“Don’t let me feel your teeth, cadet,” he warned as he slowly inserted his organ into her open mouth, “unless you want to find that that there are worse things than the cables and clamps.”
Her eyes widened at this threat, and she nodded to indicate her acquiescence, unable to talk because her mouth was already filled with his rigid meat.
“All the way in now, cadet,” Wagner said, holding the back of her head and pressing deep into her throat, while the girl’s eyes bulged as if they were about to start from her head.
Sergeant Powers chose this moment to put the head of his cock, which was already slippery from its visit to the girl’s pussy, at the entry to Jodie’s rear hole, and shove it abruptly into that tiny hole. She squealed and jerked her head up. Captain Wagner slapped her viciously on the face, saying “No, cadet, don’t move until I come.”
The two men began to pump her steadily. The Captain came first, beginning to shoot off in her mouth, and then pulling his cock out to spatter her sweet face and golden mane with scummy jets. Jodie’s head fell forward, as if she lacked the strength to hold it up any longer.
Powers had incredible stamina. He took Jodie’s hips in his hands, and drove his cock deep into her ass and out again like some deranged sex machine. As he thrust, he talked to her. “Do you like it this way, cunt? How does my dick feel up your little ass? You want some more, bitch?” and so on. He finished buried deep inside her, pulling her limp body close to him as he called her a fucking cunt, a filthy whore and similar names. When he released Jodie, she flopped forward onto the concrete, unconscious. Robin and some of the other cadets exclaimed involuntarily, wondering if the brutal assault had killed their classmate.
Captain Wagner quickly knelt down next to her. He put his ear to her mouth, then lifted one of her eyelids and peered in closely. He rose, pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly punched a number and spoke urgently for a minute, then snapped the phone shut.
The Colonel, now clearly alarmed, approached the platform and called the Captain over. They talked in whispers, but the conversation took place right in front of Robin, so she was able to overhear snatches of what the Captain, who was facing towards her, was saying.
“…still alive, no thanks to that… I called an ambulance. They should be here in…I will tell that gorilla… General Cafferson himself… got to be more careful. I agree, sir…” The whispered conversation abruptly ended when the tires of a white emergency vehicle ground up the gravel road to stop next to the platform.
The Captain gathered the motionless girl’s body in his arms and jumped down to place her carefully on the stretcher inside the ambulance. He motioned for the paramedic to come close, and whispered rapidly in the man’s ear. The paramedic nodded, jumped the back of the truck with Jodie, and pulled the doors shut. The ambulance promptly pulled off. Wagner and Miles stared after the departing vehicle anxiously.
“Cadets, you will return to your barracks to await orders,” the Captain announced. “Platoon dismissed!”
Robin immediately went to the Captain, closely followed by the rest of the cadets. “How is Jodie, sir?” she asked. “Is she going to be all right?”
“She’s going to be fine,” he said, looking off in the direction the ambulance had taken, his face pale. He turned to look at Robin and the other cadets crowding around him. “Now all of you return to your quarters!” he roared. The cadets fled back to their barracks.
The cadets were gathered in little groups around the barracks, speculating in discreet tones about the Jodie Lawrence’s horrendous punishment, her condition, the nature and severity of her injuries, and the Captain’s apparent state of near-panic, when they heard the thumps of two sets of boots mounting the wooden stairs to the door. They sprang to attention and saluted when they saw a perspiring Sergeant Powers enter, followed closely by the Captain. Powers went directly into his room without looking at them. Captain Wagner sketched a hasty salute at the cadets, and muttered, “As you were,” and quickly followed Powers into his room, slamming the door behind him.
For the next twenty minutes, the silent platoon listened awestruck as Captain Wagner chewed out his platoon Sergeant. The thin walls of the internal partition did not prevent them overhearing virtually every word Wagner thundered at his erring subordinate. His command of invective was rich, vivid and varied; he never repeated himself once while describing his opinion of Powers’ personal habits, ancestry and future prospects in the Army. “Oversexed anthropoid” and “asinine baboon” were two of the milder terms.
