Subjugated (22 page)

General Dumfries himself met them at the security door in the elevator lobby, outside which two soldiers stood guard. The big metal door opened, and there he stood, wearing a red bathrobe with his gaudy insignia upon it, under which he was undoubtedly naked and very ready to entertain Bradley’s pleasure girl.

The general’s fifty-year-old body had run somewhat to paunch, but he remained a magnificent specimen of a man, six feet and three inches tall, black hair peppered with gray and a craggy face that seemed to inspire awe and loyalty with a single glance. Bradley had seen him from afar, at holiday speeches, and often closer up in video messages, but he had never been in the man’s actual presence to feel the sheer force of his masculine vitality. He could well understand that when this man said, “Follow me, and you shall fuck all the girls you like,” his soldiers had always obeyed.

Bradley glanced at Jenna, and saw that she had begun to tremble violently at the sight of the tyrant himself. Bradley wondered for a moment what it would feel like to be dressed only in a corset, panties, and stockings in front of this terrible man. His mind wouldn’t compass it, and that made him love Jenna even more desperately. No, she had no choice, but here she was, and she hadn’t tried to run away.

“Jenna, sweetheart,” General Dumfries said in a genial tone. “Don’t be frightened, please. Come on inside, you two.” He turned to the guards. “No interruptions,” he said.

He led Bradley and Jenna inside the penthouse suite, even more palatial of course than the subjugation suite one floor below.

“Captain, why don’t you sit over there?” he said, pointing to an armchair. “Your girl and I will sit on this loveseat and get better acquainted. Just have a seat there, Jenna, while I get some of my best whisky for your captain and myself.”

Jenna sat, a little ungracefully because how could she possibly sit gracefully in that situation and wearing those things, and Bradley’s eyes locked with hers as he too sat where he had been told to sit. In that glance Bradley thought he saw a desperate sorrow, and suddenly he wondered if she knew something he didn’t: if Camilla had told her something, or Jenna had figured something out.

General Dumfries returned and handed Bradley a generous tumbler of Scotch. His own glass had only a finger or so. “If you finish this one off, captain, feel free to go back for more. My bar is at your disposal tonight.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Bradley woodenly. The general meant while he enjoyed Jenna in the discipline room, and then the bedroom. He was famous for making officers and even husbands wait in the living room while he enjoyed their girls and wives as he chose only a few yards away.

He sat next to Jenna, then, and put his arm comfortably around her.

He looked down at her, and she looked nervously back at him. “Are you a naughty girl, Jenna?” he asked in a tone dripping with degradation.

“No, sir?”

“Well, I think we’ll see about that, won’t we?” the general said with a chuckle. “I couldn’t really tell from your video. Sometimes you seemed like a good girl and sometimes you seemed like a bad one.”

“Yes, sir?” Jenna seemed to be trying very hard to control herself, as if she wanted to flee but knew she must stay, had no choice. Her voice quavered as she spoke.

“Well, let me tell you about what’s going to happen tonight, and you can tell me whether it makes you wet, sweetheart? If you get wet, you’re a naughty girl, and if you don’t, you’re a good girl. Understand?”

Bradley had never thought he could feel the level of anger he felt then. He sent a wrathful prayer winging up to heaven,
God damn him.
And then, incongruous as it was,
God, let him kiss her, now, please.

“I think so, sir?”

“Good,” the general said, seeming to relax into a pattern he knew well. “First, we’re going to do what I think they used to call
making out
in the old days. Do the kids at your high school make out, Jenna?”

“S—sometimes,” she whispered.

The general’s left hand casually came around to rest on Jenna’s brocaded corset, just above her right breast. “Like this?” he asked softly.

Jenna gave a little whimper. “I think so, sir.”

The general put his hand inside the corset, caressed her nipple.
God curse him to hell forever.
“Like this?”

“Yes, sir.” The whimper became a moan.

