Service Days
by Sir Richard

Chapter 2 - The Assignment


I was a very happy man, both with my assignment and with Cathy. If things were up to me they could have gone on that way for quite a while. The Corps, however, has a way of changing things with little or no notice. During the day, instead of going through the scheduled change of command ceremony, I was told to report to the office of the Commandant. Now this is big stuff. He is the top Marine, lots of stars on his shoulders, sits on the Joint Chiefs and never asks to see a Second Lieutenant. What was worse when I got to his office I was ushered in immediately.

He looked at me for about ten seconds and said, "You are to return to your quarters where you and your significant other will have a very strange visitor. He will identify himself as `Major Smith' and give you a card with only his name and a telephone number. You are to listen carefully to what he has to say. After he leaves you will think about his proposal. Before 1700 you are to call this office on this number (he handed me his personal card). You are to identify yourself and ask for me personally. You will then advise me if you have decided to accept the assignment he will have offered you."

"If you decide not to accept, you will report back here Wednesday and will go through the Change of Command Ceremony and you will continue on with your duties. There will be no repercussions. You will not speak of Major Smith, or of what he tells you, to anyone."

"If you decide to accept the assignment, you will advise him at the number he will have given you, and follow his instructions. I will cover changing the records and finding your replacement with as little attention as possible at this end. I can ensure you that accepting this assignment will not adversely impact your career in any manner, and at the termination of the assignment you will be able to return to the Corps with grade and service credits intact."

"Lieutenant, you are dismissed."

I went home in something of a daze only to find Cathy home as she had no class until late in the day. I told her what had transpired. We agreed that it was pretty apparent that `Major Smith' was some sort of agent and that he wanted me to do something but what was unclear.

Several hours later the mysterious Major Smith arrived. He was dressed in a brown civilian suit and was medium height and slightly overweight. His face was round with no particular distinguishing features and he had a receding hairline. In fact he was so ordinary that you would have a hard time describing him.

We sat in the living room and I asked him if he wanted Cathy to leave. He indicated that he had no problem if she remained. Then he told us about a ring of slave traders that was kidnapping eastern European women and girls. They were bound, shipped and smuggled into the United States. Once here, they were kept in chains and trained as sex slaves and ultimately sold to wealthy people who could afford the benefits of having one or more slave girls at their beck and call. What happened to these poor women was often beyond description and from time to time one of their bodies would be found, apparently as the result of excessive S&M play. To emphasize his point he spread some pictures on the coffee table of badly whipped and mutilated female bodies, some of them looking quite young.

Major Smith indicated that he wanted me to go to San Francisco posing as a wealthy playboy and make the rounds of the S&M clubs there. He explained that the public clubs that I would first penetrate were largely expensive bars for tourists and for masters, mistresses and slaves who only played at the lifestyle. There were acts performed but they were mostly simulated because the clubs were known to and from time to time were monitored by the police. The acts included simulated punishments and sex acts for the benefit of the tourists. Certainly there were some outrageous costumes and chains in use but it was all by consent of the participants and was kept under observation by the management to avoid problems with the local authorities. It was, he said, like sex in strip clubs. There might be a prostitute operating in one from time to time but for the most part it was just a promise of more.

Some of these establishments had private rooms in the back where masters and mistresses could take their slave for private punishment. The idea was that if I hung around long enough I would become familiar to the people on the fringes of the lifestyle and gain their confidence. I might even be invited to join them in the back rooms to witness whatever they were going to do, as humiliation often formed part of the punishments and having other people observe was a useful technique.

As these friendships were established I would try to learn of other, private S&M clubs and try to get an invitation to them. At these latter clubs the S&M was heavier and darker and the shows were rarely staged. These clubs were extremely secretive and had high admission costs. They depended on avoiding the law so they were very selective of members.

Once there I was to join in by watching and, if possible, participating in the activities until I was, more or less, a regular. Then, and only then, I was to let it slip that it would be nice to purchase a slave girl. If the hint was picked up I was to go ahead with the purchase and then to contact the Major. Using the knowledge obtained they would interrogate the vendors and try to roll up the entire ring.

I asked how I could fit in, much less participate, unless I had a female agent with me posing as a slave. The Major hemmed and hawed about the fact that they were trying to locate a female agent to play that role. He talked about a female FBI agent who had had considerable experience with B&D but apparently she had retired and gone off to live in a compound in the northwest somewhere.

At that point Cathy spoke up. "What about me? I could play a slave girl and we already know quite a bit about each other."

The Major brightened up at her remark and said, "Well, that would be an interesting possibility."

"Not on you life," I said. "Cathy has had no training and no weapons or fighting experience. Even if she had, fooling around with a ring of cutthroats like this is dangerous and I am not putting Cathy in danger."

"Wait a minute Mike. You think it is OK if you go off and put yourself in danger but I should stay home and learn to knit?"

"No Cathy, but…"

"But nothing, buster. I care about those women just as much as you do, maybe more. I fight for the causes I believe in. Or have you forgotten that?"

"Ahem," interrupted the Major, "perhaps if we took a couple of weeks we could put Cathy through an FBI hand-to-hand combat course at Quantico. I happen to know that one is beginning later this week. You could spend the time studying what we know of this slavery ring and study up on basic BDSM. And having Cathy along would solve the problem you spoke of earlier."

"Look Cathy, I am not being a chauvinist. It's just that I really care about you and I don't want to risk you."

"The hell you're not. That is exactly what you are being. Besides I don't think I would be in much risk if I was with you."

"But Cathy…"

"But nothing, Mike. I don't know if you want to do this or not. You have to consider the plusses and minuses and we can talk things out before you decide. But there is one thing you have to understand, if you go, I go."

"Major, when do you need our answer?" she asked, cutting off further discussion.

"I realize I'm pushing you, both of you, but I would like your answer tonight."

"That's no problem. Mike has to let the Commandant know by 1700 and we will get to you right after that call."

"1700?" asked the Major.

"I'm sorry, by 5 PM tonight. We will call you just after that," Cathy said.

