Marnie had known that he would open her pucker. The training she had undergone—up to the enema given to her that morning by Mrs. Jones—had all but confirmed it. And the meaning of the major's words was clear. Still, she felt a bolt of fear when one of his fingers began teasing her cringing rosebud, coating it with the juices running from her quim.
He pressed a finger inside Marnie's pucker with typical directness, thrusting in all at once, using just enough strength to force his finger past the tight ring of muscle that, in the attempt to force him out, clamped down hard around him.
"Ah!" she cried.
"Hush," he said, softly but dangerously. "Relax, Miss Stowe, and you will find that this goes easier for you."
As he spoke, he continued to move his finger in and out of her tight pucker, and Marnie felt a surge of confusing sensations. It felt impossibly lewd and wrong, but at the same time, being penetrated in her smallest, tightest hole was strangely pleasurable. When the major pressed a second finger to the hilt inside her bottom, she gasped at the searing breach, the feeling of being stretched, the pressure of it, but she also felt how her nipples and her pearl were begging to be touched, how her sex offered itself, how her own resistance—the way her muscles tried to resist but then weakened and allowed the intrusion to proceed—was, in itself, part of the pleasure.
Finally, the major's fingers were pressing in and out freely, with no more resistance from Marnie. Her training meant that it was possible to open her pucker wide without tearing her. The major knew this and took full advantage of it, eventually adding a third finger, which Marnie could only protest with a faint mewl, arching her back and pushing her bottom up further, while he continued to open her, spreading the fingers that were inside her back passage until she was certain that her pucker had opened as much as it ever would.
"Your punishment has obviously done you much good, Miss Stowe," the major said, leaning forward and whispering into her ear. "I did not expect to find you so amenable."
Amenable? Marnie thought, her eyes snapping open. Had she really just been called amenable?
The major withdrew his fingers. He reached for his coat and was searching for something in its pocket, when Marnie rolled away, stood, and snatched her discarded riding jacket to her chest.
Major Chance saw this and fixed Marnie with a stony gaze. "Come back here, Miss Stowe."
Marnie's eyes met his.
"Now," he said, rising.
"No," she hissed.
She was not sure precisely what she would do. Her change of mood had been sudden and her actions impulsive. All she knew in that moment was that, after the weeks of humiliation she had suffered, it was incomprehensible that he should see her as some sort of defeated wretch—someone who had not only endured unendurable punishment, but had emerged all the better for it! It was too infuriating for words.
Marnie saw movement at the major's temples as he set his jaw.
She knew she could not very well run outside while nude. Panic invaded her thoughts. She looked for the rest of her clothes and lunged for them. But the major was far too quick and far too strong. He seized Marnie's wrists in one broad hand, and before she knew what was happening, he had her bent over the arm of the sofa, her wrists trapped behind her back.
The major paused, holding Marnie in place. He twisted away to retrieve something.
Then there was a new sensation on her plush, pale gold buttocks. It was something cool and pliable. Before Marnie could place what it was, the feeling vanished. A second later, the first stroke came down. It made her cry out in shock.
"I've never needed to use this on Bess," the major said. "She is clever enough not to resist me. You could learn a thing or two from her, Miss Stowe."
With a pang of fear, Marnie realised what she had felt. It was the leather tongue of his crop. It came down again and again, the cane shaft whipping through the air, the tongue smacking loudly against her lush, bare bottom.
Soon, a pink blush had spread across both cheeks. Marnie felt a searing bite each time the crop connected with her flesh.
Major Chance did not relent until Marnie's bottom was a bright cherry red and she was crying out for him to stop with every stroke.
Finally, he said, "Are you ready to apologise?"
Marnie, panting, was well past the point of refusing to apologise. She was holding back tears but only barely. Breathlessly, she said, "Yes, yes! I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Sorry what?"
She could hear the enjoyment in the major's voice.
"Sorry...sir," she said.
