by Sylvia Fox
“I’m used to having my orders followed, Ambrose. When they aren’t, I must deliver discipline. Do you understand?”
I bit my lip and nodded my head, not daring to look at him. I stared straight ahead, holding the railing, biting my bottom lip.
His hand left me for a moment before crashing down on the right cheek of my ass, the hardest spank yet. The force of it jolted me, and I stifled a yelp.
I was dripping. Fucking. Wet.
I could see my friends taking selfies across the suite and hear Taylor’s voice shouting, I imagined down to the street, although I figured we were too high up for anyone down there to hear her.
Sledge spanked me again, right on the thickest part of my ass. It burned, but the fire transferred quickly from the surface to deep inside me. Into a secret place that begged and pleaded with me for more. I wrestled with my mind for control of my body. If I listened to “it,” to that lusty voice emanating from between my legs, the maxi dress would be in a puddle on the floor along with my ruined panties and I’d be begging for ever harsher “discipline.”
As it were, Christina bounded back into the living room.
“Ambrose! You gotta see this place! What are you waiting for, girl?”
Well, I’m on my way to what promises to be a mind-blowing orgasm, if it’s all the same to you, Christina, I wanted to say.
I gave Sledge a sheepish smile and took a deep breath, taking the four steps down into the living room and following my bestie out onto the balcony.
I didn’t dare look back at Sledge. I couldn’t possibly face him. Now or ever. I’d acted like a complete slut. What was wrong with me? He was my father’s closest friend.
The cool air on the balcony felt great on my face, which burned how with my need and my shame. Taylor gave me a quizzical look.
“Girl, you’re all flushed. Are you feeling okay?”
“What? Yeah, too much wine I guess. And food. It was so good, wasn’t it?”
As my hands closed around the railing on the balcony, my body responded in a primal fashion, anticipating his touch again, even though he was clear across the room. I felt a chill go down my spine and I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
I turned and looked back to see Christina hugging Sledge, an innocent sort of “thank you” hug. He looked awkward wrapping his arms around her, none of the comfort, or passion, with which he touched me. I felt a twinge of pride.
He asked us to make certain our bags had been delivered to our rooms, which they had, and he told us to eat whatever we wanted for breakfast and to charge it to the room. He also told us to call the spa in the morning, that he had us all set up. He bid us good night and we collapsed on the oversized sofa in front of the giant television in the living room.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Taylor asked, rhetorically. “Is this real life?” She spread her arms to indicate that he was referring to at the very least our suite, and maybe all of Las Vegas.
Christina pinched my arm and I swatted her hand away.
“Ouch!”
“Yep. Real life!”
We talked and laughed and made it halfway through a romantic comedy before Christina dozed off with her head on my lap and I nearly fell asleep myself. We each had a bed of our own, a pair of queens in the guest bedrooms for them and a king in the master for me.
When I went to change out of my clothes and into something to sleep in, I discovered that the rough treatment I’d received from Sledge had left my panties wet and sticky. I needed a shower.
The shower was unlike any I’d ever seen, much less taken. It had a nozzle on the ceiling, one on each side wall just above head level, and nozzles on all three walls at different heights that hit every part of my body.
As steam filled the room and the scalding water massaged the flight out of my body, I weighed how much having one of these installed at home might cost. It was transcendent. Practically a religious experience.
Once I felt that I might melt right down the drain if I stayed in for another moment, I got out and staggered to my bed with a towel on my head and another around my body.
I lay down on the bed going over the day in my mind and letting my hands wander. When I recalled my first glimpse of Sledge, my fingers caressed my dewy sex, making me writhe in the billion count Egyptian cotton sheets. The longer I thought about him, the faster I touched myself, rubbing frantically, imagining his hard SEAL-trained body pounding me, relentlessly.
My orgasm came as I recalled his hand on my ass, and hearing him hiss the word “discipline” into my ear as he spanked me, and my hips jerked up off the bed as I released my pent-up frustration. My face was buried in the pillows to stifle my screams. I imagined him spanking me through my climax and it spurred me to finish a second time before rolling myself into a cocoon and falling into a deep, blissful slumber.
4
We ordered room service breakfast in the morning, lounging around the suite and planning our day.
Over the best french toast I’d ever consumed, Christina caught me off-guard with a question.
“So, have the two of you picked out a chapel yet?”
Taylor and I looked at each other and then back at CC, not knowing which of us she was addressing.
“You, Ambrose. You and Sledge. There are wedding chapels all over Las Vegas, right?” she asked.
“What are you talking about?” I deflected.
“The way you two were looking at each other last night? And the way he kept touching you? Come on…”
“What do you mean ‘touching me’? Are you high?” I was annoyed. And nervous that they’d witnessed the spanking Sledge gave me.
“He sure didn’t hug either of us the way he hugged you. And, you know he kept touching you. Brushing the hair off your face, adjusting the top of your sweater, just little shit, but yeah, he couldn’t keep his hands off you,” Christina continued.
“Taylor, help me out here. Is there something in CC’s orange juice?” I pleaded with my friend to jump to my defense. She was my witness, after all.