“Like this?” The general bent his head and kissed her, long and hard.

It seemed to go on forever.
Oh, Jenna. You remember, don’t you?

Then, suddenly she was trying to push him away, and a struggle had begun.

“Now, Jenna,” the general said, “don’t make me whip you so soon.”

But Jenna had managed to slip off the loveseat and she had run to the other side of the room. “No! I won’t! I won’t!” she shouted. “I won’t let you! You’re mean, and evil!”

The general got up, his breathing a little harsh. The look in his eyes was murderous. He looked at Bradley. “Sorry about this,” he said. “Happens sometimes. Need to teach her a good lesson. I apologize if it spoils her.”

Then he walked quickly toward where Jenna stood in the corner, his hand raised to strike her. Bradley felt paralyzed for an agonizing moment, but finally he rose.
I would rather die defending her than live with myself after this
.

He watched General Dumfries hand start to come down, very hard, and heard the blow connect, but then something very strange seemed to transpire, and instead of Jenna lying on the floor, it was the general who did, gasping, choking.

But only for a moment, and then he was still.

Bradley fell to his knees, stooped over him, the soldier’s concern for his commanding officer taking hold even in the face of the man’s evil.

Suddenly Jenna’s mouth was next to his ear. “Lip rouge,” she whispered. “I love you, Bradley. Goodbye.”

Then she, too, fell to the floor.

* * *

Jenna woke up in a hospital bed, in a room where everything was so white she honestly did think she had gone to heaven. A nurse, sitting next to her bed, seemed to be so engrossed in her Jane Austen novel that Jenna for a long time didn’t want to disturb her. Besides, she had to try to figure out why she wasn’t dead.

Finally, unable to come up with a reason, if she had been correct that the drug in the lip rouge was activated by exertion, and she had exerted herself just as the general had, and the general had clearly died, she said, “Nurse?”

The nurse looked up with a smile. “You’re awake!” she said. She pressed a button on the wall. “Miss Caprio’s awake,” she said. She turned back to Jenna with a bright look of something approaching awe and in clear expectation of Jenna saying something significant.

“Am I… how long…?” was all Jenna could manage.

“Oh, only a few hours. It’s barely even Monday.” She giggled. “Didn’t take so long to liberate us from the Liberation, did it?”

“Wait…”

But at that moment the door opened, and Bradley was standing there. He rushed to her bedside and took her in his arms, kissed her over and over.

“Careful!” she managed to breathe. “My lips are deadly! Aren’t they?”

He laughed. “You scared me, sweetheart. I’ll give you that. But your lips weren’t deadly to anyone but General Dumfries. The poison in the lip rouge was engineered for his DNA. There was another, slow-acting toxin in the rouge that was for you, and it knocked you out. They wanted to at least get you out of there alive if possible, if the poison for the general didn’t work, or he didn’t kiss you, or didn’t exert himself after kissing you.”

He kissed her again. “Oh, God, Jenna, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, sir.”

He pulled back a bit. “Sir?”

“May I please call you
sir,
sir?”

Bradley laughed and shook his head. “Jenna Caprio, savior of the West, you may call me whatever you like, as long as you call me husband someday very soon.”

Jenna felt tears come to her eyes. “Oh, yes. Yes, sir. Yes, Bradley.”

They kept her on the hospital floor of what Bradley told her would now be called ‘Las Vegas Government Tower’ rather than the Palace of Joy only for an hour, checking her temperature (in her mouth, thank you very much) and her blood pressure twice and then telling Bradley that he could take her back upstairs.

“Where upstairs?” she asked, seeing him smile a little secretly.

“The victors’ suite.”

It was the subjugation suite, of course.

“Part of me wanted them to give us the general’s suite, but I don’t think you really did want to see his discipline room, and there are a lot of electronics in there that Marshal Landau’s men need to have control of.”

