering. Emma's bedroom was as opulent as the barracks had been Spartan. She had colored tapestries on the walls and paintings with Indian and middle-eastern flavors. The colors of the room were a riot of jewel tones. Her large iron bed was covered in sheets, comforters and pillows that were colored rich and sensual dark reds, purples, blues, and gold. White cotton mosquito netting hung over the bed, stretching out over the four black iron bedposts. The whole room spoke of a sensual and tactile nature, someone who loved comfort and beauty. It should have been way too much, but somehow it was muted enough to be sumptuous but not over the top. He wandered through the room looking at paintings and strange little colored lamps, running his hand over the Indian style wood furniture. He stopped at a large wardrobe that had a carved tiger on each door. It was obviously antique and the craftsmanship was beautiful. He wanted to see the lay out of the inside and tried to open it. It was locked. He backed off and looked at the door handles in confusion, there were no keyholes to be found...What the...? He ran his hands over the door and started trying to figure out how to get in, his curiosity aroused by the puzzle. His hands found two small, iron elephants up at the top corners of the wardrobe. They turned...but no movement of the doors. He figured out that they turned in different directions independently and tried to find the combination. He finally got it when he turned both elephants at the same time a quarter turn so they were facing the two tigers on the doors. He heard a *click*. Cool. He opened both doors, now very interested to see how it was built on the inside. His eyes focused on the contents and he stepped back, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. Whoa! No wonder the door was locked! The inside panels of both doors were covered in small hooks. On each hook hung some kind of spanking implement. His brown eyes widened. *Lots* of spanking implements. Emma liked equal division, wood hung on one side, leather on the other. His eyes ran over the lushly colored and well cared for woods of the paddles. The other door had belts, straps, leather paddles of different shapes, and what looked like an antique razor strop. His eyes flicked to the closet area. There was a side with a small chest of drawers and a side for hanging clothes. He ran his hands through the clothing. Most of it was silk and they looked similar to belly dancing outfits. They were all different colors, some transparent. There were coin belts and smaller bracelet things on hangers. He let out his breath in a "Woof." His inquisitive and slightly shocked gaze moved to the drawers and he started opening them. Velvet rope, colored leather cuffs, lined copper shackles. He moved down the line of drawers finding jewelry and more bondage equipment. The bottom drawer wouldn't open. He dropped into a squat. Ah. This drawer had a keyhole. His curiosity was killing him, but he didn't dare try to force the delicate little drawer. He took one last look at the doors, running his fingers over some of the pieces that caught his eye. After a few minutes he shut the doors and turned the iron elephants. He was practically gleeful, he was going to give her *such* a hard time! This blew the whole "Giovanni" thing out of the water. Plus, well. Yum. The wardrobe had been as sensual of an experience as her whole bedroom was. He left the room smiling, murmuring to himself, "Oh, God loves me. Yes He does." He wandered back through the kitchen and rifled through her fridge, grabbing a root beer, then ambled back into the library. He selected a book on Greek warfare and dropped onto the couch to wait for her. A black cat came out of nowhere and made herself comfortable on his lap. He idly stroked the purring cat and read. Emma found him that way 20 minutes later. She smiled, charmed. He was engrossed in a book, barefoot and jean clad, stretched out on her couch with a sleeping cat in his lap. He was a hell of a picture. She silently approached trying to get close enough to tickle one of his bare feet. He never looked up from the book but his voice was a rumbling purr, "Don't even think you can sneak up on me." She laughed, "Dammit! Damn your military trained ears!" He chuckled and put down the book. You have a beautiful house, Em. It's homey and bright and full of surprises. I feel very comfortable here." She smiled, "I'm glad...but surprises?" He gestured around with a hand, "Cozy and full of comfy furniture, yet airy with a sense of space. A library with a weapons wall. State of the art kitchen, yet every room in this place is painted a different color. Eclectic tastes in books and music, and Man. The bedroom." He grinned. "Ah, you have been a Nosey Parker, eh? Well that's fair. Yeah...my bedroom is kinda 'girly' isn't it? After Boot Camp He raised a brow, "Girly? I was thinking more like 'Opium