The Cigarette

It was Sarani and me at the table, and Wygotzki and Cherkov playing cards by the door, keeping an eye on the dirt track leading up to the cabin. We were waiting for the batch to arrive, but it wouldn't be in for hours. Needless to say, we were bored.

Somehow, we began talking about sex. I don't remember just how it happened, but there I was, laying out the graphic details of my kinky sex life for Sarani. I suppose I was trying to shock her. Like I said, I was bored.

"Kinky girl, huh?"

I shrugged and brought a cigarette to my lips. As I reached for the lighter she grabbed my wrist.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you."

"How else am I going to smoke it?"

"You're not."

"That an order?" I said, arching an eyebrow at her.

Sarani kept her firm grip around my wrist, looking into my eyes. "Do you want it to be?"

My heart skipped a beat. Thing is, Sarani is hot. All lean and sinewy, with small, firm breasts and narrow hips, a flat stomach and abs and biceps to die for. If there was anyone in the group I'd fuck, it'd be her. In a heartbeat.

I looked down at her hand holding my wrist, and then up at her face again, struggling to find a witty retort to her question, one that wouldn't come across as either disinterested or desperate. In the end I opted for silence, but when she released my wrist I took the cigarette out of my mouth and placed it at the table between us as a wordless challenge.

Sarani sipped on her beer, reading the intent in my eyes. I didn't look away. Finally she turned to the two men.

"Wygotzki. You've got the time?"

He glanced at his watch. "Twenty-two hundred. Want me to check in with HQ?"

"Nah. They'll be here when they'll be here. They said midnight, right?"

Wygotski shrugged. "We should be so lucky."

Sarani glanced at the cigarette lying between us, then met my eyes. "You've got a safeword?"

"Jesus."

It made her laugh. She took the cigarette, flipped it over, and stuck it into her breast pocket. "So, want to play?" She might as well have been asking for a beer. Like it was all the same to her.

"Why not?" I said with a shrug, going for the same kind of easy carelessness. "It's not like we've anything better to do."

For a moment the words hung in the air between us. I fiddled with my sleeve, stomach clenching, trying not to think about how much the prospect of a game with her excited me. She leaned forward.

"I've got to warn you, kid. I play rough."

"I like it rough."

"I'll make you cry."

I scoffed. "Good luck."

She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and watching me with a small smile on her lips. "Stand up."

I stood. Her smile grew predatory and my heartbeat picked up. I could feel the wetness growing between my legs.

"You into pain, Nielsen?"

"Yeah," I said, hoarsely.

She beckoned me around table and caressed my cheek with the back of her tanned hand, then grabbed my chin and turned my face up. "Yeah, what, Nielsen?"

"Yeah, ma'am?" I guessed.

She nodded and let go off my chin. I was both relieved and disappointed.

"Do you enjoy being slapped?"

I nodded.

"Want me to hit you?"

I glanced towards Wygotzki and Cherkov, but she'd kept her voice low enough and they didn't seem to have caught on yet. If it were up to me, I'd have taken this game upstairs, but if Sarani didn't mind their presence I had no intention of letting her think that I did.

"Hell yeah," I said.

Again, that smirk. "Ask nicely."

Acutely aware of the guys only a few feet away I straightened my back, looked Sarani square in the eyes and said: "Please hit me, ma'am."

Sarani backhanded me across the face. It wasn't a hard blow, as such things go, but I turned with it, savoring the heat that rushed through me. I heard a curse over by the door, and from the corner of my eye I could see both of the guys staring at us. I touched the burning cheek with my fingertips and grinned at her.

"That all you can do? My last lover was half your size, and even she wouldn't call that hitting."

Cherkov sniggered, and Wygotzki made some wise-ass comment I barely heard. I kept my gaze on Sarani, whose reaction was the only one that mattered. She stood up, towering over me. I saw her pull her hand back and steadied myself.

The blow sent me staggering back against the table. I knocked over a chair that fell to the floor with a crash. "Fuck, boss!" Wygotzki reached out to steady me. "You trying to break her neck?"

I could taste blood in my mouth, mingled with the sharp, metallic taste of fear. I licked my lips, looking up at Sarani.

"Better?" she asked, sarcasm thick in her voice.

"Oh, yes," I said, without a hint of mockery. "Thank you."

"You're fucked up, Nielsen." Wygotzki helped me to my feet and slapped my back. "Get a room."

