The only one
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clark Palmer/Harmon Rabb
Rating: adult
Harmon Rabb's pov of his and Palmer's Valentine's Day.
Companion piece to Good time and thus another interlude after The Challenge and Through a glass, darkly.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Rabb belongs to Palmer, and Palmer belongs to CBS and Belisarius Productions.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
Warnings: D/s action, beating.
For Scarlet. Many thanks to Tinnean for reading this over and over for me.
*****
Clark was gone so long this time that I worried something had happened to him. But he's here, with me, and I don't care what he does to me. No, that's not true. I want him to do things to me. Want him to beat me, hurt me, hit me, fuck me. I need it. I need him. He gives me what I need. I've told him that over and over. Sometimes I worry that he's not getting what he needs, but I have to trust Clark. He chose me when he could have had anyone he wanted, and he's stayed with me. He has to be getting enough back.
I can't take my eyes off him as I lie on my side and look up at him lounging on the bed. Everything hurts, and I wish he'd pull me to my knees and let me suck on his cock or fuck me. That would take my mind off my ass and my wrists and my cock, but if my suffering is what he wants, he'll get it. I know he wants my silence. I can read that in his eyes, and I hate that I can't keep in these damned whimpers. He deserves better than that from me. He should beat me again for this.
I missed him especially today, with all the crap about Valentine's Day. People kept asking me who was going to be my Valentine, and I had to lie and tell them no one. I wanted to tell them about Clark, but I know better than to do that. I will never do anything to put him in danger again. I can't believe I ever thought he was someone I could stand to lose. What was wrong with me? I didn't know what or who I needed. I know now.
Clark swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, then wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it. I want his cock. I'd beg if I thought it would help, but it wouldn't. Clark will give me what I need, but when he decides to. My job is to wait.
His cock lengthens as it hardens, and I can smell him getting excited, see the precome gather on the head of his cock. My pulse is throbbing in my throat and my cock, and that makes the cord bite more into my cock. But it's pain he wants me to have, and so I want it, too.
He picks up the whip he beat me with earlier, and his slash to my cock hurts so much that I have to cry out. I hate myself for doing so. He'll be angry with me, and I never want him angry with me.
"You don't like what I'm giving you, baby?" His voice is cool, but he's not angry. I don't know what kind of miracle I got, but I'm grateful, and I know my place.
"I'm sorry, Clark. Please. Do anything you want to me."
He smiles and drops the whip on the bed, then does what I want him to do: pull me to my knees. Did he want me to cry out?
"You know I will."
Yes, I know, and I'm glad. "Yes." I drop my head and stare at the floor. What now?
The doorbell rings, and I tense, but then when I look at Clark, he's smiling, so everything must be all right. I watch him as he does up his jeans and goes to answer it, and keep quiet, but it's hard to, especially when I hear men's voices. Who are they? Will he bring them in here to see me? He can do what he wants, but I don't want anyone but him seeing me like this. I'm his.
Or am I? What if he's decided to give me away to one of these men? Oh, god, no. He can't do that. But there's nothing I can do if he does. I belong to him.
The men file into the room, all looking at me with interest and, when I look at their crotches, bulges. I can't help shaking.
"Strip, gentlemen, and hurry up about it," Clark says coolly, then comes to me and takes off the cuffs. I'm glad to have them off, but I don't know what's going on, and I need to know. I have to ask, even if it does make Clark angry.
I rub first one wrist, then the other. They hurt. "Are you giving me away?" I'm shaking even more now.
Clark's answer comes quickly, with that certainty I know so well. "No. You're mine. Show them a good time, boy."
"Yes, sir." Anything for him, anything at all.
He reaches into his pocket, and I see him take out something, then I see what it is: a pair of nipple clamps, big ones. I make myself keep breathing as he bends over, a gleeful smile on his face, and snaps on one. The pain shoots through my body once, then again, and I whimper, then bite down on my lip to stop the cries that want to come out. I won't embarrass him in front of his friends, or enemies, or whatever these men are.
My nipples are still throbbing when he gives me his next command. "Get on the bed."
It hurts to move, hurts in so many places, but he's watching, so I do it. I close my eyes and breathe when I'm on my hands and knees. I'm sure one of the men, all of the men, are going to fuck me, unless they want my mouth, and I hope Clark's going to stay and make sure everything goes the way he wants it to. I know I'll feel safer with him there.
The bed moves, and I can feel someone behind me, not Clark. The man pushes into my ass, and he's big enough to hit my prostate on the first thrust. I rock back against him as Clark's name comes out of my mouth. It's all about him; he needs to know that. He must know that.
"Happy Valentine's Day, baby," Clark whispers, his scent filling my nostrils, and I groan, both from what this man is doing to me, and from the knowledge that this is a present from Clark to me.
"Thank you, sir."
I can't keep my eyes open any longer. The man is pounding into me, hard and fast, and Clark told me to show him a good time. I tighten my muscles around him and feel more blood pump into my cock, making it hurt more, but with the fucking, it feels almost good.
The man comes and pulls out, then climbs off, and another one climbs on. Clark's still there, and he says nothing to me. He reaches down and tugs on the nipple clamps, and they start hurting and throbbing again. The one behind me shoves in his cock and fucks me hard and fast.