Den'." He gave her a grin, his brown eyes sparkling. "It is *not* 'Opium Den', you Rogue!" She mumbled embarrassed, "I was going for 'Middle Eastern harem'." Her tone was grumbling but she had a shadow of a grin on her face. "If you don't like my room you can sleep on the porch. I have a nice army cot out there. It will make you feel right at home." He chuckled and gently deposited the cat on the floor then grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap. "Hey, now, no insult intended. I was kidding. I liked it. I did. You have a deeply *interesting* bedroom. It suits you. It is amazing that someone who likes comfort as much as you do did so well living in uncomfortable, Spartan conditions." She smiled and snuggled up to him, "This house took a long time to get like this. I love it, but I really need very little to make me happy as long as my mind and body are occupied. I didn't have much time in Camp to miss any creature comforts did I?" He murmured, "You're right about that." He waited a beat. He really wanted to play it cool but he couldn't stand waiting. He was the kid that always got up two hours earlier than everyone else on Christmas morning. "So, Em. What's with the Wardrobe from *Hell*." He grinned and started chuckling as he felt her breath stop. She murmured, "What do you mean?" He made his voice casual. "I mean the locking mechanism is genius. It took me like ten minutes to work it out..." She shrieked and turned to look at him with panicked blue eyes, "You *opened* it?!" He saw her face and burst into full-blown laughter. "Of course I opened it. I just wanted to see the craftsmanship, but once it provided me with a puzzle, it was an issue of pride. I had to solve it. And my, my, my...what a bounty inside..." he let his voice trail off still chuckling. She struggled off of his lap and hit the floor. Not knowing what else to do she just covered her head with her arms. "Oh my God. Oh my God." Her voice was teary and he snapped his torso up growing serious. "Hey...Hey, Sugar...Hey..." He knelt on the floor next to where she huddled and put a hand on her back. "What's wrong? What gives? I was just teasing you." "Oh My God. You must think I am some kind of crazy deviant." Tag's brow furrowed, "No, Em. No. Sure, it surprised me at first. But come on now. I don't think badly of you. Hell from what I saw you have excellent taste. Apparently you're a...collector. It's ok, Em, really. Come on, how many guys have a girlfriend with a Harem bedroom and a fully stocked Sex-drobe? I think it's cool." She groaned, "You must think I'm a slut. Really I'm not. Lovers...Can count them on one hand. Last relationship broke up a year ago and was too busy to meet someone before you...I haven't even *used* half of the things in there." "What part of 'cool' didn't you understand? No worries, Honey. It never came into my mind that you were a slut or anything else. Scout's honor." She chanced a peek at him, "Promise?" He smiled as he felt her distress ebbing away. "Yeah, Sugar. Promise." She tucked her head into his torso, burrowing under his arm. He chuckled and rubbed the small of her back. He couldn't resist, "So, only half huh? I guess I'll have to do something about that." Her protest was muffled, "Aaaak! TAG!" He started laughing again and shifted her, wrapping his arms around her body. He was pretty sure that now was the time to change the subject and said lightly, "Can I see the stables?" She looked up and grinned, "Sure, do you ride?" He shook his head, "No, but I like horses." Her eyes danced, "Want a lesson?" He looked at her for a moment, "Sure." V. They headed for the English barn. Emma waved at a couple of people that were packing up and leaving for the day. It was a little after five p.m. and the barn had shut down for the night. The stables were quiet and smelled sweetly of hay and warm horses. A couple of cats patrolled silently for rodents. She pointed at the large orange tabby murmuring, "Tennison." Then pointed to a brown tabby with white socks, "'Isabol.' And the cat on your lap earlier was 'Luna'. There are a few more around here. They share time between the stables and the house. You'll also meet 'Logan' eventually. He's the official guard dog of the ranch." He smiled and dropped into a squat to pet Tennison who was circling his legs and purring. "I like animals." She smiled, "I'm really glad to hear that. Cause I have a whole lot of them." She introduced Tag to a glossy bay horse named Domingo. At her direction he stepped forward and blew gently into the horse's nostrils. The horse gently blew back at Tag, his breath smelled sweet and warm. Domingo was engaging and inquisitive. Tag was rather in awe of the large, gentle animal. Emma took the horse's blanket off and showed Tag how to put on a halter then led Domingo out to the cross ties. She secured the horse and retrieved brushes, instructing Tag to groom one side while she did