Chief

by Lesli Richardson

  The place is a dump and smells like an ashtray. It’s a far cry from the large, spotless, stylish loft she used to rule her small kingdom from. I march her down the short hallway to the living room, make her take a seat on the sagging sofa.

  I remain standing.

  She’s gained at least a hundred pounds since I last saw her, no longer the thin, angular Dominatrix who could command fear and loathing even while making someone beg for more. Her clear, ice-blue eyes now look rheumy and bloodshot. The perfectly coiffed black hair is now a mousy brown that’s more than half grey, a little oily-looking, and pulled back with an elastic band from her puffy face. She wears a ratty brown cardigan sweater with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her old T-shirt has stains on the chest, maybe ketchup, and her sweatpants have a rip in the left knee. Where her hands rest on her knees, I see blunt, chewed, unpainted nails. On bare feet, her toes are also unpainted.

  This is not a woman I recognize from my nightmares. It both relieves me and threatens to allow a tendril of sympathy to take hold.

  I remember the sound of the colonel locking the door behind me, sooo many times.

  I remember the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I accepted money and stowed it, uncounted, in an envelope for her.

  I remember whispering to Eddie the few German phrases I was able to teach him so I could soothe him.

  I remember the sounds of Eddie’s tears in the darkness.

  I remember the nervous look Eddie and I exchanged at the clinic before I went first so he wouldn’t feel so nervous, a decision that took one of my dreams from me, and thus I remember who, exactly, this woman is.

  I remember the countless times Eddie came to me during our years in the desert, the mix of lust and loathing he always wore when I gave him what we both needed.

  And thus I yank that tendril of sympathy out by the roots and douse it and the ground beneath it in napalm before mentally setting it aflame.

  Burn, baby. Burn.

  I stare at her for a long minute, giving her plenty of time to feel terrified, even though I’ve eased the hammer down. “Don’t make me ask,” I quietly say.

  She knows better than to try to bullshit me. “I didn’t want to do it!” Even her voice sounds sloppy now, a little slurred.

  “Didn’t stop you, huh?”

  The needle tracks on her arms are relatively fresh, which validates one of the many theories I’d considered during the flight over.

  Not that it was much of a stretch to go there in the first place, knowing what I knew about her.

  “I owe someone a lot of money,” she finally admits. “I wouldn’t have really said anything.”

  She’s lying. She absolutely would have gone through with it, and she’s only fooling herself if she believes otherwise.

  I know this narcissistic bitch. I lost my heart to her once, not even counting the other things she almost stole from my life. I’m not about to let her steal my happiness—times two, if you count both Susa and Owen, and I do count them—no matter how low she appears to have fallen.

  “What proof do they have?” I ask.

  Now she looks nervous, a tell she always had when caught in a lie. “They…don’t. Just my word that I’m getting them money. I have two weeks.”

  Ooooh, honey. You done fucked up. “Why do you need the money?”

  I can see her debating what version of the truth to tell me and spot the moment she realizes none of them make her look any better.

  She opts for what’s probably as close to the actual truth as I’ll ever get. “I borrowed money from my employer. I needed to quickly repay it, so I…took out a loan.”

  I can’t help the snort that escapes. “You stole money, then hit up a loan shark to replace it before your employer discovered what you did and had you arrested.”

  She glares at me, but the fire quickly flickers out of her expression and she glances down. “Ja.”

  “Fucking sloppy, Elsa. Why’d you steal the money in the first place?” I already know that. The answer is all over her arms.

  “I borrowed it over a long period of time. Then they replaced their financial officer unexpectedly and he wanted to do a deep audit of their books when he took over. I was not expecting that.” She glares at me. “I hurt my back about ten years ago. The doctors won’t give me pain meds. You of all people should understand. I researched you before I contacted you. I know about your injuries. The war hero.” She manages a little half-hearted sarcasm for the last two words that makes me want to pistol-whip her.

  I resist that urge—barely—because it would fuck up my plan.

  And no, I don’t understand, honestly. I live with my pain. She always was a wuss. A hangnail was a dire emergency to her.

  Ironic, considering her former past-time.

  “Uh huh. So you thought you’d be out of there long before their previous financial officer left, and no one would be the wiser?”

  She nods.

  “And you were hoping my father-in-law was going to open a dialogue with you for you to, what, fill in some nearly thirty-year-old blanks and give you cash without any proof?”

  “I was going to record a video and send to him. I have that picture of us in Berlin together. That’s the only one.”

  There’s only one that I know of, because pictures were the exception, not the norm. “From the World Cup game?”

  She nods.

  “We’re dressed. In public.” And she now looks nothing like that young woman, except for her eyes, and even those barely resemble her current state. Eddie took one of me and her, and I took one of him and her.

  Now she looks triumphant and I know for certain that this, combined with her not masking her IP address, was an act of sheer desperation.

  “But it proves I know you!” she insists.

