Looking back on it, I suppose I had already developed a crush on Robin, even before the infamous Night of the Naked Cadets. I certainly got a warm, fluttery feeling in my belly whenever I was around her, and I told myself that I loved her like a sister. But I was not consciously aware that I had any sexual feelings for her, and I’m sure the reverse was equally true. But, when we climbed between the sheets together unclothed for the first time, I felt a little strange, and I noticed that Robin was acting oddly too. Every movement she made was very tentative, as if she was afraid of something, and she apologized every time any part of her body touched mine.
For my part, every time she touched me, little bolts of lightning went off inside my body. I suddenly knew that I had more than sisterly feelings for Robin. I wanted her. My heart ached to take her in my arms, to kiss her, to fondle her beautiful breasts, crush her up against me, to give her pleasure with my hands and mouth, and to receive it from her. But I was afraid she would reject my advances, that she would think I was a sexual pervert, and that I would scare her away and lose her forever as my best friend. I went ahead anyway; really, I didn’t have any choice. I would have gone off like a bomb if I had to lie naked in bed next to her without telling her how I really felt.
When I whispered to Robin that I loved her, she hesitated. I’m sure it was actually less than a second, but to me it felt like an eternity. I thought my heart stopped beating in my chest; I know I stopped breathing. Then she smiled her beautiful smile, wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me in close. I knew in that instant that I had found the one true love of my life, and that is why, in spite of everything, I will always remember the National Women’s Military Academy with fondness. Robin and I made love for the first time that cold December night, and that was when I finally found out what the big deal was about sex.
Since coming to High Point, I had, like my classmates, “enjoyed” a very active sex life, and had been made to climax by my superior officers, or by other girls under their orders, dozens of times. As described above, I had been penetrated front, rear and orally, by cocks, fingers, tongues and various devices, and I will admit that the orgasms were pretty good. They were brief, but intense explosions of pure animal pleasure, and they allowed me to forget my state of sexual slavery for as long as they lasted.
But sex with Robin was and is a completely different proposition. Just the touch of her lips on my nipples or her fingertips on my pussy is better by far than the wildest orgasm I ever experienced at the hands of my Academy instructors. That first night, when her tongue found my clit, I thought I would explode from feeling so much pleasure at once. Every time I open her lovely labia and breathe in her delicious aroma… well, never mind. I’m a soldier, not a poet, so I don’t know how to describe what I feel when Robin and I make love. Probably nobody can. If you’ve never experienced love yourself, I don’t think all the words in the world would be enough.
By the way, I still occasionally have an eye for good-looking studs: I never lost interest in men, and the same is true for Robin. I will even admit that we have done more than look on occasion, and have even gone so far as to invite a male to join us in bed every now and again. But we’re both just having a little fun, and I have never worried that an occasional roll in the hay with a boy-toy would have any effect on our feelings for each other.
One lingering effect from the NMWA was that we both developed a taste for some mildly kinky sex (I am assuming that nobody nowadays considers oral sex “kinky”). As a matter of fact, this is really none of anyone’s business, but this is supposed to be a “tell-all” memoir, so with Robin’s permission, I’m telling all. One night when we were in bed together (this is after we had graduated, and I had been promoted to Lieutenant-General, more about that a little later), were reminiscing about our days at the Academy. Robin remarked that the first time she had seen me spanked on my bare bottom, she had been mostly horrified, but also more than a little excited. Later on, of course, she had been ordered to whip a number of our classmates as part of our sex training (never me, as it happened), and she didn’t get any thrill from those experiences at all.
I found this strangely interesting. “Really?” I asked. “What exactly did you like about seeing me spanked?”
She seemed a little embarrassed. “I don’t know, Jodie.” She said. “You have such a cute little ass, and the way it wriggled under the Sergeant’s crop, it just…” she trailed off. “Anyway, I didn’t think of you that way back then. I wasn’t a lesbian or anything.”
I pictured being bent over Robin’s knee with my naked buns in the air, and I liked what I saw. I rose up on my hands and knees and crawled over to lie across her lap, there on the bed. I shook my bottom as temptingly as I could (and I have a very tempting bottom, if I do say so myself), and said, “Wouldn’t you like to try it just once? I promise I won’t accuse you of being a lesbian or anything.”
Robin laughed. “OK, as long as you won’t think I’m some kind of weirdo, I’ll do it, just this once, and only as a personal favor to you, you understand,” she said. She sat up straight and gave me a light swat on my left cheek. This was definitely not what I had in mind.
“Bransom, that was the most pathetic excuse for a spank I have ever seen,” I barked, using my best imitation of our old drill Sergeant. “If you do not administer the correction appropriately, you will receive ten disciplinary strokes on your useless cadet cunt ass. Is that understood?”
Robin smiled. “Understood, Sergeant,” she replied. She took hold of my right wrist and bent my arm up behind my back until I had to lean forward and raise my ass to relieve the pressure. Then she slammed her hand into my bottom full force. I was surprised at how much it stung (of course, I hadn’t been whipped since graduation, and my pain threshold was probably a lot lower than it had been at the Academy).