“These cadets are Cafferson’s special pets, Sergeant Peabrain,” he said at one point. “He checks the progress of each one every week. If that cadet dies, I may be cashiered, the Colonel may have to take a forced retirement, but you… you‘ll be lucky to draw a firing squad.” There was a soft murmur in the room when the cadets heard for the first time about the seriousness of their comrade’s condition.
Captain Wagner concluded by relieving the Sergeant from duty and giving him fifteen minutes to clear out of the barracks. He was ordered to report to the unassigned NCO barracks, and to remain there until Cadet Lawrence’s condition was resolved.
“If she survives, and there’s no permanent damage,” the Captain concluded grimly, “I may be able to get you a post to the penguin census in Antarctica instead of the term in Levenworth you deserve.” They saw the Captain emerge suddenly and walk out of the barracks without a glance at the cadets, slamming the door behind him. Ten minutes later, Sergeant Powers emerged, took one look at the silently staring platoon, and departed without saying a word. None of them ever saw him again.
The assault on Jodie Lawrence had a strange sequel. Her injuries, a small tear in the wall of her upper colon and the consequent rupture of an adjacent vein, were repaired by the Regimental Surgeon that afternoon before the loss of blood became critical. Two days later, Robin and Steph were summoned from the barracks and taken to the infirmary by Captain Wagner.
“Before you go in to see her, you should know something,” he said. “She doesn’t seem to have any memory of how she ended in the hospital. You’ll soon find out for yourselves. If you want to go ahead and tell her what Powers did to her…” (Powers and you, Robin thought fiercely) “…I can’t stop you. If you cadets want my head on a platter, you’ll get it. There’s no way I can keep this story quiet, unless the platoon cooperates.”
“Why the fuck should we, Captain?” Robin snarled. “Why shouldn’t we have your head to pay for what you did to Jodie?”
“Two reasons,” he replied, holding up two fingers. “One, it won’t change what happens to you cadets. Your training will go forward exactly as before with a new company commander. Second, you will have to describe the whole incident to Lawrence, and she will have to live with it for the rest of her life. How do you think that would affect her? Right now, she doesn’t remember a thing.”
They confirmed this with Dr. Perkins, who speculated that the sedative he had used when he operated on the cadet (his old favorite, chloral hydrate) was probably responsible for the amnesia. “Will it come back?” He shrugged in response to a question by Steph. “There’s no way to know, but it’s likely enough that if she doesn’t remember in the next few days, she never will.”
When they talked to her, Jodie was her old self, cheerful and confident, if a little confused about how she ended in the infirmary. Her two friends were greatly relieved, but perplexed about what they should do. In the end, they told the platoon the whole story, and they agreed as a group that they would keep the story a secret from Jodie and the rest of the world forever.
When Jodie rejoined the platoon a few days later, she was surprised, but not displeased, to see that Sergeant Powers was gone, replaced by Sergeant LeFevre, a huge black man from Louisiana. She never got a very clear idea of what had put her in the hospital, and after a while she made a joke of it, flexing her biceps like a miniature lumberjack, boasting that she had gotten into a fist fight with Sergeant Powers and had beaten him
up so badly that he ran away rather than face her again. Afterwards, she would say of some difficult task accomplished that it was “harder than beating up Sergeant Powers”.
The disgraced Powers had one other legacy kept alive by Jodie Lawrence. Sergeant LeFevre had many names for the cadets in his charge: “dumb pussies”, “dickless wonders” and “little shitheads” were some of his favorites. But he never used Sergeant Powers’ pet name for them, “cadet cunts”. The term was kept in use at first only by Jodie, but later was adopted by the rest of the First Platoon. When they chose a unit name, it was the “First Platoon Cadet Cunts”, and they proudly marched under the pennant designed by their leader which bore a stylized vagina, (the letter “V’ bisected by a vertical line), accompanied by the letter “C” on either side.
