Further Training

by Sarah Veitch

  At last he handed his cane to a junior officer and ordered that Daisy join her sister on the wall. Eager hands untied then retied her. Staring at the two roasting bottoms, Charlotte had to admit that they were absolutely identical.

  'We shall return to our drill for fifteen minutes. Eyes to the front. Quick march,' the Colonel said.

  Everyone marched obediently in situ and carried out the various exercises then they were all given a fresh orange drink.

  'And now for the second part of this military punishment,' their superior officer said, ordering the twins to be brought forward and the shorts at their feet removed. He then instructed various privates to bind Buttercup's wrists to Daisy's wrists and Buttercup's ankles to Daisy's ankles. Then he handed two of his female soldiers a riding crop each and said that the judicious thrashing could commence.

  Both women raised their crops at the same time and one lashed Daisy across the arse whilst the other struck Buttercup. Both tied-together twins moaned and tried to move away from the source of the anguish but they only succeeded in shuffling around in a circle so that they were now punished by the other woman this time. And when the twins tried to shuffle in a quarter circle so that their bottoms made less obvious targets, the privates simply followed each helpless arse.

  As the applications of the riding crop increased, so did the twins desire to escape it. They stumbled about, pushing and pulling at each other in a vain bid to escape the biting correction. Their nipples rubbed together when they pushed forward and they must have exerted a cruel pull on each others ankles and wrists when they instinctively pushed back.

  The harshness of the crop coming so soon after the censure of the cane must have been almost unendurable. But the sobbing twins had no chance of escape. Only when their pleas and cries had blended to a relentless wail did the Colonel decide that they had had enough.

  'The standards of this academy are high - and I intend to make them higher. Let this be a lesson to you all,' he said as the two flushed girls with their quivering bare bottoms were led away.

  Chapter Nine

  Two days after watching the twins being caned and whipped, Charlotte found herself standing next to them on the Assault Course. She could still see red marks on the portion of their lower buttocks which wasn't covered by their shorts.

  'So what's the course like?' she asked them nervously.

  Buttercup shrugged. 'It lasts for ages but none of the obstacles are too difficult and there are Juice Stops as you go round.'

  Daisy nodded. 'It's about slowly building up your muscles. The last thing they want is for a new recruit to overdo things.'

  'That Sergeant Dernell gave me the impression I'd be jumping through hoops of fire,' Charlotte said.

  'Oh he's all talk and little action,' Buttercup replied with a knowing grin.

  'Have you... you know, tried to get into his good books?' Charlotte asked, wondering if the pretty girl - or both pretty girls - had slept with him.

  'We've tried everything but the overseers only have sex when they feel like it. They aren't seducible,' Daisy said.

  Just at that moment a military fitness trainer arrived and began to instruct them in their warm-up exercises. As she dutifully did her stretches, Charlotte vowed to speak more fully to the twins at a later date.

  But for the next two weeks she simply didn't get the chance. Every third day she was put through her paces at the assault course, clambering up rope ladders, scaling down walls and crawling through tunnels and under ground nets. At the end of these days she went back to her bunk bed and fell into a refreshing sleep.

  On non-exercising days she bathed in the reviving spa then helped the military librarian catalogue the huge number of books they had on DIY, survivalism and philosophy. There were also quite a few bakery and dessert cookery books that made Charlotte crave sweets.

  Oh, the food here was wonderfully fresh. For breakfast they had bacon, eggs and toast which were all prepared from the island's own pigs, hens and wheat supplies. For lunch they might have fish, newly caught from the local waters and for their evening meal a huge salad served with chunks of the island's own cheese.

  But humans are contrary beasts so Charlotte began to pine for processed junk food. She dreamt of over-seasoned beefburgers in anaemic white buns, of sugary cakes made pink through the use of artificial colourings, of instant desert mixes loaded with emulsifiers and starch.

  By week three she was seeing saccharine-flavoured cola drinks in her sleep and was waking up salivating.

  'Can a girl not get a slice of cake around here?' she complained to another female recruit as she walked into the barracks at the end of a library cataloguing day.

