Little Soldier: the Training of a Submissive

Description: Lucinda Moore, a young secretary, has been violated by two masked soldiers who have burst into her boss's office while she was at work. They have threatened her with guns and knives and taken kinky pictures of her having oral sex with Phil, one of the soldiers. Dave, the sergeant has just carved the letter "D" into her pubic hair to publicise their assault on her to her husband, Brandon. Dave has just found the general's locker and wants Lucinda to tell them where the key is.

*

"Lucinda, did you hear me?" asked Dave sternly. "Where's the key to the General's locker?"

"I -- I -- I don't know. I think he takes it with him," I had to stop them thinking about the locker and all the dreadful booty it contained. "But why don't we think of something else to do? You could massage me with the baby oil." Anything to get them on to regular pastimes... But that wouldn't do for these boys. They wanted the works. "Or I could lick your bodies at the same time? I -- I can really show you a good time."

Dave smirked grimly at me and lifted his hand. Hanging from his forefinger was the General's keychain which he'd found in the drinks cabinet. "Look what I found!"

"Wow!" I stuttered. "I mean - what's that?"

Dave took a step closer to me. "I think you know exactly what it is. It's the General's keys. And one of these'll open his locker, I bet." He turned and left the room.

That left me and Phil standing facing each other. Me in my high heels and torn bra standing in the bath and him staring at me with his cold, hard blue eyes. He grabbed one breast and pulled me towards him. "You know there's one thing I like better than titties --" he twisted me round so my back was towards him " -- and that's arses." And with that he slammed the flat of his hand -- pow! - against my skin.

"No!" I cried, jerking away.

Slap! Went his hand again. Smash! I yelled. Smack! I screamed. I couldn't bear the burning pain. Then, just as suddenly he pulled me back to face him again. "So what'll it be, slut? I eat out your titties or belt your arse? Your choice."

I gasped at the pain on my backside, but luckily I didn't have to make any choice. Dave's voice came from the other room.

"Wow! Look what we've got here!" He whistled appreciatively. Phil grabbed me by the wrist, dragged me over the bath to follow him back into the office.

Dave was looking at the open cupboard. We all stood there and looked. There was a gun, a rifle, a spare jacket for the general, some photos of his wife and kids sticky-taped to the door, some rope, a can of something, a packet of cigars, a lunchbox, a tennis racquet and a few tennis balls.

"Hey," said Phil, lighting on the thing he was most interested in. "Some rope! Just what we needed!" He seemed happy for the first time. I shrank away. Could I open the window and jump out of it? I'd land on the first floor awning way below us.

Dave turned to me and his eyes were alight. "Yeah, we've got rope, Phil, but let's just leave that for the moment. How about we play a bit of tennis?"

"Tennis?" repeated Phil dully.

"Do you want to have a game of tennis, Lucinda Moore?"

"Yes, sarge, oh, yes, I do." Anything was better than being tied to the shower rail and prodded, paddled and twisted by the animal Phil.

"She's really keen, isn't she?"

"I certainly am," I replied, not knowing what I was letting myself in for.

"Yep. Two votes to one, Phil. I'm afraid we get a game of tennis before we have a bit of slap and tickle in the shower."

"Dave, this is not your show," Phil said resentfully. "Who the hell wants to play with balls?"

"Oh, this is my kind of tennis, Private. Very few people know the rules of this game. This is master Dave's private game. And in fact it's only played by one -- one person has to receive the ball totally in their court and then -- " he paused and turned to look at me significantly -- "POP! It comes out of their court and drops on to the ground."

There was a moment's silence while Dave looked at me and Phil looked at Dave.

My eyes widened in horror. "No," I said, "No, you don't mean it. You can't. Not a tennis ball!"

"Hey, hey," Phil started giggling. "You mean -? That'd be fun. Wouldn't it? Hey, soldier, do you want to bend over and take it for your country? Eh? Eh?" His giggle became a laugh and grew and grew. I stepped back a few paces.

