Subjugated (19 page)

He drew her up back onto the seat and kissed her, to his surprise enjoying the strange, lingering taste of his own seed. “Did you like that?” he asked, trying to keep the wonder out of his voice and make it sound dominant and degrading.

“Yes, sir,” Jenna said, snuggling her face again into his chest. “I like to please you.”

“You do please me, Jenna,” he said, kissing her hair. “We’re going to have a wonderful week.”

“What will you teach me?” she asked, so ingenuously that he needed to kiss her again.

“Well, we’ll have to review all your lessons from today before we move on to more advanced material.”

“Yes, sir,” she murmured, suddenly sounding very sleepy.

* * *

Jenna woke up just as they were coming into the city limits of the capital. In her still-dazed state, all she could see, she thought, were bright lights in impossibly tall configurations. Were they buildings? How could they be? And, looming in front of them, the tallest building of all, with the words “
Palace Of Joy Of The Army Of Western Liberation
” in blood-red, glowing, Gothic letters at the top.

The limo moved swiftly down the road, hardly slowing at all from its highway speed, and then suddenly they had plunged underneath the Palace of Joy, they were in a strange, cavernous concrete space, and the limo had stopped at a big glass door where two soldiers stood on guard.

The driver got out, came around, opened her door. He helped her out of the car.

“Have a good week, Jenna,” he said with a wink, and then he was saluting Captain Clark who stepped out right behind her. He took her hand and led her to the glass door, which one of the soldiers opened.

“Welcome to the palace, captain,” the other soldier said. He too winked. Jenna felt herself blushing, even after everything so far.

A shiny, sliding metal door opened in front of them, and Captain Clark led her into the strange little room inside, where another soldier saluted. Captain Clark returned the salute, and the soldier pressed a button at the very top of the panel of similar buttons.

Then Jenna gasped as the little room started to move.

“It’s an elevator, Jenna,” the captain said softly. “We’re going up to the top of the palace.”

“A what, sir?” she whispered back, but then she figured it out, from the name.

Captain Clark smiled down at her. “You know, it elevates us.” He could see that she understood now, Jenna could tell. “They used to be commonplace. There’s probably one in your town hall in Springfield that’s broken down and too dangerous to use.”

The elevator had started to move so fast that it made Jenna’s tummy feel a little funny. On a little display over the door, a flashing number appeared where only a dash had been before: 50, 51, 52. Surely the number didn’t mean the floor they were on?

Suddenly it reached 60 and stayed there, and the elevator seemed to slow so fast it felt like her stomach would ascend into her chest. Captain Clark laughed, perhaps at the look on Jenna’s face. “It takes some getting used to,” he said, and she nodded, trying to look as if she was taking it in stride.

Then the doors opened, though, and there was no chance she could take it in stride.

“The subjugation suite, sir,” said the soldier who ran the elevator. He saluted, and Captain Clark again returned the salute.

Out in front of her, across an expanse of snow-white carpet, the world seemed to end in a blaze of mingled light and darkness to which Jenna wanted to run to and from which she wanted to cower away. Captain Clark took her hand firmly in his and led her out of the elevator, whose doors closed behind them.

“I…” she said, not sure whether she wanted to say she was frightened or that she had never been so excited in her life. But he simply led her to what she could now see was simply an enormous, floor-to-ceiling sheet of glass. A window, Jenna guessed you might call it, but unlike any window she had ever imagined.

And out of that window she saw the capital of the Western Republic: five lit buildings in a derelict sea of ruins. All around the skyscrapers that must constitute the high command’s domain were other buildings that loomed, dark and lifeless like ghosts. An enormous tower that must have been the tallest building in the city when it stood, lay smashed haphazardly across ten or twelve blocks.

When she turned to look up at Captain Clark, he gazed down at her sternly. “This is liberated Las Vegas, Jenna. This is the city from which we will build the new world, with the only true human values that can sustain us.”

Then he swept her into his arms and started to kiss her. She was terribly confused, for the sight of Las Vegas had clearly affected her very differently from the way it was supposed to affect her. Should she feel awe? Was Captain Clark truly carried away by the romance of showing his pleasure girl her new home?