"Very good, my girl. And what are you sorry for?"
Marnie swallowed her pride. "For resisting you. sir," she said.
"Very well," Major Chance said. "Let's begin again, and you can show me just how well-trained this bottom of yours has become."
He set the crop down before bringing Marnie to her feet. With no preamble, he then reached into his unbuttoned breeches and freed his cock.
When Marnie caught a glimpse of it, she felt a flood of frightened anticipation. She had, of course, been confronted with his sex before, but she nonetheless felt renewed shock at seeing it afresh. Solid and thick, in proportion with his broad strong body, it was absolutely rigid, veined, with a wide, purplish head.
The major positioned Marnie so that she had her back to him. She was soon kneeling on the cushion of the rattan couch, her hands holding the back of it. Her knees were spread wide, displaying her shaved, pink sex—which, to Marnie's shame, had become more and more wet as her punishment had progressed.
There was a pause and the sound of a jar being opened. The next thing Marnie felt was the major spreading her bottom cheeks with one broad hand. A finger smeared a waxy substance, sweet smelling, against her rosebud. Soon, the heat of her body began to melt it, and the major used his fingers to coat the inside of her back passage as far as he could reach. Marnie clenched against him, but once again, his lubricated fingers easily worked her trained and open bottom hole.
Marnie gripped the back of the sofa, her heart racing.
"This is what I was reaching for, before your little interruption," Major Chance said. "Something soldiers carry. It's a healing salve, but a soldier learns to be inventive with his kit. It should ease the way for my cock and last until I've quite finished fucking your sweet little pucker and pumping it full of my seed."
Marnie, despite being known for having the rudest mouth at Miss Robin's, was always a little shocked by how crude Major Chance could be. He knew how to speak like a gentleman, but in moments such as these, when his baser nature emerged, his mouth was as filthy as any common soldier's.
She hated to admit it, but his words made her belly flutter and the throb in her sex grow more profound.
Then she felt the heat and hardness of his sex pressing against her spanked bottom cheek.
He moved a knee between her legs and used it to spread them further apart. He then reached around and began to tease Marnie's pearl with his fingers, rubbing with unrelenting firmness for a few moments before pinching it between his fingertips. Marnie gasped.
He bent over her back, his thick muscular torso pressing into her. She felt the bulk of him and shivered at the latent force she felt.
Major Chance laughed softly. He bent down and curled his tongue into the lobe of Marnie's ear, and she moaned with how unexpectedly pleasing it felt.
"There now," he said, in a soft, almost coaxing voice. He positioned the thick head of his cock at her secret entrance. "This will hurt. The more you resist, the more it will hurt. Do you understand?"
Marnie's nod was almost imperceptible.
The major nudged his cock against Marnie's tight, ruched pucker. He pressed forward, and the broad head slipped into Marnie's prepared entrance. She hissed with the discomfort and instinctively clenched against him.
Just as he had warned, resistance only increased the burning, stretching pain she felt. He didn't hesitate or allow her to become accustomed to the feeling of her anus bei
ng breached. He continued pressing forward, using enough strength to force the head past the tight ring of muscle, burying it in Marnie's back passage. He groaned in pleasure as her bottom hole seized him in a warm, velvet grip, then shifted his hips slightly back and thrust forward once more, working a considerable part of the length of his shaft into her bottom. A few more thrusts and he was in her to the hilt. Major Chance held her around the hips as he began to thrust into her in earnest, his strokes long, regular and forceful.
Marnie felt tears gathering in her eyes. He was so large and thick, and she could feel him all the way inside her, making her body clench against him. But at the same time, the feeling of fullness and pressure was exquisite. When he began to press and pinch the tender nub of flesh pushing itself forward out of her sex, the pleasure was so great and so overwhelming that she felt herself relax, opening further, allowing him to move in and out more freely.
