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You had both been drunk; it had been stupid, you had realised that the moment that the bliss from the orgasm faded. Price’s whiskey and cigar smelling breath still panting against your neck, his cock softening inside of you. A small gasp had left you as he pulled out, your body feeling so oddly empty. Sure, you had been drunk, but you could still remember how full you had felt, how big that monster cock of his had been.
How good it had been.
Cum had dripped from your hole a moment later, Price tsk’ed at you, before he had pushed it back into you with those rough fingers of his. Letting out a hum as you whined at the feeling.
“Such a good lil’ recruit,” he had slurred into your ear, the praise giving made heat go straight south again, “such a good pet for me, eh?”
You had been too happy for the shots earlier that night in the pub, senselessly downing every drink put in front of you, no matter the taste or lack thereof. It had been the burning sensation that had drowned yours and the other recruits' worries.
It had gotten too loud at one point and you had stumbled out of the back door, cigarette lit before you even got out fully.
It wasn’t like you were black out drunk- but you certainly weren't sober either.
Taking a drag of the cigarette had been like breathing after almost drowning. That was when you had noticed him.
A little further down the back alley, with his usual hat and scarf despite the civic outfit, almost fully hidden in the dark, cigar lightening up with every puff. What exactly had ignited the spark inside you, no, between you, you weren’t sure.
But one thing had led to another and well…
Here you were. Awfully hungover, on your day off. You weren’t sure if you were nauseous due to the fact that you were hungover, or because you had let your superior fuck you silly in the back alley the night before… and how much you had bloody loved it.
It wasn’t as if you disliked him, no, he had always been nice. Strict, sure, but nice when the time was for it. Fair. Rugged. Handsome. Sexy. Out of your league really.
Superior.
Off limits.
It felt like the first rule in being a soldier , or well, recruit. Don’t fuck a superior. Especially not a fucking Captain - fuck, how could you have been so stupid. Yet, how could it had been so fucking hot?
It was dirty, it was wrong. It was the forbidden apple and you had licked it. You had bitten it, consumed the wonderful, ethereal taste of it, juices leaving trails of power and pleasure - and now the shame overwhelmed you.
Your bed felt too warm. Too cold at the same time.
You wanted him to fuck you again, yet at the same time, you felt nauseous at the idea of him just touching you, because that would lead to another bad idea. Skin contact would be too much, even just a handshake would be wrong, because the whole thing had been wrong.
He could get in trouble — you could.
You didn’t know what to do if you didn’t become a proper soldier. It was the first time in your life that things had just made… sense. Properly and actual sense.
A text distracted your thoughts of yesterday’s mistake. It took a couple of halfhearted attempts before you managed to take the phone from your bedside table, squinting at the bright screen.
Landlord.
You groaned at the sight of it, almost considering ignoring the message. You already knew what it was going to say.
He needed the rent for this and last month. The place you lived was a shithole, but you liked it and it was yours. You didn’t share it, not like how you shared most things at the base.
1300 pounds. You owed him 1300 pounds.
Money you didn’t have. You winced. The little you had, you had spent yesterday. It had been a good idea at the time, no, a rather wonderful one. But now it seemed like the worst idea that had ever befallen you.
Another idea hit you. It was bad. Horrid. Wrong. After you had it, you felt like a bad person for a moment. Yet, the feeling rather quickly passed, perhaps almost immediately, because you felt like it was a quite redeemable idea as well.
🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪
“I want money.”
One of his dark, bushy eyebrows rose, his usually calm expression turning cold in a mere second.
“Excuse me?” He asked, even though the two of you knew that he had heard you. Perhaps it was him giving you a way out, a moment for you to backtrack, to not repeat yourself. A warning from him, in a way. To back down. To not attempt threatening a superior. Or well, you supposed it was more blackmail than threatening.
The idea of retreating, to slip away from the room and pretend to never have said those three words… nope. It wasn’t an option.
Three rather dangerous words - for both of you.
I want money.
Your money.
Perhaps it was concerning that there was a lack of care in your mind. You couldn’t really make yourself care about what you were doing to him. Or what you could do. His feelings. Despite how ethically and morally wrong it would be, you could scream abuse of power. Of him taking advantage of you.
