Recruit Emma Castille had won the game.

Her male opponent had beaten her at the contests of strength, but she had outshined him in the contests involving stamina, intellect, and beating her own best time on a course. As well, the recruits that had been voted off were allowed to make one last vote. Castille won the vote unanimously. The ragged, sleep-deprived recruit barely kept her feet as she was announced the Best Recruit of the camp. She hadn’t slept in 65 hours and the only thing she cared about was falling into bed. She had nearly made it back to her rack when the producer of the show stopped her.

“Congratulations, Miss Castille! Congratulations!”

She smiled tiredly at the producer and stepped into the female barracks, heading for her rack. She murmured, “Thank you, Sir. I need sleep, Sir. I’ll be ready for conversation tomorrow.”

The producer blinked at the “Sir”. Man, there was something to be said for conditioning. He continued, not truly understanding how tired she was. “Oh that is over with Miss Castille. You don’t have to call anyone ‘Sir’ anymore. And if you want to sleep, we have your room at the hotel ready to go. It’s fully stocked, and there are *gifts*.” His voice ended on a cajoling note.

She fell into her rack fully dressed and pulled the blankets over her, turning her back to him. “This is fine, thank you. Goodnight.”

He stood there a bit nonplussed. There were gift baskets and food and a *robe* for heaven’s sake!

Taglieri prowled silently up to the man and murmured quietly in his ear. “She’ll be fine here. Let her sleep. The gifts and hoopla can wait until she is awake enough to enjoy them.”

The producer jumped at Tag’s voice, never having heard the Drill Instructor’s approach. The tone of voice he used was polite but didn’t brook argument. Without a word the producer turned and made his way out the door.

Tag uncovered Castille’s feet. They were encased in her still damp boots. He gently wrestled them off of her and folded the blankets up putting a hand on her thigh. The cloth of the fatigues was cold and brittle from having been soaked with water earlier. His hand moved to her waist and he unfastened her pants, easing them off of her. She made a distressed noise and tried to roll away from the movement that was pulling her out of sleep.

His voice was a low, rumbling purr, “Shhhh, Emma. I need to get these wet clothes off, then you can sleep.”

She murmured, “Tag?”

His voice was soothing as he finished stripping the pants off and tucked the blankets around her cold feet, “Yeah, Baby. I’m here.”

She rolled to her back and forced her eyes open. He took the opportunity to pull the blanket down and unbutton the heavy camouflage over-shirt. Her blue eyes blinked at him slowly and she murmured, “Traveling money.”

His dark eyes met hers and he smiled, charmed. She was fuzzy around the edges and cute as hell. He gently removed the shirt and left her in her undershirt and panties, pulling the blankets up to her neck. “What, Hon?”

She purred at him, turning onto her side. “Traveling money. I have an extra quarter-mill in the bank now. I don’t have to be home for a while…was thinking of visiting San Diego…”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, “Hmmm, I know a good place to stay in San Diego.”

She smiled with her eyes closed and purred at the kiss and the sound of his voice. There was a teasing tone in her sleepy words, “They have room service?”

Tag smiled as he rose off of her rack, “Oh yes, Baby. They have room service.”

Her heavy eyes closed again. Within a minute she was sound asleep.

Tag settled onto a nearby rack and watched her sleep for a while. Her face looked completely innocent. It showed none of the grit and will she pulled up from the depths of her being to endure the final tests and win the game. He had been so impressed with her actions during the contests he could barely stand it. Emma was something else. He meant to make her His.

Tag’s eyes were heavy and he shut them for a moment. He was tired himself, having stayed near Emma during the entire battery of contests. A hand gently shaking him roused him and he opened his eyes. Caff was grinning at him.

Caff’s voice was a low murmur, “It’s noon, Tag.

Tag looked around confused, Emma was still sound asleep on the rack next to his. Noon? It couldn’t be! He had put her to bed at 2am! He stood up and stretched, gave Emma a last look and then followed Caff out of the barracks. He needed a shower, a change of clothes and some food. He was starving.

Emma started making small “waking up” noises around 4pm. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked. There was a large man in a chair beside her rack. Her unfocused eyes took in the battered Levi’s and the black t-shirt. Her blue gaze flicked up over his face…clean shaven, strong jaw, sensual lips, black hair that looked like fur…her eyes flicked up and met his warm, chocolate gaze, Ah yes…and brown eyes she could lose her soul in. Her voice was a husky drawl, “God, I hope you’re breakfast.”

