Cadet: The Academy

by Commander James Bondage

  “Y… Yes, Sergeant, I heard you,” the girl replied shakily, not looking at him.

  “Then why are you not at attention this second?” he bellowed, making her close her eyes.

  “I… I don’t have any clothes on, Sergeant,” the Indian girl quavered. A tear gathered in one eye, and slid down her cheek. “I’m naked, Sergeant.”

  “What is your name, cadet?” Powers yelled again, unrelenting.

  “Cadet Vish… Vishnan, Sergeant,” she forced out.

  “Cadet Vishnan, you will now do the following,” Powers shouted. “You will drop the towel…” He waited, watching as she let her protection fall to the tiled floor. “…you will turn to face the wall…” Again he paused, waiting for the quivering beauty to obey. “…and you will bend at the waist, keeping your knees locked, and hold your ankles with your hands.” The cadet made a tiny sound as she took this humiliating position. Powers put his boot between her feet, and pushed at them. “Open up your legs wider, cadet,” he said. “I want you to be able to see me while I discipline you.” A little involuntary cry escaped from the miserable Vishnan when Powers said this.

  Powers turned to the Captain. “Perhaps you’d like to administer the correction, sir,” he said, gesturing at the doubled-over cadet. “I know how you like to get personally involved in training.”

  The Captain smiled and waved his hand indifferently. “No, no, that’s fine, Sergeant. I’ll just watch, along with the cadets. I’m sure this will be a salutary lesson for us all.”

  The Sergeant bent low to whisper something in the unfortunate Vishnan’s ear. Robin could not hear what he said, but the effect on her was dramatic. The Indian girl burst into tears, and exclaimed in a terrified yelp, “No, no, don’t do that! I promise I won’t move!”

  The Sergeant seemed to be in no hurry. “Cadet Vishnan, look at me,” he said. “Do you know why you are being disciplined?”

  The cadet looked back between her legs at the Sergeant, her huge brown eyes filled with emotion. “Yes, Sergeant, I do. I failed to stand at attention when ordered to do so.”

  “You disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer, a court martial offense, cadet,” Powers said mercilessly. “Do you want a formal trial, or are you requesting administrative discipline?”

  “I… ask for administrative discipline, Sergeant,” the trembling girl forced out.

  “You will request ten strokes of the swagger stick as your sentence, after which this incident will be wiped from your service record,” Powers told her.

  “Sergeant… I request… ten strokes…” Here she broke down again, unable to continue for nearly a minute. The Sergeant waited patiently, seeming to savor the girl’s misery. Finally, she said, “I request ten strokes as my just punishment for my failure to obey orders.”

  “Very well,” Powers said, stepping back and swishing the thick, flexible instrument through the air. “You will count each stroke aloud, cadet. Keep your legs straight,” he cautioned. He raised his massive arm and brought the stick down and then up to cut into the soft flesh on the underside of the naked cadet’s prominent bottom globes. The blow was so hard that the crop sank almost out of sight into her buttocks, making a wet smack! This stroke was far harder than any that he had given to Kim Lee earlier in the day.

  Vishnan gave a fearful cry, leapt a foot into the air, and collapsed on the floor, screaming in pain and clutching at her wounded hindquarters.

  “Resume the position immediately, cadet, or I will be forced to…” Powers began, but she did not allow him to finish the threat, calling, “No, no!” as she scrambled to her feet, doubled over and grabbed her ankles again. “I’m ready, Sergeant, see?” the cadet asked anxiously.

  “Hmm,” frowned the Sergeant, looking at the dusky beauty as if trying to decide whether to accept her submission. “Don’t break the position again,” he grunted. “Now we start over at ‘one’,” he said, ignoring her muffled gasp. “You failed to hold the position, bent your knees, and forgot to count. Spread your legs farther apart, cadet,” he directed. He moved his hand casually between Vishnan’s legs, cupping her sex in his hand. She shook uncontrollably under his touch.

  “Do you want it here?” he asked softly, his fingers spreading her nether lips and working inside her pussy. “Would you like to feel the swagger stick on your box?” he repeated.

