Hard Corps (11 page)

I continued to dress, and was on my way out, reading the slip of paper to see where I should head, when Amelia appeared next to me. ‘We’ll walk together,’ she said. I started to speak, to ask her a million questions that had been gathering, when she stopped me with a hand to her lips. ‘Not yet, Remy. Wait till we get there. There will be time. You and I are excused from basic training this morning. We have been assigned to a private cell at the Special Calisthenics Unit. We can talk freely there.’

‘But, Amelia! You are my guide? No way! How come you never said anything? Are you a — ’

I was stopped abruptly by her sharp ‘Hush!’ and a warning hand on my arm. I heard footsteps behind us and, just then, none other than Cadet Jean Dillon joined us, walking briskly, her arms swinging.

‘Well, well. So, it’s come to this. What a pleasant surprise.’ Her tone was flat and decidedly unpleasant. ‘New meat, eh, Amelia? I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her.’

While trying to process that Jean was walking with us and seemed to know where we were going, I also felt compelled to respond. My gut reaction was to snarl back some insult at the cocky, arrogant bitch but, before I could open my mouth, Amelia’s grip tightened on my arm and slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. She looked afraid, and I didn’t want to upset her, so I shut up. Time enough later to deal with Cadet Dillon.

As we arrived at the training area, Jean swerved off to join the small knot of cadets milling around the courtyard waiting to begin the day’s training. ‘Later, Harris. Your worst nightmare is just beginning.’ Jean laughed as she spoke, and suddenly I felt a vague pang of fear, mixing in with the anger.

I followed Amelia into a small building that I had never been in before. Still not speaking, she led me down a hall to a series of doors, spaced closely together. Each door had a number on it. When we came to Number 5, Amelia stopped, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. We stepped inside a musty little room that had only enough space to accommodate two chairs and a small table. The place had a decidedly Depression-era feel about it.

Amelia shut the door and indicated one of the chairs as she sat in the other. ‘OK, we can talk now. This room is secure. Before you ask a million questions, and I know you have them — I did last month when I was initiated — let me talk for a minute. I might answer some before you even ask.’

I waited expectantly. Dillon could wait. The Corps came first. ‘Well,’ she said, smiling at me, her round, blue eyes sparkling. ‘First, welcome to the Corps, Remy. I had no idea when I first saw you that you were slave material. But when you got hooked up with Jacob, I thought you had potential, till he dropped you due to your lack of submission — ’

‘Whoa! Hold on here, Amelia. Just how do you know the details of our breakup? I mean, I know it was no secret I was seeing him, but how do you know the intimate details?’ Even as I asked I instantly knew. Jacob must have told her. Or someone in the Corps. He was in the Corps. Of course. It made sense now. Jacob was in the Corps, and Jean was in the Corps. That was how she knew all about my movements all the time. They were friends, for God’s sake. Or at least colleagues, or whatever the hell you would call it in the Corps. Amelia looked at me, her expression gentle.

‘I know this is a lot to absorb. The Corps is a very close-knit community. There are few secrets here. When you sign on as a novice, you give up your right to your own privacy, basically. You become the property of the group at large. Sort of like the Army, really, but on a far more intimate level. Jacob saw potential in you as a possible recruit. He was hoping to invite you to join the Corps, but then he decided you didn’t really have what it took.’

I sat up, my face burning with indignation but Amelia silenced me with a wave of her hand.

‘Please, Remy. Let me finish. You’ll have a chance to ask me everything, I promise.’ I sat back and she continued. ‘Jean was following the progress, because she is a mistress-in-training. She was assigned to learn technique from Jacob, among others. She is dominant.’

‘Dillon is a fucking mistress!?’ I yelled it, louder than I meant to. I was horrified that someone like Jean Dillon could actually be considered mistress material. She was nothing like Dr Wellington, who had been so refined, so delicate in her control. Jean was so obvious, so coarse. Maybe I had overestimated this Slave Corps, if they accepted creeps like her into the programme.

As if reading my mind, Amelia responded, ‘I know, I was quite surprised myself. She doesn’t seem to have the control necessary to effectively dominate with grace. But then, her uncle is General Dillon. I presume you’ve heard of him?’