“Ow! Dammit that hurt!” I said. She looked at my questioningly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. I could feel myself getting aroused as well. “So, aren’t you going to do it again?” I asked her.
She spanked me until I cried, then ordered me to service her pussy. I had not been so hot since our first night together at High Point, and Robin obviously felt the same way. When I put my mouth to her slit she was soaking wet, and she came like a crazy woman inside a minute. After that, when she went down between my thighs and started sucking my clit between her teeth, I blew up like a geyser. I found it a little uncomfortable to sit at my desk the next day, but it was worth it.
After that, we experimented with some mild spanking and bondage on some nights, although most of the time we just made love the usual way. Sometimes I would spank Robin until she begged to be allowed to lick me; and sometimes she would tie me up and spank me until my ass was on fire, then let me bring her off. Anyway, that was another legacy from the old school.
I haven’t mentioned the most important product of High Point yet. Of course, if you’re reading this book, you almost certainly already know about it. It was me. To be precise, the NWMA was where the Army (and I) discovered my knack for generalship. I could pretend to be modest about it, I suppose, but what would be the point, really?
We (the United States, that is) and our allies had been getting our asses handed to us for twenty years by the Chinese. China had taken Taiwan, Indo-China, the Philippines, Japan and Indonesia in a series of wars, smothering us with a superior weight of men and machines we couldn’t match. Strategy for both sides was determined by battle computers, which supposedly produced the plan with the optimal result, given the material parameters. Since their computers were as good as ours, and they had more men, tanks, planes, ships and so on than we did, we continued to lose. We needed a new approach if we were going to stop them.
When I defeated the supposedly unbeatable battle simulation computer at the Academy on the first day of our Military Operations class, my instructor thought the computer program had become infected with a virus, or some such. When he checked, it was operating normally, so he decided that it was just a on
ce-in-a-lifetime anomaly. Then I beat it again, something nobody had done since the Army had learned to program digital computers for warfare. When I started consistently beating the battle sim, General Cafferson decided that he had found a way to defeat the Chinese at last.
After graduation, he squirreled me away in a secret base in Wyoming, where I was force-fed computer analyses of every Chinese military campaign of the last thirty years. Then they gave me the battle simulator-generated plan for the defense of what was expected to be the next Chinese target, New Zealand, to analyze. I agreed with the computer’s prediction: we would lose again. After that, all I had to do was come up with an operational plan that might actually work.
It’s hard for me to explain how I do what I do. When I come up with a plan, it seems so simple and obvious to me that I don’t really understand why nobody else was able to think of it. I’m told it’s a special knack, something like a musical prodigy has, say Mozart, for example, or a chess natural, like Paul Morphy or Bobby Fischer. The only thing I know for sure is that the battle sims can’t predict what I’ll do, and they can’t beat me. And since modern war planning (both ours and the Chinese) has been based on the opti-max models generated by these computers for more than twenty years, defeating the computer models usually equals winning actual campaigns and battles.
The defense of New Zealand was code-named Operation Seahorse. The overall commander of the South Pacific Theater and Seahorse was Lieutenant-General Hubert Sunderland (Royal Australian Army). I prepared the operational plan for the campaign. There has been a lot written about Seahorse, but not by me. Here, for the first time, is the full story of that campaign as told from my point of view [there follows a chapter on the New Zealand campaign]…
…In the end, we trapped the two hundred thousand-odd man Chinese expeditionary force on the North Island and forced them to surrender in March of 2012. I was General Sunderland’s acting chief of staff during the campaign, there to make sure Seahorse went as planned. I had initially joined the South Pacific Command as a Second Lieutenant. By March 4, when Marshal Lu Han’s First Amphibious Army laid down their arms in Auckland, I was already a full Colonel. When I got back to Washington, the General Staff (on General Cafferson’s suggestion) promoted me over the heads of roughly fifty Brigadier- and Major- Generals to Lieutenant General, put me in command of the Asian Theater (which essentially meant putting me in operational command of the entire war with China), and placed me on the General Staff, subordinate only to Cafferson himself. I hope you will excuse my lack of false and no doubt real modesty, when I say that at the age of 21 I was the youngest soldier in American history ever to reach such a high rank, probably the youngest in any army in history.
[Robin just read this and pointed out that Lafayette was only 21 when he was promoted to Major-General in a much smaller army, during the Revolutionary War, and added that if I’m not careful, my head is going to get too big to fit through an ordinary doorway. Too late, the damage has already been done.]
As a result of the status I gained from Seahorse, I had the leverage to have High Point closed, and to have the remaining cadets there (including Robin’s younger sister, Merry) offered the opportunity to transfer to West Point to take the same course of instruction as the men. (All but two cadets of the 210 at the NWMA transferred). I also was able to get my fellow Cadet Cunts released from their sexual duties, and assigned to normal posts for Second Lieutenants, or allowed to resign their commissions with full pensions, if they wished. I am proud to say that not one of my blood-sisters chose to leave the service…
…The last time I saw General Cafferson, the cancer had just about finished him. He was in an oxygen tent, plugged into various machines, with tubes running out of him. I sat next to his bed and he took my hand. His grip was so weak, it frightened me.