  “No, Sergeant, please not that,” the cadet begged fearfully, tears dropping from her inverted face. “Anything but that!”

  The naked cadets looked on in frozen horror at the sexual humiliation of their classmate, but not one dared to speak up in protest. Robin’s heart went out to the suffering Indian girl, but she knew that any protest would be worse than useless: nothing any cadet could say or do now would help Vishnan at all. The presence of the Captain and his smiling approval of the Sergeant’s actions could only mean that Powers’ conduct was within official policy. Anyone who protested would surely end up like Cadet Vishnan, or worse.

  The cadets remained at attention as Powers slowly, very slowly completed the punishment of the Indian girl. He made the administrative discipline last longer by alternating blows of the stick with manual penetration of her vagina and rectum, asking her repeatedly if she wanted to be beaten on those tender spots as his hands explored her. He also prolonged it by striking her so hard at times that she fell to the floor, earning her a penalty stroke each time. Powers made the punishment last for thirty minutes before he finally delivered the last stroke to the cadet’s inflamed bottom. He saved a special degradation for the end.

  “I believe I have saved you from a court martial, Vishnan,” Powers said, looking in her eyes as she slowly straightened, her hands lightly pressing her abused bottom. “Aren’t you going to express your gratitude to me?”

  The girl was breathing heavily, panting from the agony in her welted ass cheeks. “Thank… you… Sergeant,” she panted, staring at her tormentor in astonishment at his cruelty. “I… am so… very... grateful to you.”

  The Captain put the cadets at parade rest, legs apart, hands together in the smalls of their backs. He smiled, surveying the banquet of naked female flesh. “The most important thing is that I hope you have all learned a lesson here about the importance of following orders,” he said genially. “I did not introduce myself before, because I did not want to distract you cadets from your Sergeant’s properly administered discipline. I am Captain Wagner, your company commander. This is just an informal visit. Tomorrow, you will be formally greeted by the Cadet Commandant, Colonel Miles. I simply wanted to stop by to see you, and introduce myself.”

  He moved close to Robin until his chest was nearly touching her out-thrust breasts. She continued to stare straight ahead. “You all appear to be fit, healthy soldiers,” he remarked, as he casually placed his swagger stick under Robin’s left breast and lifted it gently, as if testing her proud globe for firmness. Robin shivered, but she remained expressionless and unmoving as he handled her. She made up her mind that no matter what they did to her, she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. As he spoke, he shifted the leather rod from beneath her breast to toy with her left nipple, which quickly stood to attention as he flicked it back and forth. “I have no doubt that each one of you will prove to be worthy of your appointment to this institution.”

  The Captain shifted the crop to her other nipple and watched it as it grew erect in response to the touch of the cool leather. He quietly asked Robin, “What is your name, cadet?”

  “Br… Bransom, sir,” Robin gritted out through clenched teeth. She was finding it difficult to restrain her urge to drive her knee into the Captain’s balls.

  “Well, Cadet Bransom, I predict that you have an outstanding future ahead of you here at the Academy,” he murmured. He looked up and addressed the entire group. “It has been a pleasure to see you all,” he said. “I will now leave you in the more than capable hands of Sergeant Powers.” He saluted smartly, spun on his heel, and strode briskly out of the room.


  “As you were, cadets!” Powers bellowed. Robin winced as the acoustics of the small tiled room magnified the usual harshness of his voice painfully. “You have twelve minutes to complete bathing and report back to your bunks. Any cadet who is late will be marked for demerits. Move your asses!” He left.

  All the cadets managed to return to their bunks in the time given, although the last few girls were obliged to resume their places while still frantically toweling their sopping hair. The cadets stood at the foot of their bunks wrapped in the towels that were now their only clothing, drying themselves and waiting for the promised uniforms to arrive.

  Twenty minutes after the last cadet emerged from the showers, they heard a truck pull noisily up in front of the building. A few seconds later, two male soldiers banged through the screen door, each carrying a large cardboard box. They dropped the boxes to the floor in the center of the aisle, leered lecherously at the scantily clad women, and left.