The Major stood and moved towards the door. "I hope you accept. These are very nasty people and your government really wants to break up this ring." He let himself out.

I turned to Cathy to try to talk her out of this idea of acting the part of my slave but she just waved her hands and said, "No time for that now. We have some serious stuff to discuss. I assume you know that that guy isn't a Major and his name isn't Smith. This whole nonsense about a female agent was a set up to get me to volunteer."

"I agree about the Major. No military man in the world doesn't understand the 24 hour clock and you are probably right about the name but how did you get set up? You were the one who spoke up."

"Oh please, he has a super secret mission so confidential that you have to be told about it at home but your girlfriend of three or four days gets to sit in on the briefing. Then too he was all prepared with the FBI hand-to-hand combat course, which he just happened to know was starting in a few days. The whole damn thing was designed to suck me in. That much is obvious."

Perhaps it was obvious to Cathy and now that she had explained it to me it made sense but I hadn't figured it out until she told me.

"No, the part I don't get is how did he pick us for a BDSM assignment? It couldn't have been the hotel because he didn't know that we would have the room. Then the last few days we were in a brand new apartment and I don't think he could have moved fast enough to bug us. In any case why would he? We are not known players, we are both green newcomers. I don't think he is going around randomly bugging officer's apartments in the hopes that he finds someone playing around the B&D lifestyle."

I thought about it for a few minutes and said, "There is one other possibility but I don't much like the idea."

Cathy looked at me and said, "Tom and Sally?" She is a pretty sharp lady.

I picked up the telephone and dialed Tom's number. When I got through I asked "Tom, did you by any chance mention Cathy and me to a Major Smith?" He took several seconds to think of how to reply but the pause was enough to convince me.

"Mike…" he began.

I interrupted him saying, "Never mind Captain. I have my answer. Good day sir."

He barked into the telephone, "G-d d-m it, don't give me that yes sir no sir shit. This isn't what it seems. Are you at the apartment now?"

"Yes sir," I responded.

"Good. Stay there. I will get Sally and we will be down there in about an hour. Both of you stay put and keep from leaping to conclusions." Tom slammed the telephone down and I told Cathy the gist of the conversation.

While we waited for their arrival we argued the pros and cons of accepting the assignment. The slavers were pretty clearly scum of the earth and people we wanted to bring down. The mission was obviously backed by pretty senior people and offered an interesting challenge. Still the entire thing was cloaked in falsehood and lies – even to the fact that the people we thought of as our best friends had set us up. In addition not having normal troop leadership experience on my record wouldn't help my career no matter what the Commandant had said.

The doorbell rang and Cathy let in a somber Tom and Sally (or rather Captain and Lieutenant Ames, as I was thinking of them at the time).

"Have you figured it out yet?" Captain Ames asked.

"Yes, I think so," Cathy answered.

This was news to me but Cathy had already showed that she had a quicker and sharper analytical mind than I did so I just sat there and watched them talk.

"You guys had volunteered to take this mission hadn't you? Then Sally got pregnant and that made it impossible."

"Yeah, morning sickness and ball gags don't make a good combination. We'd been training for this thing for weeks and now we had to scrub. We are very happy Sally is pregnant, but hadn't thought it would happen with a timing that would prevent us from completing out mission."

"So you gave them our names," Sally said.

The mission isn't any less valid just because we can't do it. We didn't know Sally was pregnant till Sunday and then confirmed it Monday. You will recall you two were demonstrating a certain "joie de vivre" with bondage on Sunday. When we had to back out on Monday they asked who we thought could handle this assignment. Yes, we gave them your names but only your names with no explanation. We couldn't alert you. If you didn't take the mission the less you knew the better."

"Mike, I know you may be angry but we wouldn't have given them your name if we didn't think you could do it. Sally and I have seen the files on this and these people are very nasty types. They are into slavery and involuntary bondage enforced by sadism and occasional murder. It seems to me the question to focus on isn't how did we get here; but am I going to do it, and if so, how to proceed from here?"

"Tom I understand what you are saying but I am uncomfortable with this entire lash up. I don't trust that Major Smith as far as I can throw him. Further, now the decision isn't mine alone. Smith got Cathy all lathered up and now she thinks she has go. I am not happy with that."

Cathy and Tom responded in unison, "This is not about your happiness."

That sort of broke the ice and we all laughed but it wasn't a hearty laugh.

Tom said, "I agree with you about Smith. He is on the side of the good guys but he clearly has his own agenda. I wouldn't trust him to be there if you get into trouble. Can I assume you have decided to do it?"

"Oh, hell! He will do it. How the hell can a hero not respond to a distress call?" Cathy responded.

Sally looked at her and said, "Look this is going to be a lot tougher on you than on him. You will have to both play parts but yours goes against a lot of who and what you are. I know you are a natural submissive in the bedroom but you are also a bright articulate woman in most things and you are going to have to play a 24/7 submissive, at least in public."

"You may be absolutely right but you can't argue or even express strong contrary opinions until you get to some safe location. You have to play a full-time submissive with downcast eyes, closed mouth and all. In fact it might be best if he kept you gagged whenever you are out of your safe house."

"You will have to get used to doing all sorts of things with your hands bound and your ankles shackled. As you move into the scene you will have to put up with all sorts of uncomfortable and even invasive things done to your body. You won't be allowed modesty or even a hint of reluctance and any failure to obey will call for punishment; painful punishment. If he is going to fit into the S&M scene he is going to have to be mean and sadistic towards you. Are you sure you are up to being treated like that?"

Cathy looked sober when she answered, "No, I am not really sure I am up to all of that. But I do know that I want to be with my master and try to help him with this. It's probably heavier than I want our long-term relationship to be, but I think I will be able to handle it as long as we have to. I don't really see what choice I have. I've fallen in love with the guy."

Tom looked at me and said, "We have a couple of problems. First you need to get up to speed both on the criminal files and on the BDSM scene in general. Secondly we have to get Cathy some defensive training. Third you both need to get comfortable with some of the toys and some of the punishments, including, unfortunately, some of the frequent ways to cause pain and humiliate. Finally we need to come up with some backup just in case the Major isn't responsive if you need help in a hurry."

