Subjugated (11 page)

Jenna’s voice felt terribly thick. “I tried to run away.”

“That’s right.” She watched him take a stand to the left of her hips, where they were bent over the chair arm. She watched him raise the paddle very high, and the sight alone made her whimper. Then the paddle came down, with a whistling sound and a terrible crack, and the pain was so terrible that she screamed.

Then, speaking a word as he delivered each stroke, he kept lifting his arm high and bringing it down, as Jenna kept screaming.

“Don’t—you—ever—try—that—again.”

“No, please… please, no more,” she sobbed after the second stroke, but he kept going until she had received all six, though he had to bring his hand down upon the small of her back to keep her still as her bottom writhed across the padded chintz that lifted it for punishment.

“Get a good shot of that, please,” the captain said. “Let’s let the whole republic see what happens to a disobedient girl. Jenna, go ahead and rub your bottom, please.”

“Oh, God,” Jenna whispered, at the feeling of rubbing herself there, as she pictured people watching on their view screens; seeing the welts her bottom must now bear, perhaps commenting that Jenna Caprio had only gotten what she deserved.

She heard the paddle put down on the mantelpiece.
Oh, no,
she thought, remembering what he had said would come next.

“We’ll get you out of your clothes, now, Jenna,” the captain said. “Stand up and pull up your panties. Then, with your skirt lifted so I can see your red panties, go upstairs to your room and take everything off except for the panties. Kneel on the rug and wait for me.”

Jenna rose slowly, still rubbing her bottom almost unconsciously. She reached down, blushing, and pulled up the panties. She couldn’t bear to look anywhere but the floor, but out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the AV crews move quickly to the stairs and turn to face her, perhaps so that they could capture the woeful look on her face as she climbed to the place where she would at last learn the lesson that seemed to lie at the heart of everything.

Her bottom still hurt terribly, and she kept rubbing it even after she had pulled up her panties, suddenly becoming conscious of a strange, wicked new feeling. Part of her had defiantly begun to want to put on a show for the camera that must be coming behind her, to capture the shameful state of her bottom, and try to get little peeks at the way the panties sat so scantily between her legs. Jenna couldn’t help giving those glimpses in the motion of her legs as she climbed, she knew, and suddenly she actually wanted to give them. The wicked feeling of wanting to show her pussy to the camera seemed to make the warmth of the paddling more ambiguous, just as the spanking, harsh but still so much gentler, had done.

She reached her door at last, only to find to her chagrin that the AV crew had already entered and were waiting to watch her undress. Again feeling the strange mixture of shame and arousal, she turned her back on them and began to undress in the corner, very conscious nonetheless that would continue to give that view of her punished bottom that they seemed to want.

As Bradley climbed the stairs to Jenna’s room, where he must now deflower her in her childhood bed, Joe Franklin provided some analysis.

“Subjugating officers are about equally divided, when it comes to where they take the girl’s maidenhead, but most of them will at least have her perform oral sex right there in the living room. By ordering Jenna up to her bedroom, Captain Clark perhaps intends to draw a clear connection between what she did Thursday night, by his command, and what she will now do.”

Clearly the producer of the show had cut to footage of Jenna masturbating two nights before, because the voice continued, “Isn’t that a naughty look on her face, there, as she reaches her very first climax? I’m guessing that by having her there in the bedroom, Captain Clark is trying to say that it’s time for her to pay for her pleasure by providing him with a good deal of pleasure of his own.”

He had reached the landing. One of the cameramen, who had shot him coming up the stairs, now waited to go in with him when he opened the door. The cameraman said softly to him, “Captain, do you have a moment to tell us what you’re planning? Just so we can make sure to get the best angles.”

Bradley thought for a moment. He definitely did know what he planned for Jenna, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell the cameraman. On the other hand, every facet of his conduct would be reported to high command, so if he were going to give the performance he should, this kind of professionalism was necessary.

And if he were going to give the performance, he must do it well, and sound like a real Son of the Liberation. “I’ll fuck her face for a good long while, there on the rug,” he said.