"I can't take a tennis ball! If you got it in, it'd never come out!"

"Then you'd lose the game!"

"And you go home with your legs crossed and doubled up on the bus!!" Phil and Dave were laughing themselves stupid. I backed off to the corner of the room. They advanced on me.

"No, really, sergeant, I can't take that. It'd get stuck inside me. I'd never be able to get rid of it."

"Maybe you've got a point there," said Dave pausing in his tracks. "May be there's something you can practise with. What have we got?" He turned to the locker again and rummaged around. "What's in this lunchbox?"

"Go the tennis ball. Go the tennis ball... Go the tennis ball..." cackled Phil under his breath. He grabbed me and wrestled me over to the window. I couldn't see what Dave had got from the locker. Phil threw open the sash window and I looked down the four stories to the parade ground.

"Pull the rest of her bra off, right there," said Dave as he came over to the window. "Look, soldier, there are some people over there in the distance. If you call out, they'll see you. They might even ring the police. Go on, shout. It'll do you good."

"What are you saying, Dave?" asked Phil. But my mind was racing. What would they see from that distance? A half-naked girl with her tits hanging out and a man behind her. They'd probably know I was rutting, but they'd think I wanted it. I could call out if I waved my arms. But all the circumstances... It was just as Dave said, they'll think it was an affair and I was an exhibitionist.

"No, I won't shout."

"Good little soldier. Stiff upper lip and all that. And talking of that, I've got something that belongs to you." Dave bent my head down so I was jackknifed over the windowsill with my bottom in the air. "Pull her legs apart, Phil. Further."

Suddenly, he rammed something inside my cunt. I squeezed my cheeks together and held in my cries.

"Now for this game which is called indoor tennis -- you have to guess what the object is. And we'll keep ramming it home to you until you do. Okay."

"Okay.... Sergeant." I could hardly keep from gasping every time he thrust this thing in. I could tell it was hard, but not very big. Not wide like Phil's penis. I desperately thought back to what I'd seen in the General's locker. What was quite long and very hard? Oh, I was dry. It cut me inside. They were laughing and giggling.

"Come on, Lucinda. You can think, can't you? You got more feeling in that little cunt than you know. Just feel it, baby. Just feel it slip in and out."

I said nothing, just whimpered and looked down.

"She's not going to get it," said Phil.

"She's already got it," chuckled Dave.

"No, I mean the answer. She's not going to get it."

"Yes, you're right. Okay, Lucinda, you lose so we get to choose the punishment."

"The strap on her backside!" said Phil stoutly.

"Okay, one more chance, Lucinda. What is it I'm holding in my right hand?'

"A stick?"

"Wrong. Get the ropes out, Phil, and hang her up to dry in the shower." I heard Phil go to the locker and pull out the rope. He came back to the window and dragged me by my hair to the bathroom. Dave followed him quickly. As Phil was throwing the rope over the shower rail, Dave came up to me and mocked me.

"It was this, little soldier -- " And he thrust a carrot under my nose. "From General Hood's lunchbox. Now eat it." He stuffed it in my mouth and I began to gobble as fast as I could since it was being thrust down the back of my throat. I gagged and choked and hardly noticed Phil wrapping the rope around my wrists and lifting them higher and higher. He pulled mightily at the end until I was on tiptoe in front of the tub facing the wall.

"Ow!"

"Now, soldier, the army calls for discipline and you've just got to take it like a man. Can you do that?"

"Shall I use my hand?" asked Phil keenly. "Have we got anything else?"

"Yes, I think there's something in the locker. Just a minute."

I writhed and swallowed the last of the carrot. I jerked around as Dave came back but I couldn't see what was in his hand.

"This is a guessing game, soldier. When you tell us what is punishing you, we'll stop. Okay, Phil?"

"Maybe," he muttered.

Whack!!! Oh, my insides crumbled. I choked and tried to swing away.

"Can't guess?" asked Dave.

