Cadet 3 (4 page)

By the way, I still occasionally have an eye
for good-looking studs: I never lost interest in men, and the same
is true for Robin. I will even admit that we have done more than
look on occasion, and have even gone so far as to invite a male to
join us in bed every now and again. But we’re both just having a
little fun, and I have never worried that an occasional roll in the
hay with a boy-toy would have any effect on our feelings for each
other.

One lingering effect from the NMWA was that
we both developed a taste for some mildly kinky sex (I am assuming
that nobody nowadays considers oral sex “kinky”). As a matter of
fact, this is really none of anyone’s business, but this is
supposed to be a “tell-all” memoir, so with Robin’s permission, I’m
telling all. One night when we were in bed together (this is after
we had graduated, and I had been promoted to Lieutenant-General,
more about that a little later), were reminiscing about our days at
the Academy. Robin remarked that the first time she had seen me
spanked on my bare bottom, she had been mostly horrified, but also
more than a little excited. Later on, of course, she had been
ordered to whip a number of our classmates as part of our sex
training (never me, as it happened), and she didn’t get any thrill
from those experiences at all.

I found this strangely interesting.
“Really?” I asked. “What exactly did you like about seeing me
spanked?”

She seemed a little embarrassed. “I don’t
know, Jodie.” She said. “You have such a cute little ass, and the
way it wriggled under the Sergeant’s crop, it just…” she trailed
off. “Anyway, I didn’t think of you that way back then. I wasn’t a
lesbian or anything.”

I pictured being bent over Robin’s knee with
my naked buns in the air, and I liked what I saw. I rose up on my
hands and knees and crawled over to lie across her lap, there on
the bed. I shook my bottom as temptingly as I could (and I have a
very tempting bottom, if I do say so myself), and said, “Wouldn’t
you like to try it just once? I promise I won’t accuse you of being
a lesbian or anything.”

Robin laughed. “OK, as long as you won’t
think I’m some kind of weirdo, I’ll do it, just this once, and only
as a personal favor to you, you understand,” she said. She sat up
straight and gave me a light swat on my left cheek. This was
definitely not what I had in mind.

“
Bransom, that was the most pathetic
excuse for a spank I have ever seen,” I barked, using my best
imitation of our old drill Sergeant. “If you do not administer the
correction appropriately, you will receive ten disciplinary strokes
on your useless cadet cunt ass. Is that understood?”

Robin smiled. “Understood, Sergeant,” she
replied. She took hold of my right wrist and bent my arm up behind
my back until I had to lean forward and raise my ass to relieve the
pressure. Then she slammed her hand into my bottom full force. I
was surprised at how much it stung (of course, I hadn’t been
whipped since graduation, and my pain threshold was probably a lot
lower than it had been at the Academy).

“Ow
! Dammit that
hurt
!” I said. She
looked at my questioningly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. I
could feel myself getting aroused as well. “So, aren’t you going to
do it again?” I asked her.

She spanked me until I cried, then ordered
me to service her pussy. I had not been so hot since our first
night together at High Point, and Robin obviously felt the same
way. When I put my mouth to her slit she was soaking wet, and she
came like a crazy woman inside a minute. After that, when she went
down between my thighs and started sucking my clit between her
teeth, I blew up like a geyser. I found it a little uncomfortable
to sit at my desk the next day, but it was worth it.

After that, we experimented with some mild
spanking and bondage on some nights, although most of the time we
just made love the usual way. Sometimes I would spank Robin until
she begged to be allowed to lick me; and sometimes she would tie me
up and spank me until my ass was on fire, then let me bring her
off. Anyway, that was another legacy from the old school.

I haven’t mentioned the most important
product of High Point yet. Of course, if you’re reading this book,
you almost certainly already know about it. It was me. To be
precise, the NWMA was where the Army (and I) discovered my knack
for generalship. I could pretend to be modest about it, I suppose,
but what would be the point, really?