"Major Smith offered to get Cathy into an FBI unarmed combat course and give me time to go over the files. I don't know what to do other than web surf on BDSM. Do you think there are clubs in this area?" I asked.

>"Probably, but we will have to check it out. Also we can probably get Smith to come up with cash enough to buy some restraints for practice," responded Tom. "That still leaves the toughest part, what about backup? Remember the less people involved in this the better."

"I like the part about practicing with the restraints," I said. "I have been seriously considering gagging Cathy for some time now."

Her eyebrows went up and I was certain she had a smart remark for me and my poor attempt at humor, but she just said, "Yes, master." Sally smiled and nodded approvingly.

I turned back to Tom and asked, "What do you know about a Gunnery Sergeant named Pete Johnson? He was supposed to be my platoon gunny at 8th and I. We got off to a bit of a rough start but after I passed him the word he was both helpful and knowledgeable."

"I used to know a buck sergeant called Pete Johnson down at Camp Le Jeune. He was a good man. If it is the same guy he would be a good choice. Do you think we could bring him in without spilling all the beans and see if he works well with Cathy and yourself?"

"He already knows that I was supposed to take over the platoon. When it doesn't happen he will know something is up. It would be better to get him inside where we can keep an eye on him. Suppose we get him detached from normal duties to `supplement' Cathy's hand-to-hand training? We know damn well he is qualified for that and we can see how he acts before we give him all of the dope."

Tom recapped, "OK, let's see where we are. We jointly call the Commandant and tell him you want to do the job but are worried about Smith's hidden agenda. The commandant has been in enough political battles in Washington to understand that presumed allies may have different objectives."

"We suggest Johnson be detached to us for the duration so that he doesn't speculate about you sudden disappearance. We will use him to make certain Cathy is as in shape and ready as can be in a couple of weeks. We may also want to have him go to the coast to provide a dependable backup so you don't have to be totally at Smith's mercy but the decision on that will come after a few weeks."

"You call Smith and tell him you are a go and ask him to schedule the FBI training and to set up a time for you to get the files. You don't mention Sally, Pete Johnson or me to Smith."

"Sally you can get busy on basic B&D and S&M reading for Mike and Cathy. I will scout out some `adult' shops where we can buy some gear and some local clubs where we can expose them to some of the milder public aspects of the lifestyle. Mike you will come with me when we go shopping so you can see the displays of stuff we are not going to buy. At least you will have some idea of what is what. Are we all agreed?"

I don't actually remember ever having said yes I would do it but I wasn't going to slow things down. I made the call to the Commandant and told him that I was with Captain Ames. Things went pretty much as we had discussed and the Commandant was very sympathetic to my concerns about Smith. He agreed we could borrow the Gunny. He also suggested that we sign out side arms and whatever other gear we thought we might need. He said that he wanted Tom to be liaison from me to him. Tom and I were to get secure cell phones and if necessary work out a code. I was to keep Tom informed and Tom was to brief the Commandant at least once a week but more often if necessary.

Tuesday Night

Cathy was a little nervous about learning her role so she wanted to start practicing whenever we could. I, of course, had no objection to Cathy being submissive in all aspects and all the time. I suggested that in our new roles I would be able to clean out the medicine cabinet. That got a flash of fire in her eyes but a meek "Yes sir" in response. Of course I didn't bother to do it. That would have been work. The fun was in making Cathy submit to my authority to do it if I chose.

At the same time I didn't want to lose the benefit of that keen mind. I made it clear to her that if she saw problems or better ways do things she was to wait until we were alone, but then to bring them up. I did not want to screw up by being too stupid to listen to my bright, submissive, Cathy.

We lay in bed that evening and talked about many things. I was concerned about Tom and Sally giving our names to the Major, but after Cathy and I talked it out, I felt better about it. We talked about the changes I would have to make. No automatic sir and ma'am, no 24-hour clock, no measuring distance in klicks (kilometers). Even my posture would have to become less stiff, my walk more relaxed or as Cathy put it "Walk, don't march. Amble, don't storm the objective."

I would even have to start thinking in civilian terms, no mission, just the job to be done.

Cathy would, of course have the worst of it. I asked her how she would feel in skimpy outfits and chains and later perhaps in nothing but cuffs and high heels.

"I think I can handle the exposure as long as you are near me. In any case once you chain me I won't have much choice will I? You know I can understand the chains and the exposure. It's kind of what we do, if perhaps a bit more public and a bit more extreme. It's the sort of stuff that we might have eventually gotten to on our own. What I don't get is people who get off on pain. That seems very weird to me."

"Don't be so judgmental," I said, "as long as it is between two consenting adults then it's `different strokes for different folks.' In fact you have even been turned on by mild pain."

"What? You are out of your mind…sir. When did that ever happen?"

"How about when I ran your leg up over your head at the demonstration. That was probably pretty uncomfortable, yet you got turned on." I could see she wasn't convinced so I went on "And how about the other night when I spanked you until your buns were bright red. That hurt didn't it?"

>"Yeah but…"

"But me…no buts my little one. Don't tell me you weren't turned on. When I slid into you, you were positively gushing. We may have to get someone to clean the spots on the back of the couch."

"Oh god, am I a pain slut?"

"Let's not go to extremes. It's a matter of degree. It's like the old joke about the guy who offers the pretty girl a million dollars to sleep with him."

She had a puzzled look in her eyes and made a go on motion with her chin. Of course that made her breasts jiggle a bit, and that in turn distracted me for several minutes while I used my mouth to ensure that her lovely breasts wouldn't be damaged by excessive motion. I worked at that for several minutes until her appreciative purring told me that she was safe if somewhat aroused. I continued the old, old joke.

"The girl decides that a million is a lot of money and says yes. The guy then asks how about for only twenty bucks. `Twenty bucks,' says the girl, `what do you think I am?' He replies, `We have already determined that, now all we are doing is negotiating price.'"