"Was he good?" Clark's not talking to me.
"Yeah, tight ass. Thanks."
"Welcome. He's a slut, loves cock." I moan. He's right; I do. Clark knows me better than anyone ever has. "His mouth's not bad. Use it if you like."
Another voice. "He'll do anything?"
"What were you thinking?"
I don't hear anything for a few moments as the second man keeps fucking me, then comes with a cry, then Clark laughs.
"Sure, he'll do it."
My asshole's throbbing as the second man pulls out, and I wonder what this next man wants, then I find out. He gets on the bed in front of me, his ass pushing into my face.
"Lick me," he says hoarsely, and I swallow. I haven't done this for anyone but Clark, but Clark said I'd do it, so I will.
I lick over his hole over and over, down his crack to his hairy balls, then back up to his hole and this time push the tip of my tongue inside. For Clark. This is for Clark.
The man pulls away, and I think he's done, but he turns around and shoves his cock into my mouth, and at the same time, someone else climbs up behind me and penetrates me, with hardly any lube. He's going to split me in two, and I can't do this, I can't. Not even for Clark.
Then there's a hand on my back, stroking it, and I know it's him, and I relax. "Take it, baby; I know you love it," I hear him say, and there's affection in his voice. I start sucking harder on the one man and relax enough to let the other man fuck me. They both come at almost the same time and get off the bed. I swallow over and over, trying to get the taste of the man's ass and come out of my mouth. I want Clark.
But there's one left. He reaches up and pulls off the clamps, and I almost bite through my lip to stop my cry and get the taste of blood in my mouth to go with the other tastes. He gets between my legs, pushes into my hole, which is sore now, and fucks me slowly, playing with me, pinching my nipples, grabbing my cock, taunting me. "Bitch. You're my bitch."
I'm not his, but I don't say that. I don't say anything.
"He's not yours. Say that again, and you'll regret it." Cold, hard voice from Clark, but it comforts me.
The man takes a few moments to answer and twists my nipples harder than before. I grind my teeth into my lip to stop the sounds that want to come out. "All right, he's yours. Sorry."
The man goes back to fucking me, and it hurts, but I don't care. Clark claimed me. I'm still his. Finally he comes and pulls out. My arms are shaking, holding my body up, and I want to lie down and rest, but not if it will displease Clark. I turn my head and find him, and he gives me a long stare before he turns away. I turn my head back and stay in place, fixing my eyes on the whip he used on me earlier. It's comforting, too. I wonder if he'll beat me when they're gone. I almost hope he does.
"Get dressed."
"That's it?" It's the same guy who called me his bitch. "Not a hell of a lot for all the trouble we went to, coming here. How about another round?"
There's silence for a few moments, then one of the other men thanks Clark, then the others chime in, and I can breathe again. They dress and leave, thanking Clark again. I risk a glance and see that Clark's talking to the one who defied him, but a few moments later the door shuts, and Clark's coming to me. We're alone again.
"You sore, baby?" Clark's hand is on my back again, and I look up at him.
"Yes, sir." If he asks, it's not complaining to answer. "But not too sore for you to fuck me."
"They fucked you pretty hard, especially that last asshole." Is that concern in his voice? "He'll pay for that."
He sits down on the bed and pushes me down on my front. I can't help squirming against the blanket, since my cock's still hard, and he laughs, to my relief.
"So they didn't wear you out? That's my boy, always ready for more." I turn my head to see him pick up the bottle of lubricant. "Spread your legs, and I'll give it to you."
His fingers find my asshole, and I clench at the sheets. I want him to fuck me, want whatever he wants to give me, but I am sore, and it'll hurt to take him. But he's got lubricant on them, and he's smoothing it on me, gentle and slow, soothing me.
When he slides a finger into me, I'm relaxed and ready for it, and I moan.
"Good boy," he murmurs. "You were a good boy tonight."
"Thank you, sir."
He crooks his finger and hits my prostate, and I moan again. I want his cock. I don't care how sore I am. I want him.
"You liked them fucking you?"
"Yes, sir."
He adds more lubricant and another finger and fucks me with them. My head is buried in the covers, and I can't stop moaning. No one's as good as him.
"I'm going to beat you for liking it so much, but not now."
"Yes, sir." Of course he didn't like me liking their cocks in me; what did I expect? I'm his, only his. I grind against the bed until he slaps my ass.
"Hands and knees, baby, if you want to come."
I don't care if I come or not, as long as Clark's happy, but I can hear that he wants this, so I push myself up. His other hand finds the knot of the cord and starts undoing it, and I whimper, because everything is so intense, that place I only find with Clark.
"Slut," he whispers, and I whimper again. "My slut. Don't forget that. You do anything with another guy without permission, and I'll beat you until you bleed. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir." He doesn't have to worry; I never would.
He unwinds the cord, which makes me whimper more with both the pain and the release, then, still fucking me with his fingers, wraps his free hand around my cock and starts pumping it.
"Mine. All mine."
He keeps saying that as he jerks me off, and I moan to let him know that I know it, too.
I don't want to be anything but his.
The End
Posted 3/1/02