Whack!! My skin burnt. It felt as if it was on fire and I almost passed out. Then I suddenly remembered --

"The tennis racquet!!" I screamed.

"Oh, fuck!" said Phil.

"Yes, it's the tennis racquet. Clever girl. Pity, but never mind, we can use this in the next game as a punishment. Pretty neat, isn't it?"

"Fucking hell," said Phil. "I was just beginning to enjoy that."

"Pull her down." Phil whacked my bottom with his bare hand and then undid the rope around the rail. I fell to my feet and breathed a sigh of relief. As I walked back to the office, I hobbled. My arse was criss-crossed with racquet marks even though it had only been two thrashes. I couldn't let it happen again.

"Okay," said Dave. "Next object. You took the other one quite well, but I think you need some lubrication." He pulled out a can of WD-40. "Lean against the desk and assume the position."

I lowered myself gently on to the side of the desk and opened my legs. Would this never end???

He pulled apart my lips and sprayed generous quantities of the stuff on my pussy. I don't know what it did. I don't know what it was supposed to do. I was past caring.

"Okay, soldier. Atten-shun!!"

I tried to stand to attention but my butt hurt too much. I held my hand against my forehead and saluted as best I could.

"Turn around. Quick march." I did as told and marched gingerly to the window. There I bent over the window sill again and stuck my bum in the air. The only way I would ever get out of here was to do absolutely everything they said as quickly as I could and to keep my wits about me. There was now no way I'd get out on my own. Why hadn't I noticed the lunch box? I could have avoided that punishment if I'd been alert. Dave had noticed. He was as beady as a hawk.

"Right. Are you ready for this, soldier?"

"I'm ready, Sergeant. I'm ready and willing."

This object was different again. It was long and thin. It hardly touched the sides, but maybe that was the lubricant. It slid in and out and in a few strokes, I had it.

"It's a cigar!!!" I was ecstatic!

"Shit!!" said Phil. "No punishment."

"Very good. Very good," said Dave condescendingly. "You remembered. Now don't get all disappointed, Phil. I'm sure you can think of another game to play with Private Lucinda Moore?"

"No, I can't," he said sulkily. "I love beaver banging."

"Well -- stand up, Lucinda -- there is a feat that they perform in the Phillipines. Some real whores can do it. I wonder if you can, Lucinda?"

"Something prostitutes do?"

"With a cigar," he said slowly and meaningfully.

I hesitated. I looked at the cigar in his fingers.

"He-he-he, Dave," chuckled Phil. "That's very good."

"Well, can you?"

"I can try." The boys grabbed me by my arms and lifted me up on to the desk. They threw everything on the floor -- everything except the computer, thank god.

"Lie back and enjoy," said Dave and he popped the cigar in my hole. "Now where's a lighter?"

"There's one in my handbag," I offered, getting quite eager to pass the time without them violating me. Dave strode to the door, unlocked it, went to the outer office and came back with my bag. He upturned it on the desk and picked up my lighter.

"Now, take a few deep breaths, Private," Dave advised. He lit the cigar and placed it carefully into my crack. It crackled softly. I pulled in my pelvic muscles hard and did a stomach crunch to "draw' on the cigar. Nothing. I tried again. Phil's eyes lit up. He could see a racquet on my behind again. Desperately, I winched myself up and breathed heavily in then out again. The cigar flared! I'd done it. The cigar fell out.

"I did it! I did it!" I gasped.

"You know, you've got a good body, Lucinda. You could really do some hard training."

"I did it!" I laughed.

"No, you did not," said Dave softly. "You have to blow the smoke out, not just keep it lit. You have to drag on the cigar and suck the smoke in, hold it, then blow a smoke ring." He smiled down at me. Almost fondly.

"I can do that," I asserted. "Light the cigar again!" Dave replaced the cigar, lit it and the two men watched me suck, and grunt, and heave until I had a regular flame going at the end of my cunt. Suddenly there was a smoke ring! I looked and laughed triumphantly. "There! Do you see it? There's a smoke ring. Look! I'll do it again! Look!" And I heaved my bottom up off the desk with my knees in the air and sucked and pulled and heaved out again. A beautifully formed smoke ring floated in the air above my knees. "I've done it! Aren't I good? Aren't a good girl?"

