The reception is small, and the hotel has given us a lovely meeting room with a balcony that opens out onto the warm summer afternoon sunshine. I love the feel of it on my neck. Everyone’s dressed up either in class A uniform or good suits, myself included. I’ve got a pastel peach number on, with white heels and one of the few civilian women in the crowd.

Jack’s pissed. Completely snarling on the inside, but hiding it behind the bland polite face he chooses to wear during functions like this. I can see hints of it in the brusqueness of his short replies, the tilt of his strong jaw. He’s seething internally, and completely unable to vent without drawing undue attention to himself and the situation that has him gritting his teeth.

Oh gracious, whatever could it be that’s lit his fuse? Could it be the fact that General Constantine is leaning close and whispering in my ear?

Of course it is.

Jack is savvy and political when he wants to be; he’d NEVER have made the rank of colonel based on his charming personality alone, trust me. But even though he knows what I NEED to do, it doesn’t make him at ALL happy to have to witness it. Charming Constantine is part of the unwritten part of my job; I have the figure to distract him and the brains keep him from realizing it. I wish the job had been given to Carter, but word was that general prefers redheads so she reluctantly passed it to me. Reluctantly because Andros Constantine is quite good looking if you like them tall dark and dashing—

My, Jack is unhappy. He’s hiding behind his mirrored sunglasses, looking out over the concourse below and standing as ramrod straight as I’ve ever seen. We’re all waiting around for the Russian delegation to finish their protocol and join us as the refreshment table, and even though it’s a nice day, SOME of us aren’t having a good time. I know I’m not.

Constantine is charming in his own right, but he’s just a little too much in my personal space for me to relax. If I was in the market for someone to date, he’d probably be on the list, but I’m not, and he’s a little slow to pick up on my polite nods and smiles. The only bright spot is that Jack’s been circling us most of the afternoon, ostensibly to mingle and put in a good word for the SG program. In reality, he’s expressing a streak of possessiveness I didn’t realize was so—pronounced. Even Carter and Daniel noticed, but they’re chalking it up to the General’s reputation, and the Colonel’s over protectiveness. They keep assuring me that once this shindig’s over and we’re all safely back doing our REAL jobs; Jack will regain his usual temper.

I know better. It’s going to take a little more than that, so I make an excuse and head to the lady’s room, planning my tactical first strike.

When I come up beside Jack, he gives me a look I can’t really read. I reach up for the shades, taking them off.

Oh those eyes . . . they’re coffee, hot and bittersweet, making me a little breathless.

“Trade you—“ I offer in a whisper. He just stares for a moment, and then finally speaks.

“Save the flirting for the General.”

I ignore this; his eyes are saying it all, his hot gaze moving up my thighs and over my chest. Slowly I slide his sunglasses on, turning my field of vision dark.

Jack’s expression changes ever so slightly; his eyes widen, his mouth tightens. Gently I take his hand and press the scrap of damp silk into palm.

“Your shades for my panties . . .” I finish, and turn away, heading back to the general.

***                  ***                  ***

Oh it’s getting bad now. Jack looks thunderous and bleak by turns, hardly hiding the fact that he’s staring at the general and me. Mostly me.

It could be because a little breeze has come up, and my skirt is billowing a bit here and there. I’ve been told I have nice thighs, and certainly Constantine seems to think so.

Finally the reception ends and we all make our goodbyes, not having accomplished much in the way of international diplomacy, but at least the meeting’s on the record, and we all had enough of chit chat. I keep the shades on, and slip off to the edge of the crowd, keeping my distance from the glowering presence trying to shadow me. Sunnily I latch onto Daniel’s arm.

“Please tell me I’m off distraction duty,” I plead. He grins at me and pats my fingers where they rest on his forearm.

“No guarantees, although you did look properly chummy there. Aren’t those Jack’s sunglasses?”

“Yeah, I forgot mine and the wind was making me tear up,” I natter, well aware that someone’s closing in on us. Daniel looks up as Jack comes up behind us.