Taylor shrugged and gave me a goofy smile. “Hey, it’s your world, girl. We should just be jealous. He’s sexy!” She laughed and covered her face with both hands.
“You two have lost your minds. Even if there was anything between us, which there isn’t, he’s older than our dads!”
“Exactly!” they said in unison.
“You’re so bad,” said Taylor, pushing eggs around on her room service plate.
“How am I bad? What have I done? You two should be thanking me for this trip, not shaming me!” I protested.
“Who’s shaming anybody?” Christina asked. “If anything, we should be jealous. Do you plan to hang with us at all tonight, or are you going to be spending New Year’s with Sledge and his hammer?” She pantomimed giving a blowjob.
I threw an orange slice at her and stood up and turned around. I patted my rear end.
“Kiss my ass. Both of you.”
“Older guys are into that freaky stuff, aren’t they, T?” Christina asked Taylor.
“That’s it. I’m getting changed and heading down to the spa. You two can continue this conversation without me.” I walked into the master bedroom and shut the door, leaving their pleading, apologetic voices behind.
I was dizzy with thoughts of what my friends had suggested. Having Sledge’s cock in my mouth. And his lips on my… well, anywhere on my body. I had to abandon those fantasies if I was ever going to make it to the spa.
My door burst open and I was tackled onto my giant cloud of a bed by both my friends. They tickled me until I nearly peed myself, and we all laughed about the notion that anything could happen between Shane Hammer and any of us. He was a very full-grown and experienced man, and as much as we put on airs of being sophisticated college women, there was still plenty of little girl left in each of us; innocence the world hadn’t stolen from us just yet.
Forty minutes later, we stood outside The Platinum Peacock, Sirocco’s luxury spa.
It turns out that it meant we learned what it would be like to be a Kardashian for an entire afternoon. A Kardashian with her own personal slice of heaven.
We began with massages, moved to manis and pedis, had complete hair and makeup, including a Brazilian blowout for me, a hair treatment I’d often dreamt of but could never afford or honestly even imagine receiving.
By the time we were done, all modesty aside, we looked fucking good. I mean red carpet good. Taylor looked like a prettier version of Rihanna. Christina looked like she could be Penelope Cruz’s daughter, and yeah, even I looked killer. It had taken from late morning into late afternoon, but it was all worth it.
We felt, and looked, like a trillion bucks.
Room service brought us salads and pasta to put something on our stomachs before a night partying on the Strip. We didn’t have much of a game plan, we just figured we’d head down around dusk and see what kind of trouble we could get into.
We called Sledge after we ate to thank him for the spa day, and he told us how happy he was that we enjoyed it, and to have fun celebrating, but to be careful. We planned to meet him for brunch the next day.
By just after eight, the Strip was filling with people, and we went down to the street to mingle. The Bellagio’s fountains were going, everything was lit up, and the evening was cool, but not cold. The energy was fantastic; like the best party we’d ever attended, times a thousand.
As we’d noticed in the casino when we arrived, the variety of people in Las Vegas can be startling. Just walking across the street, we heard half a dozen different languages being spoken and saw guys who could have stepped off the cover of GQ right next to people with oxygen tanks on the back of their wheelchairs who looked like they’d be fortunate to make it to midnight.
We’d been down among the crowd for nearly an hour when CC, the most confident of our group, approached a quartet of college guys and struck up a conversation. They were a group of friends from a small college in Colorado, all football players. Two were from Colorado, one called California home, and the fourth hailed from Oklahoma.
They were staying at a small hotel off the Strip, having driven out to Las Vegas from Colorado in a borrowed car and having scraped up enough money for two nights in a dive with two twin beds. They’d paid for one buffet and smuggled out enough food for the four of them. If they weren’t as handsome as they were, we’d have moved on quickly. But, despite the lifestyle of the rich and famous we’d been enjoying, the truth was that we were just as broke, if not for our benefactor, Sledge, so we didn’t judge.
Handsome and sweet went a long way, and we figured that even though we were only three to their four, that we could hang out with them a while and maybe even welcome in 2017 together.
We’d told them about where we were from and our dads, and one of them seemed excited to be talking to the daughters of SEALs.
Russell (Oklahoma guy) had an older brother in the Navy who was considering trying to become a SEAL. If the brother looked anything like Russell, and SEAL instructors gave any special allowance for good looks, his brother was a shoo-in. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with ice blue eyes and a chin spiky with blonde stubble. Before any of us knew what happened, he and Taylor were making out. Right there in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard.
“Whoa, aren’t you two supposed to wait for midnight?” Christina protested.
“Shoot, she’s just too pretty not to kiss. I’m sorry, darlin’,” Russell apologized, kicking a rock away and grinning. But Taylor didn’t seem to mind. She was looking at Russell like a hungry dog with a steak.
The rest of us awkwardly made conversation and tried to pair up. The largest of their group, a guy with black hair shaved close to his scalp named Kurt, didn’t say much and seemed angry. I got a bad vibe from him, but the other two, Scott and Alex, were nice enough. The whole “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” thing had some appeal, and I wondered if losing my virginity on New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas in a high roller suite to a hot football player might not make for a good story.
