Hard Corps

by Claire Thompson

  ‘So anyway,’ she went on. ‘We show up and there I see none other than Sergeant Ellen Roster, kneeling on the carpet in his office, where she’d been instructed to wait. He apparently has a thing for her, and he uses her a lot. It was really a trip seeing old bitch Roster there in a little white negligée kind of thing that he likes her to wear. No perfect starched uniform to hide behind. Just Ellen in her undies, forehead to the ground. She had no idea it was me there with him, though he had warned her that a novice mistress would be coming today to train with her.

  ‘She didn’t look up when we came in. Mr Kowolski said in a loud voice, “Hey! Your master’s here. I’ve brought a friend. Crawl over here and lick her boots. But keep your head down. You aren’t worthy to look at us, bitch.” Roster did as commanded, inching her way over to me, feeling with her hands along the carpet since she wasn’t allowed to look. She found my boots and kissed them, completely subservient. It turned me on right away to have her down there like that. She has a pretty good body, you know. She’s got a big butt, which is great for whipping.’

  As I nodded, recalling Sergeant Roster’s ample but attractive figure, Jean went on.

  ‘So, as she was sucking my boot toes, Kowolski leans down and slips a blindfold over her face. He puts a finger to his lips indicating that I should be quiet. I grin, realising she isn’t supposed to know that it’s me, her slime-bucket cadet, at whose feet she’s kneeling.

  ‘ “Get up, slime bitch,” Kowolski barks at her. He’s always barking when he gets to be master. “Lift your arms above your head. This mistress here wants to see how you handle a cane.” Roster actually gasped out loud, a kind of yelp almost. Mr Kowolski turned to me, an evil leer on his face. “My Ellen is scared of caning. She can take a good whipping with a flogger or crop, but bring out the cane and poor Ellen just falls apart, don’t you, girl?”

  ‘As he said that, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back so her blindfold-covered face was pointed to the ceiling. Her lips were trembling and I was afraid she was going to cry. Man, it was way cool to see Miss High and Mighty Corps Commander, who had gotten me up once at four to clean the fucking latrines, with her head bent back, all scared of the caning that I was going to give her.

  ‘Well, Mr Kowolski brought out this long bamboo rod and started whooshing it through the air. Roster actually fell down and huddled, begging him not to cane her. “Don’t worry,” he said to me. “She’s such a goddamned wimp. I’ll just tie her up so you can cane her properly.” Kowolski pulled Roster to her feet and dragged her to a chair. Forcing her across it, so she was straddling it, half her body hanging over one side and half the other, he quickly tied her wrists and ankles to the chair legs. Roster was whimpering the whole time but she didn’t try to get away or anything.

  ‘Then Kowolski said, “Want to see how wet this slut is? She acts so scared, but she’s creaming in her panties, right now, aren’t you, slut whore?” He reached down and stuck his hand in her little panties. Pulling out a finger, he wiped her pussy-juice on my arm. That kind of grossed me out. I mean, she was my unit commander, you know?’

  I nodded again. That would have grossed me out for sure. But I wanted to hear the rest before anyone came around to interrupt us. ‘Go on, Jean! I can’t believe this. What happened then?’

  ‘Well, he pulled her panties down and she was kind of moaning and saying stuff like, “Please, sir, not the cane. Anything but the cane.” Mr Kowolski ignored her, but said to me, “Don’t worry about marking her; she isn’t a student, so she’s exempt from that particular rule. You really can’t help but mark with the cane, isn’t that right, whore?” As he spoke, he slapped Roster’s big ass hard. She started to beg again and Mr Kowolski seemed to get irritated.

  ‘ “Damn bitch can dish it out to her cadets but she sure can’t take it, can she?” As he was talking, he was getting out something from his desk. I saw it was a ball gag, a big, shiny red one. “Open wide,” he said, as he shoved the gag into her mouth, quickly securing it around her head. Her whimpers were muffled after that.

