Hard Corps
Page 22
I felt myself blushing, and giggled, unable to suppress the little flutter of joy bubbling up through me. ‘I guess that’s true, though I can hardly believe myself that I would do something like this “for a man”. Definitely doesn’t fit my image of myself, or at least the one I used to have! But it isn’t really like that, anyway. I’m doing this for myself, not anyone else. I think I probably would have ended up leaving the Academy, and certainly the Corps, even if I hadn’t met someone.’
‘Tell me,’ she said, leaning back in her chair, her eyes inviting me to continue. No reproach, no attempt to change my mind. I relaxed.
‘Well, for a long time the Corps was very exciting to me, and you of all people know how much I wanted to get into it. But maybe the nickname, the Hard Corps, is really apt. It’s a tough kind of place, just like this army gig. It isn’t about warmth, or loving. It’s about submission, but in a very limited way, for an hour here, an hour there, with virtual strangers. It was enough, more than enough, for me for a while, but not any longer.’
Amanda laughed. ‘Yes, I can see that. I saw from the beginning a passion in you that isn’t easily satisfied. I should have known we wouldn’t get to keep you for long. I only wish you and I had had more of a chance together.’ She looked down, almost shy.
‘Could I ask you something, Dr, um, Amanda?’
‘Anything you like.’
‘Why are you here, at Stewart, and why the Slave Corps? You seem too romantic, and definitely not “regular army”.’
‘Well, Remy, the “army” part really doesn’t affect me. I am a chemistry professor, and I teach chemistry to interested students. The fact that they also receive military training is of no interest or consequence to me, except maybe that the cadets are generally very respectful, more so than at the average college campus. The pay here is very competitive and the students are bright and ready to learn. So really, as an academic, I find the life very satisfying.
‘Now, as to the Corps. I got involved rather by accident. I had actually been working here for several years, blithely unaware of this secret society seething all around me, when I met someone here after hours at a party that was to change my life.
‘You see,’ she went on, warming to her story, ‘I’ve been involved in BDSM for a long time, but would never dream of mixing work and pleasure. I’ve always had a dominant streak, but it didn’t assert itself sexually until I got married.’
I lifted my eyebrows. I was not aware that she was married.
Answering my unspoken question she said, ‘Oh, I’m divorced now, but I was married for six years to a lovely man named Howard Wellington. I kept the name because I like how it sounds. Much better than Weygant. But it just didn’t work out between us. We got married too young, I think. But as I was saying, my dominance didn’t become sexual until my husband got up his courage to confide in me that he was submissive, and longed for someone to control and use him. I was shocked at first, but very intrigued, and we began to experiment with the dominant/submissive lifestyle. I loved it, but nothing seemed to be enough for Howie.
‘He wanted me to keep him bound and in chains at all times when at home. He got his cock and nipples pierced, and wanted me to brand him with my initials, something I could never quite get up the nerve to do.
‘Well, we were at this party one night, this SM play party. I was in full dominatrix gear, all black leather and stiletto heels, with my Howie on his knees at my feet, cock and balls in a cage, ball gag in his mouth. And who should I see but my colleague, John Clements, all in black leather, his wife in cuffs and a corset, trailing along behind him! We both must have blushed a hundred shades of red, but then we laughed about what a small world it was when you were a pervert. We became friends as couples, and would meet on a regular basis to play. That is, until Howie left me.’
‘Oh! I’m sorry,’ I said, thinking how I would feel if Eric left me.
‘Oh, it’s ancient history now.’ She smiled a little ruefully. ‘I just wasn’t enough for him, I guess. He needed more than I could offer. He wanted to be humiliated constantly. To be embarrassed in public, to be made to sleep naked outside, covered in filth, to be whipped until his skin was raw and bleeding. I just couldn’t do it. The romance wasn’t there for me. I wanted a partner, at least some of the time. He needed a sterner taskmaster than I could be for him. But I did love him. And I think he loved me, but, as I say, it just didn’t work out.’ She sighed, and was quiet for a moment. I tried to gently change the subject, to wipe that sad look from her eyes.
‘And the Slave Corps? Where did that come in?’