"You see what I am saying. You are not a `pain slut' but a certain amount of pain, as when I spank you, can be stimulating as well as painful. The people who you called weird because they liked pain may just have a different level at which the pain is pleasurable. Our job isn't to judge them for what they are doing, it is to be certain that it is really consensual."

"I guess you're right sir. It's just taking me a little while to assimilate all of this. I guess you older masters have more experience and a more tolerant attitude."

I raised an eyebrow at this and said, "Insolent little slave girls get punished." I rolled over on top of her and tickled her ribs for a few minutes. Then I kissed her and forgot all about any insolence. Like the country and western song says, "I had better things to do."

It was some time later as we both relaxed side by side and regained our breath when she said, "By the way sir, I did notice that when you spanked my butt the other night you were hard and as ready as I was."

"Good observation. It was arousing. Although I didn't want to injure you, having and exercising that much control did turn me on. Of course I'm always pretty much turned on by you. I wonder how I would be with a harem of nubile slave subbies?" I said as my thought drifted off into daydreams.

Cathy's face grew grim as she brought me back to reality. She rolled over on top of me and looked me in the eyes and said, "Semper fi, sir."

Now `Semper fi' is a common greeting between people in the Corps. It is a contraction of our Latin motto which, roughly translated, means `Always Faithful'. By using it Cathy was very cleverly reminding me of my obligations. She had been sweet and submissive but she got her point across. Lord I loved that woman. I did the only thing I could and looked back into her eyes, grinned, and said "Semper fi, Cathy." She smiled and leaned down for a kiss.

We didn't talk much about anything with a bearing on the mission (I mean on the job) after that, although we did have a very nice evening. Later as I drifted off to sleep I couldn't help thinking that I was spending more time in bed and less time drinking beer since Cathy had come into my life; probably healthy changes for a Marine.

Training Days

I am not going to bore you with a blow-by-blow account of each day as it happened.

Suffice it to say that Cathy dropped out of school and began training with the FBI in hand-to-hand fighting. I gathered that the FBI trainees were used to agency people piggy backing on parts of their courses so they didn't pay Cathy too much attention. Of course with a commute to Quantico and back every day she had my car while I used taxi cabs to get around DC. The Major offered to find housing at Quantico for Cathy. We declined saying the less time she spent down there outside of actual class time the better for maintaining a secure (secret) operation. I'm sure the Major thought it was because I wanted my girl friend in my bed each night but raised no objections.

While the Major was partly right, there was another reason to have Cathy back at the apartment each day. I wanted Pete Johnson to have time to work on building Cathy's strength and endurance as well as covering more advanced fighting techniques. I don't know which reason was more important but the effect was the same. Every morning Cathy drove to Quantico, spent the morning in the FBI class and then drove home. In the afternoons she went to the civilian gym with Pete and he acted as her personal trainer. After a session at the gym he and she went jogging. Most days I was able to join them.

As it turned out Pete was also kept busy chasing away the macho gym rats that tried to hit on Cathy. He was less successful with the females in the gym who wanted to hit on him and wound up with a relatively large list of names and phone numbers. Cathy teased him unmercifully about them in the evenings but when it got too bad he would just announce something like "Two more reps on the exercises starting tomorrow," or "Another half mile on the jog from now on."

Of course he was too good a professional to push her along too fast but he managed to make it seem as though he was doing it in retribution for her teasing.

Pete actually turned out to be a very good choice for the job (you thought I was going to say mission, didn't you). He was the guy Tom had remembered from Le Jeune and after our little heart to heart when we first met he'd warmed up to me. Things were a little touchy the first day. All he was told was to report to a certain off post apartment in sweats.

He was confused when Cathy opened the door and said, "Oh you must be Gunny Johnson, come in please."

He mumbled something in a confused tone of voice like "Yes ma'am," and came into the room. Then he saw me, came to and barked, "Reporting as ordered sir." It took a couple of minutes and some of Cathy's most charming smiles to get him to relax.

At that point we hadn't decided if he was the right guy for the backup assignment because we didn't know if he would be OK working with me in an undercover assignment. All we told him that he was on a special TDY (temporary duty) assignment reporting to me. He was to report to the apartment in civilian dress each day around noon (about when Cathy got back from Quantico). He would lunch with us and then take Cathy to a civilian gym where he was to work on building her strength. Then they were to go jogging with the intent of building her stamina. Eventually he would get involved in improving her hand-to-hand combat skills but that was to wait for a week or so as she absorbed whatever skills the FBI taught at its course in Quantico.

After Tom had met with Pete and me and verified that Pete was indeed the man he'd thought he was, I decided to level with him. We were only three or four days into the program but he had slipped into his role very efficiently with no sign of resentment. I knew that he must have had a dozen questions but he never let being kept in the dark affect his attitude. With Tom vouching for him and Cathy liking him I took him aside one evening and told him the entire story.

Pete didn't have to consider for a long time. He wanted in. With him on the inside we were able to include him on the briefings and the BDSM research. I was pleased, as he was the sort of stand-up guy who you could trust with your life. He appreciated being included on all of the planning. I told him that he had to forget ranks and call me Mike. No more sir and ma'am and no more aye-aye. I also told him no more haircuts. We were both going to get shaggy enough to comb.

I asked him how he was fixed for civilian clothes and he responded, "Well, you know sir. I have a couple of pair of jeans, some running shoes and a couple of Hawaiian shirts." I wasn't much better off although I had managed to avoid the Hawaiian shirts. I told him we would go shopping the next morning when Cathy was at Quantico.

"Change of plans, guys," sang out Cathy, "you guys know exactly how to fasten an EG&A to a uniform collar but don't have a clue about how to match slacks, sport shirts and sport coats or what necktie (that's field scarf to you jar heads) goes with what shirt and suit. I bet you haven't even thought about shoes."

"Cathy, we have dress oxfords."