  ‘ “OK, hurry up. Let’s see some nice fiery lines on that fat ass,” he said to me. So, I was kind of nervous. I mean, I hadn’t ever caned anyone before that, and I didn’t want to hurt her permanently or anything. Mr Kowolski saw my hesitation, I think, because he took the rod from me and said, “Here, let me demonstrate.” He took the supple cane and brought it down on Roster’s butt. She jerked and moaned but she was tied pretty good to that chair.

  ‘Like I always do when I see someone being whipped, I instantly got soaking wet and full of this power lust. It’s hard to describe, but I get this kind of blood lust. Like I could lift up the world or something. There is nothing sexier to me than a slave, writhing and screaming as I beat them until they beg for mercy. Then I want to use them, make them fuck me or eat me or whatever I feel like at the moment. It is so hot! I just love the life!’

  Jean sat there for a minute, her face flushed, staring into a middle distance, no doubt fantasising about whipping some slave. I was getting turned on by her excitement, too. But I wanted to hear the rest of the story. ‘So you caned her?’ I prodded.

  ‘Yeah. I sure did. I left marks all over that lovely white ass. When I was done, Kowolski had her suck him off, and then suck me off! We took turns, standing in front of her, still tied to the chair. She had to lift her head and hold it up so she could reach us with her tongue. It was so hot. I came in like twenty seconds.

  ‘Then Mr Kowolski let her jerk herself off. He untied her hands but left her legs tied to the chair. She got her hands under there and fucked herself good, moaning and sighing with pleasure. When she was done, he took off her blindfold and said, “Now thank the pretty little mistress who caned your sorry ass, slut girl. And don’t forget to tell her how delicious her pussy tasted.” That Kowolski is a sadist, all right.

  ‘Well, for a second after she took off the blindfold, Roster couldn’t see who I was. But when her eyes focused, you should have seen her! She turned totally pale, and then blushed beet red. It was really kind of cute.

  ‘ “Well?” Mr Kowolski reminded her. Looking like she was eating nails, Roster managed to say, “You have a delicious pussy, mistress. Thank you for caning me.” Mr Kowolski laughed and actually bent down and kissed her face. Then he untied her and told her to go clean herself up and wait for him in the bathroom. They’re actually lovers too, him and Roster. Can you imagine? That dyke bitch and that wimpy accountant are slave and master?’

  ‘That’s some amazing story!’ I had totally forgotten to peel potatoes as I listened to her. ‘It must be hell to be a slave and in a position of authority like she is.’

  ‘Oh, she gets off on it!’ Jean laughed derisively. ‘Mr Kowolski told me: she loves to be humiliated like that. It’s her biggest turn-on. And she loves to be caned, too, though it really does terrify her. One of those weird paradoxes, I guess.’

  We were both quiet for a while, peeling our endless piles of potatoes. Finally I said, ‘My life is something of a paradox, I guess. Always on top in schoolwork and sports, but on my knees, naked at the mercy of whoever commands it. I can change at the drop of a hat from tough woman to submissive slut girl.’

  Jean grinned at me, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. ‘I think I like the submissive slut girl the best,’ she said, almost shyly.

  ‘And Ellen Roster is a tough woman/submissive slut girl too!’ I laughed. ‘So maybe Ellen Roster and I are more alike than I like to admit!’

  Jean laughed. ‘Scary thought!’

  Chapter Twelve

  E.’s Lot

  After that first time I met Eloise — the colonel’s exclusive slave girl — I had never gotten around to taking her up on her invitation to come to her place sometime. We really just didn’t cross each other’s path after that. But one day, in the spring of my sophomore year, we were both attending a picnic held in honour of some benefactor to the Academy. I happened to settle near Eloise on a blanket with my flimsy pap
er plate loaded down with barbecued beef and potato salad.

  I recognised her at once but wasn’t sure she recognised me. She was staring down at her plate, looking pretty miserable actually, and I thought I should say something nice. ‘Hi there, Eloise. I don’t know if you remember me — ’

  She looked up suddenly, as if startled out of some reverie. It took her a second to focus, but then her dark-brown eyes seemed to light up.

  ‘Remy Harris! Of course I remember you. How could I possibly forget?’ She grinned wickedly and I was sure she was recalling her role in beating my poor little butt in her master’s office that winter day last year.

