Cadet: The Academy Read online

  Cadet:

  The Academy

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Commander James Bondage

  Published by Strict Publishing International

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The United States military has long accepted its role as subordinate to the civilian government. When it was ordered to make unwanted changes, such as admitting women into the various service academies, the military establishment resisted, but finally gave way to the elected officials set over it by the Constitution. It did not necessarily have to happen that way

  We know from modern scientific theory that there are an infinite number of alternate worlds, and therefore, of alternate Americas where history took a different course from the one we know. Some of the alternates must be so strange as to be unrecognizable, while others so similar as to be almost identical. This story is set in a United States where the military gained the upper hand early in the history of the Republic, and reduced the civilian government to a mere a tool of the generals. In this America, women were introduced into the armed services at the insistence of the Chief of the General Staff just so that they could be cruelly misused.

  Chapter One: Welcome to the Real Army

  Private Robin Bransom stepped down from the bus in which she had been riding for the better part of two days, took a deep breath and stretched her shoulders and legs to get the kinks out. Robin was five foot four and weighed one hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Her long copper-red hair was confined in a French braid, and it contrasted sharply with her big sky-blue eyes, while complementing the freckles sprinkled lightly on her upturned nose. There seemed to be the hint of a smile perpetually hovering at the corners of her lips. Her stomach was flat and her waist narrow, matching well the small, proud breasts and firm buttocks, which not even the unflattering gray-green uniform she wore could hide.

  Robin took a long look around at her new home as she dropped her heavy duffle bag to the ground. What she saw was not encouraging. The setting sun threw long shadows on the dusty field where she stood. She, along with the other women now scrambling down the steps from the bus, were on a flat dirt field that stretched at least a hundred yards away from her on either side. There was a running track, and some exercise equipment off in the distance to her right. Directly in front was a shabby-looking two-story wooden building from which gray paint was peeling. A sign on the front of the building read “Office of Cadet Commandant”. Further away, behind the Commandant’s office, were rows of long, low wooden structures, also badly in need of paint. These, Robin guessed, were the barracks for the new cadets, the first class of women chosen by the Army to receive officer training. Surrounding the entire Academy was a forbidding, twenty-foot high stone wall. It was not a very cheerful place, nor very impressive. Still, it was the Academy, and she was one of the chosen few. Her heart swelled with pride as it did every time she thought about the great honor that her selection for this first class had been. She could still hardly believe it. She thought back to three days earlier, when she learned that she had been chosen.

  * * * * *

  “Private Bransom,” Drill Sergeant Torrens barked, towering over Robin as she sat, Indian style, on the linoleum floor of her barracks, polishing her boots. “I need to have a word with you. My office, now.”

  She dropped the boot and the polishing rag she had been holding, and sprang to her feet, nervously trying to remember which infraction of the many boot rules she had committed. She followed the Sergeant into his private quarters, and stood at attention before him, waiting.

  “At ease, Private,” he said, motioning. “You’re not in any shit. This is good news.” He picked up a sheaf of papers. “You have been picked, along with only twenty-nine others from the whole Army for the first class of cadets at the new Academy for female officers at High Point. Congratulations,” he said, extending a hand.

  Robin was so surprised that she did not even return the offered handshake.

  “There must be some mistake, sir,” she protested. “I’m only eighteen, just out of high school. I’m not qualified to be an officer.” Then, something else occurred to her: “I didn’t even apply for officer training, Sergeant.”

  The big man’s face creased in an expression she could not identify at first. After a second or two, she realized it was what served the Drill Sergeant for a smile.

  “There’s no mistake, Bransom,” he reassured her. “You were chosen based on your initial testing when you joined up, and your performance. That was how they picked all the candidates. The brass thinks you are hot stuff, little girl. You should be proud.”

  And, just like that, she was proud. Her father was a career Army man who had retired with the rank of Major. Robin knew that he wished his wife had given him a son to follow in his footsteps, but Rachel Bransom had died delivering Robin’s younger sister Merry, so there were only the two girls. That was why she seized the chance to sign up as soon as she had finished high school. She had assumed that she would rise no higher than non-com throughout her term, as there were no female officers, but now she had a chance to make her father’s dream of a second generation of commissioned officers from the Bransom family come true. She pictured herself walking into the house in a dress uniform, an officer’s uniform, coming to attention, saluting her father, and saying “Lieutenant Bransom, reporting for duty, sir.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you sir!” Robin almost shouted, snapping to attention, and tearing off her smartest salute.

  “You won’t have to salute me any more, Bransom,” Sergeant Torrens chuckled. “Pretty soon, I’ll have to salute you. Get packing. You have an early bus to catch tomorrow, Private. Dismissed.” He returned her salute, and sat down at his desk to complete the paperwork for her transfer.

  * * * * *

  The familiar sound of a Drill Sergeant’s bellow brought her instantly back to the present.