She let out a cry that became a moan. She had never before felt so dominated, so possessed. And though she hated to admit it, part of her—a part she did not like to acknowledge—loved ceding control to him, loved allowing him complete dominance over her.
"Yes," he hissed in Marnie's ear, sensing that her resistance had all but vanished. "Yes, that's right. Open up for me. Show me how much you like submitting to me. Show me how much you enjoy having my cock fill your arse. Come for me."
Major Chance then pressed harder, thrust further, and Marnie found that any attempt to maintain control, or even her own will, abandoned her. Her back arched, her feet arched, all her muscles tensed. And then she burst, as though exploding with pleasure, the feeling ricocheting down her limbs and across her whole body. She called out, gripping the sofa so hard that her knuckles were white. Her legs trembled. The major's mouth came down on her neck, kissing her, taking the soft golden flesh into his mouth and sucking, his thick cock still thrusting in a steady, punishing rhythm.
As Marnie came down from her release, the major thrust faster and faster, harder than ever, feeling rigid as metal inside her sore, opened pucker. He stiffened yet further, released a low roar, and then she felt his seed explode into her bottom, and she wanted it, needed it, and only wished that she did not have to wait until he claimed her everywhere.
Afterwards, the major held Marnie in his arms on the sofa before the fire. He had cast his riding jacket over her. Warm and content, she was just beginning to doze off when a question occurred to her. She felt bold enough to ask it. "Major—"
"You can call me Jamie, you know."
Marnie frowned. "All right then, Jamie. Why is it that you never remove your shirt?"
She looked at him with a frank and curious expression.
"Pardon me?"
"When we have been..." Marnie flushed. "When we are alone. You leave your shirt on. Is this what all men do?"
Marnie had already surmised that this was unlikely.
"You have a keen eye, Miss Stowe," said the major. "You have asked, and I shall answer honestly. I hope you don't have a weak stomach."
"I do not."
"Good. Now—try not to wince."
The major rose. He stood before Marnie, backlit by the fire. He slipped his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders.
Marnie swallowed when she saw his torso completely unclothed for the first time. It was so strange, she thought, to have an approximate awareness of someone's physique—their height, their breadth, their proportions—and then to be so unprepared for how the same body looked when unclothed.
This was not the soft body of a career officer who had bought his position and who busied himself hosting parties and writing letters. Muscular did not quite seem adequate to describe the stripped body that stood before her. His bulk wasn't just flat planes of brawn—everywhere, there were dips and swells, curves and twists, as though his body was so often called upon to exert itself, and in such myriad ways, that every small muscle had become definite as a result.
She took in the dark tattoos and the scattering of chestnut brown hair that curled flat against his chest and moved down the seam that separated two columns of abdominal muscles. The major, an amused expression on his face when he saw her staring, cleared his throat. Marnie was forced to snap out of her reverie.
"There is nothing. I can't see any reason—" she stuttered.
He held up a hand to silence her. Then, slowly, he turned.
For a moment, Marnie was not sure what she was seeing. There was his back, as wide, tanned and defined as the rest of his body. But there was something else, something not right. It almost seemed as if the skin had bunched in places. Curious, she stood, slipped on the jacket and walked up behind him, reaching out her fingers.
When she touched him, he flinched, but his voice was cheerful. "You see? I doubt you would want to look too hard at such a sorry sight."
He went to turn to her.
"Wait!" Marnie said, running her hand down one, then another, then another of the marks crisscrossing his skin. It looked as though lightning had struck him and forked all over his back. "What are they?" she asked shyly. She felt an unexpected surge of tenderness when she ran her fingers lightly across the scars.
He turned to face her. "There may have been a few gaps in the brief history I gave you of my military career," Major Chance said. "You see, I, too, was rather spirited in my youth. I liked the idea of glory but not the idea that discipline would be the price of success. I spoke back to my superiors. I broke a few rules. Well, many rules."