Sarani grabbed me by the wrist and hauled me towards her. "Let's go upstairs."

***

It was a small room, just two bunk beds and a window. A place to sleep and walk away from, never looking back. A good place for a casual fuck, only there was nothing casual about what Sarani did to me.

She threw me down to the floor in the narrow space between the beds. My training kicked in and I rolled over my shoulder, coming to my feet without thinking.

"Nice." Sarani covered the stretch of floor between us in two steps and grabbed me by the neck. "But when I throw you down, I expect you to stay down." She pushed me down on knees and elbows, rubbing my face against the floor. When she released me I remained as she'd placed me and closed my eyes, listening to her movements.

"It's a shame I don't have my toys here," I heard her say from somewhere above me. "I guess I'll just have to improvise."

The thought of Sarani improvising made my heart beat faster. I counted my breaths until she hauled my up to my knees and slapped my face several times in rapid succession. It was too much too fast and I got scared then, but she placed her face inches away from mine.

"Remember your safeword?"

I stared blankly at her, dazed from the blows.

"You have a safeword, Nielsen," Sarani said, patiently, as if talking to a small child. "Do you remember it?"

I blinked to clear my eyes and nodded.

"Say it."

"Jesus," I said hoarsely.

"Say it again."

I had no idea where she was going with this, but I was not about to object. "Jesus," I said.

"Remember it. From now on, that's the only way for you to stop this. You can scream and beg and cry all you want, but until I hear you call out for your Lord, it won't make a difference. Got it?"

"Yeah," I said. "Got it."

Sarani pulled me to my feet and ordered me to strip. She'd seen me naked a hundred times before, but this time was different. I suddenly felt nervous to stand naked before her, knowing her gaze would follow the curve of my breasts and my belly and the black hair that covered my cunt.

Sarani's going to fuck me.

The thought hit me like a mailed fist in my stomach. My breath caught, my cunt clenched, and I felt all feverish all of a sudden.

I ducked my head to keep her from reading the thought in my eyes, and my gaze fell on her hands. Long, slender fingers, hands coarse and calloused, skin tanned dark from long hours in the sun. Her nails were short and smoothly rounded, well kept, the kind that could go all kinds of sensitive places without tearing or cutting.

I fumbled with my shoelaces, then fumbled with the belt, and all the while Sarani watched me, leaning against the wall, arms crossed under her chest, face giving nothing away. I felt myself flush again, uncertain and embarrassed, and as I put aside the last piece of clothing I had to fight the urge to cover myself up.

She crossed the floor and grabbed the back of my head, kissing me savagely. It was all teeth and tongue and the bites brought tears to my eyes. Her free hand roamed my body, caressing my breasts and belly and sliding over my cunt to feel the wetness there. I groaned into her mouth, touched her arms to steady myself. A stinging slap hit my cunt. I gasped. She shoved me up against the wall and grabbed me around the throat, lifting me until I was balancing on the tips of my toes.

"You don't get to touch me, Nielsen," she growled. "You don't get to do nothing I don't tell you to do. All right?"

I nodded.

A slow smile spread on her lips, sending shivers down my spine. She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest again, tapping her fingers against her arm as she watched me thoughtfully. After a while I had to look away, and from the corner of my eye I could see her smile grow.

"Lick my boots."

She gave the order like a challenge, daring me, and I jerked my head up. My gaze darted from her face to her boots and up again. She watched me steadily, lips curving.

Heat crept up my face as I sank down on my knees before her, awkward and clumsy. Her boots were filthy, covered in caked mud and dust, and there was nothing sexy about it but I did it anyway, tasting dirt and leather on my tongue.

"Good girl," Sarani said.

I flushed with pleasure at the praise, then flushed with shame. I was torn between wanting to please her and wanting to defeat her, prove to her that I was every bit as tough as I'd claimed to be. At least, licking her boots, I didn't have to look her in the eyes.

She lifted my chin with the tip of her boot, then placed her foot against my chest, pushing me up to a kneeling position. "Well, Nielsen. Looks like you'd make a better slave than I thought."

I didn't know whether to be pleased or insulted by her words. I took a breath to mouth off at her, but she put a finger across her lips in a hushing gesture.

"Uh-uh. I decide if you get to speak."

Another arbitrary rule, another wave of fire rushing through me. The blood was pounding through my sex and I needed to feel her on top of me, inside of me.