We (the United States, that is) and our
allies had been getting our asses handed to us for twenty years by
the Chinese. China had taken Taiwan, Indo-China, the Philippines,
Japan and Indonesia in a series of wars, smothering us with a
superior weight of men and machines we couldn’t match. Strategy for
both sides was determined by battle computers, which supposedly
produced the plan with the optimal result, given the material
parameters. Since their computers were as good as ours, and they
had more men, tanks, planes, ships and so on than we did, we
continued to lose. We needed a new approach if we were going to
stop them.

When I defeated the supposedly unbeatable
battle simulation computer at the Academy on the first day of our
Military Operations class, my instructor thought the computer
program had become infected with a virus, or some such. When he
checked, it was operating normally, so he decided that it was just
a once-in-a-lifetime anomaly. Then I beat it again, something
nobody had done since the Army had learned to program digital
computers for warfare. When I started consistently beating the
battle sim, General Cafferson decided that he had found a way to
defeat the Chinese at last.

After graduation, he squirreled me away in a
secret base in Wyoming, where I was force-fed computer analyses of
every Chinese military campaign of the last thirty years. Then they
gave me the battle simulator-generated plan for the defense of what
was expected to be the next Chinese target, New Zealand, to
analyze. I agreed with the computer’s prediction: we would lose
again. After that, all I had to do was come up with an operational
plan that might actually work.

It’s hard for me to explain how I do what I
do. When I come up with a plan, it seems so simple and obvious to
me that I don’t really understand why nobody else was able to think
of it. I’m told it’s a special knack, something like a musical
prodigy has, say Mozart, for example, or a chess natural, like Paul
Morphy or Bobby Fischer. The only thing I know for sure is that the
battle sims can’t predict what I’ll do, and they can’t beat me. And
since modern war planning (both ours and the Chinese) has been
based on the opti-max models generated by these computers for more
than twenty years, defeating the computer models usually equals
winning actual campaigns and battles.

The defense of New Zealand was code-named
Operation Seahorse. The overall commander of the South Pacific
Theater and Seahorse was Lieutenant-General Hubert Sunderland
(Royal Australian Army). I prepared the operational plan for the
campaign. There has been a lot written about Seahorse, but not by
me. Here, for the first time, is the full story of that campaign as
told from my point of view [there follows a chapter on the New
Zealand campaign]…

…
In the end, we trapped the two hundred
thousand-odd man Chinese expeditionary force on the North Island
and forced them to surrender in March of 2012. I was General
Sunderland’s acting chief of staff during the campaign, there to
make sure Seahorse went as planned. I had initially joined the
South Pacific Command as a Second Lieutenant. By March 4, when
Marshal Lu Han’s First Amphibious Army laid down their arms in
Auckland, I was already a full Colonel. When I got back to
Washington, the General Staff (on General Cafferson’s suggestion)
promoted me over the heads of roughly fifty Brigadier- and Major-
Generals to Lieutenant General, put me in command of the Asian
Theater (which essentially meant putting me in operational command
of the entire war with China), and placed me on the General Staff,
subordinate only to Cafferson himself. I hope you will excuse my
lack of false and no doubt real modesty, when I say that at the age
of 21 I was the youngest soldier in American history ever to reach
such a high rank, probably the youngest in any army in
history.

[Robin just read this and pointed out that
Lafayette was only 21 when he was promoted to Major-General in a
much smaller army, during the Revolutionary War, and added that if
I’m not careful, my head is going to get too big to fit through an
ordinary doorway. Too late, the damage has already been done.]

As a result of the status I gained from
Seahorse, I had the leverage to have High Point closed, and to have
the remaining cadets there (including Robin’s younger sister,
Merry) offered the opportunity to transfer to West Point to take
the same course of instruction as the men. (All but two cadets of
the 210 at the NWMA transferred). I also was able to get my fellow
Cadet Cunts released from their sexual duties, and assigned to
normal posts for Second Lieutenants, or allowed to resign their
commissions with full pensions, if they wished. I am proud to say
that not one of my blood-sisters chose to leave the service…

…
The last time I saw General Cafferson,
the cancer had just about finished him. He was in an oxygen tent,
plugged into various machines, with tubes running out of him. I sat
next to his bed and he took my hand. His grip was so weak, it
frightened me.