Chapter Five: Meet the General Staff
Cadet training resumed. It was something like basic training squared with college-level courses added. Every morning after breakfast, there was a half-hour of drill. After that, the cadets were put through rigorous calisthenics, followed by a timed one mile run. Cadets who came in under six minutes were excused from having to run the next day. After the run, there was an obstacle course that included a twelve-foot wall to climb and a mud pit to be splashed through. Sergeant LeFevre’s philosophy was “spare the rod, spoil the cadet”, and he did not want to risk any spoiled cadets. Every morning, a half-dozen girls, or more, would find themselves bent double, holding their ankles, with back of their skinsuits open and their bare bottoms exposed to the autumn breezes, awaiting correction for what the Sergeant judged as less than full effort. Robin was only spanked twice in the first week, which was less than any of her classmates except Jodie Lawrence who seemed to positively relish the difficulty of the training. Robin could not decide which part of the experience she disliked more: the burning pain of the strokes of the crop or the humiliation of being forced to ask for the punishment before and the obligatory expression of thanks afterwards.
The classes in the afternoon were as difficult, in their own way, as the physical training in the morning. They were expected to absorb the curriculum of military history, cartography, battlefield logistics, intelligence, mathematics and more, immediately, and to remember everything. Failure to correctly answer questions from the previous day’s work resulted in the guilty cadet’s being bent over the instructor’s desk and receiving strokes on her naked buttocks.
After one particularly bad day during the second week of training, morale was at an all-time low. Every cadet in the platoon had been beaten with an instructor’s baton at least once that day, and some twice. The cadets lay prone on their beds before lights-out in silent misery and resignation. Robin felt tears roll down her cheek as she gently rubbed the rows of stripes on her bottom, and thought about home. Suddenly she heard a familiar voice call out “Buck up, girls!”
She raised her head and saw that the speaker was Jodie Lawrence. She had been subjected to a particularly savage beating by the military history professor in the afternoon and, as a result, had the back of her pants open, the red lines crisscrossing her perky bottom, which was smeared with white first-aid cream.
“They can do whatever they want with our bodies,” she went on when she saw that she had gotten their attention, “but they can’t touch us in here…” she said, thumping her chest, “…unless we let them. Let’s show the bastards that they can’t grind us down. Fuck ’em! We’re the fighting cadet cunts!”
Robin stood up, laughed, and called, “You’re right, Jodie! Fuck ’em!” and all the other cadets joined in, calling out “Fuck ’em! Fuck the bastards!” until Sergeant LeFevre emerged from his room to bellow at them to shut up.
Thereafter, the platoon’s morale rose every day, as did their performance. Soon, it was unusual for the Sergeant to have an excuse to discipline more than one or two cadets during the morning session. Their academic performances improved as well, after Jodie arranged a tutoring system. The cadets strong in a particular subject would go over the material with classmates who were struggling. Robin found herself giving extra help to Kim Lee and Rahni Vishnan in cartography, and receiving it from Kim in mathematics.
They were still subject to periodic surprise visits from Captain Wagner, who generally managed to time his appearances for when the cadets were bathing. He would put the nude, dripping girls at attention and move among them, casually fondling their breasts, asses or pussies. Robin seemed to be one his favorite targets; he never missed an opportunity to either toy with the teen’s responsive nipples with his instructor’s baton, or to roll the little nubs in his fingers until they stiffened to attention like their lovely owner.
“As you can see, cadet,” he hissed, as he gently teased her nipples until Robin felt them swell erect under his touch. “Your body will react to anyone who touches it, even a man you hate. It doesn’t care.” She flushed with embarrassment and anger, biting her lip to keep silent.