But his hands and lips knew no refusal, and he reached inside her robe so that he could put his right arm around her naked back and seize her naked bottom so that she cried out with the terrible soreness that was still there. His left hand had her around the base of her neck, and he kissed her and kissed her.

Then he moved his mouth and her head, so that he could kiss her neck; then, moving a little higher, her ear.

Then, ever so softly, his voice, “This suite’s completely monitored.” He kissed harder, kissed her neck again, again her ear. “Remember what I said.” His mouth came back to hers, kissed hard, his tongue probing.

She felt his mouth on her neck on the other side, and his hands taking her bathrobe from her, so that she stood naked there with him, his possession. The left hand on her bottom moving around her hip until he could claim her sore pussy with his fingers, making her wail with discomfort that he touched her where his cock had been today, her very first day as a woman.

“I love you,” in her ear. “My name is Bradley. Don’t use it. Just think it.”

Bradley.
Bradley. Oh, God. I love you, Captain Bradley Clark.

He drew away from her suddenly, then, and held her at arm’s length, looking down into her face. She looked up at him, and the sob that came from her throat at his expression was unfeigned and unforced.

“You will sleep naked, Jenna, and I will fuck you in the morning. Go find the bedroom, and get into bed and go to sleep, so that you’re ready for fucking when I wake you up.”

Bradley sat up for half an hour, drinking two fingers of the excellent Scotch provided by General Dumfries and looking out the enormous window at Las Vegas. Had Jenna understood? What had possessed him to tell her to
think
his first name? What good could it possibly do? If she actually forgot and called him that, he’d have to punish her for over-familiarity.

The idea of a future in which Jenna could call him
Bradley,
though, and kiss him because she wanted to kiss him, would not leave him alone. He had never imagined, as he went through the sexual experiences of his early twenties, all of them with pleasure girls here in Las Vegas and at the various bases where his regiment had been deployed, that he could find a girl who looked at him the way Jenna did—least of all a girl whom he had subjugated. In her eyes he could see, even as he punished her, her acceptance of his dominant nature and her welcome of the way he wanted to take care of her. Jenna seemed to need him to master her the same way he needed to claim her—yes, to subjugate her.

When you fucked a pleasure girl—even when you whipped her with your belt or paddled her for some trumped-up charge like being slow to kneel in front of you or not taking your cock deep enough down her throat, the sort of thing Sergeant Connor had recommended to all his ‘lads’—you dominated her and subjugated her. Bradley had done that a few times, with a few girls, but although it had been fun, and the girls didn’t seem to mind it, he hadn’t felt anything like the bond that seemed to have formed without warning between him and Jenna.

He poured himself one more finger of whisky and wandered over to the window to stand nearly right up against it, trying to find with his eyes the ruins of the Bellagio, hit with a 100-ton bomb early in the War of Liberation. Before the collapse, what had it meant to look out over this view? It had been a place of pleasure, hadn’t it? If the resistance succeeded, would people finally be sick of pleasure? Would they leave this place forever and never return?

If you ever find yourself in the subjugation suite, with a girl you’ve just subjugated, and you make the call,
Captain Leese had said—what, five years ago, now?—
a madam will bring you what you need. All you must do is have your girl put on what they bring you, and offer her to General Dumfries the traditional way.

He let a drop of Scotch roll around his tongue. Would there be any more Scotch, if this worked? Not for a long, long while, he imagined.

Bradley turned to look back into the suite, down the hallway where he could just see, through the door of the bedroom, a sliver of the enormous bed with the red satin sheets, and Jenna lying, naked and beautiful, curled up with her back to him. He saw with a pang and a leap of his cock how covered her backside was with the marks of punishment.

He walked to the end table next to an eight-foot-long, leather-covered couch and picked up the phone. At the other end, a soldier said, “Good evening, Captain Clark. Sergeant Hooper here. How can I assist you?”

“Good evening,” Bradley said. “My compliments to General Dumfries, when he has convenience to receive them, and I’d like to bring my girl Jenna to his quarters for fucking tomorrow evening if he’s at leisure, then.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll send that message. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, thank you, Hooper. Could you put me through to a madam who can help with getting Jenna ready for her evening with the general?”

