The Best of Kay Jaybee (7 page)

Carter's blue eyes kept meeting his as she writhed, and for a moment he saw that her need mirrored his own. Recovering herself, Carter closed her eyes as she squirmed, her hands beneath her breasts so that she could manoeuvre them better against him.

At the same time Richards was drawing her teats across his back in strong even strokes. Each time she began a new line of caress, a muted mewl of pleasure escaped from between her lips.

This was agony. Luke tore his eyes from the blonde head that bobbed and dived before him; fixing his stare on to the clock Phelps held. He dug his nails in harder, his skin bruising beneath his touch.
Surely this can't last much longer
. Yet even as he longed for it to end, he didn't want it to, for Luke was sure that this was just the beginning of Phelps endurance exercise.

Counting in his head, he focused hard on each number to divert his attention from the glorious attention.

‘Five seconds,' Phelps called out, ‘Four, three, two, one. Stop!'

Panting, the girls pulled away, and Luke let out a long ragged sigh of relief. His two minutes were still safe, and he hadn't disgraced himself by spunking everywhere ... yet.

The sky was beginning to brighten a little, and in the half light afforded by the uncurtained windows, Luke could see that he'd been right. Carter and Richards were as turned on as he was; their knickers showed the unmistakable marks of being damp. Somehow their aroused state made it even more important that he held firm. If he came before they did he'd never hear the last of it.

‘Take his boots and combats off,' the corporal commanded the girls, ‘time for Part Two.'

Mutely gulping down his ever increasing lust, Luke took long deep breaths as he listened.

‘Richards, you will stand to Lukey Baby's left. Carter, you go to his right side. You will both kneel.' They knelt.

Luke could feel his blood banging in his neck. They were so close to him, their mouths so near his shaft. All it would take would be for one of them to lean forwards and open their lips and he'd be engulfed. He'd never wanted anything so badly in his life, and yet he was to be disappointed.

‘Using your hands and mouths, you will attend to the soldier boy, but only between his feet and his knees. Porter, you will put your hands on your head. I am sure I don't have to tell you, Cadet, that you are not permitted to come. Begin.'

Never before had Luke considered his ankles, calves and knees erogenous zones, but now as sharp nails pinched, tongues lapped, palms smoothed and fingers raked, he thought again.

Luke daren't look at them, or risk glimpsing their bent heads or pert globes as they worked on taking him to the brink of orgasm.

Time seemed to going slower than ever as Luke willed Phelps's stopwatch to go faster.
How could five minutes possibly last so long?

At last, after every inch of his lower leg had been treated to more sensual attention than ever before, Phelps began her countdown. ‘Stop.'

The glisten of precome that hung from Luke's cock could not be disguised, nor could the quiver that had begun in his shoulders as he struggled to keep his hands on his head and off the women. Over and over in his head he repeated the mantra,
Two minutes, I need those two minutes.

With a scrutinizing expression, Phelps regarded the male cadet. ‘Very good so far. And yet there is one final exercise to go. Sergeant Greene was most insistent that your endurance should be tested to the limit.'

At the mention of the sergeant, Luke's stomach contracted. He was sure she must know about this, and more convinced that the exact nature of this test was down to her, and that Phelps was simply following orders. An intriguing thought crossed Luke's mind. Was Phelps, doing this for the sergeant out of duty? Or did she get some sort of sexual kick from pleasing the austere woman, who, just at that moment, Luke could easily picture in thigh high boots and little else, wielding a whip against Phelps' prone arse.

Addressing Carter and Richards, Phelps ordered, ‘You will take off those knickers,' before turning to Luke. ‘See how wet they are? Do you think that's because of you, or because they are together?'

Luke didn't answer, but stared, almost hypnotised, as one completely shaven snatch, and one neat red Brazilian pussy were hastily revealed.

‘Keeping your hands on your head, you will lie on the floor.'

Clumsily Luke moved, grateful that carpet had been laid in this room, rather than having a bare concrete floor like so many of the others.

‘Carter, stand with your legs apart over Lukey's head.'

Luke let out a prolonged guttural groan as he was given direct visual contact with the blonde's naked wet pussy.