“So Marshal Landau was the leader of the resistance?” Jenna lay on her tummy on the big bed, whose sheets were now a pretty light blue. As far as she could tell, nothing red remained anywhere in Las Vegas Government Tower.

Bradley kept rubbing lotion into the welts on her bottom. He had insisted, even though they really weren’t terribly sore anymore. Jenna rather suspected he just wanted to rub her bottom, and that was just fine with her. She didn’t think she could ever get enough of her handsome officer fiancé rubbing her bottom.

“Well, he was the highest ranking member, but Camilla was the real leader.”

Jenna giggled. “That makes sense. How did they get the poison made?”

“Well, getting a sample of the general’s DNA was very easy, of course, since he left it inside so many different pleasure girls.”

“Ugh,” Jenna said. “That man. I can’t say… well, you can see how he got to be… that. But the thought of him…”

Bradley lay down next to her, and turned her to face him. He kissed her. “Never. Never any of it, again.”

Jenna felt herself frown. “Any of it?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

He looked back searchingly. “Say more, sweetheart,” he said softly, but she found she couldn’t; she could only keep looking at him, willing him to understand what she meant. Bradley’s brow furrowed. “Do you mean… well, like… spanking?”

Jenna nodded. She worried she would see puzzlement or even disgust in his eyes, but a little smile appeared on his lips instead. “Anything else?” he asked softly, putting his hand gently on her bottom. Jenna shivered. She nodded, and at the same time she wriggled her backside against his hand, where the lingering ache of her many punishments seemed to gather into a warmth in front, in her pussy.

“Here?” he asked, and put his finger there, inside the little valley between her well-soothed cheeks. He pressed at the little ring that was still so tight despite everything that had befallen it.

Jenna made a little whining sound and used the indignity she had suffered at his finger’s invasion as an excuse to snuggle right up against his bare, slightly furry chest. She kissed him there, loving the way the muscles moved so strongly under his skin. Then she looked up and nodded, very shyly.

“Later,” Bradley murmured, turning her now onto her back and urging her legs apart. “I think…” He got on his knees between her knees, looking down at the pussy that he had covered, only ten days since, in his red panties. She loved the way his hunger seemed to grow at the sight of her private places, even as it made her blush. “…perhaps…” He pressed the head of his cock in where it should go—where it had been the first to go. “…I should have you a little…”

Jenna gasped, and cried out in pure ecstasy as the weight of her captain’s body came to rest—partly, for he supported himself on those big strong arms—upon her and his cock rushed deep inside her pussy. He looked down into her eyes, with his own eyes wide in wonder.

“…more…” Bradley started to fuck, now, thrusting in and out hard.
The way soldiers fuck,
Jenna thought. She balled her hands into little fists with the pleasure that coursed through her body, and she pushed with those fists against his chest, as if to prove to herself that she could not escape; that she must now accept the fucking her officer wanted to give her.

“…traditionally!” He finally finished the thought, and kissed her so hard she thought they might bruise one another’s lips.

Traditionally.
Real traditional values: cock above and pussy below, and a strong captain to keep you safe, with his firm hand.
Yes.

The End

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The Count’s Discipline

When Robert de Lourcy’s wife spurns his desire to spank her, the young count contents himself with disciplining other women of the court, until a rash decision to chastise the women of a captured castle arouses the ire of the local bishop and Robert is forced to seek absolution. In an act of penance, he visits a cathedral and stumbles upon a young girl named Sophia who has been set upon by robbers. Remembering his promise make amends for his sins, Robert takes pity on the destitute child, placing her in a convent so that she may be properly educated.

When Sophia comes of age, the nuns at the convent grow more firm with her. The young woman is simultaneously drawn to their discipline but also unconvinced that their motivations are particularly noble. After Sophia’s education is complete, Robert brings her into his household to serve as his secretary. Though he has decided to never spank another woman again, when Sophia begs him to chastise her as the nuns did he cannot resist the opportunity to take her over his knee.