the other. She told him Domingo's story. He was her horse now. She called him a 'Warmblood' and said he had been a champion dressage horse. Tag made a note to question Emma later about the unfamiliar terms. Domingo had been injured and was unable to compete anymore. She had bought and rehabilitated him. Now he was her pleasure horse and lived a life of ease, spending most of his time turned out with some other farm horses. She showed Tag how to put on the saddle and bridle and led the horse down the isle to the covered arena attached to the stable. The arena floor looked like dark, rich soil and there were jumps stacked at one end of the large, oval room. She got Tag mounted and grabbed a leather jockey's bat out of habit, slapping it gently against her thigh as she watched him move the horse around the arena. Her instruction had started out gentle, helping him improve his balance in the unfamiliar saddle, her voice soft and soothing as she explained how to handle the reins. Soon she couldn't resist putting a bit more "Drill Instructor" in her tone. Tag looked up surprised as Emma's voice rang out, "You look like a sack of potatoes, Marine! I'm surprised you haven't fallen off that horse. Straighten up!" He saw her smother a grin and thought to himself, Ah yes. 14 weeks of payback coming. He behaved himself and gave her a nod, his tone dry, "Yes, Ma'am." And tried to adopt a better form. She let him circle the arena one more then called out, "Ok...Ok. Stop." She strode over and hardened her voice, trying to drive the playful tone out. "That is absolutely unacceptable, Taglieri. Your heels are up, your legs are forward..." she popped his thigh with the jockey bat she was holding, "...your form is crap, Mister! You haven't been listening to a word I've said!" She couldn't stop herself from grinning stupidly up at him, so to make up for it she whacked him on the thigh again. He flicked up an eyebrow and murmured, "When do I get one of those things?" He answered him seriously, her tone returning to normal, "You don't. Horses aren't struck in my barn. I don't give crops or bats to students because it is too tempting to pop a horse one if they are frustrated." He murmured with a grin, "I wasn't going to pop the *horse* one, woman." She chuckled, "My goodness, that sounded like a threat, Mr. Level 1 Student. I think I should have you running water duty for the next several hours for that disrespectful tone. You can fill up the big trough in the front paddock water glass by water glass. How do you like them apples, Giovanni?" He looked down at her from where he sat in the saddle, his eyes amused and glinting dangerously. "I'd say I might just toss you in that trough and you can bob for "them apples", Castille. And what have I said about calling me Giovanni?" Her voice became teasing as she grinned playfully, "That it was as cute as a button?" He shook his head fighting a grin, "No." "That it should be used with abandon especially around all your Marine buddies?" He looked at her, dark eyes flashing, and swung a leg over the horse. "No." She laughed and shrieked, backing away as he dismounted, her blue eyes merry and excited, "That it suits your gentle and artistic nature?" He moved toward her and growled laughing, "I'll show you gentle and artistic, woman. Gimme that bat!" She shrieked again, laughing, and tore away from him yelling, "That's it's the perfect name for a Velociraptor? Giovanni the Friendly Velociraptor? You could have a kid's show!" He caught her about the waist in about 5 steps and swung her around dropping them both to the ground. When she tried to scramble away he pulled her across an outstretched thigh and locked his other leg over her upper thighs. He wrestled the pretty, golden-colored leather bat away from her while she protested and struggled. The docile horse watched them for a moment and then clopped into the barn isle, entering his stall and going for his hayrack. "TAG! Someone could walk in! TAG! I mean it!" Her voice was full of laughter and there was no way he was going to take her protests seriously. "Well you should have thought of that before teasing a Velociraptor, Sugar. You gonna call me 'Giovanni' anymore?" He popped the slapper head of the bat on one jean-clad buttock. Her voice was mock angry, "Hey! Oh that is *it* Mister! You are in so much trouble." He laughed and whacked her again, "Oh really? Please tell me, Riding Instructor Castille, how you are possibly going to back that up?" She struggled and grumbled laughing, "Oh you just wait. I'll think of some suitably cunning plan to make you pay, *Giovanni*." He popped her ass a third and fourth time with the bat, laughing, his voice a dangerous purr, "Oh you are soooo in trouble, Castille. Mark my words, Little girl. After dinner. You. Me. Your bare bottom. My big, black belt. And about a hundred of the paddles you have hidden away in that wardrobe of yours." She