He coughed a little, then said “Jodie, I’m as proud of you as if you were my own daughter. You are the most brilliant soldier this country has produced in more than a century...” That was the first time he had ever called me by my first name. I knew from that alone that the end was near.
He stopped to gasp for air before continuing, “…but you have to understand that you have enemies, and they will try to destroy you after I’m gone.”
On one hand, I didn’t want to argue with a dying man, but on the other, I didn’t want him to worry unnecessarily about me, either. “I’m sure I’ll be fine sir. The Chinese will never get a shot at me. I have excellent security,” I said, trying to reassure him.
He shook his head. “I’m not talking about the Chinese. You came up so fast that you never learned about politics at the General Staff level. Do you remember when those Navy bastards tried to kill you to get at me?”
He was referring to an incident that occurred during my last term at High Point, when an Admiral had come close to murdering me, Robin and Robin’s sisterMerry in order to discredit the NWMA and bring Cafferson down. I will never forget the Strangler’s Knots around our throats, and how two Admirals were in the process of tightening the knots until we stopped breathing by sodomizing us (quite literally fucking us to death), when we were rescued at the last second.
“Of course I remember, sir, but that’s over. Admiral Hall and the others resigned, they were all forced out of…” I began. He raised a hand.
“Jodie, it’s not over,” he gasped. He sat up with a tremendous effort and motioned me closer. He spoke with urgency, spending the last of his strength. “The same cabal that Hall led is still around. They won’t give up. They hated me and they hate you as my protégé and chosen successor, and they don’t give a shit about the country. They will try to bring you down. All they care about is power, and they’ll do anything to get it, consequences be damned.”
He sank down again and his eyes closed. He was silent for so long, I thought for a minute he was gone. Then he whispered so softly I could barely make out the words. “You have friends you don’t know about, Jodie. Just remember that: you have friends.” I waited for a long time, but he didn’t speak again. That was the last time I saw General Cafferson alive. He died the next day…
Chapter Three: Black Ops
“Oh shit!” muttered the MP Captain. He hastily pulled up his pants, then motioned his men towards Robin and hissed, “Get her down. And straighten yourselves up, for Chrissake!” In a louder voice he called, “Be right with you, Major.”
The Captain’s apprehension was understandable. The National Security Bureau was the highest police agency in the country, overseeing security investigations of both the civil and military sides of the government. Not every person arrested by the NSB disappeared forever without a trace, but there were enough rumors in which that had happened to a friend of a friend circulating to make any sensible person want to stay off the agency’s radar.
The Captain tucked his shirt into his waistband, tried to wipe away the most obvious stains from his trousers, and then he opened the heavy metal door. Major Rodriguez was in plainclothes, dressed in a blue pinstriped suit. He stepped into the room, closely followed by a uniformed corporal and private wearing the much-dreaded black and gold armband of the NSB. The Major was on the short side, had a slender build, and the swarthy complexion and dark, wavy hair that went with his surname. He had high cheekbones and unusually delicate, almost feminine, features, which the presence of a thin, black moustache only partially offset. Jodie thought that he looked vaguely familiar, although she could not imagine where she could have seen him before.
Rodriguez glanced around the room, taking in the two nude prisoners, one of them still naked and hanging in chains, and the disheveled uniforms of the Military Police, without showing the slightest sign of approval. He stared at the MP Captain in stony silence.
Finally the Captain said shakily, “We were just conducting a preliminary… umm… interrogation to… uh… soften them up for you, Major.”
“Captain…?” Rodriguez paused, waiting for the man to offer his name.
“Harkness, sir,” the Cap
tain supplied.
“Captain Harkness,” the Major resumed in a clear tenor. “You were ordered to arrest these two suspects and hold them for two hours until my Bureau could take custody of them. It was a simple assignment, one which was well within the capabilities of a rookie MP on his first day on duty. What I find is…” he trailed off, shaking his head, apparently at a loss for sufficiently scathing words. “If this is your standard arrest procedure, I can see why the Military Police have such a sterling reputation in the law enforcement community.”
Captain Harkness cringed under the sarcastic lash of the Major’s tongue. “But sir, they’re only dirty traitors. Who cares what happens to them?”
“Have you considered the possibility that General Lawrence and Captain Bransom might be acquitted of the charges against them?” Rodriguez asked. His voice was as cold as ice. “Have you thought about what will happen to you and your men if they are? How stupid do you have to be, to be a commissioned officer in the Military Police, Captain Harkness?”
Harkness paled. He had never heard of anyone arrested on these kinds of charges actually being acquitted, so he had not considered the possibility. It seemed unlikely, but if it did happen… “Why, Major, sir, I simply…” he began.
“Never mind,” Rodriguez snapped impatiently. “Just get some clothes on them, and my men and I will take them.” He pulled a sheaf of folded papers from inside his jacket and thrust them at the Captain. “Here’s your receipt for the prisoners. Sign off on my copy,” he said, indicating the place with his finger.
As Harkness scribbled his signature on the form, the Military Police were freeing Robin, and putting her and Jodie back into their bathrobes. The two uniformed NSB men handcuffed their wrists behind their backs and held them by their elbows, waiting for their superior.
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