SCAR_A Dark Military Romance

by Loki Renard

  She doesn’t understand why I’m doing this, because this isn’t fair. It can’t be fair either, and it can’t be explained. She has to go through it to really understand it.

  “You’re mine, Mary. You can’t hide any part of yourself from me. You have to show me everything. Tell me everything. When something hurts, I want to see it. You can have your facade for the world. You can be stoic and shield yourself against pain for other people. For me, you show me everything. Including the things you think I don’t want to see.”

  “You want me to be undisciplined? I don’t get it!” She shrieks. “I’ve been trying so fucking hard, Ken.”

  “It’s always a facade with you when you try. You put on a new identity and you wear it. You thought you were doing as you were told, but you were just hiding from me again.”

  “So how the fuck do I win?” She gasps as my hand whips her cheeks, turning them from pink to red.

  “That’s the point,” I say. “You don’t win. You stop trying to win. You stop trying to control by being good or bad. You accept what’s coming to you. That’s the difference between real obedience and what you’ve been giving me.”

  “Oh.”

  I feel the moment she gets it. Her whole body relaxes. She surrenders. Properly, and probably for the very first time in her life.

  This is now truly my girl over my knee.

  She lays there as I swat her a few more times, and then rub her cheeks. It might seem like a minor moment to an outsider, but to me, this is everything. This is the holy grail.

  “Good girl,” I murmur soothingly, patting and rubbing her cheeks. She has a gorgeous ass. Not being able to play with it or fuck it has been absolute torture.

  I want her so fucking badly. I have been so damn patient, but I can’t be anymore. She finally surrendered. She gave me what I wanted her to give. And now I’m going to take the rest.

  I drop my knee and let her red-bottomed body slide to the floor. She lies there, her legs spread, her pussy visible through the tear in her pants. She’s wet. I can smell her. It’s driving me mad with need as I unbuckle my pants and free my cock.

  Once she tried to tempt me with this, tried to wrest control of the situation. Now she’s abandoned all hope of control and she lies there in wet, willing submission.

  This is not part of official protocol, but fuck it. She’s mine, dammit. She’s always been mine. I caned this naughty little cunt not that long ago. I couldn’t have taken her then. It would have been too close to a hate fuck, but I don’t hate her. I love her. I love her to the point I will whip her pussy if I have to. There’s no need to punish her anymore though. She’s been a good girl. A very good girl. And it’s time she felt that.

  “Ken…” I hear her soft voice as I put my hand to her ass, cup her bright red cheeks and slide two fingers into the wet furred slit between them.

  “You want this, Mary?”

  I haven’t used her first name in almost two months. It feels strange on my tongue. It feels even stranger to ask her if she wants this. It’s the first choice I’ve given her in that same period of time.

  “Please…” she lifts her hips and rolls them in a way that can only signify assent.

  I pull my fingers free, get between her thighs, wrap my fist around my cock and slide between her lower lips. The second my cock touches her sex, I feel how fucking soaked she is. I’m titanium hard. Not getting laid for two months will do that.

  Reaching down, I grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back, feeding my cock into her tight pussy in a devastatingly slow stroke which lets me feel every bit of her sweet cunt.

  She’s tight and slick, and her inner walls grip me with all the desperation of a long lost lover. It’s an incredible feeling, to be enveloped by her body, to feel her tight heat, her eager wetness. This is the only place on Earth I want to be. This is all I’ve wanted for weeks. It was worth the wait.

  “I missed you so fucking much,” I growl as I slowly sink my cock all the way to the hilt.

  MARY

  He’s fucking me. I’m fucking him. Did I do something right? Or something wrong? I don’t even know. I gave up. I know that much. I gave up trying to control what became of me and in that same moment, he came to me hard and fast and he swept me off my feet and now he is stretching my pussy wide.

  I can feel my breasts pressed against the cool floor, my clit exposed by the ragged tear in my suit to grind against the hard surface.

  His words make my pussy clench. Tears mist my eyes. I missed him so fucking much. Every night I wished he was with me. Every time we were together it was all I could do not to throw myself at his feet and just beg for forgiveness.

  And now I’m on the floor, my cunt sliding in my own juices as he fucks me against the ground, his hard hips slapping my already punished ass with hard strokes.

  This is rough and primal. His arm snakes around under my neck and he holds me in position, sinking his thick cock inside me over and over again. Somehow every time it goes in, it feels even bigger and harder than it did the time before.

  He shouldn’t be doing this. But he is, and I can feel the reason. Because he can’t wait another fucking minute for me, just like I couldn’t stand another second without him.

  We make frantic, passionate love, the kind where the only thing that matters is that he is inside me. He pulls out, flips me onto my back and thrusts inside me all over again, his hands wrapped in my hair, his mouth on mine.

  “Forgive me,” I moan between thrusts.

  “You’re forgiven,” he growls. “You’re so fucking forgiven.”

  He hikes my legs up around his waist and I wrap them around him, clinging to him as he pounds me. We kiss, embrace, grind, we are lost to everything but one another until orgasm frees us and leaves us lying spent on the floor.