"Oh sure, spit-shined lace up oxfords with nice thick soles that click as you walk. That will either make everyone know you are in service or make them believe you are undercover cops. Your running shoes are probably OK, but you need some slip-on leather shoes. Once you get them you'll have to wear them every day to work in creases and scuffs but don't either of you touch a can of polish. You will also need to buy some sweat clothes that don't have USMC blazed on the chest and down the leg."

Pete and I looked at each other. I said, "Correction Pete, we will go shopping tomorrow afternoon after Cathy gets home from Quantico."

Actually we did get a good set of civilian clothes for each of us. We each came back with one good suit, three dress shirts, two neckties, a pair of khaki slacks and a pair of light wool slacks, three sport pullovers, a leather belt and a sport coat. A blue blazer for Pete and a wool hounds tooth check for me. Cathy was fast and decisive as we tried things on and it all got done in one afternoon. Pete said he felt like his mom was getting him ready to go to school. I knew how he felt.

In fact the only problem came when I told the clerk to ring up his stuff and my stuff on separate bills even though it was all going on my credit card. She almost refused until I reminded her that if she couldn't handle our billing requirements we could just go to some other store to do our shopping. She straightened out the bill. On the way home I said we could give my bill to the Major but since he didn't know about Pete we would have to get creative with that bill.

Cathy had us start wearing our clothes daily and changing into suits and ties each evening so that we would 'wear the new off'. She also took them to the laundry and dry cleaners several times, using different stores each time. The Major choked a bit at the size of the bill for my stuff but agreed that it was a necessary expense, even though he did think he could have found cheaper places to shop. At one point he brandished the bill and said "My suit cost less than this one."

Cathy gave him a withering look and simply said, "Obviously!"

I knew we had made the right choice when Pete got comfortable enough to tease Cathy back by flirting with her in front of me. One night when Cathy was teasing him about his list of hot women from the gym, he said, "Why, they are all second choice. It's really you I should be after. What do you see in this butter bar? You deserve a real man, like a gunnery sergeant."

I smiled and shook my head, actually pleased that Pete was comfortable enough with me to call me butter bar while I was in the room. This was not something a gunny would normally do. Neither of us had, however, reckoned with Cathy. She said "Why gunnery sergeant, you say the sweetest things." She spoke in an exaggerated southern accent and as she said it she plopped down in his lap. Pete instantly popped up dumping her square on her butt on the floor with a thump.

He was about to humiliate himself with an apology when I waved him back down and said, "Relax, Pete, she is just teasing. Something you would think she had learned not to do to Marines by now."

Cathy rose rubbing her butt laughing and said, "You two guys must have gone to the same school on what to do about teasing."

At times I was overwhelmed by the plethora of materiel available on B&D and S&M. I remember telling Cathy and Pete that you could spend months just talking about gags. There were ball gags, bit gags, penis gags, brank gags, ring gags, pump-up gags, and head harnesses. That didn't include cloth gags or scarf gags often referred to as cleave gags. Then there were variations of each; a ball gag could be a solid ball (which was probably made of rubber but not always) a foam ball (that expanded to fill the mouth) or a whiffle ball that blocked speech but let air in and screams out. Then there could be variations. Ball gags could have a tube for feeding and liquids. Some penis gags had testicles that could be filled and squeezed, some were soft rubber, and some were hard plastic.

The lists went on and on. This was a very innovative group of people. There were handcuffs, ankle cuffs, toe cuffs and thumb cuffs. The handcuffs might have a swivel with no links, no swivel at all, a few links like the police used, a longer chain or not even be together. They could be attached to a belt, linked to ankle hobbles or fastened to a waist belt, to thigh cuffs, etc. Cuffs came in metal with a shiny finish, in blue steel or in black. Then there were cloth cuffs with Velcro fasteners, leather cuffs in various sizes, with and without chains and D rings, lined or unlined, fastened with a lock through a hasp or a roller buckle, etc.

All of that didn't cover collars (with and without D rings, posture, less than full posture or more normal widths, made of various materials from decorative to serious restraint devices), arm binders, single legs, corsets, yokes and some of the more innovative metal restraint devices. And we hadn't touched on body harnesses, suspension rigs, dildos (different shapes, vibrating or not, battery powered or plug in) to say nothing of footwear, electrical devices, butterfly vibrators, larger vibrators, chastity belts, cock rings, testicle stretchers. Then there were paddles, whips, crops, canes, floggers, tawse and cats.

The more I surfed the web the more variations I found. In the end we decided to focus on a few of the more common devices and have study sessions with what pictures I could download of the others so that Cathy, Pete and I would at least be more or less familiar with the more stringent and esoteric devices in theory.

We did the same sort of familiarity sessions on furniture like devices (frames, Saint Andrew's crosses, stocks, pillory's, cages (cells, transport cages, dog-sized cages, foam lined boxes, etc.), whipping benches, various chairs with holes or little or no bottom). We talked about blindfolds, earplugs, hoods of various types, sensory deprivation and mummification.

After some discussion we agreed that consensual bondage probably meant some understanding of the slave's limits. With that in mind Cathy and I sat down to discuss many fetishes that were often associated with S&M but not necessarily a part of it. I reasoned that playing in the lifestyle might mean public acts but it didn't mean sharing your slave.

Cathy and I talked about her `servicing' another woman. She thought she would be OK with it if the other woman was clean and reasonably attractive. If the other woman was gross or very old she could probably get through it, but she wouldn't enjoy it. We decided to rule out (as best as the situation would allow) scat and water sports. Forced enemas and anal sex were something we would have to try in preparation for the job. Gags, tight bondage and (more or less) public nudity were things in our training plans.

An Interlude and Changing Rooms

One day the three of us were shopping in a nearby supermarket when we ran into the attractive older woman (more or less Pete's and my age) who had been the organizer at the demonstration. Of course she and Cathy knew each other so they got into a conversation. Cathy introduced her as Miss Wilkinson, one of her professors. She laughed and said that we were out of class now and to call her Linda.