It was fucked up. You were fucked up. The mere idea of doing so was fucked up.
But you needed money and a fucking Captain in the special forces had that. Tons, if you were to guess, and it would be bad for his image if you told on him, wouldn’t it? His account would probably not even notice when he paid you, and you would be able to stay where you lived. Then everything would go back to normal.
If one were to think of it, you deserved the money, didn’t you?
He might have been the best lay - of what you remember - for a good while, but hell, you wanted to pay your rent more than you wanted nice memories of that experience.
“You heard me,” you replied, keeping your arms behind your back, the image of a obedient little soldier, though you were rocking back and forth on your feet, as if this moment didn’t fucking bother you at all. As if you were merely requesting a day off.
You kept eye contact. Watched how his jaw tightened ever so slightly beneath that well-kept beard of his.
Stupid little Captain, thinking that fucking a recruit was a good idea. Drunk or not, that wasn’t a wise choice. In the end, he would be the villain. He would be the one people judged.
Probably. Hopefully. You might be judged by some, accused that you attempted to sleep your way to the top a - and that it had failed.
Whatever.
Price wasn’t stupid.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” The question was simple, but his voice was loaded with his feelings - almost as if he didn’t believe that you were going through with this. Attempting to make you doubt the decision. Like a parent purposefully making a child doubt. He was belittling you, yet his face remained cold, brow still raised; he seemed like a bear, letting out a wordless warning that another poke with the stick would end badly.
There was a darkness in his eyes. This man was no prey animal. Your instincts were screaming for you to obey.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to refuse me, Captain Price?” You shot back, voice dripping with faux politeness. The boldness and confidence rushed through you. Especially as the corner of his mouth twitched for a second.
”Besides, I had to buy a morning after pill.” It was a lie. A big fat lie, only leaving your mouth to force him to imagine even worse things. The implant in your arm prevented anything from really happening, but Price didn’t need to know that.
What if you had knocked me up, Price? What if I had refused to get an abortion if necessary, what if I had wanted to keep the baby?
You had the best hand in this game. He knew it too. He was trapped.
He let out a huff, annoyance yet surrender deep within it; he leant back in the big office chair of his, breaking eye contact - and as he tipped his head to the side, looking slightly tired for a moment, you knew that you were victorious. He didn’t meet your eyes as the two words left him.
“How much?”
Perfect. Look at him obeying you - a simple recruit - like an upset dog, laying down despite not wanting to. The power, the control, the dominance that rushed through you, made you feel stronger than ever before. Big bad man, the ever stoic and calm Captain, breaking for you.
You were a bad person. A fucking awful person. Blackmailing somebody was wrong, yet you felt high from the fact that you were winning.
“2000 quid.”
Captain John Price huffed, another one filled with annoyance, with barely hidden anger, but at the same time, fear - he didn’t look at you. Then he reached for a drawer in the desk.
The money laid on the table a moment later, and the victory, as well as your greed, almost made you drool. You reached forward, fingers taking the crisp banknotes, not bothering to look at him either now.
The two of you hadn’t touched, despite the money changing hands. No skin-to-skin contact. The lack of it came as a relief.
You counted them. He huffed once more. Who the fuck had 2000 quid in their desk drawer, anyways? You pocketed the money.
Finally you met his eyes again.
“Pleasure doing business with you, sir,” you crooned then, not even attempting to hide your pleased smile, “good day.”
You turned around, stepped towards the door, hand just touching the door handle before he spoke again.
“This was awfully brave of you, little pet.”
The sentence, or rather warning, made pride and fear mix together in an odd cocktail inside your stomach. Perhaps the pet name even created a little spark of lust. It was immediately snuffed out.
You left his office without answering, merely closing the door behind you, money heavy in your breast pocket.
🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪
You returned a little over two months later. You had kept your promise, kept your mouth shut and focused on your training, never letting anything slip - the two of you had kept the usual, professional distance. As if the heated touches behind the pub had never happened, as if his cum had never been dripping out of you. As if his fingers hadn’t roughly prepped your pussy, as if your breaths, both stinking of alcohol, hadn’t mixed in heated, messy kisses.