  “Attention!” she heard a voice roar somewhere off to her right. She did not turn her head to see who was doing the yelling, but stiffened immediately to attention, her eyes rigidly fixed forward. “I said ‘attention’, God damn it!” The man was clearly displeased by the way the cadets responded to his order. “Isn’t there one of you ignorant cows that knows how to stand at attention? Shoulders back, chest out, chin up, you dumb cunts! I’m talking to you!” he screamed. The speaker’s voice sounded as if it was coming from only a few inches away, directly behind Robin. She did not know if he was talking to her, but she forced her shoulders back until the blades were touching, thrust her chest out as far as she could, and drew herself up to her full, not particularly impressive, height.

  She took a chance by shifting her eyeballs to her left when she heard the sound of the Sergeant (it had to be a Sergeant) moving away from her, and was rewarded by the sight of the man himself appearing from behind the line of new cadets, to push his way out from between two of the stiffly erect women.

  The Sergeant was short, only a few of inches taller than Robin, but he was built like a refrigerator. His upper arms looked like bundles of writhing pythons. He did not appear to have a neck, his head seeming to rest directly on the wedges of muscle that rose from his shoulders to his head. His forearms looked as though they had been stolen from a certain cartoon sailor who was very fond of spinach. His
waist was narrow, his belly a rippling six- or possibly eight-pack. His thighs bulged beneath his trousers. He gripped a leather swagger stick in his hairy hand. He was the scariest-looking man Robin had ever seen. He stood back, inspecting the line of women, his dark troll-like face wearing a hideous scowl. She sensed that he was about to focus his wrath on one unfortunate cadet to provide an example for the rest. Robin prayed silently that she would not be the one.

  He started walking towards Robin, and she snapped her eyes front, telling herself repeatedly he’s not looking at me, he’s not looking at me, as he drew nearer. He stopped in front of the short Oriental girl at Robin’s immediate left hand. Robin had met and spoken to her briefly on the bus trip. She was a shy 18-year old from San Francisco named Kim Lee. She had delicate features, with large, dark, almond eyes, straight black hair, and a slender, graceful body. She seemed to be a gentle soul. Robin suspected that she might be too gentle for the Army.

  The Sergeant moved closer to Kim, bending down until his mouth was an inch from the trembling girl’s nose. “Is that how you learned to stand at attention, maggot?” he shrieked, his teeth threatening to bite her pert nose clean off. “Are you going flying today, cadet?” he asked sarcastically. Robin had heard this question before. It meant that the recruit’s elbows were too far from her body. She prayed that the little Oriental would pick up the hint.

  “No Sergeant.” Robin could barely hear the almost inaudible tones of the terrified girl. “I’m not going flying.”

  Without any warning, the Sergeant’s fist shot out and sank into Kim’s midsection, and she made an explosive whooshing sound as the air was driven from her body. The force of his blow actually lifted Kim from her feet, and she sailed several feet backwards to thump heavily on the ground, and immediately curled into a ball, making hoarse retching noises. “Then you are one stupid cadet cunt,” the Sergeant pronounced, surveying her, hands on hips. “See? You were going flying after all.”

  He stepped close to the prone figure and seized her long hair in his fist. Then he dragged the girl, still curled in fetal position, out in front of the line of women. “Cadets, I want you all to watch what is going to happen to your classmate here,” he said, standing over Kim while she shuddered trying to draw air into her lungs.

  The Sergeant went down on his right knee and pulled the raggedly gasping Oriental girl over his left thigh, handling her like a cotton-stuffed doll. He unhooked her belt and ripped open her pants from the front, breaking the zipper and sending the button flying. Then he yanked her gray uniform trousers down around her ankles, exposing her gray Army issue underwear. He took the underpants by the elastic waistband and gave a tremendous pull, which momentarily lifted the unfortunate girl’s lower body into the air before the material ripped free from her waist, dropping her back across his leg. In another moment she lay bent over the Sergeant’s powerful thigh, her smooth bottom and soft thighs exposed to the rapidly cooling evening air. The Sergeant took Kim’s right arm, and bent it behind her back in an arm lock, and she yelped weakly in pain as he raised her elbow higher and higher, forcing her to elevate her naked buttocks to prevent having her arm broken or shoulder dislocated. Robin could see the exposed lips of Kim’s sex in the fading daylight.

  As the cadets looked on in shock, the Sergeant began to beat the helpless cadet with his swagger stick, each vicious blow leaving a swelling dark bar on her shapely ass and thighs. The girl did not protest or attempt to escape, perhaps sensing the futility of either one. She made soft grunting sounds or quietly exclaimed “Oh!” from time to time as the beating went on. Her head and feet jerked involuntarily with each stroke. Robin lost count at twenty, but the punishment went on for a long time after that. Finally, the Sergeant stood up, releasing the nearly unconscious to Kim slide from his leg and land face down on the ground.

  “Kiddie camp is over, girls,” he said, brushing dirt off his knee. “Welcome to the real Army. My name is Sergeant Powers, and you cadet cunts will be seeing me in your nightmares.”

  He pointed at Robin and the cadet next to her. “You and you,” he said. “Take this worthless sack of shit to the infirmary. When you’re done, report to ‘B’ Barracks.” He indicated a building in the distance. “The rest of you cunts pick up your gear and fall in. Two of you pick up their gear, and take it along. Hup, two, three, four! ” The Sergeant marched off with their classmates, bellowing out the count.

