Hard Corps (10 page)

I could hear my own breathing as I waited for whatever might happen next. My heart thumped painfully in my chest, and I had to consciously keep my body from rising and falling as I struggled to control my laboured breathing. If only I could slow my heart just a little, calm myself enough to relax. I heard a sound, and felt someone near me.

‘Stay in position. I am going to blindfold you.’ It was Dr Wellington. She spoke softly into my ear and I was so startled that I jumped and let out a gasp.

‘Nervous little slut, isn’t she?’ It was one of the men, and I bristled at his remark. But I did as she asked, hoping I was doing what she wanted. I felt the soft blindfold cover my eyes, resting snugly on my face. It seemed to be held in place by an elastic band, and I later saw that it looked like a sleeping mask, but it was of deep-crimson satin.

‘You may stand now, novice. And lift your arms, hands behind your head, elbows out.’

Slowly I stood, slightly off balance from being blindfolded. As I stood and assumed the ordered position, something strange seemed to come over me. I was still breathing hard, and as nervous as a cat, but there was an overlay of excitement that I couldn’t deny. I stood quietly, keenly aware that three strangers were staring at me, at my naked body, at the blindfold on my face, at the anklet on my leg.

And along with the shame was an undeniable surge of desire. I was bared before them, and it turned me on! I was glad of my strong body, my firm stomach. And with my arms raised, I was even almost proud of my breasts, whose tips I could feel stiffening, engorging further, both from the cool air and from my awareness that these strangers were staring at my naked body.

‘Very nice,’ murmured an unfamiliar female voice, which must have belonged to the other woman. ‘Such strength in her body, but still very feminine. And all that gorgeous blonde hair. Shame how she pulls it back like that. I’d like to see it down, hanging over her luscious tits.’

Part of me wanted to sink into the floor. I was never comfortable being looked at, even in the most innocent of circumstances. But naked in front of strangers, who proposed to ‘use’ me in whatever fashion they chose! Thank God for the blindfold, I thought.

‘She looks good,’ interjected one of the men, ‘but let’s see what she’s made of. I’m going to whip her pert little ass for my test. I want to see how her flesh responds to the lash.’

I bit my lip, fighting my impulse to run out of there. And yet, even then, I couldn’t deny the little pulse of desire that surged through my body at the mention of a whip.

I felt a hand on my elbow.

‘Let me guide you to the whipping table, novice. I will only whip your ass, since you are new. Bend over and grip the table. And don’t move, or I will start over.’ He led me a few steps and then pressed me forward until my hands made contact with what felt like smooth wood. It was just the right height to allow me to bend forward at the waist, keeping my legs straight. I felt a gentle kick to the inside of my ankle that sent my legs wide apart.

I gripped the table hard, trying not to focus on the fact that my ass was now spread and bare for all to see. They were probably behind me, with a good view of my pussy and asshole showing between my spread legs. I felt an almost unbearable heat creep into my cheeks and spread down to my chest. I must have been blushing a bright red. But somehow I stayed still, my skin prickling in anticipation of the whipping.

There was a slight whistle and then I felt it. The whip was a heavy one, and I felt many licks of soft leather against my flesh. It must have been like the one the girls had used on Sam during the stage show. It really didn’t hurt much. I could take this, I thought. I had endured far worse just in the course of regular army training. Again and again the lash fell, and while it stung, it was nothing I couldn’t easily tolerate.

After several minutes, the beating stopped, and I stood, still bent over, my body now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My ass felt hot, but I had made it through without moving.

‘Not bad, not bad for a first time,’ murmured the man, as I felt his large hands stroke the heated flesh he had just whipped. He seemed to linger, his hands smoothing my ass, straying closer to the open cleft between the cheeks, until he pulled back suddenly, seemingly startled by Dr Wellington, who cleared her throat theatrically.

As he stepped away, I stayed in position, my mind swirling with confusion and excitement, my ass hot from the whipping and the stranger’s hands.