Bills had been paid, your landlord was happy again, extra cash was hidden in your sock drawer at home. You could feel safe for a while. You should probably have begun to look for a new place, somewhere cheaper.
But you hadn’t done that. At the same time, you hadn’t created chaos either, hadn’t told anyone - you had been a good little soldier, been proper and quiet.
Sure, you sometimes touched yourself, thinking of that night. But it wasn’t so much the thought of him, perhaps more the fact that he was forbidden. That you had gained power from the moment you had blackmailed him.
That you had something now, something over him, that you could press him again.
Make him obey. It was a rush, the way you had power over a man like him, a much higher rank than you. You wanted another taste of the adrenaline and the authority that you had felt.
You were a power hungry idiot, who loved to remind the other, that you had shared the forbidden fruit. Which was why you were back.
That, and you needed money.
🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪
This time he didn’t smile politely as you entered, merely looked back down at the papers on his desk, writing his signature, while you closed the office door behind you.
The office was awfully quiet for a couple of seconds, the daily buzz of the base barely audible within the four walls. The air heavy, the room so tense you could almost taste it.
“I want money.”
Those three words again, leaving your mouth confidently, just like they had last time.
The sigh that left him was long and deep, from deep within his body - and it had a rumbling sound at the end. Like a big, dangerous beast, tired of being bothered again.
The hat was on the expensive looking desk, next to the ashtray. A half abandoned cigar rested at the edge of the ceramic, smoke escaping from the glowing end. It made the office smell like tobacco.
“I figured,” he replied, turning a page in the file on his desk. Your eye twitched as he blatantly ignored you, your hands curling into fists behind your back. You wanted him to look at you, to look worried. To agree to your terms, just like last time. You had control then, you wanted control now.
“I was wondering if you would come back,” the captain continued then, and finally he looked up at you, your heart beating ten times faster with delight, keeping his gaze, “then again, you do live in a rather expensive flat.”
The last words caught you off guard. You blinked a couple times, mouth opening, but sound refused to come out. It was like the control was beginning to crack within your grip.
“Excuse me?” You immediately hated how you mirrored the last time, but it was as if your mind had begun to slowly spin out of control, unravelling before your very eyes.
“Ever considered moving, sweetheart?” He continued conversationally, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms, never looking away from you, “it’s a shit place for that kind of rent, you know.”
“That’s none of your business,” you hissed, angry with what all of this implied. He knew where you lived, which meant he had actively looked you up. Had he followed you too? The mere idea made the hairs on your neck stand up a little.
A strange feeling of paranoia curled around you. How much had he looked into your information? How much did he have access to?
He let out a dark hum. Then his arms uncurled, one of his big hands reached for the cigar and a moment later, he took a drag. Never looking down, only staring at you.
“Technically it is my business,” he argued, ever so stoic, smoke escaping his nostrils, “especially if you’re gonna make these demands a habit of yours.”
“A habit?” You hissed, “I could ruin you, Price.”
“Yes,” he agreed easily and fuck, you hated how he looked hot right now, “I don’t doubt it. Consider it… friendly advice. Find somewhere cheaper.”
Friendly advice.
For a mere second you were back in the alleyway behind the pub. You were begging the man to fuck you, the man you had been crushing on ever since you saw him for the first time, the man who had kissed you and prepped you, sliding into your cunt with such gentleness you almost cried, before fucking you hard like you demanded; the same man who was sitting on the other side of the desk. He had called you pretty as he had thrusted into you, touched youlike you were worth something and had mused with a slurred voice about how good you had felt.
There had been heat, fueled on by the alcohol.
There had been nothing friendly about the two of you, not after finishing that night. A recruit and a captain weren't friends. A part of you wanted him again, wanted his arms to touch you, but the other was desperate for power, for a lifeline, for unlimited money, so you could worry less in life.
You wanted the money more.
“How much?”
“3000.” The number left your mouth without any hesitation.
“Raising the amount, are we, pet?”
“You annoyed me,” you replied, as if it was as simple as that, “so yeah, I’m raising the price.”
For a moment, the two of you merely stared at the other. Then the captain let out what sounded like a huff at first - but it turned into a breathy chuckle. An amused smile appeared on his lips, his entire expression changed, as if you had just told a genuinely funny joke. Yet there was something eerie about you at the same time.