‘Oh, the Corps. Yes. Well, John knew I was pretty broken up about the divorce, and he mentioned that maybe I needed some distraction. He told me about the Corps, and invited me to join. I guess I have rank,’ she said, smiling, ‘because I didn’t have to audition. Just John’s recommendation was enough to get me mistress status right off the bat.
‘Well, for these past four years I’ve found it a great distraction indeed! I get to indulge my sadistic fantasies and pleasures, with no strings attached. I have my pick of lots of gorgeous boys and girls and use and abuse for as long as I like and then dismiss. I like sleeping alone, and this way I get to, without explanation or apology.’
I smiled at her, but couldn’t help thinking that it sounded like a rather lonely, if active lifestyle.
Again she read my mind. ‘It is kind of lonely sometimes. But I do have friends, very dear friends, both in and out of the Corps. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll get lucky and find my own true love, just like you seem to have done. I’m only thirty-four, after all, and there are lots of sweet little submissive boys in the sea.’ She laughed, that wonderful, deep throaty laugh, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her.
‘Anyway, Remy, let’s keep in touch. Here, take my card. It has my address and home phone number on it too. I’d love to meet your lover, too, and who knows what fun we might have?’
To use her words, who knew, indeed?
* * *
To my surprise, my parents didn’t object too strenuously to my decision. They said it was my life, and I had the right, even the duty, to do whatever it took to be happy. If that didn’t include a career in the military, they didn’t mind. They said they were glad I was thinking of transferring to Columbia, since we had family there.
Next came Aunt Salome, who was all excitement and support. Once the applications were submitted and things were in progress, she confided in me. ‘Remy, I never really thought that you were cut out to be a military gal. You have always had your head in the clouds, seems to me. Too romantic for all that heel-snapping saluting business, if you ask me.’
I finished out the year at Stewart, doing well in all courses. Eric and I met for weekends as often as we could, and our passion continued to startle and delight us both. I couldn’t wait to move there permanently and take my place by his side and at his feet.
Surprisingly, though I’d been at Stewart for two years, I realised I wouldn’t miss too many people when I left. I had held myself rather aloof, as I tended to do all my life. But for Amelia there would always be a special place. I got her to promise to come out to visit as soon as she could this summer. We were sharing a last few minutes on our favourite bench by the fountain when I said, ‘You know, Amelia. I have some ideas for when I graduate. I want to start something. Something special for people like you and me. Not a Slave Corps. Not a civilian repeat of what we have here. Because when you think about it, the Slave Corps really isn’t for the slaves at all. It’s for the masters. I mean, as far as it goes, you can learn to submit within the Corps, but it’s really up to what is inside of you. There isn’t a nurturing, constant relationship where you can really develop as a submissive.
‘Mostly, it’s about how to look and act appealingly for the doms. It’s about fulfilling their sexual fantasies without our own being at all considered. No. What I have in mind is something expressly for the submissive, man or woman.
‘Maybe w
e could call it the Freedom Club. Freedom to submit with grace and sensuality. We could teach people to understand and accept their submissive natures. Help them to revel in the joy of their particular brand of sensuality, without shame and without compromise.’
Amelia’s eyes were glowing. ‘Yes!’ she almost shouted. ‘We could teach them all the technical stuff. How to take a whipping, how to swallow a cock to the hilt without a tremor of resistance. And we could add the poetry, the beauty, of true submission. We could even go further! We could train dominants to understand not only the power of their positions, but the responsibility.’
I interjected, my excitement growing as I saw her shared enthusiasm, ‘We could teach them about the strength of true submission. We could show them how to whip without damaging, how to bind without marking, how to control without crushing the spirit of the one they control.’
‘And don’t forget,’ said Amelia, laughing, a glint in her eye, ‘we can have fun!’
We both laughed, out of breath, excited at our shared vision.
‘Oh, Amelia! You have to come out to see us. Just as soon as you can. We can start work on this idea now. This could really be something important, something for us.’
She nodded, happily. At last we stood and embraced.
‘See you soon, Amelia.’
She raised her arm in a gesture of triumph. ‘Here’s to the Freedom Club!’
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