Of course Linda recognized me as the `fascist pig' who'd chained her to the fence and wondered if I was still in the service. It was unlikely that we would ever run into her on the west coast, but then what were the chances of meeting someone who had known me as a Marine Gunnery Sergeant a year ago in Norfolk? I knew the Major was working up a cover story with me as a rich playboy but it seemed impossible to have gone from the one to the other in a little over a year so I improvised another story.

I told Linda that I had won a lottery, left the service and used my winnings to set up a manufacturing company based in San Francisco. > We did most of the actual manufacturing in a maquiladora along the border in Mexico. We had begun making parts for the high tech industry but had diversified and now made sub assemblies for the auto and large appliance industries as well.

Linda noted how she might have expected someone like me to exploit cheap Mexican labor. Since I wanted to keep her diverted along the lines of this nonsense story I made a quite passionate defense of my (imaginary) factories. I explained how bad unemployment was in Mexico and what little work that existed was hot, sweaty and dirty with little pay and no benefits. My factories (I think I had grown my imaginary empire to six large plants) were air-conditioned, took advantage of the intelligent, if uneducated, workers' dexterity and paid them six times better wages than Mexican employers. I also provided (in this made up world) medical and dental benefits and had day care space at each plant.

Cathy chimed in explaining that she and I were a couple now (certainly true) and that we were back east visiting Pete, my east coast marketing manager (certainly false). We were staying at his apartment while we were back east and just stocking the larder for a few meals. So far so good. Then Cathy did something that had me wishing she was already wearing a gag. She invited Linda, with whom she had been friendly, to join us for a meal. My hopes soared when Linda said she was busy that evening but were immediately dashed when she suggested the next night. Despite my frantic pinches and pokes behind her back, Cathy cheerfully agreed and they set up a time.

We completed the shopping and headed back to the apartment where I was planning to strangle Cathy. No that would be too quick. Perhaps I could flay her alive and then boil her in oil.

When we got home I rounded on Cathy and asked her what the hell she thought she was doing. Cathy said that since she and Linda had been good chums going to demonstrations, collecting signatures for various causes, and generally hanging around together outside of class it would have appeared suspicious or even furtive if she hadn't invited Linda. I pointed out that we had all sorts of confidential files on the slavery ring (although, in truth most of it was conjecture with little hard evidence) and that we had bundles of very graphic downloads of bondage gear and about the lifestyle as we were now calling it.

She calmly pointed out that the downloads had served their purpose and could be destroyed. We could always download again if we needed one for reference and the confidential files could be in locked briefcases that were no more suspicious than any confidential business data. I must say it is infuriating when you work up a good lather and go off on a rant and the love of you life, your significant other, in this case your sweet submissive little slave girl destroys you in a calm logical manner. I think women must enjoy doing that. Unfortunately Cathy was correct. It was time to clean up the stacks of files and downloads anyway.

Pete who had been as angry as I was had very cleverly stayed out of the argument (if that's what you could call my rant and Cathy's demolition of my position) and now weighed in.

He said "Two points. First Mike, I like that story you invented better that the rich playboy cover. We ought to tell the Major. It still gives you reason for plenty of money and time but it also explains why you are just beginning to go to clubs on the west coast now. It also covers you if you run into anyone who knew you were in the Corps. The part about me working for you gives me an excuse to `visit' on the west coast if I am seen and to disappear when I am presumably back east. I think we should tell the Major, leaving out the part about me, of course, and have him change your cover back up material."

I thought about it and looked at Cathy. She nodded and I said, "OK, what's the second point?"

Pete looked a little embarrassed as he said "We are going to have to hide the mats we have in the spare bedroom and put the bed and dresser back into there. Then we have to move your things and Cathy's from the main bedroom into the guest room and I will have to go back to my place and bring my razor, toothbrush, and stuff and my civilian clothes to the master bedroom."

Cathy asked, "Isn't that a lot of work? Couldn't we just shut the doors to the bedrooms and just put our toothbrushes and stuff in the guest bathroom in case she wants to use the john?"

Pete grew even redder and said, "I think Linda wants to stay the night."

Cathy laughed and said, "No way. I have known Linda Wilkinson for years and there is no way she will jump into bed with you."

"How did you get that out of our conversation in the grocery store?" I asked.

"It wasn't what she said. It was her body language and how she looked at me. I don't know how I know but I do. Unless you want to take a big chance we ought to do the work."

By this time Pete was seriously embarrassed. Now Pete was in good shape physically as all Marines are. I guess he was OK to look at but at least from my perspective he was pretty ordinary looking. Still, as noted above with the women at the gym, Pete did have some serious animal magnetism. In fact if Cathy were to be believed Pete was a babe magnet. Then too, a Second Lieutenant never goes wrong when he listens to his Gunnery Sergeant. I decided we would be better off doing the moving.

Of course this meant Pete had to go gather up his stuff, Cathy decided to call the Major and explain the change in our cover story which left me with the task of rolling up the practice mats and moving furniture. And at one time I'd thought I was the senior member of our little team. At least she finished charming the Major into the new cover story in time to help put sheets on the beds.

While we were working Cathy said "The Major said something strange. When I told him the new cover story he said something like, `Well at least the first part is covered and documented.' What did he mean by that?"

It was clear to me that Cathy was much too sharp to lie to and harking back to our decision to talk about things I told her "I did win the lottery and it was in the local papers when it happened. I invested the money and stayed in the Corps."

"Why didn't this ever come up?" she asked.

I told her that it really didn't matter. The money was invested and managed by Northern Trust, a large Midwestern bank and really didn't make a difference in my life. I lived on my pay just like most of the people in the Corps and the money was a sort of abstract thing off on the side.

"But what are you going to do with it?" she persisted.

"Well, nothing right now except let the experts manage it and make it grow. If I ever get married it will fund a house and college funds for my kids. Perhaps when I retire from the Corps I will use it to set myself up in some sort of business."

Cathy had heard at least part of what I said. "When will you get married?" she asked.