“Then that’s what you will get.”
He was so fucking weird.
For a moment you had feared he would refuse - that he wouldn’t be threatened, that he refused to be blackmailed - but no, once again the older man followed instructions, despite his new theatricals. You watched as he did the same ritual as last time. Opened a drawer, pulled out the exact number of banknotes.
Who the fuck had 3000 quid just laying around like that?
Despite your interest in how much money he exactly had in that desk, you were too distracted by the notes in his hands.
Your mouth was watering. Rent, savings - you needed to be better with your money, you knew that. Knew that he was right about that too. Especially since you lived in the barracks most of the time, your flat truly wasn’t worth it… but letting go of a place that was yours, just because the military didn’t pay you enough? Not happening.
The banknotes were put on the table. You reached out for them, and pocketed them quickly, as if you were afraid they would disintegrate into ash right before your eyes. As if the money was the physical proof of the power which you held over this man.
It was as if they instantly burned with the need to be used, begging you to spend them.
“Pleasure talking to you, Captain Price.” The words were sarcastic, coated in a sweet voice and a smirk grew on your lips as you turned around.
This was still so fucked up, it was a dangerous game; yet once again you stood victorious, touching the door handle, back turned to him.
You were the one with a knife to his throat, you deserved that fucking money, you—
You didn’t manage to open the door; instead your head was smashed against the thick wood by a strong hand and you let out a strangled sound, fully caught off guard. Spots of darkness flickered in front of your eyes, your forehead throbbing with pain, but you barely had any chance to react, already being forcibly moved.
He had been silent. You hadn’t even heard him stand from the office chair, had not heard his steps as he caught up with you.
There was a reason John Price was a captain. You had almost forgotten that for a second, yet you didn’t go down without a fight.
One moment you were opening your mouth to scream and the next moment a glove was forced into it. The taste of sweat, dirt and gunpowder was overwhelming you as he pushed it in so deep that you gagged. You managed to kick him in the shin, which didn’t get a reaction, not even when you elbowed him in the ribs - instead he managed to get his hand on your wrist, twisting your arm behind your back.
It was embarrassing how quickly he won the fight.
As your upper body collided with the expensive desk, stars once again erupted in your sight, your whimpers barely muffled by the glove.
You weren’t fucking sure where the fuck he had hidden the metal cuffs, but as they closed around your wrists, trapping your hands hands behind your back, you knew you were in proper trouble.
“Stupid, little girl,” he snarled, voice so different from mere moments ago, a raw, dark energy to it now.
Anger. Frustration.
You hardly managed to spit out the glove, before it was swiftly and harshly pushed back again; this time Price used his scarf to hold it inside and despite your best attempts at struggling and trying to get free, you failed. The scarf was forced between your lips and bound tightly at the back of your head, effectively trapping the glove inside your mouth.
You let out a muffled sound, as he roughly pushed down between your shoulders, putting on weight to keep you down. You turned your head to look at him, the world still a little blurry.
He had changed from before, no longer sitting behind the desk, looking older than he was. Completely gone was the stoic expression, with minimal reactions, he had portrayed earlier.
Rage.
Danger.
Eerily calm, despite the darkness that glinted in the blue eyes; he could kill you like this, you realised, kill you and eat you raw. His breaths were fast, but you knew it wasn’t from being exhausted - it was not fear like your own.
“Do you really think that I would let a little, stupid whore like you, destroy my career?”
Captain John Price had taken back the control - you took quick drags of air through your nose, panic slowly started to set in, as you wondered if you had ever been in charge of the situation. If he had ever actually felt threatened by you. If he had merely pretended to be intimidated by you, by the threats you had made.
“Took me by surprise the first time, I’ll admit that, pet,” he growled darkly, his expression and tone making it feel condescending, as if he was surprised a stupid thing like you could even come up with the idea of blackmail, “wanted to see what you would do.”
You couldn’t help it, every instinct inside you told you to get away and it made you twist beneath him, tugging at the metal cuffs that bit into your skin. The desk was cold beneath you, not moving a bit as you attempted - and failed miserably- to get free from Price’s grasp.