“Nice snow job, kids,” he growls. “Where’s Carter?”

“She and Hammond are having dinner with Petrov,” I tell him. Daniel sighs and checks his watch.

“I got invited too, but had to turn it down—SG9 needs my report on PC87634, so it’s back to the Mountain for me tonight.”

Jack nods. I turn my face to him, eyes still hidden behind the sunglasses.

“Guess that leaves us, Jack—feel like eating?” I ask. He turns so Daniel can’t see his face and the glitter in his eyes is dangerously sexy.

“I’m UP for it,” he announces into my face, “developed an appetite out there—“

I can feel a hot throb low in my belly, and shift a little. Jack gives Daniel’s shoulder a squeeze as a smiling Hammond approaches us.

“Looks like we succeeded, people,” he shoots me a grateful look. “Made quite an impression on Constantine.”

“Oh yes—he promoted me to honorary general,” I purr.

“So I heard,” Hammond added, eyes twinkling. “Ms. MacGyver outranks you now, Colonel—“

Jack shoots me a rebellious look but I smile at him over the top of the sunglasses and it’s sweet to see him swallow hard. Hammond continues.

“Major Carter and I are dining with Colonel Petrov and General Constantine. I believe the invitation was extended to include you both—“

I shake my head.

“Don’t want to encourage Andros any more than I have to,” I mutter, earning a grin from Daniel and a knowing nod from Hammond. I continue.

“Besides, colonel’s waiting for the rest of my debriefing and I know he’s hungry, so we’ll probably have a bite—“

I’m expecting several probably in tender places, judging by the feral look in Jack’s eyes as he stares at me. Hammond and Daniel both give shrugs and check their watches.

“Fair enough. We’ll reconvene at 700 hours tomorrow. Dismissed.”

I can see Constantine trying to search me out, so I shift, letting Jack’s form block me from the general’s sight and turn my focus back on him.

“A bite, huh? Debriefing?” he smiles dangerously. I shoot him a freezing look.

“You’re out of line, colonel. Kindly remember I outrank you,” I snap back, my voice as cutting as I can make it. Jack’s eyes narrow, but the heat cranks up in them, and I can feel his gaze searing through me.

Oh so good. He’s horny, he’s pissed off, and now he’s well aware I’m going to take it to another level here and now. I lift my chin a little—it’s hard to look eye to eye with a man a foot taller than me, but I manage it.

“You have GOT to be—“

I reach out a hand to touch his chest, fingering the ribbon there. Jack’s got a good six rows of them, most for deeds I don’t even want to think about.

“—Giving orders, Colonel. You can either take them, or take off.”

“Oh really?” he hisses, intrigued and angry. I give one slow nod.

“Let me put it this way, colonel. I have a dinner date---it can be with you, or with General Constantine. Either way I’m naked under this short skirt.”

Fury in those eyes now. I can feel the heat radiating off of Jack in slow dangerous waves.

Love it. Every now and then he NEEDS the tease, needs to remember what a savage he can be. I flick his tie.

“What’s it going to be, colonel?”

“Dinner,” he bites the words off softly, aware of people passing by us, “—Followed by the most intensive spanking you’ve ever had. And then I’m BURIED in you at least three times before tomorrow, bitch.”

So good to see he’s taking this well. I shiver inside, knowing damn well he can make good on those threats, but I can’t show any weakness now, not with Constantine heading our way.

“Hmmmm . . . “ I pretend to consider this, waiting as Constantine strides up, his handsome face beaming at the sight of me.

“Briar Rose, please join us for dinner—“ he entreats, moving in. I push the shades up on my forehead, and managed a sigh, mostly for Jack’s benefit.

“Sorry Andros, I have to take a rain check.  I have a very hard and demanding team leader here who thinks he outranks me—“

I pout, and Constantine eats it up. Jack looks like he wants to spit fire, but manages one of the weakest smiles I’ve ever seen as the general turns to him.