  ‘Well, it’s been a long time,’ I remarked casually. Of course, neither of us would mention the circumstance of our acquaintance. We were surrounded by innocents with no clue of our secret lives.

  ‘It sure has! What do you say we get out of here and you come back to my place? I never did get to show you where I live. Might be a nice change from campus life.’

  It was Sunday, which was a “free” day as far as PT and classes. Still, I had to be back by 1800 hours for a barracks inspection. But that was four hours away.

  ‘Don’t you want to stay and enjoy the picnic?’ I asked, as I bit into a delicious piece of spare rib.

  ‘Not really. I only came because he insisted. But she’s here, so what’s the point?’

  I followed her gaze to another blanket some fifty feet away. Seated there were the colonel and a middle-aged woman I could only presume was his wife. She looked tall and statuesque, sitting straight, platinum-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail from her angular, tennis-court tanned face. She was smiling at something Colonel Hewitt was saying. At once I understood Eloise’s desire to get away.

  ‘Well, I don’t mind leaving, I guess. I’ve made my appearance. But just let me finish this stuff here. It’s too good to leave.’

  She nodded, smiling, and sat back, folding her hands placidly in her lap. After stuffing my face a little more, I stood up, drinking deeply from my cold bottle of Coke.

  ‘OK, I’m ready. Let’s go!’

  Eloise jumped up, grinning. Together we walked off the field toward the east side of campus.

  ‘I live just off campus in the Village Apartments. We can have a glass of wine or something and catch up on each other’s lives since we last met. I bet you have a lot of stories!’

  I nodded, grinning. I did indeed.

  Her place was cute — if a little dull. One small bedroom with a tiny kitchen and living room which opened out on to a modest patio. Because it was such a lovely day, we decided to sit out on the patio. It was enclosed by high walls that made it quite private.

  Eloise brought the bottle of white wine out with us and set it on the little garden table. We sat in the wrought-iron chairs on each side.

  ‘So, tell me everything. I want to hear all about your assignments,’ she said.

  I filled her in on the more interesting assignments, in a general sort of way. The sun was shining brightly overhead and I unbuttoned my sleeveless blouse one more button at the neck. As I did so, Eloise slipped off the outer blouse that she had been wearing over a dark-blue tank top. As she leaned forward, elbows on the table, I noticed that her back, where it was exposed around her tank-top straps, was a crisscross of purplish marks.

  ‘What’s that on your back?’ Even as I blurted it out, I knew. Those were whip marks. Corps masters and mistresses were very careful not to mark Corps slaves, for obvious reasons. But Eloise wasn’t in the Corps. She flushed slightly but stuck her chin out in a little gesture of pride, or perhaps defiance.

  ‘Like you don’t know? Those are my marks of courage. My badges of courage. That’s what the colonel calls them. He beats me until I pass out sometimes. He says I can take it, not like those wimpy Corps wannabes. Oh!’ She realised as she spoke that she was addressing just such a wimpy Corps wannabe. ‘Not you! I mean, no offence — ’

  ‘It’s all right, really Eloise.’ I couldn’t think of what else to say. I was at once horrified and fascinated by the marks on her back. What did this man do to her? The voyeur in me was out in full force: I had to know. If I showed my horror at her treatment she might withdraw and that would be that. If I focused instead on my fascination with her ability to submit, which was a legitimate fascination, perhaps she would open up.

  ‘Wow, Eloise. That’s so intense. Your badges of courage. Do you think I could see them? I mean, without the shirt?’

  ‘Well, gosh.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I don’t usually get naked without the colonel here to oversee.’

  ‘Oh! You don’t have to get naked. Just lift the back of your shirt.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t just my back, Remy. It’s everywhere. He beats me every day to keep the marks fresh. His constant reminder of my position, he says.’ She went on, talking faster now. ‘I don’t usually get careless like that. I don’t want just anyone to see, of course. They wouldn’t understand. Even you Corps slaves — ’ Again she faltered, but then she pressed on. I could see that really she was dying to share it. It must be lonely to suffer like that for one man, and have no one to share with, not even him, except when he could spare the time from his wife and family.

