Cadet: The Academy (4 page)

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.”