“Keeping her under your thumb, O’Neill?” he comments jovially. Jack gives a nod and I lick my lips. That sets his teeth on edge. He looks so delicious!

“Too bad—she’s made general thirty minutes ago—“ Constantine teases, “So I guess she’s going to be the one giving orders. Ah well, if you’re sure—“ he looks at me pleadingly but I shake my head.

“Not tonight—but thank you—“ I tell him demurely. He gives my hand a squeeze and heads back to the group heading out, leaving Jack and me in the hallway, waiting for the elevator. There are still several people around, so Jack’s trying to keep his cool, but I can see the fidgeting of his fingers, the restlessness in his stance.

The nice big bulge at his fly.

I love Jack. He’s such a creature of direct requirements. Food, water, fucking—never shy, never coy; he used to live comfortably with the fact that the basics were good enough for a while.

But.

But Jack has his kinks. His weaknesses that he’s hidden and fought and denied for so long.  I worked hard to find them, and they’re my little goldmine now. The Things Jack Doesn’t Want Anyone To Know File----

See, I know what turns him on, majorly. I know what makes him whimper, what makes him come like a freight train, and I intend to use this little arsenal to extract some mighty sweet revenge for his unkind words about my little mission.

Vanilla my ass. I am NOT ‘a little vanilla distraction for General Constantine’, and I hate being thought of as ‘our little Pollyanna of the Gate room’. He’s paying for that one.

I look up at Jack, and offer a cool smile as the elevator opens. Two people get in with us, but Jack manages to crowd up against me anyway. I love the scent of his skin right now, reeking of testosterone and desperate desire. On the next stop, several more people get on; Jack pushes closer. Slowly I take his hand and place it at the edge of my skirt, out of sight near the wall.

“Anyone getting off here?” someone asks at the front of the car. I smile as Jack’s fingers practically shoot up my thigh, straining to reach me. I shift away.

“Colonel—“ I manage in a voice cooler than I actually feel. He cocks his head, and I can see that he thinks he’s in control, that the minute we’re alone it’s all going to go HIS way.

Ha. Think again, Jack!

The elevator opens and I start stepping out. Jack’s confused for a moment—we’re up on the fifteenth floor, not down at the lobby. I hand him a card key and there’s that wolfish smile again. Two strides down the hall from the elevator he’s starting to move faster, looking at the numbers and heading for the door. I follow, clutching into my purse.

He reaches it, jams the card in and the light goes green.

“Get in—“ he orders. I shake my head shifting out of his reach.

“I give the orders, Jack. Get in.”

He snorts, and steps inside. Instead of reaching for the switch he reaches for me. Oh. Oh yesssss, Mmmmmmmmm wet eager tongue; he’s down my throat and pinning me roughly on the wall, his body holding me up while he plunges deep into my mouth. Jack’s hard and tastes good, good, and good—so much so I’m getting dizzy here. I want him so bad, but my pride is still a wee bit stronger than my lust, so I manage to fish in my purse for what I need, even as he gropes me.

“J,Jaaaaccck . . .” I manage to sound as dizzy as I feel; he pulls back a little, panting. I let my head hang.

“—Need to breathe—“ I wheeze at him. Jack shifts back, and when he does I dart under his arm. I’m faster and Jack isn’t expecting this. The cuffs click on his right wrist and then his left; he’s stunned. I circle around, pushing him off his balance in the dark. He stumbles as I reach for the light and flick it on.

Jack is wild-eyed and wary, recovering faster than I thought he would. He catches his balance with one shoulder on the wall, his uniform looking a little rumpled since his hands are now cuffed behind him.

“What the FUCK!?”

“Not so loud, Jack,” I tell him, patting his cheek. He glares at me, still trying to figure out how we went from Hot Screw to Hostage. I wave at the room.

“Nice isn’t it?”