  She has a point, albeit a very tenuous one. Maybe in her current state of mind she’s convinced herself it would pay more.

  At the time, we were both very careful. She was a civilian contractor with security clearance who worked for the DoD. I was active military and didn’t yet know exactly what my future was, but I knew I didn’t want it to include naked pictures cropping up if my law career took off. My father was also still active military, a high-ranking officer, as were some of my brothers.

  It’s that very relationship to all of them that delayed my unit’s deployment in-country as long as it did.

  Well, that, and the fucker Elsa had in her pocket, although I didn’t put that together until later.

  I didn’t want my actions negatively reflecting on my father or brothers and risk getting me excommunicated from my family, much less thrown in the stockade or out of the Army.

  At the time, the arrangement we had worked for both of us.

  Until I fucked it up by falling in love with her, and then letting her twist me around for her own sick amusement and profit before she discarded me, after making me and Eddie both go through a cruel loyalty test that I didn’t realize at the time would alter the course of my life.

  Had I known her other faults, at the time, I never would have gotten involved with her. At least, I’d like to think the stupid kid I was wouldn’t have gotten involved with her.

  Who knows?

  In the years since I last saw her, it seems her demons have grown much larger than extra doses of Xanax and day-drinking could keep in line.

  “Where is it?” I ask. “The picture?”

  “In my bedroom. On the dresser.”

  “Where’d you send the e-mail from?”

  She glances toward the small table and I see an old laptop there.

  That’ll go with me.

  “How many other former boyfriends and clients have you tried to hit up?”

  Resignation fills her features. “You were the first and, hopefully, the only one I’d need.”

  The past almost three decades have not been kind to her. I am a bastard and a horrible human, but I want to stand here and gloat over that. She’s rubbing at her arms now, notice
s me noticing her, and she tugs the sleeves of her sweater down to cover the needle tracks.

  “Something wrong?” I ask.

  “I was going to go out before you arrived.”

  I pull the bottle of vodka—her favorite brand—out of the bag and set it on the table.

  I also don’t miss how her eyes light up.

  “Maybe that’ll help.” I take the bottle of pills out of my left pocket—I don’t know if she’s put together that I’m wearing gloves inside or not yet—and shake it before I toss it to her.

  Her eyes widen, her hunger unmistakable before she looks at me again and tries to school her expression.

  Too late.

  She frowns. “What’s the catch?” she asks.

  “I needed to know everything you had on me.”

  She seems to have forgotten I still hold a gun on her. She gets up and grabs a glass from a drainer sitting on the kitchen counter. I’d almost expected her to grab a knife, but she’s so hungry for the booze and the pills that she doesn’t bother trying for false bravado.

  Then, she pauses. “Do you want a glass?”

  “No. Still not a drinker.” Which is a lie I feel zero guilt about telling.

  She shrugged. “I was assuming. Sorry.” She returns to the couch, cracks the seal on the bottle, and fills the glass, leaving the cap off of the bottle.

  She opens the pill bottle and shakes two of them into her hand, considers it for a moment and adds a third, then washes them down with vodka.

  I cannot believe I once stuck my dick in this woman.

  I cannot believe I once surrendered my heart—and control of my body—to this woman.

  There are a lot of things I cannot believe I did with, for, and to this woman.

  Things I cannot believe I let her do to me…or let her have others do to me.

  Worse, the things I let her make me do to others, especially Eddie.

  Ironically, one of the reasons I fell in love with Owen—and Susa—is due in no small part to her.

  You’d think I’d feel thankful for that, at least a little.

  You’d be wrong.

  Chapter Twenty

  Then

  Elsa keeps us hooded all evening, until after she has us sixty-nine, with me on top and pinning the other guy down.

  From the way she’s been talking to him, I get the impression he is more comfortable on the bottom in more than one way.

  I’m not sure which of us is more horrified, him or me, when she unhoods us at the end of the evening and we recognize each other.

  It’s Eddie, one of the guys not just from base, or my fucking unit. Oh, no, that’d be a coincidence, sure, but it’s worse.

  He’s in my fucking barracks. He’s one of the guys I share a bathroom with. He’s my age, or close to it. While I’m not close to him, like I am Gohber and Kenney, he seems like an okay guy.

  I had no clue about this side of him.

  “Oh, it’s like you two know each other, hmm?” she asks.

  The two of us nod.

  From the way her eyes narrow, I can tell she knows more than she let on in the beginning. “Ah, good. I can see you two will get along just fine.” She smiles and rubs both our heads. “You’d better.” The smile fades. “Because you are going to want to get along just fine if you want to stay my pets.”

  Once she releases for the night, we leave together. Downstairs, before we exit the building, I hold out an arm to stop him. “Dude, do we need to talk? I feel like we should…talk.”