  ‘Show me, Eloise. I won’t betray your trust. Show me what you have suffered for your master.’ My words, and her own evident desire to show someone got the better of her. Rising, she went inside, beckoning me to follow. I came after her, curious and a little nervous. She opened her bedroom door and went in. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkened room. All the shades were drawn.

  ‘Jesus,’ I couldn’t help but utter, as I saw the incredible array of whips and chains hung on every wall in the room. There were small leather whips, rubber whips, cat-o’-nine-tails, chains of every thickness, coils of hemp and nylon rope. Crops with small loops and long rectangular loops, manacles, cuffs, collars. And from the ceiling hung pulleys, hooks and chains to rival anything at the bell tower. I kind of fell into the little armchair near her bed as I took in the amazing torture chamber.

  ‘Well,’ she said, smiling a little nervously. ‘It’s something, huh? The colonel hung every whip and chain himself. One by one, after they had been used on me.’ As she spoke, Eloise slowly peeled her tank top from her slender body. Her torso was revealed, braless and slim, with round, heavy breasts and large, pink nipples. Her breasts, like the rest of her, were crisscrossed with whip marks, some purple, some red, some faded to pale pink. But she didn’t stop there. Unzipping her short skirt, she stepped out of it, now standing completely naked before me.

  ‘I never wear underwear,’ she explained. ‘He doesn’t allow it. He wants my body sensitive to its surroundings. Just like O, I never sit on furniture without lifting my skirt first. In fact, he calls me E. I love it. Just like the novel.’ She looked at me, and again that little defiant tilt of the chin dared me to say anything negative. I was too busy staring. Her pubis was shaved bare. I had seen a few naked women completely shaved, since entering the Corps, but somehow I could never get used to that plucked, little-girl look. Seeing my glance linger at her sex, Eloise spread her legs and gestured toward the labia. I looked and saw an oblong gold ring hanging heavy from one side. She was pierced.

  ‘Are you happy?’ I asked, seething inside with confusion, arousal, and my own judgmental attitude toward her evident ‘perversion’. Even as I asked, I knew the answer. It radiated from her.

  ‘Gloriously happy.’ She smiled like an angel. ‘I know my situation would freak most people out, even people initiated into SM like you are in the Corps. But you can trust me when I say that I am never happier, never more at peace, never more fulfilled, than when the colonel is here, and I am suspended from the ceiling, covered in welts, dildos shoved up my ass and cunt, a penis gag silencing my cries.’

  Who was I, who only dallied in this business, to judge what moved her or anyone else? She had more to say, though. It seemed, once the veil of silence was lifted, she couldn’t wait
to tell her tale. I reproduce it here, in her own words as best as I can remember.

  * * *

  ‘When I first joined the Slave Corps I was so excited. I’ve been a “pervert” since the minute I could think clearly. All my fantasies revolved around being taken prisoner, being ravaged, beaten, and sold into sexual slavery. Even when I was a little kid, I would do my best to manoeuvre the boys into some game involving kidnapping and some kind of bondage. I used to get my two older brothers to play this pirates game, where they would capture me and tie me up and pretend to flog me. I didn’t recognise it as a little kid, but these were very sexual games for me. I would beg them to play until they got bored and told me to get lost.

  ‘In high school I discovered The Story of O and the Victorian anonymous works and you couldn’t pry me out of the bathroom, where I masturbated so much I got blisters on my fingers. I was constantly in a daydream about being whipped till I bled, like in the Victorian novels, and being chained and used by the guards and drivers like in O. I would never wear panties, even then, and I secretly shaved my pussy from like age sixteen.

  ‘I tried desperately to get the few boys I dated to treat me rough or something, but they just didn’t get it. I would hint that I “liked a strong man” or something, but they would just end up flexing their muscles or something. When I dared to be more specific, or show them some bondage magazine that turned me on, they would run for the hills. I was so lonely and confused, but always horny, and always dreaming of submission.