2 .
Nothing could have prepared Ian for what he found when he snuck into Sergeant Storm’s quarters that night.
Granted his imagination was already running wild as he crawled out of his bunk, reassuring the rest of the guys that he would be fine, and then creeped across the barracks towards the small shack that Cynthia called home.
He imagined her place looking like a medieval torture chamber, an inner sanctum for a sadist that enjoyed inflicting pain on others.
What he found was somewhere along those lines, but… not how he expected.
The shack was single story, far removed from every other structure on the barracks.
For all intents and purposes, Cynthia was isolated.
After reaching her quarters without being seen, Ian cowered under a window and slowly poked his head up to get an idea of what he was getting into.
Inside, he saw a wide, single story living space, with a small kitchenette, a sleeping area, and living area, and then shelves lining the walls, though he couldn’t see what they held.
There was no sign of Cynthia, but a light filtered out from under a closed door, and Ian heard the muffled sound of running water.
She was in the shower.
Suddenly images of Cynthia’s nude breasts covered with suds danced through Ian’s head, and he had the urge to crack open the door and get a peek at her naked body.
He shook his head, banishing away the thoughts.
This was no time to fantasize about Storm’s body, no matter how beautiful it was.
He had to get in, find the camera, and get out.
The only barrier between him and getting inside was the screen, and Ian gripped either side and pushed.
At first the screen resisted, apparently as stubborn as the woman living inside, but Ian pushed a little harder and felt the screen finally give in.
He gently let it fall inside so it wouldn’t make a noise, and then crawled through the open window.
The shower was still going, and Ian prayed that Cynthia took her time. After all, she was out there in the sun along with them, just not working nearly as hard. Once he was inside he stood straight and surveyed the room, trying to determine the best place she would hide a camera.
Those shelves seem like a good bet. He thought, and tip-toed forward. There were several small lights on throughout the shack, giving it a warm, safe glow.
Ian’s jaw dropped once he made it to the shelves.
First he noticed a large black belt hanging on a peg nearest the bathroom door.
The belt was crowded with pouches of various sizes, but there was also a holster, in which was rested a side arm.
Ian recognized the belt, Cynthia wore it every day, her hand resting lazily on the gun at her hip sometimes.
But that wasn’t all that caught his eye.
Arranged on the shelves and hanging from pegs on the wall were whips, chains, and various other “toys” as well as leather thongs, bras, masks, ropes, and gags.
He stood there, his jaw agape, taking in the sight.
The entire wall was dedicated to BDSM activities.
His mind raced, and Ian’s feeling of shock turned into confusion which then turned to mild arousal at the thought of seeing Cynthia wearing any of the bondage gear, but that quickly faded and gave way to a new emotion: anger.
So she is getting off on this! He realized, balling his fist.
Cynthia storm enjoyed inflicting pain on people, dominating them, having control over them.
She became a drill sergeant specifically because she could indulge in her fetish and get paid for it.
Ian balled his fist at the thought of Cynthia spending all day making his life and the lives of his fellow recruits a living hell only to come back her and get off on it.
Then something else caught his eye. There was something else hanging from the pegs on the shelf.
At first he thought it was just two strips of camouflage fabric, but as he stepped closer to investigate, he noticed the two strips converged together to form a V.
The longer Ian stared at it, the more his mind comprehended that he wasn’t just staring at two joined pieces of fabric.
It was a slingshot bikini.
His jaw dropped and he felt his feet carry him forward towards the skimpy swimsuit, then in a moment he was standing in front of it, reaching out.
Ian unhooked the swimsuit from the pegs and held it out in front of him.
The two straps of camo fabric would cover Cynthia’s gigantic breasts and then meet down between her legs, but as he looked at it, Ian realized the swimsuit was even skimpier than he imagined.
Most swimsuits like this had a thong back, but this one had no such thing.
Instead, from the bottom was a clear length of thin plastic which would have ran up her back.
The line then attached to a metal ring, to which the front two pieces of fabric were looped around.
When Cynthia wore this outfit, the invisible back meant that she would appear completely nude from behind.
As he held the sling bikini, he couldn’t help but picture her wearing it. It took Ian a moment to realize that he was rock hard envisioning the buxom drill sergeant lounging in the sun wearing the skimpy swim attire.