“It could have been a lovely memory, you know,” He continued, as his hand moved to grab onto your neck, his massive body caged you against the wood as he leant further over you, “but you just had to go and ruin it. Are you that daft, believing you could blackmail me, mh?”
You realised something as a shiver ran along your spine and your eyes widened at it; he was hard, his cock filled and pressed against your ass. Your respective uniforms did nothing to make it less difficult to ignore, in particular not as he huffed into the back of your head, grip on your neck tightening.
His crotch grinded against your ass, the movement so unexpected that the sound you let out was rather pathetic.
“Nobody fuckin’ blackmails me,” he was like a demon above you, a devious man once again in power, who rhythmically grinded his hard cock against your arse, “especially not a dumb thing like you. A little, silly recruit, seeing an opportunity, after one short and wrong fuck.”
You felt the embarrassment fill you. Any control had fully crumbled and forcefully been pulled from your hands; you were stuck now, beneath him both physically and mentally. Tears filled your eyes, a muffled cry escaping you, which only made him laugh.
In a desperate attempt at saving yourself, you tried apologising through the glove in your mouth and the scarf between your teeth; it was a garbled apology, words that barely made sense, drool collecting on your lips as tears began to fall. The taste of dirt, blood and tobacco was awful mixed with shame and fear, yet you attempted once more. Another barely audible apology. You doubted Price even knew that you attempted to say “I’m sorry”.
But of course he did.
“N’aaaw, you’re sorry now, little girl?” He asked condescendingly, letting out a low groan as he grinded against your ass once more, which made you breathe a little faster, “I haven’t even punished you yet.”
You fearfully shook your head the best you could, while muffled cries attempted to make him reconsider it.
It was pointless. His free hand moved down along your back before it slid beneath your stomach, your eyes widening. You instinctively tried struggling again, fear rushing through you, as he didn’t even need to fight hard to win over you. Drool and tears dripped onto the desk, the wooden surface collecting it in small puddles, which he then pushed your head into.
The older, stronger man opened your belt harshly, not trying to be gentle; you started to cry as he easily, painfully ripped down your pants and panties in one go.
His hand tightened around your neck. You sobbed, unable to help yourself, attempting to breathe with the spit soaked glove in your mouth.
You fully expected him to take you, right then and there, especially as he grinded against you once more, the feeling of his clothed groin made you cry a little louder. You hated how your body responded, how you felt your cunt wettened. Just as embarrassingly, you feared you would piss yourself from the horror you expected to happen.
“Now be a good girl for daddy,” John Price crooned darkly, straightening up, moving slightly to the side, pressing your face even harder against the desk, as if he was attempting to force your cranium to melt into the surface, “take your punishment like a proper soldier.”
You had expected several things; for him to finger you, to take you roughly and against your will.
Not this.
His bare hand connected with your ass with such force, that it caught you off guard, your mind shutting off. The pain was violent, the wail that left you came deep from your chest. He gave you no time to recover, his hand came down on your ass again, the burning sensation setting in immediately.
You struggled, unable to help it, bucking wildly in an attempt to get away, combat boots scraping against the floor of his office.
Why had nobody come to save you? Could nobody hear your cries or his hand spanking you? Did nobody dare to interrupt the man currently spanking you, like you were a naughty child?
A man that had referred to himself as daddy, as you were someone he could control in every way - not just as your boss, your captain, but in the bedroom as well.
He was merciless in his hits, only stopping momentarily to rest his skin against yours, palm touching your scorching skin. John Price cooed meanly. He told you it was your own fault. Thinking he would let himself be blackmailed, because you thought you were smarter than him.
Spank.
Spank.
Spank.
Pain bloomed. You sobbed, snot clogged your nose, eyes burning; you felt unable to breathe.
”You enjoyed it,” he snarled in between his hits, which brought you more and more pain, made your legs shake, “you enjoyed when I fucked against the wall - moaned like a little whore, bended your fuckin’ back to feel my cock even more, didn’t ya?”
Spank.
Spank.
You barely noticed when he finally stopped. He was breathing hard, but unlike you, he had no problem doing so. The cries escaping you had quieted a bit, as your attention went to focus on getting more air and not pass out. The pain made it impossible to stop pained whimpers to escape you fully.