  'Don't know about cake - but I know a place where we can get chocolate,' a strong American accent said.

  Charlotte turned around and saw a tall and very fit looking soldier smiling at her. He was dressed in typical male miscreant's clothing though his gaze made it clear that he was far from cowed by the stupid uniform.

  'Chocolate? I'd virtually kill for some,' Charlotte said.

  The young man moved closer. 'It would mean deserting our post after curfew tonight.'

  'And doing what exactly?' Charlotte hesitated.

  'Going over to the main canteen and taking our chocolate ration from the storeroom,' the youth said.

  'We're allocated a ration?' the British girl asked.

  Her new American friend grinned. 'Only when we graduate to the non-miscreant's barracks. But think of it this way - we're just taking what we're eventually going to be due.'

  They stood in the doorway and stared at each other for a moment. Charlotte really did want some junk food but she couldn't bear to be caught and publicly beaten. She widened her eyes at him coquettishly. 'Couldn't you just go for both of us?'

  The youth shook his head. 'The way in is through a skylight. I could fit through it when I first came here but now that I've pumped up my muscles...' He looked her full in the face. 'No, this mission requires both of us - me to lift you onto the roof then follow you up there and you to slide through the skylight and hand the rations out to me.'

  'Sounds like a plan,' Charlotte said. She thought some more. 'But what about the guards?'

  'They guard the gates to the encampment so that they can greet all new transfers,' the young man said. 'They don't guard the storerooms as they believe that they're impenetrable. Anyway, they trust us to be happy with the rations we get.'

  For the first time Charlotte felt a pang of guilt. 'We are very well fed here. Maybe we shouldn't...'

  'It's not just imported chocolate they have there,' the American continued. 'They've got silk briefs and stockings. The girl privates in the main encampment are allowed to buy them and dress up for the dances they have there at night.'

  'God, I'd love some good lingerie,' Charlotte said, staring morosely at her minuscule cotton shorts and bra-top. 'I could go out on dates if I didn't look such a sight.'

  'So we go at midnight?' asked the man, clearly ignoring her attempt at gaining a compliment. He held out his hand. 'I'm Hank, by the way.'

  Her own hand was dwarfed by his 'I'm Charlotte.' She grinned at him and winked. 'It's a deal.'

  'My dorm is over there,' Hank said, pointing. 'I'll meet you outside the door at midnight. We don't know if there are spies in the building so don't tell anyone about this.'

  Charlotte usually went to her bed at eleven, but that night she sat in the anteroom off her dorm and played solitaire. She frequently checked the clock and was at the appointed place when midnight came around. Hank was already there and together they tiptoed out of the miscreant's barracks and through the silent grounds. The encampment was shadowy but luckily there was a full moon to light Charlotte's path and Hank obviously knew the way.

  At last they reached the relevant canteen building and he lifted her onto the thankfully-low roof. Charlotte crawled over to the ill-fitting skylight. She prised it open, lowered herself down and searched around until she found a store filled with
damn near everything. Finding a large cherry cake, Charlotte opened the box and crammed handfuls into her mouth. She looked around and saw a six pack of cola. Opening a can, she washed the wonderful sweet crumbs down. Then she took the bag that Hank had given her and filled it with bars of milk chocolate, sultana slices and angel cake.

  She couldn't find the lingerie store which Hank had mentioned but the cherry cake had made her so happy that she no longer cared.

  'Hurry up,' Hank hissed from the roof.

  'Okay, I'm coming.' Reluctantly Charlotte left the delicious supplies. She had to fetch a chair before she could reach the skylight. As she hauled herself up, Hank reminded her to kick the chair away. That way, no one would realise that the place had been broken into, making it easier for them to return and steal again.

  Holding onto the skylight for dear life, Charlotte kicked hard at the top of the chair and it skittered across the room to land near a pile of hessian. Then Hank pulled her onto the roof and she was soon back on the ground. Together they raced back to the barracks and shared out the spoils. An exhausted Charlotte hid hers in her locker, went to bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

  The next morning she ate some of the chocolate then didn't want most of her cooked breakfast. She felt sluggish at her exercise session but pleased with herself. She'd got away with last night's escapade and would spend the next few days enjoying the rare rewards.