“If she resists,” said the cameraman, “she’ll get the belt, I assume?”

“Yes,” Bradley said, picturing it and growing hard at the mental image.

“Will you whip her right there, or over the bed, do you think?”

“Right there, I’d guess.”

The cameraman looked satisfied. “Then, for the defloration, doggy, do you think? Some officers have been experimenting with having the girl hold her knees open. It gives a very nice presentation of the cunt and anus.”

“I’ll have her kneel and display herself first, with the rear view to me, and give her a few with the belt just for fun. Then I’m going to ride her that way.”

“Interesting,” said the cameraman. “Face to the mattress?”

Bradley nodded, trying not to show how aroused this degrading conversation had got him.

“Can I ask you to turn her face to the left, so we can get a good angle on how she feels about your cock, captain?” The cameraman’s bland demeanor seemed to accentuate the dominance Bradley felt.

“Sure,” he said.

“And you’ll save the anus for later and come in the cunt right then?”

“Of course.” That was almost a trick question: General Dumfries had made it clear in interviews that though it was not an official requirement of the orders issued to subjugating officers, he much preferred that an officer’s first semen of the day go into the girl’s vagina, to emphasize to her that according to traditional values, her womb belonged to the man who possessed her.

Girls who got pregnant from their subjugations, too, had a different role in Las Vegas. Other pleasure girls received birth control injections until they left that service at thirty and went to the Palace of New Life, to become pregnant by officers and bear their children for the republic. If Jenna became pregnant today, though, she would go straight to the Palace of New Life as soon as it was discovered.

There, of course, like the rest of the girls in the Palace of New Life, she would while pregnant continue to serve the pleasure of officers who liked to fuck pregnant girls. General Dumfries had also made it clear that he enjoyed that himself from time to time, and the manual
proclaimed,

Women with new life in their bodies often need as much sex, if not more, than they did before they became pregnant. Men are encouraged to continue to enjoy girls—gently, of course—throughout their pregnancies until the girls’ thirtieth week. Punishments of pregnant girls should, however, be confined to hand-spanking.

“Of course,” said Bradley, suddenly picturing himself fucking a pregnant Jenna in the Palace of New Life. The thought was so unexpectedly arousing that he did swallow, then. He cleared his throat to conceal a moment the high command might see as weakness, and adopted a gruff tone. “We through here?”

Joe Franklin’s voice was saying, “She doesn’t have long to wait now, I imagine. Captain Clark is making his final preparations to enjoy lovely young Jenna Caprio. What is she thinking, we naturally wonder? Is she wet under those red panties, even though she doesn’t even know what she’s wet for? Does she know that the thing Captain Clark is going to feed her will also soon tear through her virginity?”

“Sure, sir,” said the cameraman.

Bradley opened the door to Jenna’s room to see her kneeling as he had ordered, her hands covering her little breasts and her head bowed. He stepped inside and the AV crew followed him.

“And here he is. He has an important choice to make here—is he going to say anything, or… yes, as I suspected, he’s just taking his belt off, and lowering his trousers and underwear. And now the shirt as well. Look at this fine officer, citizens. Look at his hard cock. Put yourself in young Jenna’s place. I think we’ll see him double the belt, here, and get it ready in case he has to whip her.”

“Jenna,” he said sternly, “open your mouth and put your tongue out.”

She looked up, and he saw her eyes go to his cock for the first time. An expression of alarm crossed her face, and she pursed her lips as if to reject the suggestion that she might open them for something so strange and menacing.

Bradley took a step forward, raising the belt just to show her what would happen if she disobeyed. He took his cock in his left hand. “I’m not going to ask again, Jenna. I know you’ve never seen a man’s penis before, but because your town couldn’t meet its obligations, you don’t have a choice. You’re going to suck a cock, now, and start to learn your place.”

* * *

Jenna couldn’t seem to make her mouth do anything but stay firmly shut.
Why? It’s just… a body part, right? Why can’t I do as he says?