Sarani crouched before me and reached one hand between my thighs. I gasped as her fingers found my wet slit. She grabbed my hair with her other hand and pulled me up on my knees.

"I'm going to fuck you." She turned my head and forced me to look at her. "You're going to look me in the eyes while I do. Afterwards, you're going to thank me for it, and you're going to lick my fingers clean."

I heard a whimper coming from my own throat. She pushed two fingers inside of me, and her thumb pressed against my clit as she started pumping the fingers in and out. I moaned, biting my lip. Sweat trickled down between my breasts.

"One more thing, Nielsen." She pulled out her fingers and stroke my cunt surprisingly gently. "You don't get to move until I say so. Knees apart. Hands on your head."

I scrambled to obey. It was a demanding position and my knees were already starting to hurt. I licked my lips, trying to hold still and wishing she'd get a move on.

"You like this. Don't you?"

I swallowed and nodded.

"Say it." She was still stroking my cunt, rubbing her knuckles against the slit.

"Fuck you."

She slapped my cunt, making me jump. "I don't fuck brats. Be good, or I'll walk out on you."

I didn't think she would. She liked this too; I could see it in her eyes. But the thought of ending the game now terrified me, and I wasn't about to take any chances.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, looking down. "Sorry, ma'am."

She laughed, a wonderful, throaty sound. "That's more like it." Her hand started roaming across my sex again, slipping a finger inside. "Look me in the eyes."

I did.

The finger was joined by a second, then a third. It took all my concentration to keep from bucking my hips towards her. I bit my lip, trying to swallow the moans and keep still, keep eye-contact. She slipped a fourth finger inside, then slowly curled her hand into a fist. I thought I was going to black out. Sweat pearled on my lip and ran into my eyes and I was breathing heavily, feeling the pleasure building up. Every tiny movement of her hand inside of me sent shocks through my body.

"I never said you had to be quiet," Sarani said.

"I-" I gasped. "I can't-"

She smiled and turned her hand. I threw my head back, gasping. "Oh fuck," I said, "oh fuck," clenching and unclenching my fists behind my head, and she pulled out her hand of me slowly, then began fucking me for real. I forgot about her, forgot her orders, forgot everything but the need growing inside me.

***

"Well?" Sarani said, a little later. I was still on my knees, breathing deeply, trying to steady myself. I felt charged, full of energy and a little shaky, not knowing if I wanted to laugh or cry.

I looked up at her. It took me a moment to figure out what she wanted to hear.

"Thank you," I said. "Ma'am." I wiped the sweat from my face with the back of my hand and laughed shakily.

She arched an eyebrow at me. "You think it's over?"

My stomach clenched again at her words and I had to look away.

"I promised to make you cry. Remember?"

I couldn't help it. I tried to bite it back, but the damn smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Think that's funny, Nielsen?"

"No, ma'am," I said, but my grin grew in anticipation of whatever she had planned. I turned my face away to hide it, but she caught my chin, forcing me to face her.

"I think you do. Think it's all a laugh, don't you, all fun and games?"

"No, ma'am, I-"

"Did I say you could talk?"

I looked up, confused. "I- No, I-"

"Then why the fuck do I keep hearing your voice?"

"Maybe 'cause you keep asking these stupid questions?"

She didn't hit me, like I figured. Didn't speak. Just raised her eyebrows, and I swear the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. She looked at me until I couldn't take it any longer, and then she looked some more.

"Stand up." Her voice was all ice. "Grab the beds."

She took off her belt and ran it through her hands. I watched, mesmerized, knowing what was coming and wanting and fearing it in equal measures.

"What do you think I'm going to do, Nielsen?"

I wet my lips. "Hit me, ma'am."

"That a request?"

I badly wanted to rub my thighs together. "Yes. Please. Ma'am."

"You're going to have to beg a lot prettier than that." She slapped the end of the belt against her open palm; I flinched at the sound of leather on flesh. "Who's in charge here?"

"You are."

"You scared yet?"

"No."

She swung the belt in the air towards me. I flinched.

"Liar."

Sarani stepped up real close to me. Her scent was intoxicating, all leather and sweat and something else, something unmistakably her. She ran the end of the belt down between my breasts, over my belly, avoiding my cunt to caress the inside of my thighs. I might have whimpered. I couldn't figure out whether to pull back or arch towards her.