“God DAMN it Rose, what the hell are you playing at?” he bellows. I press him back to the wall, getting some serious groping of my own in. He’s still rock hard, still so hungry for me—

“We have to be quiet, Jack. This is Constantine’s room—“

He jerks, looking around with wide eyes, taking in the suitcase on the dresser, the men’s clothing scattered about.

“Jesus Christ!” he explodes. “Jesus FUCKING Chri---“

I cut him off with a little tongue plunge of my own, tugging at his straining fly as I do, getting both my hands around the heated heft of his outraged cock. Jack moans loudly; he can’t help himself—to be handcuffed and stroked off in a visiting General’s hotel room is too exciting, too dangerous. I slide my hand up his throbbing shaft, feeling him hunch into my fingers, gasping.

“You’re so close, baby. Nice and hard, just aching to come. Do it, Jack, come all over me, get me wet with it—“ I croon into his mouth, feeling his rhythm increase. He tries to pull away, but it’s too late and his body won’t be denied. Jack’s cock gushes beautifully, thick ribbons splashing up between us to splatter everywhere.

He sags against wall, wide-eyed and in shock, breathing deeply. I look down at the carpet and make a tsk tsk sound.

“Wow, Quite a stain on the carpet, colonel. You blew your wad all over Constantine’s rug . . .” I observe mildly. Jack shudders, and I take a tiny bit of pity on him. With a tug to his arm, I pull him up from the wall and kiss him again, then tuck that bad boy back in and zip up his fly.

“Colonel?”

He looks down at me, brown eyes wild and dark.

“I outrank you and you WILL follow my orders. Repeat that back to me—“

Numbly his jaw works for a moment, but a lifetime of military service kicks in, and he mumbles,

“You outrank me and I WILL follow your orders—“

I pat his cheek again. This is going so well.

***                  ***                  ***

We’re in the room down the hall now—the one I rented and stocked up yesterday. I haven’t uncuffed Jack, and he’s starting to get mad again.

Tough. As the ranking officer, I get to shower first, and I do, taking enough time to enjoy myself. Jack sits on the edge of the bed, waiting, and if I know my darling the way I do, plotting revenge of his own. I certainly don’t plan on giving him enough time to do MORE than plot.

“All right,” I come out wrapped in my tiny towels, glaring at Jack. He perks up a bit, still looking adorable mussed, with his dress blue uniform in serious need of a dry cleaner.

“Get me outta these cuffs—“ he insists, brows drawing together. I wait patiently as he launches into his rant.

“God damn it, Rose I don’t know what the HELL you’re playing at, but stop this dumb shit right now and let me GO!”

“Colonel, shut up.” I make it a point to drop my towel and reach for Jack’s ears. They make perfect handles, and I pull his face into my damp chest, effectively cutting of his protest. He resists for all of a half second, nuzzling into me as I stroke his soft grey hair.

“I outrank you and you WILL obey my orders, colonel. You’re going to shower and dress for dinner. You have twenty minutes to do so or I will be extremely displeased, colonel. Displeased translates into many dangerous and unpleasant things—“ I manage to tell him. Jack is so busy kissing and licking my breasts I’m not sure he’s hearing all this, and even I’M having some trouble. Damn he has such a talented mouth—I yank him back and he winces, turning those sweet baby browns up my way.

“Twenty minutes—“ I warn him. He looks rebellious again.

“Or what?” he demands, tongue flicking out towards me. I sigh and reach for my purse. The stun gun is small, but Jack pales.

“Shit—You’ve gone out of your friggin MIND!” he announces. I shake my head, letting the other towel drop away.

“No, I just outrank you,” I smile. With one hand I slip the key into the cuffs and unlock them. With the other, I flick on the charge for the stun gun. Jack rolls his eyes.

“You know babe, somehow I sense you’re . . . PISSED OFF at me . . .” he ventures, rubbing his freed wrists.

“Whatever gave you THAT idea colonel?” I glare at him. Jack begins to shed his uniform as I wave the stun gun.

“This is such a new side to you—psychobitch—is it in your resume?”