But even these unwelcome visits became routine after a time, as Robin and her classmates adopted the philosophy expressed by their unofficial leader, Jodie Lawrence. The Army might have my body, she thought, as the Captain stroked the curve of her buttock or slid his hand down her naked belly to cup her mound, but they’ll never own me. That was the way things stood until the fourth week, when the platoon was inspected by the Chief of the General Staff himself, General Bernard Grant Cafferson.
* * * * *
The first notice the cadets had of the visit was when they were issued dress uniforms after breakfast. These were identical to the fatigues, except that they were white, with matching white-visored caps and belts. Each uniform had the cadet’s name neatly stenciled on the left breast. After they changed into the new skinsuits, they assembled in two lines outside the barracks at parade rest.
They were soon joined by their officer-instructors who, along with Colonel Miles and Captain Wagner, formed a line at right angles to the platoon’s formation. They were all in full dress uniforms, complete with impressive arrays of service ribbons and medals.
A big staff car pulled up, with a flag bearing a pentagon of five blue stars fluttering from the antenna. Robin’s eyes widened. There was only one full General in the entire country: General Cafferson. Her pulse quickened as she realized that she was about to meet in person the man who ran the country.
A Captain popped out of the car and hurried around to open the door for the great man. The Chief of the General Staff emerged, and Sergeant LeFevre bellowed “Atten-shun!” in his loudest bull-roar.
He cadets stiffened like ramrods, snapping off their smartest salutes, which the General returned just as crisply. He was a thickset man of medium height, with bushy, gray eyebrows and a square chin. His posture and the way he moved somehow radiated power. He approached the officers first, and went down the line, shaking each man’s hand. He seemed to know them all personally, as he greeted them quietly by their first names. Robin decided that the General had hand picked the instructors as well as the cadets.
He approached the cadets, and moved slowly down their lines looking each girl over carefully. He stopped before Robin for a long moment, and she looked up into his eyes. They were as cold and gray as ice; the eyes of a man whose orders had caused terrible suffering and who would not hesitate to issue such orders again. He would expect his commands to be obeyed, no matter what. Robin shuddered invisibly under his gaze. Cafferson nodded his head almost imperceptibly, and moved on.
He made a surprisingly brief speech to the platoon, congratulating them on their progress and promising them that he would be seeing more of them over the next few days. He watched as the Sergeant put the platoon through drill, then saluted and walked away, surrounded by the Academy officers.
The cadets were sent back to change into their fatigues, and were rushed through an abbreviated version of the morning exercises. After lunch, as they prepared to go to class, Sergeant LeFevre told Robin to wait behind while her classmates went off to the school.
“Get back i
n your dress whites and report to the Commandant’s office immediately, Bransom” he told her. “The General wants to interview you.”
Ten minutes later, Robin reported to the rambling wooden building. Colonel Miles’ secretary directed her upstairs to the Commandant’s private quarters. She hesitated, and then knocked timidly on the door.
“Enter,” a deep voice said. She opened the door to find Colonel Miles and General Cafferson seated on opposite sides of a round wooden table, which was set with china teacups, plates and utensils.
“Come in Bransom, and shut the door,” Colonel Miles said. “We were just about to have some tea. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind pouring for us. The teapot is over there,” he said indicating a sideboard, on which sat a tall blue and white teapot.”
“Yes, sir,” Robin automatically answered, starting towards the sideboard.
“Oh, before you do,” Colonel Miles said, bringing her to a halt, “just take off your uniform blouse, will you?”
Robin froze, and then stuttered, “Uh, of c… course, yes sir.” As she pulled the shirt over her head, she felt hot blood rushing to her face. Would she never get used to the humiliation? she wondered.
“Nice,” was Cafferson’s comment when he saw her proud, firm globes exposed. “You were right about her, Lester. She has the best pair of tits I’ve seen in a long time.”
The blush continued to spread from Robin’s face down to the tops of her breasts, coloring them prettily as she brought the teapot to the table and poured the steaming beverage into their cups. When she had filled the cups, Robin stood in silent shame, awaiting her next order.
Cadet: The Academy Page 5