‘I think so. He isn’t involved with the Academy, is he?’

‘No, but he is involved in the Slave Corps. I don’t know it for sure, but maybe he had something to do with getting Jean into the Corps.’

‘That would sure explain it! No way that bitch could make it in on her own.’

‘Well, we don’t know that. But you know, we aren’t really in a position to judge. She must have had to pass whatever tests and initiation they come up with for dominants. If she passed muster with the Corps, maybe she has some potential that we just don’t see yet. From what I’ve observed to date, the Corps has enough integrity and class to keep her tightly under control, but still, she has some power, at least enough to make your life miserable. So watch out, Remy. Just keep away from her, if you can.’

I sat still, trying to take it all in. So Jean not only knew about me, she was in a position where she might have some power over me. I had to understand more, and quick. Maybe this wasn’t the place for me, sexual fantasies notwithstanding. Amelia continued to talk, and I struggled to concentrate on her words.

‘I am your guide, as you know. They like to pick new slaves to guide the novices, because we’ve just been there. We know exactly what you are going through and can anticipate some of your questions and fears. I was so glad I got you, Remy. You’re my first assignment.’ She sat back and smiled at me.

‘So what does that mean, exactly? How do you “guide” me?’ Images of plump Amelia bending over and showing me how to take a whipping leaped unbidden to my mind. I shifted uncomfortably and waited for her reply.

‘What that means is, for the first month, I will be available for your questions and concerns on an informal basis. If something doesn’t seem right, or you don’t understand your duties, or just have questions, I am here. You can withdraw at any time from the Corps, Remy. All you have to do is sign a contract swearing never to reveal our existence to the outside world in any way, and you are free to go. Nothing said, no hard feelings. And there are people who find out this really isn’t for them. Wannabe’s who thought playing at sex slave would be cool, but then couldn’t cut it. And some who simply found out it wasn’t right for them. It isn’t for everyone, of course.

‘We can always talk and remain friends, whether you choose to stay or not. I’ve always liked you, Remy. You have character.’ Here she smiled again, that angelic smile that made her look absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t help but smile back. ‘Let me start by telling you what to expect these next few weeks. You will begin with a series of meetings with masters and mistresses. Not any new or still in-training dominants. Don’t worry. They only get to practise on well-trained submissives. About once a week for the next month or so you will have a new assignment, which you will find in your mailbox the night before. You will be given instructions, and Remy, be sure to follow them to the letter. Remember, this is serious business. They expect you to behave as professionally as if you were applying for Officers’ Training.

‘Your mentor — that’s the dominant who will kind of take you under their wing — will meet with you, either as one of your assignments, or after you’ve had a few, to discuss your novice status, and decide if you are slave material or not. The mentor will have had input from the other masters who have met with you, and input from me and other Corps sources.

‘Once you get accepted into the Corps as a slave — ’

‘If I do, you mean,’ I interjected.

Amelia smiled softly at me and said, ‘Don’t you want this, Remy? No one is forcing you to be here, surely you understand that. This is an honour, a gift.’

I looked down, contrite. I did want it. I had to find out, to explore these wild sexual feelings just budding inside of me. I nodded, and she continued.

‘You will receive a sort of basic slave training. Things like how to walk, how to bow and curtsey, how to take a whipping with grace. There are trainers who do nothing but train us would-be slave girls and boys so we can become worthy of our masters and mistresses. You will be bound and taken to limits you never dreamed of, Remy. You will learn what it is to suffer, and to exalt.’

Amelia was speaking very softly, her voice dreamy, mesmerising. I had to lean over to hear her. Clearly she was speaking from experience. She went on, seeming to snap back to the moment. ‘For this month though, you will just meet with several masters or mistresses, or perhaps the same one several times in a row. You will spend from forty-five minutes to four hours with each, serving them in whatever manner they wish. You will be expected to perform sexually, to be used sexually, to accept whatever torture or punishment they deem appropriate. In short, you will be their personal property for the time you are with them.

‘No sexual intercourse, though. We are all tested regularly, but still, we don’t want any pregnancy or disease gumming things up. We can’t rely on over-eager masters who might forget their condoms and over-eager-to-please slaves who let them. So they’ve made it easy. No vaginal fucking. Period. But everything else goes.