”There, there, pet,” he comforted, or at least you assumed it was supposed to be comfort, the hand that had hit you again and again, slid up beneath your shirt, following your spine slowly - it made goosebumps form all over your body, “that part is over now, tried your best for daddy, didn’t you?”
You were unable to reply - you weren’t even sure he wanted a reply. You kept your eyes closed, shame too overwhelming to make you want to look up at the bearded man. He caressed you as if you were his lover. Not somebody who had blackmailed, not like somebody he had just spanked.
”Never made for bein’ a soldier, were you?” He asked and the question made you want to curl in on yourself.
Fear. Shame.
You were still exposed. Vulnerable.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, lovingly, moving again and his thumb caressed your neck, talking down to you again, without loosening the grip on you, “I’ll take care of you - it's my duty, innit?”
You attempted to shake your head. All that resulted in, was the mess of drool, tears and snot to be smeared upon your cheek.
He hushed you, made a clicking sound with his tongue a couple of times. As if you were the crazy one in this situation. As if you were the insane man inside this office, as if you deserved this. You had barely done anything - in truth, had you ever actually thought of making true of your threats?
As you heard the sound of his belt opening and his zipper being pulled down, you let out a pathetic sound. Weakly attempted to tug on the cuffs, your wrists sore. It was useless, yet you refuse to give up, not yet, just…
There was no preparation.
No warning.
Only pain as Captain John Price forced his cock into your hole, the piercing pain made you kick weakly with your legs, a terrified, pained and long cry left you.
He groaned deeply as he thrusted deeper, forced himself fully inside, ignoring your feeble attempts at fighting. He seemingly had no worries about the possibility of being caught, letting out a deep, pleased moan as he was fully settled inside.
It was just like the sounds he had made in the alleyway behind the pub. Then you had been wetter, welcoming the feeling of his hard member inside your pussy. Your gummy walls had tightened around him from pleasure, not from fear like now.
”Gonna fuck ya’ properly this time, sweetheart ,” he growled, the hand on your neck traveled to the front of your throat and in a harsh movement, he forced you up, back painfully bended, “have to make sure you don’t forget how good I make you feel, haven’t I?”
You shook your head weakly, as tears fell again, unable to stop yourself from crying again. He grinded in deeper and it hurt, it hurt so badly, you were sure you could feel him at your cervix.
“Gonna take care of you,” he repeated, as if delirious, tightening his hand about your throat, making you panic, “teach you not to lie again.”
The hand not around your throat had rested on your hip, kept you still, but now it moved to tap your arm.
Your eyes widened.
Your implant.
”Of course I knew,” he chuckled darkly, leaning forward, forcing you to bend more, ignored your choked cry of pain from the position and from the hand that made it harder to breath, “I knew you hadn’t taken that pill - checked your journal - wasn’t necessary with that little thing in your arm, was it?”
He pulled his member out a little, then thrusted back in hard. You felt lightheaded, unable to escape his clutches, unable to do anything but take what he forced upon you.
Price finally loosened the grip on your throat, but kept his hand on you. You felt high, from the pain and pleasure that you had no other option than to accept.
Your hips and stomach hit the edge of the desk, as every harsh thrust made your body move. His other hand scratched down your back, then pinched your ass, touched all places he could reach, snarling out moans and groans in your ear.
Your back hurt, the position painful, yet the way he hit that nice spot was good as well. You had become wetter, your body reacting to the member inside your body, attempting to make it less painful, to make the coupling easier.
Your pleas were useless. You knew this, yet you didn’t stop, you felt unable to. Even as they were swallowed by the salvia soaked glove and by your rhythmic whimpers from each thrust.
“Can’t hear you,” he crooned darkly, leaning forward, so he could speak closer to your ear, his thrusts somehow hitting even deeper now, “your pussy is too loud.”
The words made your toes curl, because you could hear the wet sound every time his cock thrusted into yours. The rhythmic claps as your skin collided, your poor ass stung with each thrust.
“Don’t worry, pet,” he finally let go of your throat, pushed you down harshly, as both his hands went to your hips, gripping them hard, “we’ll get that lil’ implant out of you - you’ll make me a real daddy.”