  Robin and the other remaining cadet watched them go, and then looked down at Kim, who was groaning softly in the dirt. Robin saw tears begin to fill the other girl’s eyes, and when she lifted a hand to her own cheek she was surprised to find that she was crying herself.

  “Poor girl,” Robin said at last, her voice shaking. They bent to pick Kim up, placing her arms over their shoulders, and half-dragging her. Poor me, Robin thought. What kind of place is this? she wondered.

  As they walked across the dusty field, Kim gradually recovered enough to be able to support most of her own weight, although she still needed the two other cadets to steady her.

  “How are you feeling?” Robin asked, looking down anxiously at the little Oriental girl. “Can you make it to the infirmary? It’s still pretty far.”

  “Ah, it hurts, my bottom burns, but I can stand it,” Kim gasped, “but my ribs… are so sore. I’ll be all right… it’s just a little hard to breathe right now,” she answered slowly. She was silent during the rest of the long walk to the infirmary.

  “Hi, I don’t think we met on the bus,” the third girl said to Robin as they trudged along. “I’m Stephanie Carroll, but everybody just calls me ‘Steph’.”

  Steph was three inches taller than Robin, with dark wavy hair and an intelligent, alert expression on a face of classical beauty. She also had a superb figure, with full, round breasts, slender waist and firm buttocks. Robin introduced herself, and quickly learned that Steph was twenty-three and had joined the service two years earlier, just after she had graduated from college.

  “That was the first year they let women in,” she said. “Boot camp was tough, but nothing like this.” Robin nodded. “I made P.F.C. after my first year, and figured that I could get as high as Corporal in a couple years if I kept my nose clean. Then I was selected for the Academy. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that I wanted the responsibility that goes with rank, but it was made pretty clear to me that if I didn’t volunteer I would be ordered here. So here I am, Cadet Carroll.”

  As they entered the infirmary, a wooden building as run-down as the rest they had seen, Robin said, “Thinking back, I guess I wasn’t really given a choice either. Do you suppose…?”

  The end of her question was cut short by the doctor, a short man with a gray mustache and thinning gray hair who asked querulously, “Starting a little early, aren’t they?” when he saw the three women enter. As the question did not seem to be directed at them, none of them replied. “Well, put her on the examining table,” he said, gesturing impatiently. Robin and Steph helped their comrade to lay face-down on the metal table.

  The doctor bustled over to inspect the striped and bleeding buttocks of the little Oriental girl. “I’m Dr. Perkins, the Regimental Surgeon. Who did this?” he asked, and without waiting for a reply, said “Never mind. It had to be that bastard Powers. Well, it could be worse,” he said as he concluded his examination. “Some antiseptic and a few stitches, and you’ll be fine in a couple of days.” He opened a cabinet and removed a small glass bottle, a roll of white tape, a curved surgical needle in a holder that looked like a small scissors and some lengths of suture.

  “My ribs hurt, doctor,” Kim groaned. She rolled painfully onto her side to show him.

  The doctor pulled her gray-green fatigue t-shirt all the way up and removed her gray Army bra, exposing the cadet’s abdomen, rib-cage and high, tight breasts. He felt up both sides of her ribs, across her chest, taking time to gently squeeze her breasts, which Robin thought was a little strange, and then ran his hand along the base of her ribs. Kim gasped in pa
in at this last touch.

  “Looks like you have a bruised rib. I don’t think anything’s broken,” he pronounced. “But, I think I’d better get some x-rays and hold you for observation to be sure.” He looked at the other cadets. “Tell your Sergeant that I am going keep this cadet overnight to make sure there are no fractures or internal injuries. Sometimes a broken rib down there can puncture the spleen,” he told them. He turned back to his patient, running his hands over the welted mounds of her ass in a way that Robin had never seen a doctor use before. She was a little reluctant to leave Kim behind, alone with this doctor, but she could not see any excuse to remain. She looked at Steph, whose expression indicated that she shared Robin’s concern. The tall brunette looked at the doctor, then at Robin, and then shrugged and shook her head.

  “Thank you, doctor,” the older cadet said. “We’ll try to come by to check on her tomorrow. Come on, Robin,” she said, leading the way back out to the parade ground.

  The sun had set by the time they left the infirmary, and the Academy grounds were only dimly lit by a few lampposts. They walked in silence for a while, each deep in her own thoughts.

  At last, Robin broke the silence. “I hope Kim is all right. That doctor…” she trailed off, unwilling to voice what was on her mind.

  “Yeah, he seemed…” her companion agreed, and then paused. “…I’m sure she’ll be fine,” she said at last in a voice that sounded anything but sure.

  Chapter Two: A Visit to the Infirmary

  As soon as he heard the door shut behind the two departing cadets, the doctor opened a drawer in the cabinet from which he had previously taken the other medical supplies, and removed a hypodermic. He charged the needle from a small bottle of clear fluid and returned to his patient.