"I'm going to hurt you." The belt moved up again, tickling my side, my ribs, the sensitive skin underneath my arms. I swallowed thickly. The metal bars were getting slippery under my sweaty palms. "You may scream. If you want to. But I'd rather you didn't. Show me how tough you are, why don't you?" She took a step back, coiling the belt around her hand. "Now. Beg."

I begged. She made as if she wasn't even listening, absently running her fingers over the leather as she examined my body. So I just kept right on, telling her everything I thought she might want to hear, pretty as please, how much I wanted it, needed it, how good I'd be, how I'd make it worth her while, oh, yes, ma'am, I would.

The first lash cut me off mid-sentence as it hit me hard across my thighs. It was sharp, vicious and without pleasure, and suddenly I believed every word about her hurting me, and I mean hurting, for real. I clutched the bed frames hard to keep from screaming, throwing my head back and clenching my teeth.

For the second lash, she made me wait until the tension was so thick I almost cracked under it. I could hear my own ragged breaths, taste the acid fear in my mouth. Every time she shifted, I winced. When it finally came it felt like mercy, and then the strokes fell on me like soft summer rain, light and rapid, making my skin tingle.

I might have laughed. I might have cursed her. The intensity picked up, harder, faster, and then I was floating, falling, out of my body and out of myself. It was glorious, every blow pushing me higher, further, my head spinning.

The slap across my face came out of nowhere. Wasn't hard, as such things go. The room shifted back into focus, the beds, me, Sarani. It hit me like a bucket of icy water over my head, and something cracked somewhere. Don't know how to describe it. Felt like a fucking switch being thrown in my head; one moment everything was bliss and glory, and then I was crying like a fucking baby, having never felt so lost and so miserable.

Sarani, the bitch, just tilted her head and looked at me with that self-satisfied little smirk on her lips, the unspoken "told you so" thick in the air between us.

So I hit her.

Or actually, I tried to hit her. She caught my wrist easily enough, and instead of shoving me away she pulled me into a rough embrace, pressing me towards her, rocking me and murmuring nonsense in my ear. Just made the crying worse, I can tell you that.

I don't know how long we stood like that, her hugging me towards her, me fighting to hit her and fighting to get away and fighting to hold on and calling her all kinds of vicious names, cursing her in every single way I'd ever heard and some that I probably made up on the spot and wouldn't repeat now if my life depended on it.

Eventually I stopped crying. There was this strange calm, that lasted for all about ten seconds, until I remembered where I was, and with whom, and what a fool I'd made of myself.

I began to pull away, opening my mouth to apologize.

"No," Sarani said, her voice gentle, but leaving no doubt as to who was in charge here.

"I don't-"

She pushed me back far enough to look at me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet her gaze. "You want to safeword out of it?"

It's funny how the body works. Two seconds earlier, hot kinky sex had been the furthest thing from my mind, but with one simple question she made it all come back to me. Like some damned quick-start button. I felt my body respond, instantly, to the threat and the challenge.

I looked at her hands. At the belt on the floor. Then into her eyes again, and realized there was no way, no way I was going to let her win this thing, no way I was going to be the one to call quits. I hadn't even got to taste her. I wanted to taste her so bad I could feel it in my mouth.

"No, ma'am," I said, a little hoarser than I would have wanted.

"That means you do what I say." She stood up. I began to join her but she pointed at the floor and said: "Stay."

God, I wish it didn't turn me on like it did. So I stayed on the floor like a well-trained dog and watched as she pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it on the bed. Underneath she wore a plain black sports bra that flattened her chest, making it look almost boyish. She reached for the fly of her worn blue jeans, then paused and looked at me.

"Would you like to show me how good you can be?"

I nodded.

"You know what I want from you. Don't make me repeat myself."

"Yes, ma'am. Please, ma'am. I'd like to. Please."

"All right." She crossed her hands over her chest. "Take off my shoes."

I noticed my hands were shaking as I loosened the laces. She lifted her feet, one at a time, and I pulled off the shoes as gently as I could, blushing as I remembered how I'd been down here just a little while ago, licking them at her orders.

If the guys ever learned about this, I'd never live it down.

"Put your hands on your back."

She used her belt to restrain me, then stood back again to watch.

"You look good like that. Girl like you is clearly wasted on her feet."

Just when I'd thought I couldn't feel more shamed. What do you even say to something like that? I opened my mouth, then shut it again, looking down. Feeling oddly flattered and humiliated at the same time.