‘Richards; crouch behind his head, and grasp Carter's hips.'

Luke didn't need to hear what Phelps was going to say next. He could already see it all, even though it hadn't started yet.
How on earth am I going to keep still this time?

Hurriedly completing her instructions, Phelps nodded for the final exercise to begin.

As Richards' tongue came to her comrade's snatch Luke shut his eyes. He must not look. There was no way he could witness one woman licking out another in his state of extreme arousal and not cream everywhere. Yet somehow not seeing what was going on was worse, for the pictures behind his eyelids were as vivid, if not more so, than the real thing.

The sounds issuing from Carters mouth as she was attended to were the last straw. Luke's eyes flew open in time to see her jump and judder, her legs knocking against him as she came.

Again Phelps was studying her stopwatch. Luke bit his lips, clamping his jaw together fiercely. His chest was blotched red with the strain of not letting go.

‘Five seconds, four, three ...' The corporal leant down and very lightly pinched the top of Luke's length as she finished the countdown. ‘Two ...'

With a bellow of ‘NO!' Luke's spunk was shooting upwards, the longed for bodily contact his swift undoing.

Shaking her head, Phelps stared at his spent body. ‘One second, Lukey Baby. You had one second left to go. Honestly, cadet, I thought holding on to those two minutes was important to you.'

Sticky semen spattered his torso, balls, legs, and the floor as Luke batted at Carter's legs, shoving her away from him as he sat up, his face a picture of rage. ‘You did that! You broke the rules. If you hadn't touched me I'd have made it, you fucking know I would.'

‘How dare you speak to me like that? Are you telling me, Porter, that the enemy don't cheat; that they don't do things that break the rules and take us by surprise? Where's your discipline, boy?'

Shaken by the truth of what the corporal was saying, Luke lay back with a moan. He'd failed again. He'd lost his two minutes.

The women exchanged significant glances and Luke, instantly back on the alert, couldn't help but pick up on the unspoken implication.
They had known Phelps would cheat!
‘You planned this then, all of it, even the pinch that was bound to make me come?'

‘Of course.' Phelps' eyes narrowed, ‘and now you need to suffer the consequences.'

‘Consequences?'

‘When you are captured by the enemy, there are always consequences.'

Luke said nothing as every breath he took echoed in his lungs. Abruptly aware of his dishevelled naked state, he jumped to his feet. Reaching out for his boxers, he tugged them from the tangle of his combats, only to have them torn away and Carter and Richards restrain him by the arms once again.

‘I don't recall hearing Corporal Phelps give you permission to dress.'

Snapping around at the sound of the unexpected voice, Luke took in the passive face of Sergeant Greene. Standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows.

‘Ma'am, I ...' Luke was too stunned to continue.

The sergeant turned to Phelps. ‘An excellent display and a well thought out exercise Corporal.'

‘Thank you, Sarge.' Phelps beamed, gesturing to the cadets, ‘Credit must go to my assistants.'

‘Indeed, a most satisfying performance.' Greene's eyes pierced Luke's. ‘As my colleague so rightly said, all mistakes, failures, and captures in the army must be paid for. Always.'

‘Yes, Sarge.' Luke spoke quietly, his thoughts racing.
Had Greene been there all along, or just towards the end?

‘I think I should take charge now, Phelps. I'm sure Cadet Porter will comply.'

The corporal inclined her head, ‘I'm sure he will, Ma'am.'

Greene stepped purposefully into the room, ‘Carter, Richards, I'm sure Cadet Peters could benefit from your attention.'

Luke blinked in disbelief as the girls let go of his wrists and Carter eagerly knelt to engulf his cock. Instantly reawakening, he hardened beneath her expert touch. This certainly didn't feel like punishment.

‘I believe that the corporal promised you a time of two minutes to be recorded for the last exercise if you managed to withstand her procedures?'

‘Yes, Ma'am.'

‘Well, as you failed, that is now not an option. However, if you withstand this final test, I will allow the corporal to award you a one minute margin; a respectable time – especially for someone with such a dismal record as yourself.'

Luke blanched, biting away the unwise response that hovered on the tip of his tongue.