“Get showered and dressed, colonel, or I start barbequing that hot muscled ass of yours—“ I warn him. He smirks for a moment, then swaggers into the bathroom and I manage not to laugh to myself until he’s closed the door.

Seventeen minutes later he’s out, clean and sweet smelling, looking marvelously edible in the light grey silk shirt and black jeans. I love to dress Jack, love to put him in things he never thinks of choosing himself. When he sees me, he pauses, a little startled.

I’m such a bad girl.

I’ve got jeans on too, a nice black pair, low on the hip, tight on the ass. They flare a little at the ankle, and I’ve got my high-heeled boots on. I’m wearing a black striped dress shirt with an open collar. The shirt has wide black velvet stripes, but the other stripes of the material are filmy and transparent. I’m not wearing a bra.

I’m wearing his shades again, and—

I’m smoking.

Jack’s mouth drops open a tiny bit as he watches me. I take a lazy drag on the cigarette and blow the smoke out in one smooth exhale. No amateur here, no rookie to the habit. He shifts closer, not quite certain how to react.

See, Jack used to smoke. He kicked the habit, but he knows it well, knows all the nuances and moves.

“Babe?”

“That’s General to you, O’Neill.” I growl at him. I know the shades are giving him a major rush, but the smokes were an educated guess. Judging by the reaction in his jeans I’d say Jack’s INTERESTED. I grind the butt out and stand up, blowing the last of the smoke out nearly in his face. He’s watching me like I’m something dangerous.

I love it.

“Colonel. We’re going to dinner and then we’re coming back here. Got that?”

“Got it.” He confirms, the smirk starting to come back to his mouth. I shake my head at him.

“Colonel, I have your credit cards, ID and keys—“ I warn him. He fumbles in his pocket, fishing out his wallet and flicking through it, a bitter expression crossing his handsome features. He runs a hand over his face.

“Okay FINE. Christ, Rose, whatever I did or said, I am SOOOO fucking sorry, all right? I am scum, I am a dog—“

I press my palm to his mouth and smile.

“Shut up, colonel. Do what I tell you tonight, and . . .” I let the statement trail off. Jack gives a tiny nod, and his tongue licks my hand. Ohhhh yes. He’s going to be a good boy.

Maybe.

Either way, it’s going to be an interesting night. 

***                  ***                  ***

We’re out on the street, walking to the Chinese place. The night is cool, and Jack has his leather jacket on. I do too—mine has chains for epaulets and they jingle as we walk. I refuse to talk, and Jack’s filling in the silence as best he can, but he’s sweating a little.

“What? Was it the toilet seat again?”

Silence.

“Look I’ll just superglue the damned thing down and wipe up afterwards, okay?”

Silence, but I’m trying not to smirk. Jack is scowling. I turn my face to him and look over the top of the shades again.

“Colonel, how big is your cock?”

He meets my eyes, blushing. Jack blushing is one of the sweetest sights in the world because he does it so rarely. Nothing much fazes or embarrasses him, not after the life he’s led. However, direct sex talk can.

“I think you KNOW . . . General,” he mumbles back. I smile, licking my lips.

“We’ll have to check later—I don’t want your ring to be too small—“

His double take is picture perfect—I slip ahead of him into the restaurant and wait for him to catch up. Jack’s looking a little stunned.

“Cock ring?” he hisses. I simply smile.

The table is near the back, and rather small. The waiter has taken our order of tomato beef and glazed shrimp, and Jack is still looking at me as if I’m a bomb about to go off in his face. I push the shades up on my forehead and meet his wary gaze.

“You have my permission to speak freely, colonel,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes and leans forward.

“Oh ha ha. Okay Rose, you’ve made your point, whatever the hell it is, and can we drop this shit now? What the fuck has gotten into you anyway? You’re not LIKE this, all---“

“—Wild? “ I offer, lifting my foot under the table and pressing the spike heel lightly into his crotch. Jack jumps, and slides a hand on my ankle, gripping it hard.