Now I have never been commitment adverse and I was very much in love with Cathy. At the same time I don't think there is a mid 30's bachelor alive who doesn't hear alarm bells when that sort of question is asked. I tried to make light of it and said, "Oh, when I meet the right woman, I will sell off my stable of slave girls and marry her."

Cathy apparently didn't think that was a good answer as she just looked at me. Make that stared at me. I think there was something wrong with the heating system because the temperature in the room dropped very rapidly. Summoning up my courage, after all I was a decorated Marine, I grabbed her looked her in the eye and said softly, "Semper fi, Cathy." Apparently that was the right answer as she smiled at me and the heating system returned the room to its normal temperature.

That night Cathy and I decided to christen our new (and smaller) bedroom with a first try at anal sex. We hadn't found any old-fashioned enema bags in the grocery store; just the newer relatively gentle disposable kind so we hadn't bought any. I had picked up some Vaseline and while it wasn't KY it would do the trick.

I knew we could do this with her flat on the bed but for a first try we decided to start in the more comfortable doggy position. Since we both enjoyed bondage I fastened her wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed and then ran a line from her elbows to her knees. To make things more comfortable I piled up pillows under her flat stomach and abdomen. Of course I made certain that they were far enough to her rear so that they didn't inhibit access to her lovely breasts.

She squeaked as I touched her sphincter with the cold grease but held her ground as I lubricated her with first one and then two fingers. When she was as well greased up as possible I used my greasy hand to coat my penis and then wiped my hands on a towel. "Relax as much as you can," I told her as I grasped her hips and moved forward. She was very tight and I took my time slowly pushing into her.

When she seemed comfortable with (or perhaps adjusted to) me fully into her I began to stroke in and out. She matched me and we picked up the pace. She was very tight and I felt myself start to lose control fairly rapidly. I reached under her to stimulate her clitoris but I was too late and came before she was ready. I slipped two fingers into her continued to play with her clit as I softened and slipped out. Eventually I brought her off with my hand. I cleaned us both up as we discussed our feelings.

I said, "I don't know, it was tight and hot and I certainly came rapidly but it wasn't as good as vaginal sex. It kind of felt like I was masturbating but using someone else's fist."

"I'm glad we tried it, so I know what to expect. I didn't get much stimulation from it. I felt kind of full like I had to go. It got a little better when you were sawing in and out but I think I got more worked up when you spanked me."

While we talked I looked at my lovely Cathy and stroked her flank. I couldn't resist a little tickle along her ribs but then I moved up to her breasts and cupped them gently while leaning over her. I was able to stretch up a bit and kiss and nuzzle the back of her neck. She moaned appreciatively and I slipped back behind her. Just stroking her had aroused me and I was ready. She was obviously wet and aroused so I slid into her and we made love with slow lingering strokes gradually building our arousal higher. Towards the end she picked up the pace and I followed her using my hand to help her along and we both came together. It was much more satisfying to both of us.

I pulled out the pillows and untied the lines from her knees and elbows leaving her wrists and ankles tightly roped but loosely fastened to the corners of the bed in a face down spread eagle. I lay partly on her back and after a while we rolled a bit so that we could spoon together. My arm was over her side and toyed idly with her breasts until she asked, "If you are going to work me up are you going to do something about it master?"

Well, as surprising as it seemed, her tight little buns against my groin had me hard again so I untied one arm and one leg, rolled her over and `did something about it'. Aren't I a nice master?

Guest to Dinner and Shopping

The next day Pete and I cleaned up the material related to the lifestyle and stowed the agency files while Cathy was at Quantico. This was to be the last day of her FBI course. The next week would be devoted to trying and wearing bondage gear and then we would be off to the west coast.

After lunch Cathy did a quick check of the apartment with her `woman's eye'. We pretty much passed although she found that a couple of her paintings that Linda might have seen in her old apartment were still on the walls. We gave Pete a quick tour of where the spare toothbrushes, toilet paper and other such minor things were stored in `his' apartment.

Cathy had Pete do the cooking under her supervision so that he wouldn't be caught out by any awkward questions from Linda. It was to be a simple but elegant meal with Rock Cornish Game Hens in the oven, frozen beans (reheated wise guy), purchased bread dough baked at home and quick cooked rice. Dessert was a store bought cheesecake but under Cathy's direction Pete prepared a sort of Raspberry Cream sauce to be spooned on top. I generally sucked on a beer and told Pete that when we got back to the Corps I was going to slip into the NCOs club and loudly ask for the raspberry cream sauce recipe. That got me tossed out of the kitchen and sent to purchase two bottles of a good California Chardonnay.

Linda showed up and proved to be pleasant company; although she couldn't resist a few digs at the capitalist exploiters of labor. To stay in character I defended my (imaginary) actions and extolled all of the benefits my employees enjoyed. That aside we chatted about all sorts of things. I managed to get the conversation around to Cathy and Linda at school and learned that aside from political causes my Cathy campaigned for saving whales and seals (but at separate times). She also boycotted Tuna caught with nets that damaged Dolphins. She campaigned for spaying and neutering pets, for saving the rain forests, against large cars and petitioned for more financial aid for poor students. Not only did I learn much more about my darling Cathy (as I was beginning to think of her) but Linda also had some funny stories about things Cathy had done.

It was well into the second bottle of wine and over the dessert when Linda said, "Oh dear, I'm a little tipsy. I don't know if I'll be able to drive home tonight."

I not so innocently suggested, "Don't worry, we can call you a cab." I was more or less expecting the kick from Cathy on my right but was startled at the one from Linda on my left.

Pete just smiled and said, "Well the night is young yet. We don't have to decide anything right now. More raspberry sauce anyone?"

After coffee, Pete and I went into the living room for brandy while the women tackled the dishes in the kitchen. Being gentlemen, we fortified them with sweet after dinner liqueurs. After dinner Cathy came out claiming to be tired. She made her excuses and more or less hauled me into our bedroom.

There she demonstrated that all of Pete's training had not gone to waste as she grabbed me in a wristlock and pushed me down on the bed. Of course every move has a counter move and I broke her grip and we were soon wrestling on the bed as she tried one hold after another to control me. She was actually pretty good but my years of working at hand-to-hand left me better and I kept slipping away.