  “ARES!”

  A voice comes over the speaker I didn’t know was in the room. Ken lets out a little groan and helps me to stand, tucking his cock away once I’m on my feet.

  “YOU BETTER GET THAT FLOOR MOPPED!”

  We look at each other, and I do the other thing I haven’t done in two months: I laugh.

  “Shit,” he says. “I’m going to get some heat for that. Worth it though.”

  He pulls me tight against his body and I sink into his embrace, feel his strength. I hear the beating of his heart. I thought he’d abandoned me emotionally, but he never went anywhere. He stayed right by my side and he did what needed to be done, even though I hated him for it.

  I lean my head against his shoulder. “I am so sorry,” I murmur. “I’ve ruined everything for you.”

  “You’ve ruined nothing,” he says gruffly. “You needed what you needed.”

  “I needed to be locked up and chased around with a cane naked for two months?”

  “You needed to be broken down,” he says, his arms cradling me close, one hand sliding down over my hip to rub my hot, bare ass. “So we can build you up. Real trust this time. Real truth. No lies. Nothing hidden.”

  “Nothing hidden,” I repeat, feeling lighter than ever before. It’s true, I realize. There is now nothing hidden between us. I have shown him my scars, my sadness, my hate, my fear. He has seen it all and it has not changed a thing. He is here for me, guiding me, disciplining me, making me the best I can be.

  “I love you,” I say. “Even if I hate you sometimes.”

  He smiles down at me. “Oh I’m sure you’ll continue to hate me sometimes,” he says. “But at least now you’ll know that I love you too.”

  KEN

  It’s taken months to get her to this point. It’s been hard won, but it’s worth it. Now it’s time to release the pressure on both of us. It’s also time to make ourselves presentable for the walk of shame we’re about to do when we leave this room. Her ass is still displayed gorgeously red in the torn suit, but I don’t intend on rectifying that issue just yet.

  “You understand what just happened, Mary?”

  She nods, tears in her eyes. “I thi
nk so.”

  “You don’t need to hide anything from me,” I repeat. “Past. Present. Future. There’s nothing I don’t want to know about you. There’s nothing I don’t want to see.”

  “So this hasn’t just been about you hating me and punishing me?”

  “No. This has been about breaking down some of those walls you have in your mind, Mary.” I tap her forehead gently. “It’s been about getting inside you. The real you.”

  “So is my training over?” She looks into my eyes with a hopeful gaze.

  “Oh no, sweetheart. This is where your training starts.”

  Her face falls. “I’m never going home, am I?”

  “Wrong again,” I say, using my fingers to tip her face up toward me. “We’re going home today.”

  Her expression brightens adorably. In this moment, she is happier than she has been in a very long time. “We are?”

  Damn straight we are. I’m reinforcing that perfect surrender with the only currency she cares about: being home with her daddy and me. We are everything to her, and she is everything to us.

  The road ahead is long, and dangerous. She’s got a lot to learn. I have a lot of work to do. But I can finally look into her eyes and see her there. Not the Mary she fabricated to get by in the world, but the real Mary, the Mary I can build up, the Mary I can love. The Mary I will have forever.

  “Come on,” I say. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to get out of here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sir comes so easily to her now. She used to whimper it at first. Then she would only growl it. Now it comes in a grateful, swift response. I should have better control of myself, but after what we just did I can’t help the impulse to sweep her into my arms and kiss her thoroughly, our lips meeting, parting, tongues twirling with the need we have been holding back for far too long.

  She’s mine. All mine. I own her body and soul. I should have hunted her little ass down after she was evacuated from Chile. I could have saved us both so much suffering. But what’s done is done. We have both made mistakes. We both have so much work to do. And I don’t know if we’ll survive what the future holds, but I know I finally have her. All of her. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  14

  MARY

  “Time to get to work.”

  Those words make me nervous.

  This is our first assignment and I’m terrified that I am going to fuck it up. I’ve never carried out a successful mission in my life. We’ve been contracted to deal with some people smuggling drug runners. Relatively small time. I know this is basically a test. They want to see if I’m actually useful. I’m fairly certain I won’t be.

  Because this is so small time, it’s just Ken and I. Our mission is simple enough. Go in and take the leader captive. He’ll be either broken or traded or god knows what. That’s not our concern.

  Ken will do all the heavy lifting. All I have to do is stay in the rear and not fuck up. Should be easy enough.

  We’re not even going all that far. We’re not leaving the state. This is a short, hop, skip and a jump to a part of the countryside where some people with very bad intentions have set themselves up to supply people who should know better.

  “You stay on my six,” he says. “Any sign of trouble, you take cover. This is a small operation, we’re not expecting much resistance, but you never know.”

  He’s fucking hot in this mode, but I can’t allow myself to be distracted. This is real. And I have to prove myself. Specifically, I have to prove that I’m not a total loose cannon, that I can follow orders and that I can be trusted in the field. Even I don’t know if any of those things are true. I guess we’re about to find out.