He smiled with pure masculine pleasure and chuckled, drawling, “Now why,…” he rose from the chair and sat on the edge of her bed, “…Miss Castille…” he slid down into a lounging position and threw a leg gently over her body, “…would you want C-rations…” his voice remained a purr as he gently rested himself on top of her, “…when you could have eggs benedict and mimosas at a 4-star hotel?” He braced his arms and dropped his head so his face was a few inches from hers.

She did what she had wanted to do for weeks and raised her hands to his head, running the tips of her fingers through the short, black, hair. It *did* feel like fur. Her blue eyes were smoky with arousal as she met his, her voice husky, “Benedict Shmenedict.” Then she raised her face and traced his lips with her tongue.

He groaned and took her mouth. Both of them had waited for over three months to taste the other and they ignited as one flame using their lips, tongues, and hands to devour each other. Emma’s hips were arching up to his, her limbs wrapped around his body. She was burning under him and the only thing Tag wanted to do was bury himself in her, but he knew he couldn’t. She was mewling incoherently when he reluctantly broke the kiss.

His voice was tinged with regret and lust, “Not here, Em. It’s not private enough and the TV people are going out of their freakin’ minds waiting for you to make an appearance.”

She breathed hard for a few moments getting her passion under control. “God I hate those friggin’ TV people.”

He chuckled at her tone and lifted off of her so she could rise. She shook herself and started getting up, turning to point a finger his way, “Alright, all right. But you started it. *You*, Sir, are an evil Tempt…” she struggled for the male version of ‘temptress’, “…tor…a.dor.”

He laughed outright, “Is that like ‘Conquistador’?”

She grinned, “Very similar but they wore different hats. I think it is more like ‘Matador’.”

He grinned back, “Conspirator?”

She rose off her rack and started finding her clothing and purred, “Comforador.”



He was chuckling outright and desperately seeking an answering word, “Confiador?”


He lost it and started laughing out loud, “I am *not* a Velociraptor!”

She grinned as she dressed, “Oh yes you are. You are my Sweeeeet Velociraptor.”

He shook his head smiling, “Oh my God. Velociraptor, huh? I couldn’t be ‘Shmoopy’ or something? Well never tell Schell or Caff, I’ll never live it down.”

She just grinned and winked then headed to the showers.

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind. She was spirited off to the hotel and showered with gifts. The TV people bought her dinner and she gave exit interviews to the cameras. Several grinning cameramen gave her a giant gift basket full of hotel mints congratulating her and letting her know they had been rooting for her. She didn’t see Tag in those hours and missed him. And oddly enough, she kind of missed the heavy scheduling, PT rituals, and yelling Drill Instructors. Man, there was something to be said for conditioning.

The wrap party was that night. She had been given back her street clothes and showed off her newly toned, muscular body in a little black dress. She grinned when she saw Tag. He played it cool, but his brown eyes followed her, burning, and she knew what that meant. The rest of the recruits were there and they all had fun conversing, reminiscing, and dancing.

Tag, McCafferty, and Schell were dressed in street clothes and working their way through the crowd of recruits and TV people. They all found it funny that the recruits still watched them like hawks and straightened their bodies whenever one of them approached. Castille was the only recruit that hugged all of them and spoke warmly with them, laughing and joking. The other recruits were impressed by her bravery, none of them knowing about the strangely bonding experience the foursome had in the Briefing room. Tag and Emma managed to keep their hands off of one another, but they would check in with eye contact regularly.

Emma had just finished dancing with Ex-recruit Davis when Tag sidled up to her murmuring low, “So, Castille, trying to make me jealous by dancing with all the men?”

She looked at him with a wicked grin, “Hmmm, I didn’t know I could make you jealous, Taglieri.”

She looked around the room until her eyes landed on Thompson. He was a big, good-looking man, whom Castille happened to know was very happily married with a new baby. Her voice grew teasing, “My, my, my, Marine. Will you just *look* at Recruit Thompson. He’s very handsome tonight. You know I always thought he was dishy. I think I’ll go slow dance with him in my Tiny. Black. Dress.”

Tag chuckled and growled in her ear, “Careful, Sugar. You are about to get a big load of manly possessiveness dumped on your head.”