‘Well, she did all right on that one.’ The disem-bodied male voice seemed grudgingly impressed. His voice was a tenor, and I was pretty sure it was the upperclassman. For some reason I felt less submissive to him than to the other older members of the ‘committee’. I guess it was because he was my ‘peer’; I might have a class with him one day, or sit next to him in the cafeteria. The thought was sobering and I realised I was more nervous than ever. He brought me back to the moment by continuing. ‘Though with such soft strips, and so many, it was probably more like a massage than a whipping. We’ll see how still she stays with the stinger.’

That didn’t sound good. The stinger. I didn’t have much time to worry about it, because suddenly there was a stinging cut across my ass cheeks. I jumped and cried out with the pain and surprise.

‘Stay still, novice!’ As he spoke, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, forcing my face up toward the ceiling for a moment. He was very close, so that I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.

He held my head back for a moment, then released my hair. Roughly, he pressed my head back toward the table. I was still so stunned from the cut of the lash that I didn’t even think of disobeying. I bent my head down, trying not to tense my ass cheeks in anticipation, trying not to cry aloud.

Again the single lash fell, and again, despite my best intentions, I jumped and yelped. Four more times the little lines of heat seared across my flesh. I felt my knees about to buckle and the blood rushing to my head left me dizzy. Mercifully, he was done.

I felt another hand on my back. ‘Come with me, novice. So far you have done reasonably well, for a beginner. And you do mark in such a lovely fashion.’ As the second woman spoke, I felt her smooth fingers graze my heated flesh. Then her nails dragged across the tender skin, causing me to gasp from the pain. ‘But now I want to see you really submit. You can take a beating, but can you give yourself on command?’ I had no idea what she meant, but didn’t think she was actually asking a question that required response. At any rate, I remained silent as she led me, still blind, away from the table.

I felt her hands reach up and release the clasp that held the blindfold in place. As she removed it, I squinted for a moment in the light. I was facing the group, who were now all sitting in their chairs, staring up at me.

‘OK, novice. Get on the floor and come for us. And make sure we can see your hot little pussy while you do it. That’s my test.’

No. I couldn’t have heard that right. Come for them? I could take beatings. I could assume embarrassing positions. But masturbate in front of these gawking strangers? Oh God. Then I realised, in a flash, that this was really submitting. This wasn’t about exhibitionism, or proving some secret macho thing to myself that I could ‘take it’. This was the first ‘test’ that actually involved real submission, because it was so personal, so revealing.

Trembling, I lowered myself to the floor. I no longer had any thoughts about being as tough as the next guy. This was totally about me. I kneeled in front of them, spreading my legs so that my knees were almost at right angles with my body. My naked pussy was wide open, covered only by dark-blonde little curls. I couldn’t quite summon the nerve to look up, but slowly I dropped my hand to my sex.

As I touched the soft, hot flesh, I was momentarily shocked by how wet I was. I was soaking! Another defence dropped as I realised, or at last really admitted, that my body loved what was happening to me. Beyond the beatings and the discipline, this was what had reached me at last. To be naked on the floor, rubbing my clit in front of these strangers: this excited me beyond any experience I had ever had in my life.

The heat of my welted ass against the rough fibres of the carpet, the slight tension of my leg muscles as they stretched to accommodate the unusual position, the wet silkiness of my aching pussy all combined to make me dizzy with need. My eyes fluttered shut and I felt a deep heat welling up from inside my belly. I was close, very close to the edge.

‘Yes,’ hissed the other woman. ‘Yes, do it, novice. Come for us.’

It was as if I had been waiting for her command. On her order I came. I came and came with such a rage of heat that I fell back, no longer aware of my surroundings or my situation.

I don’t know how long I lay there, lost in a fog of perfect release. I had never come like that before. Even with Jacob. With him it had been intense, but somehow I had always held something back. Not this time though.

Slowly I sat up, unsure what I was supposed to do next. As the haze of the endorphin rush started to lift, I became self-conscious. I hugged my knees together, looking up at my judges. Had I passed? They ignored me for the moment, leaning toward each other, speaking so softly that I couldn’t hear what they were saying. This must be the reckoning, the ‘tallying’ of my scores. They were deciding whether they would allow me to join the ranks of the Slave Corps. As I waited on tenterhooks, I realised I wanted it very much. I wanted more. I wanted to find out what it meant to submit. I held my breath. At last they sat back, the other three demurring silently to Dr Wellington.