shrieked, laughing again. "I don't have a hundred paddles! Ok, ok, I give. Come on Tag, I need to de-tack your abandoned horse and actually *close* his stall door for the night." He let her up, pawing her bottom as they rose. "Good, you can show me how all those buckles work on the saddle again. Speaking of food, what are you in the mood for?" She looked over her shoulder and grinned at him purring huskily, "Oh I was thinking of Italian." He cleared his throat, fighting to control his cock, and growled a purr back at her, "I think that can be arranged." She managed to get the horse bedded down and the barn lights off before grabbing the waistband of his jeans aggressively and dropping to her knees. He groaned and laughed at the same time as his woman made short work of his belt and the buttons of his Levi's. He wrapped a soft fist in her chestnut hair as she took him into her mouth, wrapping her arms around his buttocks. Christ! When she went for it she really went for it. She was rough and urgent with everything but her mouth. That was soft and warm and her caressing tongue was going to make his knees drop out from under him any second. His head dropped back and he groaned as she licked and suckled his cock. His voice was a rough moan, "Castille you're going to end me, I swear..." She smiled around his sex and dropped her head to nip his inner thigh and take "the boys" in her mouth, tonguing them gently before returning her attentions to his shaft. She murmured teasing as her tongue bathed his cock, "Oh I thought Marines were supposed to be a tough lot, Taglieri. You're all just big, fluffy puppies." He barked out a hoarse laugh, "Dogs of War, Baby." He tried to pull her up by the shoulders but she was having none of it and locked her forearms around his buttocks, sucking harder and taking him deep into her mouth. It only took a few minutes for him to tighten a fist in her hair, growling low, "Careful, Baby. I'm going to come." If anything that made her double her efforts. Her soft inner mouth and working tongue were making him lose control. "Emma, Em, darlin'. Really, I'm about to...Em, I'm going to...I'm...Rrrrrrrrrrrrruh." He snarled low as his cock emptied into her mouth. She swallowed reflexively and slowly released his cock, lapping at it gently. He put both hands in her hair and cradled her head murmuring, "Mmmm, thank you...So apparently you don't mind that...Good to know." She looked up at him, resting her chin on his flat belly, blinking with a lazy arousal, and merely murmured, "You taste good." He purred and hauled her up, burying his face in her neck. VI. Emma's fridge was empty except for bottled water and a few bottles of Thomas Kemper root beer, so they ordered Chinese. She and Tag washed up as they waited for the food and both slipped into something more comfortable. Tag watched Emma after the food arrived as she moved about the kitchen. She was dressed in nothing but a gold silk robe that clung to her curves. He was ready to toss her on the kitchen island and ravish her. They ate straight from the boxes sharing the food. Emma chirped and moaned low when Tag dropped down in front of her chair with purposeful look. He pulled her to the edge of the chair with a lusty growl, tossing her legs over his shoulders. He parted her robe, purring, and went down on her. She barely managed to put the box of Chinese noodles in her hand on the table without dumping it on his raven-haired head. His lips and tongue worked her sex expertly and she arched her neck back, wrapping her hands softly around his head. His teeth gently grazed the little nub at the top of her sex and she contracted her body, panting, and murmured his name. He continued to work the nub of flesh with his lips and tongue, gripping her thighs hard as her hips raised off the edge of the chair. A moment later she exploded in his mouth, gasping and trembling. Her voice was a husky whisper as he cleaned her sex with long laps of his tongue, "God, Tag. That was just amazing." He raised his face to hers and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth tasting her own sweetness mixed in with his unique taste. His skin tasted like the woods. Like something wild and natural and untamed. He dropped back down to his knees and put his head in her lap enjoying the small shudders that still coursed through her, "Castille, I'm in a mood." She smiled slowly, petting his soft hair and liking his tone, "Oh?" He looked up at her, his brown eyes lusty, "Yeah, I really want to beat your ass tonight. I figure 'Giovanni' is as good of an excuse as any." She smiled slowly and purred, "I'd thought you'd never ask, Giovanni." He chuckled and his voice became a purring growl, "Wanna get rough tonight, Baby?" She nodded, almost hypnotized, her loins throbbing at his tone and the look on his face. "Ok, Love. Then go upstairs and change into one of those outfits I saw in the wardrobe. Leave your bedroom