  As she jogged up to one of the Juice Stops, a man pointed to her. He was with Sergeant Dernell who immediately ordered her to stand to attention. Fearing that her theft had been discovered, Charlotte did as she was told.

  'That's the girl who killed a parrot with an apple,' the man said.

  Charlotte stared at him. His words sounded like the start of a Monty Python sketch. Had he been out in the sun for too long?

  'This is Mr Leeson who runs the fruit shop,' the sergeant explained. 'He's here to give a lecture on creating new varieties - but he can remember you knocking a bird out of a tree.'

  Fuck, now she remembered. She'd been given a packed lunch one day and had tired of it. There had been some delicious looking fruit on a branch so she'd thrown an apple at it and somehow hit the bird.

  'Prove it,' she muttered, trying to tug her shorts more firmly over her backside.

  The sergeant shook his head. 'Mr Leeson is a respected member of the community. You are a known liar, troublemaker and...' he thought for a moment, 'and a parrot killer,' he finished triumphantly.

  'It could just have died of natural causes,' Charlotte said, fighting back a slightly hysterical laugh. Only she could get away with robbing the canteen but get caught for grounding a fucking parrot. Life was taking on an increasingly surreal edge.

  'And she was throwing away good fruit,' Mr Leeson added. 'Waste not, want not is what my old mother used to say.'

  'Hell, is that why you haven't wasted a scrap of food for years?' Charlotte muttered, staring at his considerable midsection.

  Mr Leeson immediately attempted to suck in his girth.

  The sergeant narrowed his eyes and stared at her. 'That's enough from you.' He looked at his watch. 'Report to the punishment yard in ten minutes. You're to be thrashed for impudence to your superiors and for endangering wildlife.'

  Trying to hide her fear, Charlotte drew herself up to her full height then walked away. A few minutes later she saw Hank in the distance and ran to catch up with him.

  'I'm supposed to report to the punishment yard for a thrashing. What should I do?'

  'It's not for...?' the American started warily but Charlotte cut him off.

  'No, they don't know about that. I threw an apple into a tree and hit a bird.'

  Hank winced. 'They're all animal lovers here.'

  'Tell that to the pigs we have for breakfast every morning,' Charlotte shot back, hating his hypocrisy.

  'Yeah, but they're reared free-range and killed humanely,' Hank said. 'I've done their Animal Ethics course so I should know.' He looked down at her pityingly. 'You hurt a bird for fun and that's a crime in their book so they'll give you a really sore arse.'

  'It was a mistake,' Charlotte muttered feeling increasingly aware of the helplessness of her buttocks.

  'Tell that to the bird,' her American friend said.

  'Should I do a runner?' She looked hopefully in the direction of the river.

  'What, now?' Hank shook his head. He thought for a moment. 'Listen, if you ever want to escape you do it at night and you take provisions with you. I'd go myself if I wasn't so fond of a certain guy...'

  Ah, so he liked men. She'd wondered why he'd never made a pass at her. But Charlotte was too worried about herself to ponder Hank's sexuality.

  'So I just let them chastise me?' she asked.

  Hank nodded ruefully. 'Be respectful so that you don't earn any extra tariffs.' He paused. 'D'you want me to watch or shoot through?'

  Charlotte shuddered. 'Christ, shoot through. I can't stand an audience, especially someone I know.'

  'Then keep your eyes shut. Most of the academy turns out to see a punishment yard whipping,' the American said.

  Charlotte looked at her watch and knew that if she didn't hurry she'd be late. She forced her feet to carry her ever closer to her disciplinary session. Her body was already quivering at the prospect of what was in store.

  She got there just in time to see four male recruits carrying a gym horse into the yard's concrete centre. Miscreants and general soldiers alike were taking seats, all facing in the one direction. Charlotte had no doubt that direction would give them a first class view of her backside.