  Sergeant Powers popped out of his room next at the front of the barracks to observe the delivery. In his normal ear-splitting roar, he said, “These boxes contain cadet uniforms and kits. There are only two sizes: small and large. Each cadet will take one package. Is that understood, cadet cunts?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Robin chorused along with the others. The cadets nearest to the boxes tore the tops open, while the others crowded around, curious to see their new uniforms.

  Robin came away from the press of bodies with a medium-sized pressure-sealed green-gray plastic package labeled: “Cadet Fatigue Uniform and Personal Needs Kit, Female, Small, one. No. C-157F.” It felt strangely light. She tore open the package and dumped the contents on her mattress. There were three sets of gray-green uniforms wrapped together with a paper band, a smaller version of the plastic package she had just opened bearing the inscription “Personal Needs Kit, Female” in white letters, and a broad belt composed of gray-green nylon webbing. She looked inside the bag carefully. There was nothing else. She wondered at the lack of underwear. Was it simply a supply screw-up? She had a feeling it was not.

  Robin broke the paper seal on the uniforms and picked up one of the uniform sets, examining it with growing disbelief. Each set consisted of a shirt and trousers, both pieces being made of a sheer, stretchy artificial material. She shook out the shirt and held it up. It looked as it would fit like the skin on a sausage. Robin swallowed her distress and pulled the top on over her head. As she had suspected, the shirt molded itself to every curve of her young body, coming down to just above her hips. At least she understood why they had not supplied bras with these outfits; there was no room for them under these cat suits. A Velcro seam ran from the neck to just under the curve of her breasts.

  Robin dropped her towel and pulled on the pants. These were as tight as the top. When Robin pulled them up to meet the bottom of the shirt, she discovered to her intense embarrassment that they gripped her buttocks, outlined her pubic triangle, and descended deep into the valley between her legs. From the way the garment felt, she was certain that the wrinkled lips of her vulva were on display. A Velcro seam in the front ran from the waistline to just above her sex, and another ran down the back, disappearing between her ass-cheeks.

  She heard a growing undertone in the room as her classmates began to make the same discoveries Robin had.

  “They can’t really expect us to wear these things, can they?” Cadet Vishnan asked. “I mean, just look at it. It’s shameful! Someone should make a formal complaint,” she whined, gesturing with both hands at her breasts and hips. She was a beautiful woman with an excellent body. The skintight fatigues seemed designed to display her full, round breasts and firm buttocks to their best advantage. Robin suddenly realized that every cadet in the platoon had as fine a body as the Indian girl. She concluded that the uniforms were intended to emphasize that fact.

  Before she could give voice to this thought, she heard Cadet Lawrence say, “I’m going to guess that they really do want us to wear them, Vishnan.” The undersized blonde stepped into the middle of the room and the cadets fell silent. “If you want to give Sergeant Powers an excuse to give you some more lumps, I suppose you should go knock on his door to tell him how your maidenly modesty is hurt. He’ll be glad to have an excuse to tickle you with that riding crop again.” She gestured with her chin toward the Sergeant’s door, and waited. Vishnan hesitated, and then she shook her head.

  “No?” Lawrence asked. “Listen, girls, if any of you haven’t figured it out yet,” the little blonde girl said to the whole group, “we are in a bad place. We can expect to be displayed, pawed, beaten and misused by our superiors. They are going to look for any excuse to ‘discipline’ us, to humiliate us and to break us. These uniforms, these… skinsuits, are part of it. Don’t give them excuses, and don’t be afraid of them! We are all smart, tough soldier-girls. If we stick together, and keep our wits about us, we can handle anything they throw at us.” She grinned confidently at her classmates.

  The other cadets nodded and smiled at Lawrence, murmuring their agreement. Robin suddenly felt a great liking and respect for this girl that she had known for only one day. She could see that Lawrence was real officer material, and she wished that she had half the brains and guts of the diminutive cadet.

  “Anyway, Vishnan,” Lawrence said, turning her attention back to the tall Indian girl, “the way you look in that outfit, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. The next time Sergeant Powers is thinking about giving you another whipping, just bat your eyelashes and wag that ass of yours at him, and I bet he forgets all about whatever he was thinking of doing.”