She grinned, liking this game very much. “Ohhhhh, there’s Harris. Isn’t he a picture in those black jeans? I wonder if he’ll like my outfit?”

Tag grinned, but his voice was a dangerous purr, “Last warning, cupcake.”

Her loins started getting hot at his tone. Her eyes found Ex-Recruit Gentry. Gentry had been a thorn from the beginning and had been voted off early. He was a good-looking 25 year-old who was used to getting by on his pretty face. He was lax and disingenuous and Castille had never liked him. She knew Tag had really disliked him.

She growled out a purr, “Will you just look at that pretty, pretty man over there? Poor Gentry, you know I never really gave him a chance. I think I’ll give him a chance now…” she made to walk away toward Gentry and yelped softly when a strong hand gripped her arm pulling her back.

Tag leaned down and whispered in her ear, “That’s it. You are *so* going to get it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Troublemaker.”

She chirped with alarm when he backed into the shadows taking her with him. No one noticed that they were gone as the loud party continued in the compound. When Tag was far enough away from the others, he turned and dragged Emma toward the main building.

She laughed and struggled half-heartedly. The next thing she knew she had been tossed over one broad shoulder and carried into the building. She shrieked and laughed as she rode over his shoulder, beating playfully on his leg and grabbing his ass.

He grinned, “Careful, Castille. I could bring you up on charges for that.”

Her voice was a teasing purr, “Oh really? Charges? Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Well inform “Charges” that I’ll happily be up on him anytime he wants, and that really, I wouldn’t mind a bit if “Charges” found himself *up* me.”

Tag laughed, smacking her ass, and entered the Briefing room. He closed and locked the door before bending and setting her on her feet. His hand snaked to the back of her neck before she could step away and she purred out a moan, held fast.

His voice was a lusty growl, “Hmmm, well considering you are a *very* bad girl, Castille, I see you being up on “Charges” quite a bit in the future.”

She leaned into his body with a whimper of lust, her blue eyes smoky and begging. He dropped his head taking her mouth hard, one hand at her neck, the other dropping to her buttocks. He pulled her against his hips as his mouth slid in a sensual burn over hers.

Castille’s body went into a riot of pleasure. She unashamedly murmured against his mouth, “Take. Me.”

Tag reined in his passion, using more self-discipline than he had ever needed in his life to do it. His brown eyes had deepened in color and were burning as he looked at the aroused woman in his arms. He slid the hand at her neck to her ass and shoved her roughly full against his hips. “In a minute, Sweetheart. You have an appointment over my knee first.”

He had thought she might protest. Instead her knees dropped as she moaned, and he chuckled, tightening his hands on her buttocks, catching her. “Castille, you and I are *really* going to have to talk about you and spanking sometime soon.”

He half carried her to one of the chairs in the room and slung her over his lap. If anything she moaned louder and murmured, “God, I cannot *tell* you what it does to me when you manhandle my body.”

He purred, “Rrrrruh.” The woman was trying to kill him. “I have found that manhandling your body is one of my greatest pleasures in life.” His large hand stroked her legs and the seat of her little black dress. It had ridden up so that the tops of her stockings and the bottoms of her garters showed. He murmured, “Well, well, black stockings and dancing with other men. I see I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”

She chuckled, “Yes, it seems I’m a brazen hussy, Sir. Of course I suppose it doesn’t matter that the dress and stockings were for you?”

He grinned and kneaded the cheeks of her buttocks through her skirt. “Not one whit.”

She laughed outright, clasping his lower leg and kneading the muscles there like a kitten. “Well it appears I’m incorrigible. What you gonna do about it, Drill Instructor Taglieri?”

His hand landed hard on the seat of her skirt and she yelped then moaned happily. His palm landed again then roughly kneaded her some more. His voice was a growling purr, “Keep you standing, Hellcat.”

He slid her skirt up over her bottom and his cock surged as he took in the tiny, black silk panties that showed off most of her backside. He made his tone disapproving and tried not to grin, “Well these are just indecent! Clearly not regulation.”

Her bottom jiggled as she laughed, “Oh, yes, those. Now *those* aren’t for you. Those are definitely for the other men.”

She shrieked, laughing, when his hand swatted her hard. His voice was grim, “Oh yes, I see I have my work cut out for me.” He began spanking her barely-panty-clad seat firmly.