  She walked inside the gate then stood there, her hands at her sides, her breasts heaving. At first no one seemed to notice her. Then Sergeant Dernell, Mr Leeson and another man in full military uniform approached.

  'Colonel Penn will oversee your paddling,' the sergeant said.

  'Yes sir. Thank you, sir,' Charlotte answered in as strong a voice as she could muster.

  'Shorts at your ankles now, girl,' the Colonel said.

  Charlotte hesitated, glancing at the crowd.

  'Ten more strokes for insubordination,' the man barked.

  Ten more? That was all she needed. Charlotte hooked her fingers into her waistband and pulled her tiny shorts to the ground.

  'Step out of them,' the Colonel said and she obliged. 'Now approach the horse.'

  Naked except for her minuscule khaki bra-top, Charlotte did as she was told. Her thighs quivered slightly as she walked and she was equally aware of her naked pudenda. The bra-top only emphasised the nudity of her lower half.

  She reached the end of the mohair horse and looked pleadingly back.

  'Jump onto it,' the Colonel bid.

  Charlotte tried to pull herself up by her arms but they felt weak and insubstantial.

  'You may have to take a run at it,' one of the recruits said gloatingly.

  He was probably right. Trying to block out a vision of how she must look, Charlotte walked backwards for several feet then ran at the gym horse, her arse cheeks jiggling. She leapt onto the end of it and managed to pull herself the rest of the way onto its back. Then she lay forward at the overseer's urging and allowed herself to be strapped in place.

  'Announce your crime to the military court,' the Colonel said.

  Charlotte pushed back phrases like 'parrot-death by Cox's Pippin.' She knew that in a moment she'd be beyond juvenile jokes.

  'My crime is that of stupidity, sir. I threw an apple into a tree hoping to knock down another piece of fruit. I didn't realise there were birds nesting. I hit one of them and it fell to the ground.' She took a deep breath. 'I was already in turmoil that day because I...'

  'Spare me the excuses,' the Colonel retorted. 'I've got a bum to thrash.'

  He disappeared behind her. Charlotte held her breath - then let it out in a loud gasp as she felt the hateful wooden paddle connect with one buttock. It swiftly rose and fell over her other buttock, bringing fresh heat and pain.

  'Sorry, sir,' Ch
arlotte said quickly after each blow. 'Sorry, sorry, sorry.'

  But the paddle continued to lash into her backside and stray slightly onto her equally naked thighs. She sensed that her cheeks were turning from pink to light red to a glowing scarlet and knew that they must make an amusing sight to the crowd as they tensed and untensed the little they could in their firm bonds.

  The paddle lashed down and down and down. Charlotte yelped and jerked and promised all sorts of things, but the Colonel was merciless. At last he stayed his hand.

  'Time to continue our discussion, girl. After you maimed the bird, did you seek veterinary care?'

  You know I fucking well didn't, Charlotte thought. Aloud she said 'No sir. I assumed it was either stunned or dead. I panicked and ran off. In fairness to myself, I had to be somewhere else.'

  She felt the man's palms sliding over her anguished flesh. 'So your agenda is more important than the island's wildlife?'

  'No, but I was in school at the time, sir. My headmaster had told me to be at a certain place.'

  'But you clearly didn't do everything he said or else you wouldn't be here,' her superior prompted.

  'No, sir. I was foolish, sir,' she said.

  'And foolish girls get given very sore bums.'

  Charlotte quivered as she felt the Colonel tightening the straps across her back. It was suddenly clear to her that her punishment wasn't over. She trembled as she watched him pick up the paddle again.

  Cool polished wood lashed into hot silken skin. She howled as the new paddling reawakened all the previous paddle strokes. She heard a low collective whistle from the crowd as her chastisement went on.

  At last, when her bottom must have been as red as the apple she'd thrown, the Colonel continued his talk.

  'You said that you were foolish as a schoolgirl - but you were more than foolish. My dossier tells me that you helped kidnap a girl and terrorise her in the woods.'

  'Not exactly, sir,' Charlotte said with increasing desperation. 'She was terrorised by a male and I was his unwitting accomplice.'