Chief

by Lesli Richardson

  I focus on the fact that she nurtures us and makes future plans—except one.

  She does not want children.

  Over the next several months with Elsa, I find myself going from really wanting kids to not wanting kids. So does Eddie.

  I find myself nodding when Elsa says how nice it’d be if we had vasectomies, then we wouldn’t have to use condoms with her.

  Hello, frog. Meet pot of cold water.

  Don’t worry, it’ll get warmer.

  Then the suggestions become more solid nudging on her part. Eddie and I are really starting to think maybe she actually means forever when she offers to pay for our vasectomies.

  “How far would you go for me to prove you want me for life?” she outright asks us one afternoon.

  Eddie and I exchange a glance. Somewhere, during the past few months, I realize the answer is anything she wants. We’ve been doing this with her for over a year now, working on our second year. The colonel definitely prefers me, because I might end up being used by him a couple of times a week and Eddie none. Eddie is now the backup and usually only summoned if I’m unavailable because I’m on duty.

  I’ve actually started thinking about staying in Germany when I get out, maybe going to college here instead. I’m fluent in German now, and have been improving my vocabulary, my pronunciation. They have attorneys in Germany, right?

  One night, after she’s made love to us and once again tsks how inconvenient it is that she can’t dispense with condoms with us, I finally take a deep breath and say it.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Once I’ve agreed, so does Eddie.

  Of course Elsa manages to get us a week’s leave each. She drives us to the appointment, pays the doctor at the clinic cash, and fills out our paperwork for us. I notice she uses fake names for us.

  We spend a week off, both of us recovering at her place, with her literally fucking babying us, cooking for us—Jesus, I didn’t even know she knew how to cook, because usually Eddie and I do the cooking when we’re with her—and making promises with and to us.

  It’s not long after that when the bottom falls out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Now

  I stare down at this woman, this nightmare generator who’s been an invisible emotional vampire in my soul for nearly half my life. “Eddie says fuck you, by the way. And to remind you he told you karma is a bitch.”

  Elsa chuffs out what’s supposed to be a laugh, I suppose, but the booze and pills are already hitting her hard.

  “You’re still with him?” she slurs. “He can go fuck himself. He was horrible in bed. He tried, but he was never much good. He was too needy. He was much better suited to be a fucktoy, not a boyfriend.” She tries to focus on me. “Unlike you. You were…amazing, boy. You were always my favorite, special boy.” She sadly sighs. “I always did regret letting you get away.”

  I refuse to let myself think about the guy I was or what that guy felt for her back then.

  The things that guy didn’t merely willingly do for her, or let her do to him, but who begged for them at one time, simply to make her happy and earn her praise. To earn her smiles, her laughter.

  Or how that guy once would have killed to hear those words from her—that she regretted letting him go.

  That guy no longer exists, and hasn’t for a long damn time.

  That guy’s death birthed Sarge and the bastard extraordinaire, who are the same man, basically. One is enlisted, one’s a civvie, but they’re just different names for the same damn guy.

  I hold up the gun and motion with it. “You need to take a few pills, Elsa.”

  She’s trying to focus on me. “What?”

  “Pills. Take three.”

  “I took some.”

  “No, you didn’t. You were going to, but you got distracted by what we were talking about.”

  She giggles. “What were we talking about?”

  “That you are in pain and need the drugs to help you. That’s why you stole the money, isn’t it?”

  “Ja.” She sighs, opens the bottle, and shakes three more tablets into her palm. Then she swallows them and chases them with vodka. She doesn’t bother putting the cap back on the pill bottle.

  I still wear my gloves. I pick up the bottle of vodka with my free hand and top off the glass for her. “You look thirsty, Elsa. You should have a drink.”

  She doesn’t bother arguing with me. I don’t know if she’s compliant because of everything hitting her system, because she knows I mean business because of the gun, or because she’s simply ready to follow this path now that she understands her only decent chance to free herself from it has evaporated.

  Because if she borrowed from the kind of people I’m reasonably sure she borrowed from, based upon the kind of people I know she used to know…

  Well, this is a far kinder fate than they’d have in store for her.

  She’s got great tolerance, I’ll give her every bit of that. I wait a few minutes and talk her into swallowing four more pills.

  Then I lean against the wall and wait. “This is also for Eddie,” I tell her. “He deserved better than what you gave him.”

  She stares at me, but I think we’ve hit the point of no return. Her eyes look glassy and she tries to speak, but it’s just slurred sounds, nothing intelligible.

  I smirk. “Eddie would come to me after I left you, Elsa. He’d visit me at night for comfort. You didn’t drive a wedge between us, you only brought us closer. I was there for him. He came to me. His loyalty was to me. And I took care of him after you got rid of us. He was mine after we were deployed.”

  I’m not sure how much she’s processing now, and I don’t care. “I have a life now you can only dream of. I’m powerful, I’m rich, and I have a family. I could have been yours if you’d just stayed loyal to me and Eddie. I was thinking about staying in Germany, you know. I would have worked my ass off to take care of you after I got out and went to school. We could’ve made it work. But you never gave a shit about us. You used us, until you couldn’t easily control us anymore. It took me a lot of years, but this is satisfying, seeing you used up and broken.”