He waited for a moment before going on. "Discipline in the military is harsh. What you see is the result of not one flogging, but a series of them. I would not learn my lesson. I was impatient. I was proud."
"Your superiors did this to you?" Marnie said, incredulous, furious. "How dare they! How you must hate them!"
"Not at all," Major Chance said, taking Marnie's hands in his own. "Several of them are now my good friends. Discipline, discipline. In the military, a lack of it can get a man killed. I only began advancing once I truly understood the value of discipline."
Marnie was silent, lost in thought.
"So you see, Miss Stowe, when I talk about the value of discipline, I speak as one to whom it did not always come easily. Discipline is freedom. I don't know if you've quite learned that, yet. But, one day, you will."
When the time came to return to the academy, the rain had cleared, leaving a wet, fresh smell in the air.
They had been riding in companionable silence for a while when he said, "I'm glad I was not wrong about you, Miss Stowe."
"Hm?" said Marnie, shifting in the saddle. She was tired and distracted by her sore, aching pucker.
"I thought I sensed, beneath your resistance, an abiding desire to obey. To obey the right man, of course—not simply any old fool. Anyway—I am very glad indeed to be that man."
"Nonsense. I have no 'desire' to obey you or anyone," Marnie said, though she was too fatigued to say it with great feeling.
"I'm afraid I have seen too much evidence to the contrary to believe you," said Major Chance, smiling and then kissing Marnie's now-untidy strawberry blonde hair. "But you needn't worry. During the day, when we are married, you shall be the lady of the house, giving orders and causing quarrels and giving your poor beleaguered husband no end of grief. But between us—when it is just us, alone—why, then, Miss Stowe, things will be quite different. Then, there will be no questioning who is the master of the house."
Marnie swallowed. She did not respond.
But when she was returned to Miss Robin's, just before nightfall, she felt a growing sense of unease. 'master of the house'?
She didn't like that. She didn't like it one bit. New clouds of doubt started to form in Marnie's mind.
Chapter 12
"What do you think it will be like? Marriage, I mean," asked Marnie.
"I don't know why you'd ask me," Georgiana said. "I have no more idea than you do."
The girls were at recreation hour, speaking quietly as they played a game of chess.
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Marnie said, "Checkmate." Then, she sat silently in thought while Georgie reset the board.
"In fact," said Georgie, "you probably know more about the subject of marriage than I do. Or you will soon. Your final exam could happen any day now."
The thought of the dreaded final exam made Marnie furrow her brow.
Every girl at Miss Robin's Academy had to pass a final exam before she was allowed to marry. But it was not a standard examination—there was no written or oral test. The final examination was different for each girl. It occurred without warning and was designed to test her character—to discover whether she had truly attained Miss Robin's standards of discipline.
Marnie shook away thoughts of the final exam. She set a pawn forward and resumed her earlier theme.
"I mean—I look at married women, Georgie, and I'm not like any of them. I don't want to think about the evening's dinner menu or who we shall invite for whist parties or any of that rot."
Georgiana was the sort of girl who was always too polite to roll her eyes or scoff. But she pursed her lips at Marnie. "Honestly, Marnie, how long does it take to ask for fish for dinner or to write a thank-you note? You hardly have to be a society hostess. You would complain for half an hour about a task that takes two minutes."
"But why should I have to do these things at all? I would rather—I would rather be a—"
She broke off just in time before saying "spinster".
"I would rather be a nun!" she said.
Georgiana laughed outright at this.
Marnie was indignant. "What? Whatever are you laughing at?"
"Oh, Marnie," she said. "If you were a nun, you would rebel against praying. If you were a governess, you would wish to be rid of your students. As a daughter, you fight your parents, as a sister you fight your sisters—don't look at me like that. I know they're horrors, and I am not saying you are always in the wrong! But wherever you go, and whatever you do, you will rebel. That's just your nature. Don't you see?"
A Major of Marnie (Miss Robin's Academy Book 3) Page 14