  It takes way too fucking long to hike to the spot. We’re dropped off several miles away and we have to walk in. These guys like it remote.

  There’s no talking though. There’s just three hours of Ken’s ass moving in perfect concert inside black tactical pants. I’m fucking hungry for this man. When this is over, I’m going to devour him.

  It’s probably not normal to be horny as hell heading into a mission, or maybe it is. Arousal, fear, excitement, they’re all basically the same thing. This is a slow burn of anticipation. As soon as we get our man, we’ll be choppered out. And later on tonight, I’ve been promised a celebration.

  Today is a good day.

  Until everything goes wrong.

  Good things take time. Bad things happen instantly. We are still ten minutes out from the target when a blast of smoke and sound disorients me. Flash grenade. Thrown right the fuck at us.

  There’s shouting. It might be mine. It might be Ken’s. I don’t know what the hell is happening. I can’t see and I can’t hear. Fumbling about in the fog, I grab for the nearest thing that feels human. It takes hold of me, wraps around me.

  THUNK

  Something hard and heavy smacks me over the skull. My world goes dark.

  When I come to, they have me. One of my eyes is swollen. I spit dried blood out of my mouth. A tooth goes with it. Left canine, by the looks of things.

  I’m not tied up. That’s… interesting. I sit up, look down with my one good eye, and see that I’ve been laid out on a stained mattress. My vest has been taken off. My shirt is partially open. Not a good sign. But my belt is still on. I guess they didn’t like what they saw when they pulled my bra down.

  “What the fuck happened to you?”

  The question is spat at me by a man sitting at a table across the room. The twisted up look on his face says it all. His disgust saved me from a brutal assault. Never thought I’d be glad to be missing a nipple.

  “Some limp dick pussy tried to fuck me, I think,” I say, taunting him on purpose.

  The thing about men who are used to hurting women is that they forget that not everyone is their victim. This guy is wearing a knife and a gun on his waist, making himself a walking weapon rack.

  It takes him a full thirty seconds to realize I’m talking about him. The realization dawns slower than grass grows. So he’s sloppy and stupid. Awesome.

  “What did you just say to me, you ugly whore?” He comes storming over, like the fucking idiot he is. In a split second, the knife which was at his waist is in my hand. The point is in his brachial artery.

  He’s not quite dead by the time he hits the floor, but in another twenty seconds he will be. I don’t have time to listen to the whimpering and the gurgling. I have to find Ken.

  This shack has a basement, and there are unpleasant sounds coming from it. I work my way slowly down the stairs, knife in hand, to see what’s going on.

  Ken is tied up against the wall, Jesus style. A-fucking-men. Three men are interrogating him, mostly by yelling at him and hitting him repeatedly with a piece of wood. Simple, but probably effective enough over time. He’s going to be a mass of bruises.

  I walk up to the middle man and shove the knife between his ribs from the back. He’s dead before the other two even realize it. They don’t notice anything is wrong until I push him forward and off the blade. There’s an almost comical moment where their comrade keels over face first, and they suddenly realize that there’s a problem.

  Me.

  The first man to turn toward me meets the point of my knife in different fashion, right across the belly, clean and smooth. His insides become his outsides in spectacularly short order, a cascade of viscera making a mess of all our shoes.

  There’s one man left. I turn toward him, knife ready to remove soul from flesh.

  He throws up and passes out.

  It’s well played. Even I don’t kill unconscious people. Isn’t sporting.

  I leave him in his vomit and turn my attention to the task of getting Ken out of here.

  He hasn’t made a sound since I came into the room, although, to be fair, it’s only been sixty seconds since I started killing.

  “I didn’t teach you to do that,” he says from his spreadeagled place on the wall.

  “I know,” I say, as I work o
n the bonds on hands. “They did.”

  “Who did?”

  “The hospital,” I say. “They made me watch things. When you watch, you learn.”

  “I never thought I’d be glad you were ever in there,” he says. “And I’m still not, but… goddamn.”

  “You made me faster at it,” I say conversationally. “Would have taken me longer if it had happened before you trained me.”

  “Huh.”

  He slides gingerly down from the wall, rubbing his wrists and looking at me with an expression I know signals the end of our love.

  Now he’s seen it all. The part of me I tried my best to hide. The capacity no good woman is ever supposed to have. He always knew I was a monster, I think. But now he knows it for absolute certain. It’s easy to feel sorry for me and look past the scars. Fucking a charity case is one thing. But wanting a woman who just did what I did? Not going to happen. Women function as repositories of goodness for bad men. That’s how it always is.

  “Sorry I fucked this up.”

  “You didn’t,” he says. “That guy on the floor is the one we want. Let’s get him out of here.”

  He bends down to grab the guy, but doesn’t get more than an inch or so bent before he curses and straightens with a gasp.

  “I’ve got him,” I say, laying hands to his boots. I start dragging the asshole out feet first. Ken follows, armed and watchful, calling in the cavalry.

  Our extraction team is not too far away. I guess the Head figured we might need it. The helicopter swoops in like a dark angel, picks us up and within five minutes, it’s like we were never there.