“Watch it!” he warns angrily. I sigh.

“Colonel, what do you think my point is?”

He shrugs.

“You wanna be in charge in bed?”

“Mmmmmm—already am. Try again,” I tell him without blinking. Jack grins suddenly, and tries to yank the boot off my foot, but I was expecting that. I begin to unbutton my blouse, getting down to the third button as Jack watches, eyes going dark.

“Jesus, STOP it—“ he mutters, looking over his shoulder. I tug the edges open, exposing a nice expanse of chest from collarbones to navel. Jack hurriedly reaches over the table, trying to pull my blouse shut. He drops his grip on my boot and I shift, rebuttoning in a few quick seconds. Jack growls.

“Damn it!” He knows he’s lost the tactical advantage. The waiter comes with our appetizers and lingers for a moment.

“Something to drink?”

“Beer,” come Jack’s slightly morose order. I nod.

“Scotch.”

Another double take from Jack. The drinking is REALLY out of character for me, and he’s getting worried.

Good.

Once the waiter leaves, Jack studies his wontons.

“I give up, I surrender. What the hell IS it, Rose? I don’t understand and I don’t think I’m going to make it through the night like this---“

“You never learn, do you, colonel? My rank is General; I am NOT in the mood to be Rose, or Babe or darling or anything utterly BLAND and SWEET and SIMPERING. Your ass is SO mine tonight, and God help me by the time I’m through with it Colonel Jackass O’Neill, YOU’ll be the fucking Vanilla Pollyanna boy of SG1.”

He’s looking at me, awareness dawning in his coffee eyes that I’m utterly serious. His damn balls are on the line here, and my stare is making him twitch. He cocks his head.

“Vanilla? This is about something I SAID?” he demands in a bewildered tone. I nod, munching away on an egg roll. He shakes his head.

“I suppose an  ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t gonna help—“ he offers carefully, trying to keep a straight face. I hate this. He STILL thinks it’s funny; even after all I’ve managed to do so far. I shake my head sorrowfully.

“Your ass, O’Neill. Mine. Tonight. Forget about Mr. Happy ever visiting the land of Silky Delights unless the General gets her way. No negotiations, no alternatives.”

He thinks about that for a moment.

A long moment.

“Hell I’ve been on the bottom before,” he points out, somewhat ungraciously. I can’t help but smile at that. He’s been on the bottom, sure.

But he’s never BEEN the bottom.

I clear my throat warningly and take a sip of the whiskey before I speak again.

“You agree?”

He shrugs.

“Sure—“

Now he’s not so sure. Here in the semidarkness of the hotel room Jack’s trying to figure out if I MEAN what I’ve just told him.

Oh Jack. He’s never looked so handsome; his hands on his lean hips, his silver hair slightly tousled. Sexy, totally hot-- I hold my ground though and repeat myself.

“You agreed, colonel. If you can’t handle it, you might as well hit the road, Jack.”

His face winces at that, but he abruptly nods once and tightens his beautiful mouth. I try not to gloat but it’s difficult—I mean, I’m getting my way, and it’s going to be SUCH a pleasure.

“Good. Drop your trousers, Flyboy. If I can take a spanking, so can you---“

He’s amused by this, not afraid now, just laughing inwardly. He outweighs me by seventy pounds and I know Jack’s thinking I can’t possibly hurt him. I move to unzip his fly, pressing against him languorously.

Oh the colonel likes that, and lets me undo his jeans, taking my time to reach in, rubbing and stroking those muscled thighs that hot velvet cock. Jack grunts, giving me a naughty gaze while I push the jeans down and caress him.

God, he’s gorgeous. He bends to kiss me, tongue sliding against mine and he throbs in my grip. I have to FORCE myself to pull back.

“Love the feel of your hands on me,” he breathes in my face. His palms are cupping mine around his rigid shaft, helping me pump.

It would be so easy to give in now and just tumble into bed with him, all warm lust and forgiveness, but I can’t. Sweet as it would be, I can’t.