He was so lost in the fantasy that he didn’t realize that the shower wasn’t going anymore until he heard the bathroom door open.
Ian spun, eyes wide and his heart racing, just as Cynthia Storm stepped out of the bathroom and froze.
Their eyes met, and time seemed to stand still as they both stood there, jaws open, staring at each other.
Then he noticed that she wore nothing but a towel wrapped around her torso, her giant breasts heaving up and down in rapid succession as she stared at him.
Her nearly nude body looked even more wonderful than he could have imagined, and the water droplets ran along her thickly muscled yet feminine frame, and her wet, blond hair fell around her shoulders as she stared him down.
Ian froze like a deer in headlights, and as time started to catch up, he became aware of several things: First, his heart was pounding against his ribs like it wanted to get free; second, that he had broken out in a cold sweat; and third, that he was still pitching a tent in his pants.
“Just what do you think you’re doing in my quarters?” Cynthia barked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Ian stood straight, his mouth fumbling for words.
“Go on, speak up, and what are you doing with that?” She motioned to the slingshot bikini in his hands.
“I… uhh…” He tried to come up with something, anything, but he knew it was no good. He was cooked.
“Are you imagining me in that now?” Her eyes went down to his rock hard cock pushing against his pants.
“I… this is… no.”
She crossed her arms again and stared at him, her golden brown eyes, like those of a lion, sizing him up.
“Do you know how much trouble you’re in? I ought to tear you a new one for this.” She seemed to enjoy watching him squirm.
Ian didn’t say anything, he had nothing to defend himself with. Whatever punishment she had, he would endure. It would be torture, he knew that, the worst thing he would ever experience in his life.
“Or…” She bit her lip. “I’m feeling a bit generous tonight.”
“What?” He blinked. Somehow, he didn’t like the sounds of this.
“I said, you caught me in a good mood. If you play along, there’s a chance I’ll let you go in one piece.” She smiled at him.
“What… what do you mean?”
“I mean,” She started moving towards him, and Ian backed up, hitting into the wall of BDSM equipment. “You do something for me, and I’ll forgive and forget this little… transgression.”
She stood directly in front of him now, one hand holding the towel up, and she placed her other hand on the shelf behind him, cornering him in place. Suddenly Ian felt like a trapped animal, and his eyes searched the area around him for a way to escape.
“What if I say no?” He asked, still holding onto the slingshot bikini like a security blanket.
“If you say no,” She licked her lips. “I’ll personally see to it that you won’t be able to stand for a week.”
The sadistic smile on her face sent a chill down Ian’s spine. He didn’t know what choice she was giving him, but it didn’t seem any better than the alternative.
“Put it on.” She leaned back, mouth open in anticipation.
“Wha… what?” He asked, confused.
“The swimsuit, put it on.” She sighed.
He looked at the skimpy garment he was clinging to for dear life.
“But I…” He implored, suddenly realizing her game.
“If you want out of this, put it on. Otherwise I’m going to destroy you.” She crossed her arms and watched him with those deep, penetrating eyes.
Ian looked down at the slingshot bikini. His only path to escape was to degrade himself, humiliate himself, all for her enjoyment. He looked up to see her smiling, licking her lips, waiting to pounce.
Something about seeing her giving him that look, like he was a thing, unlocked something deep inside Ian.
Cynthia was here waiting to relish humiliating him, punishing him for his transgression.
He didn’t know what she had planned after making him put on the swimsuit, but he knew it would be something he could never come back from.
He was transported to years prior in Marston’s Pointe and the embarrassment and shame he felt seeing his mom running around in her little thongs.
The anger he felt was the same anger he experienced when his mom told him she wanted to fuck Brad.
His blood turned to ice and he stared down Cynthia, his resolve giving him strength.
Something in his gaze must have unsettled her because he saw her rock hard facade drop for just an instant and she looked somewhat surprised and then almost afraid of the look her gave her, but then she quickly put her mask back on.
It wasn’t enough for him to run away and leave her behind, he wanted her to be embarrassed and humiliated. He wanted her to feel helpless, and he knew just how to do that.
Before Sergeant Storm could react, Ian reached over to the belt hanging from the peg, grabbed the pistol and drew it on his superior officer. She stepped back, her jaw dropping in genuine shock, but then just like moments before, her rock hared exterior came back.