She mewled a little and fluttered her feet. His large, warm palm felt great as it moved over her rounded bottom bringing the color up. She yelped softly a few times at some harder smacks but it was obvious to Tag that her spanking was entirely enjoyable. He decided to step it up and walloped her reddening bottom hard. She kicked a little and yelped louder.

He growled teasing, “I can’t imagine that scrap of silk is giving you any protection. Just remember it was *you* who got yourself into this acting like a Jezebel.”

She laughed out loud, “Jezebel, huh? Well if *you* weren’t such a *Beast*!”

He grinned and kept his palm descending in a regular cadence onto her bouncing flesh, “Trollop!”




He started laughing outright and whacked her harder. “Ok…Strumpet!”

She yelped happily, took a second for effect then barreled out, “Knave! Rascal! Blackguard! Savage! Villian! ROGUE!”

There was no way he was going to let her win this one. He drew her panties down to her thighs and spanked her bare bottom briskly, “Oh yeah? Tramp! Minx! Hoyden!…”

She started laughing hard.

“…Wanton! Harlot! Cyprian! Tart!”

She was still laughing as she cut him off, “Oh you are sooo going to lose this…You Brute! Highwayman! Miscreant! Scoundrel! Upstart!”

He liked this game and continued to smack her bouncing globes, “Brat! Guttersnipe! Saucebox!”

She shrieked, “Saucebox?! Why you Bounder! Roughneck!”




She was *dying* laughing, “Hobblede-what?! That isn’t a word!”

He grinned as he swatted her red bottom, “Look it up, Spitfire.” He gave her a last round of hard smacks looking down at her red, bouncing bottom and growling with lust. She kept squirming when he stopped and placed a hand on her ass. “Now that I am the new King of pseudo-insults, I think I’ll take my due tribute from a vanquished wench.”

Her loins churned at his tone. “Mmmmmm, vanquished wench at your service, Your Majesty.”

He chuckled and stood, lifting her up and tucking her 5’9 frame under his arm. He carried her like that to the table then dropped her feet down and locked his forearms around her back drawing her hard up against him.

She looked into the burning brown eyes a few inches from hers and murmured, “I love that you can pick me up like I weigh nothing. You get serious points for that, you know. I’m not a small girl.”

He grinned and said the words all men of the world should commit to memory, “Light as a feather, Darlin’.”

She purred and lifted her mouth to his nibbling his lower lip, shaking her hips so her panties fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them as he took her mouth, deepening the kiss until her knees turned to water and she was trembling and whimpering. He broke the kiss and turned her, bending her over the table and yanking up the skirt of her dress. He let out a low growl of lust as he grabbed her warm, red ass and freed his cock. It took him exactly two seconds to put on the condom that he had been carrying around in his pocket since the game ended.

She felt him slide slowly and deeply into her ready sex, moaning, “Oh yes, please” as he buried his cock to the hilt. 14 weeks of longing for this lit her up like a bonfire, and she pressed her warm hindquarters back and ground them against his hips. “God Tag, please. Fuck me hard.”

He gave her a hard smack with his hand then started to thrust hard into her, bending down to bite the back of her neck and shoulder gently. He felt a sweat break out on his upper body as he pumped her sex hard and fast. God she felt good. His mouth continued to kiss and bite her skin as his cock sheathed itself in her body again and again. She was sweet. Sweet and hot and soft. His eyes went black as he felt orgasm rushing up on him.

She was panting in short order and screaming in pleasure within a few minutes. She spread her legs as wide as she could and clutched the table, moaning in lust as she felt his teeth. Oh God he just felt so GOOD! His body was strong and solid and made her feel secure. He felt hard all over. Hard and hot and unrelenting. Her body went into fits at his swift thrusts, her sex grasping at his cock. She had never felt the kind of pleasure she was feeling now as this big, dominant male mounted her. She went wild under him, bucking and screaming as her orgasm slammed into her. “God Yes! YES! Oh my GOD! AAIIGH! TAG!”

He snarled as her bucking threw him over, hammering her heated sex through the orgasm that washed over him. Good Christ! It felt like he left his body. He panted and growled, lapping at the back of her neck as his emptied cock pulsed in her. He voice was ragged when he spoke, “Ohhhh Emma. You are definitely going to kill me, but I am going to die a happy man.”

She managed to laugh weakly and raised her head trying to look back at him. Her eyes flicked over the room as she tried to see his face and she murmured, “God, I love this room.”