I HAVE to teach Jack his lesson.

I pull away and give him a serious look, which he takes as an excuse to smile. I’m sure he knows how close I was to changing the plan.

“Bend over—the edge of the bed will be fine—“ I snap impatiently. Jack snorts, giving me a ‘You’re really going through with this’ look, but I make it a point to push him. He sighs.

“Okay, okay. Take your little whacks at my bony old ass then, for all the good it will do—“

He stretches out on the spread, rump up, looking over his shoulder with one of the most annoyingly sexy expressions I’ve seen yet.  The urge to snap a photo is overwhelming.

“Okay, General—“ he announces in a mocking tone. “Give it your best shot.”

“My best six—“ I tell him. Jack laughs, arms folded under his chest.

“Yeah you bet. I’ve been hit by NUNS, sweetheart, so your little hand isn’t going to phase me a damn.”

“Who said anything about a hand?”

Jack shoots a look over his shoulder, eyebrows drawing together at my gloating tone of voice. I manage to hide my grin, but he’s not a happy camper now.

“You said you were going to spank me—that implies a HAND—“ comes his stern argument. I shake my head and reach under the bed. Jack follows me with his eyes as I pull out the long and flexible orange length. He pales a bit.

“You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding.” He breathes angrily. “A FUCKING. Hot Wheels. Track?”

“Oh yes—“ I give in to the gloating. “Yes, a single length of Hot Wheels track, darling Jack. It stings, it burns it HURTS LIKE HELL, flyboy. But you’re a grown man and a war hero, so you can take it, can’t you? You’re not a Vanilla Pollyanna—“

Jack is shooting daggers at me, and I can’t help but notice he’s grinding himself into the bedspread. The thought of being whacked is driving Mr. Happy crazy, but Jack would rather DIE than admit that.

Oh yes. It’s good to know the kinks.

Jack O’Neill, good little Catholic boy. Well experienced with corporal punishment. I bend down and run a hand up to lift his silk shirt out of the way, to caress that strong ass.

“I HATE you—“ he growls, caught and helpless. If he gets up, he knows I’m going to see his cock going crazy. If he lies there, he’s got to take six slaps with that track. Either way he’s caught.

I LOVE this! With relish, I give him a little pout.

“Come on, Jack—it will be all over in less than a minute—“

He’s breathing hard and I know that’s what he’s worried about now. I don’t give him time to think and swing the track down; it whistles and hits dead on with a crack. Jack jumps, cursing, and after a second a thin welt of red rises across his muscled ass.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Fucking bitch—“ Jack growls. “Just get it the fuck OVER with—“

I take a moment to pull off my own jeans, feeling someone’s eyes on me, taking in the sight. Little black panties, and yes, I’m leaving the heeled boots on. Jack is breathing raggedly and grinding a whole lot more now. I swing the track again in another good smack. He flinches with that one, gripping the bedspread.

“Shit!”

“Four more to go, Jack—and I can swing a LOT harder—“ I tell him, moving over to the edge of the bed myself. Jack is trying for nonchalance, but when you have your bare ass up, it’s hard to look complacent. A thin line of sweat is rolling down his temple.

I swing again. The track crosses the other two welts and Jack swears again, biting his lips. I run a hand over his cheeks, feeling the muscles contract. A gentle slide down his hip and my hand goes under him.

“Hey, hey—“ he protests, but, yes, YES I can feel his cock, searingly hot, harder than steel.

“Oh colonel—“ I whisper sorrowfully, “You filthy hypocrite. Telling me to be the sweet bland NICE girl for General Constantine while the whole time you get it up for a nasty spanking. You bad boy—“

“You fuckin bitch—“ he responds in a harsh voice, a needy voice that’s making me throb between my thighs. Jack is right on the edge between lust and fury. I love having him here, helpless and hot, on the verge of losing control.

 A wild man.

“THIS is for assuming I LIKED whoring myself for SG1—“ I tell him as the fourth smack hits his ass. He manages a humorless laugh to cover his sigh.