‘Cadet Remy Harris, stand and come forward.’ She beckoned me with a finger, looking as imperious as a queen. There was a trace of a smile on her lips, which gave me hope. I pulled myself up, and stood with my arms loose at my sides, not daring to cover my nakedness, even though the test seemed to be over. I looked down at the floor, still feeling caught in a sexual trance, still feeling like their slave girl.

‘Remy, would you like to become a novice? To be trained to be a true slave? You have potential. We are pleased.’

I nodded and then, feeling I should speak, managed to say, ‘Yes, mistress, yes please.’ I hoped my yearning wasn’t too palpable, too obvious, but I couldn’t help it.

‘You were born to this, weren’t you, slut?’ The older man spoke. Even as I blushed at his directness, I nodded again. He was right. He was so very right. I was born to this. I felt more at ease, at peace than I could ever remember feeling. And over it, on top of the peace, was a furious excitement. I was starting a new adventure. Something I had never planned for but, somewhere secretly inside of me, I had always been waiting for.

I struggled to focus on Dr Wellington’s next words. ‘You must swear never to reveal our existence to anyone outside of the Corps, unless you are given direct permission to recruit. You must promise to obey all the rules of our organisation as long as you are a member. If you accept temporary membership, you will be assigned a guide, who will explain all the rules and duties of a novice. Once everything is explained to you, and if you agree to abide by the terms and regulations, you will be inducted into the Slave Corps.’

She stood and walked over to me. When she was so close her clad breasts almost brushed my bare ones, she said, ‘This Corps is not only a chance to serve, a chance to explore your own sexual submissiveness. It is also a gateway to a very powerful community that has influence in all levels of military and civilian life throughout this country and beyond. You are being offered a gift of membership. Never betray that gift, Remy, and the Corps will never betray you. That much I can promise. Do you accept?’

Feeling pride mixing with fear of the unknown, I decided to follow my instinct.

‘Yes, mistress. I accept.’

Wellington smiled at me. ‘You’re a natural, Remy. Welcome to the Corps.’

W
hen I got back to the barracks, lights were out and only the moon illuminated the sleeping forms of the girls in their bunks. Quietly I stripped off my uniform, automatically folding it neatly and placing it in my footlocker. Slipping on the undershirt I should have been wearing underneath, and a pair of white cotton panties, I tiptoed to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

The moon was splashing a pale, white light through the bathroom windows. I was almost done, just drying my face, when a sound behind me startled me. I turned and there was Amelia, smiling quizzically at me.

‘Welcome home, Remy,’ she said. I knew she wouldn’t tell on me for being out after lights-out. But she seemed to want something.

‘Oh, hi, Amelia. I’m sorry. Did I wake you?’

‘Not at all. I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘What?’ I looked at her sharply.

‘I’m your guide.’

No words came to me at that moment. I just gawked at her. Amelia was my guide? The one to introduce me into the Slave Corps? Dumpy, quiet, little unassuming Amelia was my guide? She smiled at me and I hope I smiled back.

‘Get some rest now, Remy. We’ll talk tomorrow. You’ve been reassigned to SC — Special Calisthenics — starting first thing tomorrow. I’ll show you where to report. Again, welcome, and good night.’

Amelia stepped away, hidden now by the shadows of the darkening room. The moon was setting as she climbed into her bunk and settled down to sleep. I stood there a moment longer, my mind reeling with this latest bit of information. The initials SC. Of course. Special Calisthenics: Slave Corps. How convenient.

I was grinning as I climbed into my own bed. Life was certainly getting interesting!

*   *   *

In the morning as I dressed for PT, Amelia handed me a slip of paper. ‘Your new orders, as promised,’ she said, her face giving nothing away. I nodded and took the piece of paper. It wasn’t unusual to get assigned to different training units. I didn’t bother to keep track of where the other girls in my barracks were assigned, and they, I figured, were equally as uninterested in me.