  I walk over and lean in. I want her to hear this. “I am loyal to my pets,” I softly say. “I love them. When my pets are threatened? I will kill or die for them. Guess which option this is.”

  It takes another ten minutes for her to pass out, slumped forward on the couch.

  I set the gun down on the coffee table and ease her onto her side with her face pressed into the cushion, then grab a throw pillow. Her system’s so numbed by the narcotics and booze that there’s barely any reflexive response, just one of her legs kicking a little.

  All the times toward the end, when I was bent over the colonel’s desk, when I’d fantasize about doing something just like this to her—only to feel horribly guilty about those thoughts because narcissists are master manipulators of their victims.

  Here I am, getting to do exactly what I’d wanted to back then.

  I take little satisfaction in this now. It was much preferable imagining her…

  Well, like this. At her lowest point, reduced to a nothing existence with no one in her life to love her, while I had nearly achieved the apex of my success and happiness both professionally and personally.

  But no way in hell will I let this cunt’s evil hands so much as indirectly touch my Owen, my Susa, or my boys.

  Or Eddie. Because she likely would have gone after him next.

  She fucking turned me into the bastard I am today. My reward for the penance I did back then, and the nightmares I suffer as a result, is Owen, Susa, and the boys.

  My blessings.

  The dark filth of her soul will never foul their lives or taint their existence.

  I am not the literal or metaphorical boy she once owned, and I refuse to be him again.

  Ever.

  Alpha died in the dust of time and memories when Sarge took over.

  The bastard extraordinaire rose from th
ose ashes like a phoenix.

  The bastard also has no trouble burning everything down to get what he wants and needs.

  After she’s gone, I roll her onto her stomach with her face pressed into the cushions.

  A good man might have waited until she passed out and simply taken the photo—and her phone and computer, just in case—and left.

  However, I am not and have never claimed to be a good man.

  Sarge has always been a bastard extraordinaire, thanks in no small part to the woman in front of me.

  I am the creature she made and molded and forged. Frankenstein’s monster.

  There is poetic justice in the fact that I get the literal final word. This is for me, for Eddie, and for all the others she fucked over, whose hearts she shit on, and whose lives she tried to or succeeded in ruining.

  For the happiness she tried to take from me a second time.

  For the children she denied me as a bullshit, narcissistic loyalty test.

  * * * *

  I remove my gloves and don’t touch anything with my hands except her lighter. I use that to burn the picture in her bathroom, holding it over the toilet, and I flush the unrecognizable ashes, using a hand towel to hold the handle. Then I put my gloves back on, wipe the lighter clean, press her fingers to it, and return it to where I found it.

  One problem solved.

  Her phone I switch off, remove the battery from it, and slip it into my pocket. Her laptop also goes with me, stuffed in an old messenger bag I find on the floor by the table. It’s after dark and I’m almost two miles from her flat when I stop in a wooded park at the edge of a river. I keep my gloves on. After glancing around to make sure I’m not being observed, I toss the phone and battery into the water. Then, after walking a little farther, I quickly break down the nine and toss the slide in. I continue walking along the bank, thumbing rounds out of the magazines into the water, toss the magazines themselves, then the barrel, and the frame. The switchblade.

  What to do with the laptop?

  I’m damn sure not keeping it, and I need to make sure it’s as unattractive a salvage project as possible.

  I walk into a copse of trees and remove the laptop from the bag. Opening the computer, I stomp the screen and keyboard with my heel, grinding dirt and rocks into it. I probably have a little too much fun doing that, thinking about the hell I endured.

  Then I flip it over and jump on the back side of it, making sure it’s trashed, before righting it and peeing on the keyboard.

  That should hopefully discourage anyone from trying to recover the contents of the hard drive.

  I dump it back into the bag and toss it in a large garbage container behind an apartment building on my way to a bus stop.

  Like I said, I have never claimed to be a good man.

  But at least tonight I will hopefully sleep well with that particular nightmare generator permanently excised from my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Then

  It’s been twenty-two months since I met Elsa that night in the club and my world—and asshole—was expanded.

  Am I in love with her?

  Absolutely.

  I don’t lie, either. When she asks if I love her, I tell her.

  So does Eddie.

  We’re called over one Friday evening and she has a surprise for us.

  “Beta, guess what? You get to play with others now. The colonel has decided to play only with Alpha.”

  It is always “play” or “playmates.” The colonel is never mentioned by name. We are never allowed to use his name with her. Her rule.

  In fact, she doesn’t use our names unless we’re somewhere it’d be noticed, like that day at the doctor’s office. Even then she uses fake names for us.

  Otherwise, we are always Alpha and beta.

  Except for the past several months, she has Eddie refer to me as “sir.”

  I have to check myself one day at chow when I almost call Eddie beta in front of Kenney and Gohber.

  It’s weird living this dual life. Literally, we have two extremes. We have the Army and life on base, and we have Elsa.

  Except the colonel straddles those lines.