‘And what do you get from this? I don’t need to tell you, do I, Remy? You get the chance to serve. To realise at last what has always lain dormant or secretly alive inside of you. You get the chance to become what you really are. Do you understand, slave girl?’

The room suddenly seemed too close. I realised I hadn’t been breathing as I listened to her. Yes, oh yes. I did understand. There was no reward required. It was something one was born to. I knew it in my bones, even as she explained it aloud. I was one of a secret elite now. I had been given the chance to serve. I couldn’t wait to begin.

*   *   *

I was lying in my bunk, staring at the metal slats of the bunk above me, wondering what the dawn would bring. It was my first day as a full-fledged novice and I had found the long envelope in my mailbox the night before. My first assignment during what would have been PT, in the pre-Corps days, was to report to Captain Rather, professor of biology.

I was to wear my daily uniform, as if it were any other day of classes and training. I had awoken at around 3a.m., from troubled, vaguely erotic dreams. What would Captain Rather be like? What would he have in mind for my first ‘assignment’? Amelia had filled me in on what to expect, basically. She warned me that some masters really did want to train you — to teach you discipline and grace — while others were really only there to get their rocks off. But, she advised, even submitting to them was a worthy submission, perhaps even more so than with ‘true’ masters, since you gave of yourself with grace, no matter the circumstance.

I imagined myself kneeling at Captain Rather’s feet, waiting for his touch. He would reach down and I would feel a gentle tap on my shoulder. I would stand and see a tall, handsome man, with strong, commanding features. His violet eyes would flash as he leaned forward to kiss me with those red lips. Oh, my God! I was imagining Jacob! How absurd. I realised I had barely thought of him these past few days, but here he was, popping up again in my fantasies.

Annoyed with myself, I got up and showered before anyone else had stirred. Finally it was time to go to my first assignment. I made my way to the science building through the fine drizzle of a grey day.

A middle-aged woman with a heavy, rather masculine face looked up from her secretary’s desk as I stepped out of the elevator on the second floor. I couldn’t help wondering if she was in on this, if she knew just why I was there.

‘Hello,’ she said pleasantly. ‘You must be Cadet Harris. Captain Rather is expecting you. You may go right in.’

I thanked her, my voice coming out like a little kid’s, as I approached the door she indicated. It was slightly ajar and, as I pushed it open, Captain Rather hailed me in a jovial voice.

‘Come in, come in, cadet. Close the door behind you and we can talk about your biology project without interruption. I’ve already advised Miss Martin not to disturb us for the forty-five minutes I have allotted for you.’ I shut the door as he spoke, aware that his little performance was entirely for the secretary’s sake, and whoever else might be wandering about the hall.

Seated behind a desk was a plump, little man with curly, short grey hair and small, bright eyes set in a ruddy face. He looked more like someone’s doting grandfather than a master, as far as I could see.

Once the door was shut, he gestured for me to follow him as he walked to the corner of his small office and opened a little door that led to an even smaller private bathroom. As we squeezed in together, I realised my heart was pounding and that I had no idea what to expect from this man.

As if reading my mind, he said, ‘Now then, novice. I understand I am your first assignment. For the next forty-five minutes you belong to me completely. You will not speak unless I ask you a specific question. You will strip at once. I can’t stand that damn uniform on a woman.

‘Instead, you will wear this.’ He handed me a skimpy black sort of bathing-suit thing, with no crotch. He also handed me long, black gloves like the kind I had for my Barbie when I was a little girl. My distaste must have registered on my face, because suddenly he barked at me, ‘Strip, bitch! I didn’t ask you if you liked it, whore. I just said put it on.’ Grandpa was gone. Master was here, and what an asshole he was.

Still, I didn’t want to mess up my very first assignment, so I struggled out of my things and pulled up the little black garment. Captain Rather watched from his perch on the toilet seat as I wrestled with the lingerie. It was too small for me, and the bra cups forced my breasts up and together, spilling over the tops and sides. I pulled on the gloves and stood before the little man, easily five inches taller than he, even in my bare feet. I felt absolutely ridiculous in my little whore get-up, but apparently I passed muster.