After some time our grappling became less aggressive and more amorous. One thing led to another and our clothes wound up in little heaps scattered around the room. I guess Cathy would have to get those nice wool slacks to the dry cleaner for pressing again.

In any case, I fastened Cathy to the bed in a fairly tight spread eagle (one of my favorite positions) and went back to the kitchen for the raspberry cream sauce, which was chilling in the refrigerator. I took it back to the bedroom and drizzled it over her tightly bound body. There were a few comments on the temperature of the sauce, but it wasn't my fault the women had decided to store it in the refrigerator. Of course the application of the sauce then created the need for some lengthy, slow and careful work with my tongue to ensure we didn't make a mess on the bed. Cold raspberry cream sauce on hot female flesh is a delicious dessert. I wondered why we had ever bothered with the cheesecake. Cathy seemed to enjoy my clean up efforts as her complaints about the temperature, indeed all of her conversation, dissolved into moans.

I had begun with a line from the hollow of her neck down to her pussy. This was removed as I worked carefully in reverse up her body. Once she was clean and shining (and moaning somewhat incoherently) I decided that I had been remiss to ignore her beautiful breasts and especially her nipples perched so proudly, and so hard, on top of them. More sauce and then more clean up.

When I was done there was so little sauce left it seemed foolish to put it back into the refrigerator so I reapplied it to her pussy. Now her clit was hard and visible so it only took a few swipes to clean it up but then as I got to her inner tunnel there seemed to be no end to the flow of juices. I took a long time in that area until all traces of raspberry sauce were absolutely gone. Cathy indicated some additional needs at that time. In fact she had been asking (demanding, begging, pleading) for some time. I, generous master that I am, slid into her and fulfilled both her request and my own need.

At breakfast Linda joined us blushing rather becomingly. I, having been sternly lectured by Cathy, kept my mouth shut except for an innocuous "Good Morning."

Linda left after breakfast and Pete and I set out to join Tom on a shopping trip.

Although Pete had known Tom for a long time, they didn't have the bond that had grown between him and me. Although after I had growled at Pete, he managed to keep down the yes sirs he was clearly less comfortable on our little expedition than when we were alone. That meant it was up to me to rag unmercifully on Tom about purchasing this or that toy for Sally. Of course he gave as good as he got about what would delight Cathy.

We did buy a considerable assortment of bondage gear. I sometimes wondered how the Major would get the receipts past the government accountants. We wound up with eight lined leather cuffs (wrists, elbows, knees and ankles) a sturdy collar, a full body leather web harness, a single glove, a riding crop, a flogger, a set of standard handcuffs, a set of leg cuffs with about twelve inches of chain between them, a vibrating dildo, a large plug in vibrator, a butterfly vibrator, a butt plug and two sets of nipple clamps.

Back to Training

When we got back to the apartment I gave all of the leather except the body harness and collar to Pete. He was going to rub the cuffs and collar the wrong way over the edge of a table both to remove the new leather shine and to provide some creases and a tendency to sit partly opened as well used items might. The single glove would take the most work and he would eventually do the same on the body harness and the collar.

I gave the collar, the handcuffs and the body harness to Cathy and told her to strip, put on the body harness and collar and then cuff her hands behind her back. I took the riding crop and a set of nipple clamps and waited for her in the living room. When she came out she was breathtakingly beautiful but had left on her panties. Now these were so small as to be of no consequence but she had been told to strip.

As she came up to me I hit her viciously with the riding crop across her thigh. It made a nasty sound and left an angry red welt. "You were told to strip," I said nastily. Then I swung the crop just as viciously at the other thigh and said "Obey!"

I felt my heart lurch as I saw fear and tears in Cathy's eyes. She continued to look at me with a strange mix of wonder and fear as she worked her cuffed hands from side to side and tugged her panties down. She said nothing except "Yes sir."

Whack, whack. Two more angry red lines appeared on her thighs. I hit her twice again and said, "You were not given permission to speak, slave," in as nasty a sneer as I could manage.

Pete had dropped the leather he was working on and called out, "Mike..."

I could feel him stand and advance across the room. I didn't want him mixing into this so I ordered, "At ease, Gunnery Sergeant!" in my best command voice. I turned back to Cathy in time to see her frightened expression change to a smile.

She said, "It won't work, master."

"G-d d---ed, mother f---ing, SON OF A B—CH!" I cursed. I flung the riding crop across the room with so much force it dented the wall. Damn that woman's quick thinking analytical mind.

Pete asked, "Would some one tell me what the f—k is going on here?" You have to forgive him his language. Too many years in the Corps and it was an emotional moment.

"My master and lover,our leader, was trying to get me so frightened, or perhaps just so angry, that I would walk out and not go to the coast with you guys," Cathy explained.

"Damn it Cathy," I said ignoring Pete, "sadists are by definition people who enjoy inflicting pain. I don't know what we are getting into or what sort of nasty people we are going to meet. I just don't know if I am going to be able to protect you. I am frightened, damn it, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"Nothing can hurt me as long as I know you still love me," said Cathy in one of the stupidest remarks to ever come out of any human's mouth. "This slave girl will rely on her master to care for her and protect her. Always faithful, master Mike."

Shit and damnation. By this time she had crossed to me and was leaning against me. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her head to my chest.

This had been my last best shot at getting her out. I hadn't given a single hint all through the physical training that I still didn't want her to come. Then, I had reasoned, if I acted like a real a—hole I could give her enough pain to drive her away. She saw right through me in less than a minute. I didn't know if I should laugh at my own stupidity or cry because it was now clear that I was going to take this very special woman into harms way.

After that rocky start the last week of training went smoothly. Cathy became comfortable with being nude in front of Pete and even the Major. We played with submissive behavior, learned slave positions, took Cathy out in public while bound (but with the bondage concealed by a coat). Cathy and I learned our cover stories while Pete hid from the Major. By mid-week we were as ready as we were going to get.