  “Why, Mistress?” Eddie asks, and I feel sorry for him. I know from talking to him that he doesn’t have family. That’s why he enlisted—he’d grown up in foster care. Rejection is something he’s painfully all too familiar with. Elsa and I are really the only relationships he’s ever had.

  I sadly realize that, despite the circumstances, being rejected by the colonel is still another form of rejection he takes personally.

  “Well, he hasn’t played with you in a couple of months. I told him if he’s not going to play with the pet, he needs to share.” She rubs his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve lined up other playmates for you, my sweet beta.” She flashes him that smile we’d do nearly anything for.

  He smiles back, but something tightens in my stomach. I don’t like the feel of this, or the reptilian gleam in her eyes.

  Then she turns to me. “You, however, are busy tomorrow.” She hands me a hotel room key card and a sticky note with the name of a local hotel, its address, and a room number. “Be there at eight in the morning.” She pats my cheek. “You don’t need to take anything with you.”

  Fear congeals in my gut, and for the first time, I consider saying no.

  Maybe it’s my hesitation, but she cocks her head at me. “Is there a problem, Alpha? May I remind you this is a very special situation. That man controls your future. You and beta both.”

  Her gaze challenges me. She’s hit my other hidden weak spot that I didn’t even realize had developed. I don’t want to disappoint my family, that’s a given. But I’m also feeling protective. And, somewhere along the line, I’ve come to think of Eddie as mine. I have his six, he has mine.

  I don’t want to be the cause of the colonel coming down on Eddie.

  I want to protect him.

  “No problem, Mistress,” I quietly say. I can’t meet Eddie’s gaze.

  Eddie, however, is to report to Elsa’s tomorrow. She doesn’t detail their “plans” but I suspect if the colonel doesn’t want Eddie anymore, she’s going to put him back in circulation with her other “friends.”

  * * * *

  The colonel definitely has a sadistic streak in him I hadn’t experienced much of before. Not like he can spank me in his office. I’m tied up, beaten, used as much as he can get it up—which, I believe is due in no small part to the colonel’s little helper blue pills—and then left there with orders to stay in the room for an hour before I leave to return to base.

  He doesn’t make me come, but the second time he fucks me, on my back with my ankles over his shoulders, he makes me jerk myself off and call him Daddy while I beg for permission to come. Apparently, he likes that so much that I’m ordered to refer to him as Daddy for the rest of the day. And any time he sees me getting hard, he makes me jerk off and beg Daddy for permission before I’m allowed to come.

  What am I going to do? Say no?

  No, Colonel, I’m not going to call you Daddy while you fuck and beat me.

  Yeeeaaah.

  #notstupid

  What’s worse?

  Part of me really likes it, even as I understand how utterly fucked up this is. That confuses me and makes me think Elsa must be right about us after all, that we are naturally wired to enjoy this.

  Aren’t we?

  * * * *

  Eddie isn’t back yet when I return to base Saturday evening. I grab a shower and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why this doesn’t feel good anymore.

  Wondering when it stopped feeling good.

  The next morning, Eddie’s unusually quiet during PT and won’t meet my gaze when I try to get him to look at me. Kenney asks what’s wrong with him, and he claims he’s working on a headache, but he’s lying.

  I know it.

  We’re supposed to be at Elsa’s at noon, but when we’re finally on the bus and I ask him what�
��s wrong, he still won’t look at me.

  “I’m fine,” he quietly says.

  Because there are other people on the bus, I can’t corner him and demand he talk to me. This fucking feels wrong, though.

  I was under the impression we were going to spend the day with Elsa going out with her, but apparently that plan changed. We’re ordered to strip and don hoods, and Eddie is blindfolded.

  She takes my hand and leads me to the far side of the loft, away from the bedroom where she’s left Eddie. With music playing, he won’t hear what she’s saying when she drops her voice.

  And she speaks to me in German.

  “You, my special boy, get to help today. I am going to run errands. When someone knocks, you let them in, put what they give you in this envelope, and supervise. They must wear condoms when they fuck him. Men are not allowed to use you, but if they ask you to do something to beta, you will obey.”

  She hands me an envelope and also a leather jock and I dumbly stare at them for a moment. “Mistress?”

  “Wear that when you answer the door. Hoods stay on, beta stays blindfolded. Don’t worry.” She smiles, rubbing my head. “Only speak German while I’m gone. I’ll be back in a few hours.” I finally realize yeah, she’s all dressed up.

  Like, date dressed up.

  Normally, I’d never balk. “Mistress, beta doesn’t speak German.”

  Her grin widens. “I know. You have my orders, Alpha.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I quietly say.

  She grabs my chin and pulls me in for a long, sweet kiss that melts me and hardens my cock. “You may freely use beta,” she adds, reaching down and stroking my cock. “If he’s a good boy, you may reward him at your discretion.” She giggles. “Preferably while he’s being fucked. Men love feeling that. Makes them feel important.”

  She grabs her purse. “First playmates will be here shortly. You know the other rules—no pictures, no names, all of that.” Her smile fades. “Do not disappoint me, Alpha. I will be checking in with my friends. If you do well today, I will reward you next weekend.”