He coughed a little, then said “Jodie, I’m
as proud of you as if you were my own daughter. You are the most
brilliant soldier this country has produced in more than a
century...” That was the first time he had ever called me by my
first name. I knew from that alone that the end was near.

He stopped to gasp for air before
continuing, “…but you have to understand that you have enemies, and
they will try to destroy you after I’m gone.”

On one hand, I didn’t want to argue with a
dying man, but on the other, I didn’t want him to worry
unnecessarily about me, either. “I’m sure I’ll be fine sir. The
Chinese will never get a shot at me. I have excellent security,” I
said, trying to reassure him.

He shook his head. “I’m not talking about
the Chinese. You came up so fast that you never learned about
politics at the General Staff level. Do you remember when those
Navy bastards tried to kill you to get at me?”

He was referring to an incident that
occurred during my last term at High Point, when an Admiral had
come close to murdering me, Robin and Robin’s sisterMerry in order
to discredit the NWMA and bring Cafferson down. I will never forget
the Strangler’s Knots around our throats, and how two Admirals were
in the process of tightening the knots until we stopped breathing
by sodomizing us (quite literally fucking us to death), when we
were rescued at the last second.

“
Of course I remember, sir, but that’s
over. Admiral Hall and the others resigned, they were all forced
out of…” I began. He raised a hand.

“
Jodie, it’s not over,” he gasped. He sat
up with a tremendous effort and motioned me closer. He spoke with
urgency, spending the last of his strength. “The same cabal that
Hall led is still around. They won’t give up. They hated me and
they hate you as my protégé and chosen successor, and they don’t
give a shit about the country. They will try to bring you down. All
they care about is power, and they’ll do anything to get it,
consequences be damned.”

He sank down again and his eyes closed. He
was silent for so long, I thought for a minute he was gone. Then he
whispered so softly I could barely make out the words. “You have
friends you don’t know about, Jodie. Just remember that: you have
friends.” I waited for a long time, but he didn’t speak again. That
was the last time I saw General Cafferson alive. He died the next
day…

Chapter Three: Black Ops

“Oh shit!” muttered the MP Captain. He
hastily pulled up his pants, then motioned his men towards Robin
and hissed, “Get her down. And straighten yourselves up, for
Chrissake!” In a louder voice he called, “Be right with you,
Major.”

The Captain’s apprehension was
understandable. The National Security Bureau was the highest police
agency in the country, overseeing security investigations of both
the civil and military sides of the government. Not
every
person arrested by the NSB disappeared forever without a trace, but
there were enough rumors in which that had happened to a friend of
a friend circulating to make any sensible person want to stay off
the agency’s radar.

The Captain tucked his shirt into his
waistband, tried to wipe away the most obvious stains from his
trousers, and then he opened the heavy metal door. Major Rodriguez
was in plainclothes, dressed in a blue pinstriped suit. He stepped
into the room, closely followed by a uniformed corporal and private
wearing the much-dreaded black and gold armband of the NSB. The
Major was on the short side, had a slender build, and the swarthy
complexion and dark, wavy hair that went with his surname. He had
high cheekbones and unusually delicate, almost feminine, features,
which the presence of a thin, black moustache only partially
offset. Jodie thought that he looked vaguely familiar, although she
could not imagine where she could have seen him before.

Rodriguez glanced around the room, taking in
the two nude prisoners, one of them still naked and hanging in
chains, and the disheveled uniforms of the Military Police, without
showing the slightest sign of approval. He stared at the MP Captain
in stony silence.

Finally the Captain said shakily, “We were
just conducting a preliminary… umm… interrogation to… uh… soften
them up for you, Major.”