“Certainly, sir. Just a moment.”

The phone buzzed, clicked. A pleasant feminine voice said, “Good evening, Captain Clark. My name is Delilah. How may I assist you tonight?”

“Thank you, Delilah. I’m hoping that my girl Jenna is going to have an evening with the general tomorrow night, and I’d like to make sure she’s dressed and made up appropriately. I’ve heard that the general likes subjugated girls to look very elegant for him.”

“Yes, that’s right, captain. Shall I send a madam tomorrow afternoon, with some lingerie and makeup? Say, four o’clock?”

“That sounds fine, Delilah. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir. Have a nice night.”

Bradley hung up the receiver and swallowed down his last drops of whisky. Was the plan in motion, now?

He put his tumbler in the bar sink, after rinsing it mechanically, realizing as he did so that he had begun to look for things to do to occupy him so that he wouldn’t have to go into the bedroom and face the desire he would feel for Jenna; the need to wake her up and master her again. He had reclaimed her mouth in the limo, but the need to reclaim also her pussy and her bottom and even the desire to do it in such a way that she cried out her painful submission under him had come strongly upon him as he thought about Monday night, and the way he must deliver her up to the general, so that he might sample her charms.

Slowly he turned and walked toward the bedroom door. Jenna had left the lamp on the right side of the bed glowing dimly, illuminating the space she had left for him in the bed and beyond it the naked beauty of her neck, her back, her chastised bottom. Bradley stood for a long moment, looking down at her. Then, without ceasing to look, his cock terribly hard at the thought of all the things he wanted to do to his girl before he must bring her to the general in forty hours or so, he undressed.

He dropped his fatigues and his briefs into a laundry bag and climbed into bed next to Jenna at last. She made a little murmur and stirred a bit in her sleep, perhaps disturbed by the movement of the bed under Bradley’s weight. Suddenly tenderness for her overcame his dominant desire completely. So young, and so intelligent. So beautiful.

He moved himself closer to her sleeping form and put his arm gently around her waist. He snuggled her into his front, and the way his hard cock poked against her little bottom made him smile, though he had worried that it might make him cruel in his need for her. To his delight, Jenna seemed to giggle a bit in her sleep, and to give a little happy sigh.

Then, “Captain Clark,” she said, clearly in her sleep, and very softly and indistinctly. “And Mrs. Captain.”

* * *

When Jenna awoke, the feeling was so strange and lovely, and yet uncomfortable, that she took a very long time to figure out that Bradley’s hand was between her thighs, gently commanding her pussy’s arousal. Little whimpers came from her chest as the fingers became more urgent and began to insist on opening her further. “Sir,” she moaned. “Sir.”

“Shh,” he said in her ear. She realized he was lying behind her, propped on his right elbow, while his left hand caressed her pussy-lips and clitoris, reaching between her legs from underneath with his probing fingers “Just relax, Jenna. I’m going to fuck you very gently. Just raise your knee a little, now. That’s it. Now here comes my cock. You’re nice and wet, so it will just… slip…”

How could something feel so heavenly and so painful at the same time? She cried out at the soreness there, but oh, how she loved feeling him push inside her, as he refused to heed her little whining sounds.

“There,” he said softly, as he began to move his hardness in and out of her pussy. “There. So nice. Such a nice, tight cunt, Jenna. See how gently I can fuck it?”

“Yes, sir,” Jenna moaned, and of course Bradley was being gentle—nothing like the way any of the soldiers yesterday had fucked with their dildos and plugs—but Jenna still felt such discomfort between her legs that she didn’t think it could ever feel good to have a cock there, let alone the pressure of Bradley’s hips against her bottom-cheeks, which felt so sore that she didn’t think she would ever be able to sit down again.

But then he brought his left hand around her hip, and he began to rub her clit in time with the thrusting, delicately, and suddenly the pain seemed to transform itself into some kind of reverse pleasure, and her little cries and sobs became terribly ambiguous.