"Neat party trick," said Phil.

"I'm afraid I've got bad news for you, Private."

"What? You said if I could do it, you wouldn't punish me!"

"No, I didn't say that. I said you'd get punished if you couldn't do it -- "

"And I did!!"

"And you'd get punished if you acted like a whore." He paused cruelly to let it sink in. "I said that right at the beginning. We can't have sluts in the army. We've got standards. You've got to do the best you can at any task, but if that involves behaving badly, you have to be punished."

"You can't say that! That's not fair!" I said propping myself up on my elbows. "You punish me if I do it and you punish me if I don't. You said do it and I -- "

Dave brought his face right down in front of mine. "Are you questioning a superior officer, soldier?" I paled and stalled.

"No, I -- I -- Oh, please don't punish me."

"Watch me!" he said. And with that he picked through the contents of my bag on the desk around me. "Yes, I thought I saw them here. Here they are." He pulled out a packet of small birthday candles triumphantly. My sister had asked me to pick them up for my niece's birthday tomorrow. "Lie back down."

His voice brooked no nonsense. I lay down on the desk.

"What ya gonna do, Dave?" asked Phil.

"A punishment for insubordination. I don't know whether she'll find it better or worse than the tennis racquet." And he quietly lit one of the little candles and dropped three wet drops of hot oil on my left breast. The heat was incredible! It soared through me. I shivered and rolled slightly to one side. "I wouldn't advise you move at all, soldier," said Dave.

Once he had a few drops on the skin, he upended the candle and stuck it firmly to the solidifying drops. Then he did the same with another candle. Oh, my God!! The pain was electrifying! I sucked in all my breath to stay still. "If you move, I'll only have to set them up again. It's only a few drops." Once they were in place I had to stay still so they didn't fall over and burn me. We all watched in silence as the candles burnt lower and lower. Lower and lower. Would he let them reach my breasts and burn out there, scorching my skin? Was this the punishment? Or would he blow them out at the last moment?

"He-he-he," sniggered Phil. "Let's tickle her feet!"

"Do you want me to blow them out, Lucinda?"

"Yes, Sergeant. Please, Sergeant. Now."

"So you accept that army discipline is final and you just have to submit to it?"

"Yes, sarge."

"Whenever and wherever a superior officer talks to you?"

"Yes, sir. Please, please, take them off." I couldn't move. If I moved the candles would fall.

"Just let me wobble her breasts, Dave?"

"You know, you could have a good body with a little toning. You're a bit on the flabby side around the waist, but you have good strong abdominal muscles. They're good for --"

"Please!!"

"Never interrupt a superior officer, you little cunt. If you can't follow simple instructions, you'll never be a soldier and you'll always be a whore. And you'll be treated like a whore. Do you want that?"

"No, sir. Please, sir..."

"I've got multiple punishments I can give you and perhaps a few pleasures you can experience along the way, but if I'm going to train you --"

"We, Dave. If we're going to train her."

"Yes, Private. If we're going to train you, you'll have to follow all instructions absolutely down to the letter. No questions in the army."

The candles were almost at their wick.

"Now, because I know you're trying, I'll take one candle off." He did so. "But because you've got a lot to learn, we'll leave the last one to burn slowly out."

"Noooooo!" I yelled. The second candle toppled over and fell harmlessly to the floor.

"Pick it up! Put it back! I want to watch her squirm!"

"No," said the sergeant, picking up the snuffed out candle. "Some lessons are psychological, Phil. Aren't they, Lucinda?"

"Oh, yes, sergeant. Yes, sir. Anything you say," I gasped in relief.

* * * * *

Chapter 4 is being written now. If you would like to send me comments on this or any other of my stories, please contact me. Put 'Chapter 3' in the subject line. I welcome your comments.