“THIS is for the Fucking Vanilla Pollyanna line—“

The track cracks HARD on that one; Jack grunts, grinding hard on the spread, a deep moan leaking out of him.

A moan of pleasure—Oh God—

“And THIS IS FOR THE GODDAMNED TOILET SEAT!!!” I shriek, whipping the track down one last time, as hard as I can. Jack bellows, spine arching up. I drop the track and just in time as he pushes off the bed and snags me, yanking me to him. Oh God, he’s furious and so turned on he’s not even coherent.

“Jesus Get your fucking legs OPEN Rose—“ He howls, “Want your pusssyyyy—“

He’s got me, shoving my thighs wide, pinning me on the floor, hot and rough, shoving into me hard. OhhhhhhChrist! He’s big, HUGE and angry! His cock is going so deep, and I’m melting now, clinging to him as Jack pounds into me desperately, mouth all over my face, my neck.

“Fuck you  fuck you oh God Rose I Loved it, yes, you hot little bitchhitmehitmeHARD, YESSSSSSSSS---“

I Can’t stopppppp, Ohhhhh—Jack always comes hard and the sound of him panting in my ear as he gushes in me puts me right over the edge.

Every time.

I’m not sure how we managed to get into bed; I think Jack picked me up, but to be honest I was, I am, dazed.

He’s got me on his chest, and I can feel the beat of his heart, fast and loud under my ear. I want to say something, but I can’t.

Jack’s trembling. Not a good sign.

Usually after sex he’s like a big jungle cat in the sun, all relaxed and snoozy. Right now he’s tense; his stomach is like a rippled slab of warm marble. He’s got his hands on my back, touching me like I’m made of crystal.

“Jack?” I finally whisper, too scared to let the silence stretch on. He sighs, deep and long.

“Thirty years of sex, Rose. Thirty years I’ve been screwing and eating and groping and coming, but—“

“—But--?” I prompt. He sighs again.

“—But NEVER like that . . . like being ripped inside out, complete fucking meltdown. And the hell of it is . . . I LOVED it,” he confesses in a shaky whisper. “—Loved it! All I could think about was shoving my aching cock in you hard and deep . . . Jesus, I could have HURT you—“

I let my fingers squeeze his shoulders hard.

“You didn’t,” I tell him gently. “I was pretty damned wet and aroused myself, Jack. I didn’t think spanking you would be soooo, um . . . . hot. A MAJOR turn-on.”

Jack shudders, and I can tell it’s laughter that he’s suppressing a bit.

 “Me either. How was I to know that getting my ass sizzled with a Hot Wheel track would turn me into a . . . rapist?” he trails off, his voice pale.

Ah that note of self-loathing. I have to get him to see the truth.

“Rapists have victims, Jack—I’m your lover. Besides I was the one abusing my power for sexual gratification, baby. It was all about ME.”

Jack pauses, considering my words, and a deep chuckle comes out of his chest, a warm sexy sound.

“Yes you were. Oh God were you EVER—“

“That’s General to you, Pink Cheeks,” I mutter back, and that does it. He’s got me in a death grip, tickling, kissing, using all one hundred ninety pounds to play with me. I’m a squeaky toy to a panther here, a purring satisfied panther.

On second thought, better make that a tiger.

Because of the stripes you know.

After a long bout of serious cuddling, deep kissing I ask the one question that’s been on my mind.

“Jack, I have to ask—did I hurt you? Be honest, because I don’t want—“

“—Nothing I can’t handle, although I won’t be sitting pretty for a few days,” he rumbles in my ear. “Janet’s going to ask some questions and I guess it’s going to be confidential time.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay. I doubt it’s the first time she’s seen the signs of consensual S and M. Should make her day.”

“Are you sure?”

“She’ll have to get used to it—“ he says slowly, savoring the words. I look at him meaningfully, and I see it all now.

More. He wants it again.

I can do that.   

END