  “About what?” He looks at me but his eyes don’t meet mine. “You heard her. I’m not fucking this up. I’m not going to say anything. Don’t fuck me over, I won’t fuck you over.”

  We return to base in silence.

  With my duty schedule, I’m not going to get a chance to see Elsa for a week. And then she’s going out of town for a week, and I struggle with thinking about who she might be going with or what she’s doing, because she doesn’t volunteer any details.

  I know better than to ask.

  I don’t know if Eddie gets to see her or not before she leaves town, because I don’t ask him.

  We do not talk about this.

  At all.

  As in, we don’t even look at each other if we don’t have to.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t like the two of us hung out a lot before. Except now it seems like we’re put together every time we fucking turn around, whether it’s being assigned to the same duty schedule, or ending up at the same table for chow.

  It’s been four days since I saw her and I’m crawling the walls. I’m horny as hell. This has been the longest stretch in a while that I haven’t been allowed to come, but rubbing one out doesn’t feel…right.

  Not when she told me to be her good boy. I’d do anything to obey her.

  Pleasing her makes me feel good, even if I go through misery in the process.

  When I send her my usual good-morning text on day five, I don’t get the expected good boy response.

  Are you horny, boy?

  Holy shit, I could drill for oil with the goddamned boner I’ve got. I’ve had cold showers aplenty.

  Yes, Mistress.

  And have you behaved yourself?

  Yes, Mistress.

  She replies a moment later.

  Because you’ve been a good boy, and you’re my Alpha pet, I am going to give you very special permissions. E will come to you at lunch time. He is now your beta. You may fuck his mouth. I have already given him permission to pleasure himself while you do that. Just for today, though. I want a text from you both once it’s done.

  I have to re-read the message several times, because my cock’s now so hard I can barely think straight.

  It takes me several tries to tap out a typo-free response.

  Yes, Mistress. Thank you.

  You know what? At the time, I honestly didn’t think any farther than Hell, yes, I’m allowed to come!

  Yes, she was already planting the seeds from which the bastard was to grow.

  * * * *

  We do it in my room because it’s farther from the main entrance to our area and quieter. I lock the door behind Eddie. He doesn’t say a word to me as he unfastens his belt and shoves his briefs and ACUs down before he drops to his knees, waiting.

  He won’t meet my gaze and his cheeks are red, but his cock is hard and he opens his mouth as I unfasten my belt and my ACUs and shove my briefs down when I step in front of him.

  Okay, then.

  I’m not even attracted to the guy, but my aching cock and throbbing balls could give a shit. I grab his head and…go.

  Meanwhile, he starts jerking off.

  I close my eyes and think of Her while I fuck his mouth. Ten minutes later, he’s wiped up his mess and left—without ever having said a word to me, but then again, I didn’t say anything to him, either.

  And for the first time in days I feel like I can think.

  I text her.

  Done. Thank You very much, Mistress.

  Her reply hardens my cock.

  My VERY good boy. :) Good boys get rewards. You may use beta every day at lunch like that while we’re apart. I will text you both when to stop. He is allowed to make himself come, but from now on, he must lick it up. Feed it to him, if you must.

  Fuuuuuck me. My hands tremble as I reply.

  Thank You very much, Mistress!

  * * * *

  It takes me three days of being a nice guy when I use him to realize he actually gets off harder on it when I’m rough and talk to him, call him a good little slut, refer to him as beta, things like that.

  Once I start doing that, he’s usually moaning and I have to choke him on my cock to keep him quiet, which makes him come harder.

  Which makes me come harder.

  Day eight of this new routine, and I realize my life is revolving around wanting lunch to hurry up and get there so I can get relief. We both always text her after we finish, and that day brings the next development.

  Good boy,
Alpha. Because you two pets play so well together, you may play together twice a day, and you may fuck beta, if you want, or use his mouth. His choice for the first time, yours for the second. He is not allowed to refuse you. He still must clean up his mess.

  Jesusfuck, what the hell? I really don’t have any other answer I can text her, because just reading and re-reading the text has me throbbing.

  Thank You, Mistress!

  Eddie shows up at lunch and locks the door. Without a word, he puts down a condom pouch, turns his back to me, shoves his ACUs down, and gets on his hands and knees. I can barely get mine open, between how hard I am and how much my hands are shaking.

  He’s already lubed himself.

  Okay, then. Here we go.

  Later, I show up at his room around nine and fuck his mouth. I accidentally discover I like having him up on his rack, his head tipped back over the edge and cushioned by the mattress, because I can really pound him into it and he comes even harder. I also found I can last a little longer, and he can more easily take me deeper that way.

  After three days of that, she changes it up again.

  Since beta is being so good, it’s time to reward him. Starting today, and every other day, he may use your mouth or ass one time for pleasure instead of his hand, if he chooses. You may still use him as you were. Remember, good boys swallow.

  Um…

  Oh, boy.

  I have no options.

  Yes, Mistress. Thank You.