It wasn’t a question - he was informing you and the words barely sunk in, before he began to mercilessly fuck you even harder than earlier.
It didn’t take long before your body betrayed you, your orgasm hit out of nowhere, making you scream and trash, especially as he didn’t stop or slow down in any way. He forced you to take it, again and again.
When he finally came, you went limp against the desk, a deep, dark groan leaving him. Like a monster finally having succeeded. You felt the way he came inside you, felt the way the cum came in spurts. He grinded into your cunt a couple of more times, as if to make sure that his seed was deep inside you, growling sounds leaving him.
You were sniffling, body in pain as he finally let go off your hips, no longer fighting.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned, “yeah. We’ll get you pregnant in no time, my lil recruit.” He leant over you, hands rested on each side of your head.
For a while, you couldn’t hear anything but your own, ragged breathing, as well as his panting. He didn’t pull out of you, even though you felt his cock softening.
A soft kiss to your neck.
“Here is what’s gonna happen,” he started, voice still shaking a little as he panted, “Soap ‘n Gaz started packing your things when you stepped into this office again.”
You felt unable to move. You felt gross. Like you were worth nothing. The banknotes in your front pocket didn’t feel like a prize anymore, they were the final nail in your coffin. They were worthless, especially if you wouldn’t be able to return to the military.
A muffled, wet sound left you.
A couple of kisses were pressed against your skin, beard tickling your neck. His cock slid out, too soft to stay inside. Yet he made no effort to move and get off you, instead his weight remained on you.
“Ssssssh, it’s okay,” he murmured, peppering a couple of kisses more, “daddy will take care of everything. You just have to get your pretty ass into my car - Ghost is waiting for you outside, he’ll take you home to me.”
You shook your head, letting out distressed sounds, knowing words were not enough - it seemed like every bone in your body had given up. Decided that enough was enough.
“No no, don’t lie - don’t be stupid, sweetheart. Enough of that. I’ll take care of the paperwork, you won’t have to be in the military and I’ll make sure your stuff is moved to my place - you won’t have to work another day.”
Fresh tears fell from your eyes once more. Another kiss was pressed to your neck.
“We will get married - in a couple of months of course, we can’t be too obvious,” his voice was dreamily, like he had waited for this moment, like it was something he had planned - and he probably had, you realised, he had waited for you to return, to ask for more money, “and you’ll be my pretty wife, waiting for me at home, with all the expensive things you want - you’ll be round and fat with my babies all the time. Always a babe in your stomach and a chubby toddler on your hip.”
A deep and pleased groan left him, like it was his ultimate fantasy. He finally stood up, pulling away. You couldn’t make yourself move, even as you heard him pull up his pants and zip up. Thick fingers ran along your thighs, collecting some of the cum that had slipped out.
He pushed it inside again, just like he had done that night in the alleyway. Opposite to last time, it felt wrong now. The heat inside your body was not in the same way.
“I’ve always wanted at least 4 kids, you know,” he continued casually, bending down to pull up your pants, fixing them as well, as if his cum was not dripping from your cunt, “ and you’re a young lass - we will make it happen, eh?”
You felt his hand on your neck again. You found yourself nodding, finally daring to peek up at him.
“That’s right, pet,” he praised, his fingers moving to untie the scarf and a moment later, he pulled the glove from your mouth. You coughed, greedily taking in deep breaths between each of them, lungs finally filling up properly again. You no doubt looked like a mess, but you couldn’t make yourself care one bit.
His hand caressed your cheek, following the shape of your nose with his fingertip then.
“Yeah… My boys ‘nd I will help you get settled, help you ease into the life of a housewife. Then you won’t have to do anything but focus on makin’ me happy, sweetheart.
You wished this was a drunken dream, a nightmare that had evolved during a hangover. You wanted to turn back time, to never have stepped out to smoke. To not have started to blackmail him at all.
His hands were gentle as he helped you onto your feet, your hands still cuffed behind your back. His lips pressed against your, his beard tickling your skin, a deep growl leaving him as you didn’t open your mouth to let him in.
Stupid. It had been stupid.