A few moments later, her shrewd eyes never leaving Luke, the sergeant said, ‘Enough cadets. I believe he is hard enough now.' She pointed to the sofa, ‘Sit down girls, please. You too, Phelps.'

‘Cadet Porter, hands back on your head please.' Luke said nothing. ‘You will answer each of my questions correctly.'

Totally confused, Luke replied, ‘Yes, Ma'am.'

‘Good.' Greene undid the top button of her blouse, ‘Would you like me to undo the next button?'

As she spoke, Luke could clearly see her teats poking beneath the fabric of her shirt. She wore no bra to support her small tight tits. ‘Yes, Ma'am.'

Greene undid the next button, ‘Do you agree that Corporal Phelps acted fairly in the construction of the extra exercise?'

The words “No, Ma'am” were on the tip of Luke's tongue, but sensing this was the wrong answer, he said, ‘Yes, Ma'am.'

A third button opened, the top of the sergeant's cleavage appearing. Ignoring the strain in his arms and shoulders, Luke's eyes flicked from the sergeant to the row of women to his side.

‘Do you think you have deserved this treatment?'

Again Luke went against his instincts, swallowed his pride and said, ‘Yes, Ma'am.'

Button four popped undone, the pale small breasts coming into view. A sharp sigh escaped from Phelps, who immediately regained his composure after a warning glance from her sergeant.'

‘Do you think you deserve to be allowed to come again?'

‘Yes, Ma'am.' Luke spoke quickly, his groin doing the thinking.

A button was done back up, ‘I don't agree, not yet.'

Phelps' lips thinned, and Luke wasn't sure if she was angry with him for making the chest she obviously yearned after disappear again, or for getting a question wrong.

‘Would you like Carter and Richards to spank you?'

‘Yes, Ma'am.'

The button re-opened.

‘Would you like to fuck Richards until she comes?'

‘Yes, Ma'am.'

Another button. Luke licked his lips. There were only two to go.

‘Are you a disgrace to the army, Cadet?'

Past caring about anything but screwing Richards, Luke snapped out, ‘Yes, Ma'am.'

The blouse flapped open, with only the hint of the sergeant's naval leaving anything to the imagination. Greene signalled to the other women to join her. As Luke watched, Phelps stood behind her superior, passing her arms around her waist, her finger hovering over the final fastening.

‘Tell me, Cadet Porter, do you think you deserve to fuck Richards?'

Every fibre of his being screamed out for him to say yes, but was that the right answer? The women scrutinized him intently, their faces a mixture of lust and curiosity, but giving nothing away to help him answer what would be the last question – if he answered it correctly.

Eventually he said, ‘Yes, ma'am.'

Greene locked her stern gaze on to his. No one stirred. No one said anything.

Frozen to the spot, Luke suddenly realised the sergeant was still deciding if he'd given the right answer or not.

After an agony of waiting, Greene inclined her head towards the women, and they descended on Luke in a wave of arms and legs, flipping him so he was face down, bent over the sofa. An unidentified hand landed on his exposed rump as a pair of palms held his ankles apart, and a third hand scratched nails all over his back, with just enough pressure to cause pain, but not enough to be agony.

Luke, pinioned to the cushions, had no idea who was doing what. He no longer cared. All he could think about was fucking Richards.

The sergeant could be faintly heard through the slaps that were building up a rhythmical tempo on his arse, ‘Hit, pause, hit, pause, hit ... Phelps to me!'

The abrupt withdrawal of the fingernails told Luke that it had been the corporal who'd been abusing his back.

A hand grabbed at his neck, yanking his head upwards as the spanking continued. Forced to observe yet more girl on girl action, Luke knew he'd be lost if they didn't let him shag Richards soon. Phelps was eagerly nipping and lapping at her superior's nipples.

His ankles were freed, and the hands that had been holding him were gliding with mind blowing stealth up his legs. Luke's head spun as Phelps began to pull down Greene's trousers. Another rainfall of hits exploded against his backside.

As the corporal's mouth came to Greene's snatch, a voice whispered in his ear, ‘Phelps says I can let you shag me if you agree to thirty seconds instead of a minute.'