door open when you are ready for me. She kissed him and headed upstairs, her knees trembling. He wandered back into the library where he had dropped his suitcase. He pulled off his navy blue sweatpants and switched them out for a pair of black Levi's and a fawn-colored t-shirt. He padded barefoot to his other jeans and pulled his belt free, feeding it into the loops of the black jeans and buckling it. He elected to stay barefoot, and padded upstairs silently. Her bedroom door was still closed so he hunkered down and leaned against the wall, waiting. When her door opened he stood, adrenalin coursing through his body. He prowled through the entrance and froze looking at her. Woof. Her back was to him and his eyes traveled slowly over her tall form taking in the picture. Below a silver belly chain she was wearing an emerald green, silk garment. It fell to her bare feet and would have been a skirt except that it was two separate panels of cloth, one in the back, one in front. Three silver chains laid loosely against each bare hip, attaching the front panel to the back. Otherwise they fell free to the floor from the tops of her thighs. Her back was bare but for a strap of silver that looked a bit like a bikini top. Her chestnut hair hung in waves around her shoulders, looking soft, making him want to run his fingers through it. He murmured, "Turn around." She turned to face him and he let out a low growl. Her breasts were encased in a top of green silk and silver cloth. Her entire midriff was bare except for the delicate silver belly chain that hung low, the shining coins fastened to it falling over the swell of her belly. Her shoulders and neck were bare and unfettered. Her face was made up, black kohl on her eyelids, pale silver and green-brown eye-shadow, expertly applied, changing the color of her eyes to a deep blue-green. Her lips were painted dark red and her face powered lightly making it flawless and smooth. He had been used to seeing her without make-up and didn't think she needed it, but she had transformed herself into an exotic creature for him and it heated his blood. He stepped forward, wishing briefly that he was dressed as some ancient Warlord. He made his voice and eyes hard, "You were disrespectful today. I don't allow disrespect." She threw him a curve and looked at him haughtily, "I am the favored wife. I have status and privileges the others aren't allowed. I should be able to use your given name when I choose to." He liked the curve. His eyes glittered and he smiled dangerously, "Perhaps I have given you too much status. You flaunt it and defy me." Her eyes flickered for a moment as a touch of fear crept into them, she spoke a trifle less haughtily, "The others must know that only I am your equal." He laughed outright, brown eyes flashing, "I give you favored status as the First Wife and suddenly you are my equal? I didn't choose you because you were stupid, woman, so it must be that the power has gone to your head and made you foolish. Obviously it has been too long since I put you in your place." She backed up a step swallowing, eyes widening. He suddenly looked much, much larger than she. She changed her tactics and made her tone cajoling, "Please, My Lord. I didn't mean 'equal' of course. I meant...I meant...equal use of names. The other wives and concubines will never question my status if they hear me use your given name as you use mine." He dropped his head and pinned her with his gaze. His voice was a low growl as he moved forward, stalking her, "You seem to think I am interested in the matters of women. Control the others as you will, but do not defy me to secure your rank. I have said you are First Wife. My word is law. If they question your status, you have but to ask and I will have them beaten." His voice turned into a snarl, "But you will *not* take advantage of my favor and speak to your Lord as if I am a common servant." She backed away from him hastily and tried another tactic in desperation. Her voice was breathy and fearful, "I beg your forgiveness, my Lord and Husband. Please, allow me to lighten your mood. I'll have servants bring wine and meat and dates. I'll feed you and dance for you. I promise I will not disobey again." His eyes glittered as he filed away the idea of feeding and dancing for him. He would definitely use them later. He backed her up against the wall and placed his hand against it, near her head, trapping her with his arm. "I'll accept your apology after your due punishment, woman. And you'll dance for me tonight under my belt. You are right, you will not disobey me again." He saw the fear and lust fight in her eyes. Her voice was pleading, "Please, Sir. Please, my Lord. Have mercy. I am only a foolish woman. I forgot myself. I will not do it again." He slipped his hand to the back of her neck and leaned in, murmuring nearly against her lips, "You will have no mercy from me tonight, Wife."