Scott had a scruffy look, light brown hair touching his collar, and several days’ growth on his face. He had that bad boy thing that I hadn’t ever found appealing, with the notable exception of Sledge, although he was an entirely different kind of bad boy. Alex, the Californian, was the shortest, a stocky guy who looked like he might have an Asian parent. He and CC seemed to hit it off, although not as much as Russell and Taylor, who were back at trying to swallow each other’s faces.
“Y’all got anything to drink?” Scott asked me.
“No, we were hoping to meet somebody down here who might be feeling generous,” CC replied.
Just then, the fountains at Bellagio started a new show, water blasting skyward with a powerful musical accompaniment.
Scott stepped behind me when I turned to watch the fountains, putting his hands on my waist and leaning in close.
I tensed up at his touch and tried to wriggle free but he held me tight and whispered in my ear. “We have some weed and some X if you want to come back to our place and party. Or we could come up to your room.”
I turned around in his arms and put my hands on his chest. “Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe later.” I eased him away from me. “Let’s just hang out and enjoy the night, okay?”
He looked hurt at his advance toward getting physical being rebuffed, but I wasn’t Taylor. She and Russell were practically taking each other’s clothes off on the street.
“Hey, Ambrose, do you want to go back to their hotel and party? They have some of that good Colorado green,” Taylor said when she finally came up for air.
I’d smoked my fair share of weed, we all had, but what I really wanted was a drink. And to have another staring contest with Sledge.
Sledge.
I had to get him out of my head somehow. When we’d gotten our massages earlier I floated into a dreamy state of relaxation and got way too aroused imagining him spanking me. I’d hoped we might see him before going out, but things hadn’t worked out that way.
“Fuck yeah, if it’s from Colorado it might even be medicinal grade,” CC interjected, before I could express my reservations. She was the most enthusiastic weed smoker among the three of us, and I knew there’d be no talking her out of it once the Colorado boys mentioned that they had some.
“Whatever,” I sighed. “But I want to be back here at midnight for the fireworks and everything.”
“That’s no problem,” Russell said, standing behind Taylor with his arms draped around her neck. “We can walk back to our hotel and mellow out then make it back here in plenty of time. It’s just a couple blocks off the Strip.”
I immediately regretted the heels I was wearing.
We set off for the Colorado Boys’ hotel, cutting between Strip resorts, behind Planet Hollywood, and toward a fence enclosing a construction project that was shuttered for the holiday.
Russell reached down and pulled part of the chain link fence open.
“This shortcut will save us a bunch of time. It’s way too long to walk all the way down to Tropicana and down, especially with the crowds down there. It’s open on the other side.”
Suddenly I got a weird feeling. How would a couple of guys from Colorado know that?
Russell ducked through the opening and we each followed in turn. We could see a road filled with cars just past a row of heavy equipment, and even though the site itself wasn’t well-lit, it would only take a minute or two until we were back on a busy street.
As we walked, I thought I heard Alex say something to Kurt in a language that wasn’t English, it sounded Eastern European or maybe Russian, but I figured I must have been imagining things.
Taylor and Russell walked hand in hand and Scott shadowed me.
Russell looked back over his shoulder and made weird eye contact with Kurt, the silent giant, and I knew something wasn’t right
. The whole thing was off. I recalled reading The Gift of Fear in high school, and all my alarm bells started going off. Nothing scary was happening, but my fight or flight response was going haywire.
Russell and Taylor had sped up, away from the pack a bit, moving ahead. Alex had almost imperceptibly guided CC away from me. We were being separated. My instincts were confirmed when we came around a crane and between it and two bulldozers sat the van.
A black, windowless van, with the side door wide open, and a man in back and one in the driver’s seat.
We were fucked.
Scott put a hand over my mouth and one on my arm at the same time Alex and Russell grabbed CC and Taylor. Kurt’s head was on a swivel, making sure none of us were resisting too much and that nobody was watching.
I heard Christina’s scream muffled by the hand over her mouth, and then the “Colorado football players” began speaking to the men in the truck, rapid-fire, in a language I didn’t recognize.
I kicked and struggled, but Scott was too strong. CC was in the van, and Russell was dragging Taylor to the same fate. Once I was inside and that door shut, it would be over. We had seconds left. My heart hammered in my chest as I tried to dig my heels in, but found only gravel, nothing to slow the man pulling me.
Bang!
Bang! Bang!
Before I knew what was happening, I hit the ground, with the full weight of Scott crashing down on top of me. Taylor screamed and a panicked argument in Bulgarian or Hungarian broke out.
More gunfire.
I was pinned and couldn’t see what was happening, but I hadn’t heard the van drive away or even heard the door close, which both seemed like good things.
Glass shattered and more gunfire.
Sirens.
I heard and felt a thud as the hulking Kurt hit the ground next to me.
My heart stopped pounding and froze solid in my chest. I was shaking. I could hear Christina crying and Taylor yelling. I wanted to curl up into the fetal position, close my eyes, and wake up in my bed back home in Little Creek.