Then she felt her eyes widen as she realized why she couldn’t obey: good girls didn’t have anything to do with what boys had between their legs. The thing that stood straight out from Captain Clark’s loins, his
penis
—his
cock:
even though Jenna had never seen one before, had never guessed that when at last the mysteries of men
being with
their wives and
having
them and
putting
their manhoods into their wives’ bodies stood revealed, it would look like the stiff, sinewy thing that hovered now before her face, she had known that whatever it was, to touch it willingly would make her a bad girl.

And now, strangely, a part of her wanted to be a bad girl, and that part kept trying to make her part her lips and put out her tongue so that the officer could lay his cock upon it. But the good-girl part of Jenna—that part that had controlled all her actions for so very long—said
no
. That part wanted to remain a good girl: the straight-A student bound for college in the East. That part remembered what Mrs. Trest had said about good girls and how they must save their reputations. They must never let boys touch their breasts, even outside their blouses. They must never touch their breasts, or their vaginas, except for hygienic purposes.

Somehow, too, without even mentioning it at all, Mrs. Trest had made it clear at the same time that the hidden portion of men’s bodies—the mysterious part covered by their pants—constituted a matter good girls must never think about. If that place should become visible, a good girl must turn away, and if the man should invite her—or even command her—to touch it in some way, a good girl must refuse.

Captain Clark lifted the belt high, and then he stooped a little bit, and to Jenna’s shock and worse, to her melting arousal, he took the back of her head by the hair and pulled her face right up against him, so that her innocent mouth, despite its firm closure, must nevertheless touch his cock, right at the complicated base of the thing, where a naughty, animal fragrance seemed to rise to her nostrils and there were curly hairs that tickled.

Jenna gasped, and then she cried out into his loins, for the captain had stooped, it now appeared, so that he could whip her backside around the tiny seat of the panties, once on the left cheek and once on the right.

She felt the strong muscles of his thighs move again, and then the belt came down once more, left and right, and Jenna yelped in response.

Captain Clark straightened again, not letting go of Jenna’s hair. It wasn’t painful, but she felt utterly controlled and dominated by the way he could keep her head still or move it as he liked.

“Open your mouth, Jenna,” he said softly but very menacingly, “and put your tongue out. You’re going to suck my cock now, or I’m going to keep whipping you until you do.”

Her bottom burned like fire: the four lashes from his broad leather belt had reawakened the pain of the paddling terribly, and she trembled as she thought about what a mess of welts her backside must now be. She opened her mouth.

“Good girl,” Captain Clark murmured. “Now the tongue. As far out as it will go, and curled down over your lips.”

Feeling her face flush hot, she obeyed, though it felt terribly strange.
It should feel strange, though, shouldn’t it?
she thought.
I’m about to become a bad girl, no matter what he says.
She curled her tongue down until she felt its tip almost touch the very top of her chin.

“There we go,” Captain Clark said. “Look at me, now.” He let go of her hair and took his cock in his left hand. The right hand, with the belt wound around it, rested at his side.

Jenna’s attention had been focused on the cock, as he moved it slightly and even rubbed it a little.
Does that make it feel good?
she wondered.
The way it feels good when I rub my clit?
Now she turned her eyes upward to find him looking down at her with an expression that startled her with its complex mixture of affect: severity and authority, but also, she thought for a fleeting moment, a deep sympathy.

When Captain Clark spoke, though, the sympathy seemed to disappear, and Jenna wondered if she had seen it at all. “The high command in its wisdom understands how sorely the citizens of the Western Republic stand in need of continual reminders that only by meeting their obligations will they avoid punishment.”

With the hand that held the belt, he brushed his knuckles gently against Jenna’s cheek. She shivered to feel that thick leather on her naked shoulder, on her bare neck.

“The high command understands that only by a regular display of the army’s superiority over the ordinary citizen, depicting in the most direct images what the powers of the army are, in our republic, can the citizenry be properly controlled. Only by making the citizenry watch an officer fuck a nubile, virginal girl, selected only because he wished to fuck her and therefore dressed in a garment that singles her out as the chosen symbol of his mastery and the army’s dominance, can we teach the lesson of perfect obedience.”