  Vishnan blushed, her dusky face turning even darker. “Do you really think so?” she asked shyly, and then made a sinuous motion with her hips that would have done credit to a Balinese temple dancer. The cadets laughed, the high sweet sound of their merriment sounding like the pealing of silver bells. Robin felt as if a terrible pressure that had settled on her since she had arrived at the High Point was suddenly lifted. Let them try to break her, she thought fiercely. She would beat them in the end, no matter what. They all would.

  Robin returned to examine the remaining contents of the cadet uniform package. The personal needs kit contained nothing out of the ordinary: there was a toothbrush and paste, a comb, a small pair of scissors, disposable razor and a packet of tampons.

  The belt, on the other hand, was strange. It was a wide, tough piece of nylon with a metal slide-type buckle in front, similar to the standard issue Army belt she had worn all through boot camp, but wider. She wondered what its purpose was. The uniform pants did not even have belt loops, and the way they fit, they certainly did not need any help to keep them aloft. Then there were the mysterious loops. There were the two pairs of two-inch wide loops of nylon with adjustable Velcro closures strongly secured to the belt. One pair was located at the hips, and the other in the small of the back. They did not seem to be designed to hold a knife, canteen, flashlight, or weapon.

  The Sergeant’s door opened, and Powers reappeared in the barracks.

  “Attention, cadet cunts!” he bellowed. As they sprang into position, he went on, “You will all wear the cadet belts that you have been issued. You will wear them when you are awake and when you are asleep. You will wear them when you are on duty and when you are off duty. You will wear them in the shower and on the crapper. You will not remove them except under a direct order of an instructor or officer. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” the platoon chanted.

  “Lights out will be in fifteen minutes,” he concluded. He disappeared back into his quarters, slamming the door behind.

  Robin went up the aisle to Lawrence’s bed. She was talking with Steph and a slender brown-haired girl Robin did not know. As soon as she saw Robin, she smiled and beckoned her closer.

  “We haven’t really met,” Lawrence said, offering a hand. “I’m Jodie Lawrence.”

  “Robin Bransom,” she reciprocated, taking the proffered hand. “Nice to meet you, Jodie. You
seem to have a pretty good idea of what’s going on around this lunatic asylum. Can you figure out these belts?”

  Jodie frowned. “I’m pretty sure about two things: one, we’re going to find out soon enough, and two, when we do, we won’t like it. This whole Academy is like some pervert’s dream. I don’t understand what kind of officers they think they’ll get from whipping and feeling up the cadets,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe the Commandant will explain it at the orientation.”

  “We just have to get word to somebody in Washington,” the brown-haired girl said. “General Cafferson would never let them get away with this crap if he knew,” she said, referring to the Chief of the General Staff.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Gwen,” Jodie replied. “From what I hear, this Academy is his pet project.”

  Before anyone else could offer an opinion, Powers popped out again like a jack-in-the-box and shouted, “Lights out, cadet cunts!”

  “Sweet dreams, cadet cunts,” Jodie whispered as they went to their beds.

  Chapter Four: Duty, Service, Country

  After breakfast in the huge, nearly empty dining hall, the cadets returned to their quarters to find Kim Lee had rejoined them, a little worse for wear. Her classmates quickly caught her up on the previous night’s developments. She disposed of her old uniform, and donned a set of cadet fatigues that someone had put aside for her. Sergeant Powers glared at her as if he suspected that she had been goldbricking, but all he said to her was, “Glad you could take the time to join us, cadet,” before he moved on.

  The cadets were given a total of fifteen minutes to make their beds, straighten up their personal areas and themselves (including shining their boots), and sweep and clean the entire barracks, including the showers and latrines; and police the grounds outside. Powers suggested that they select a cadet officer to organize the work, as he had no intention of assigning jobs in the barracks. He promised that if the work were not done to his satisfaction, the entire platoon would be put down for demerits. He patted his swagger stick meaningfully when he said this.