Subjugated (9 page)

Bradley walked to the big, red front door and opened it. The first AV crew slipped immediately in through the doorway so that they could cover Jenna as she came to greet her subjugator.

“To quote the
Manual of Traditional Values,
” said Joe Franklin, “we the high command take it as self-evident that the true basis of authority, whether the authority of a husband, a father, a captain, a general, or a whole government, lies in man’s sexual dominance of woman. Now let’s watch as Captain Bradley Clark teaches young Jenna Caprio exactly what that means.”

* * *

Jenna was sitting in the living room, trying to think of nothing, when she heard the door open. Even when Captain Clark’s voice had come over the loudspeaker, Jenna had managed not to listen, sitting on the loveseat by the fireplace and staring down at her hands in the lap of her school uniform kilt, red and green and blue.

Mrs. Trest had told her after the paddling and the shameful inspection that she must put on the uniform even though she had expected to have to wear something more formal.

“Your uniform symbolizes your submission to the law,” Mrs. Trest said severely, after Jenna had fetched and donned the red panties, and stood before the army matron. “Even more than those red panties you’re wearing because Captain Clark sent them to you, your school uniform means that you want to be a good girl. You wouldn’t have a school to go to if it weren’t for the Liberation, and the suppression of the rebellion. That’s the reason you’re being subjugated today, Jenna, as much as the infraction your town committed. If the Western Republic is going to continue to be the beacon of civilization that General Dumfries has made it, girls like you must learn submission. When you first put on your first school uniform, you didn’t understand at all. As you grew, and learned the values of our nation, you began to understand that a girl’s body belongs to the men who hold authority in the state. Now, today, you will learn a very severe version of that lesson. Your school uniform, with its neat, simple appearance, and the special plaid appointed by the general himself, is the proper clothing.”

Then the door opened, and she knew she must stand. She did, hardly trembling.
Plan Beta.

To her surprise, two men in regular soldiers’ fatigues, one carrying a camera and the other what must be a boom microphone, scurried into the room. Jenna turned to face them, but the one with the mic said, “Ignore us, Miss Caprio. Pretend we’re not here.”

“Okay,” Jenna whispered. She turned to the doorway to the front hall, through which this AV crew had just come. A man appeared there, in an officer’s uniform. He removed his cap and put it under his arm. Jenna felt faint. Captain Clark was tall and very handsome, with dark brown hair clipped short and dark eyes that seemed so much less cruel than she had expected that Jenna nearly swooned just at the sight of the hint of sympathy there.

“Jenna Caprio,” he said in a deep, rich voice that seemed to fill the room, “by the authority given me by the high command in general order fifty-seven, I now begin your subjugation, as a penalty to the town of Springfield, of which town you are an eighteen-year-old female resident. In order that there be no mistake, I shall verify these facts. Are you Jenna Caprio?”

“Yes,” Jenna whispered, her face growing terribly hot.

“Are you eighteen years of age?”

“Yes.”

“Do you reside in Springfield, Northwest?” Captain Clark looked deep into her eyes. Though his voice sounded stern and official, his eyes seemed to say that she would make things much easier if she trusted him and obeyed him.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded even softer than a whisper, now.

“Thank you, Jenna.” He took three steps into the room, and now Jenna saw a second cameraman behind him, and her blush grew even hotter. He stood now only five feet away from her, and Jenna felt that she could somehow feel a dominance in his very presence there. “I’ll tell you now about how this first part of your subjugation will go, and then we’ll get started.”

Abruptly, he sat on the loveseat, where Jenna had sat just a few moments before.

“Stand in front of me, Jenna,” he said, “and put your hands in mine.” He held out a pair of very strong-looking hands that Jenna thought must be bigger even than her father’s.

Trembling more violently now, and expecting Captain Clark to start punishing her at any moment, Jenna turned and moved to stand in front of him where he sat with a straight back, spreading his knees just enough that she could stand between them and obey him, putting her little white hands in his big brown ones. She felt enclosed: captured, but somehow also a little comforted. Captain Clark had her hands in his, and he held her thighs between his knees. No hint of anything sexual or disciplinary had passed, but Jenna suddenly realized that the closeness of the captain’s body had somehow begun to make her nipples tingle in the modest white bra under the modest white blouse. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and tried to keep her hands from shaking in his.

“I’m going to start you off with a sound spanking over my knee, Jenna,” Captain Clark said. “That will symbolize that the people of this town and this nation are like small children who need the kind of family discipline that only comes from a strong, traditional father like General Dumfries. My hand on your naughty bottom will make you and everyone watching better understand the consequences of disobedience.”

Jenna couldn’t look at his face; instead she regarded her fingers, held in his much thicker, stronger ones.

“Look at me, Jenna,” Captain Clark said then, though, and she did with startled, wide eyes. His own face had a mixture, it seemed to her, of severity and compassion that made her want to keep looking there.

“I’m going to start the spanking with your panties up, but I’ll bare your bottom before I’m done. That’s because the officers in authority over this town and this nation may enjoy the sight of any girl they choose, with her panties down, and may punish her that way, too, if they choose.”

He paused, seeming to wait for a response from Jenna. “Yes, sir,” she said softly.

“After that, I’ll be undressing you down to those panties, and you’ll begin learning to please a man. You’ll take my manhood in your mouth, and I’ll teach you your first lesson in how to make a man’s penis feel good.”

Jenna, terribly confused, tried to step back at the frightening words, but Captain Clark held her trembling body fast. She looked into his eyes, which suddenly seemed much less reassuring than they had been.

“You don’t understand now what I mean, Jenna, but you will, and you must resolve to obey me, or I will paddle you until you do. Do you understand?”

Plan Beta.
She had already begun to resist, at least a little. But… something in her felt better, held tightly the way Captain Clark held her now. She would use it, she resolved: this need to be held and disciplined—wouldn’t it make it easier to resist?

“Y—yes, sir,” Jenna whispered.

“There you see,” said Joe Franklin, “a very standard reaction among girls being subjugated, to the news that they must perform oral sex. Unless something has gone amiss in their educations, of course, eighteen-year-old girls are entirely innocent of the facts of sex, except for, in some cases, the above-the-waist petting allowed to high school students. All Jenna here understands at this point is that Captain Clark has something he calls his ‘manhood’ or his ‘penis’ and that she must soon have it in her mouth. She’s understandably alarmed but not, I venture to say, as alarmed as she’s going to be when the time comes for her first fellatio.”

Bradley held Jenna’s hands tightly, feeling himself beginning to become truly aroused at the contrast of the sight of her anxiety and the certainty of what he would make her do. He looked into her wide eyes, and he realized suddenly that he had let go of the doubt that had plagued him from the moment he saw his name on the noticeboard.
Can I do it?

Right now, the aching hardness of his cock made it absolutely clear not only that he could do it, but that General Dumfries himself couldn’t stop Bradley now if the high command had put the entire army between Bradley and this girl. Jenna Caprio would be subjugated today, for her own good, and for Captain Bradley Clark’s pleasure. He would spank her and whip her. He would penetrate her in every place a cock can go. Neither his desire nor her good, nor the good of the Western Republic, could write this story any other way. At the very least, it would be an entirely convincing performance for the general and his high command, sitting on the top floor of the Palace of Joy in Las Vegas.

“Captain Clark,” Joe Franklin said, “is obviously letting the tension build here. You can see on Jenna’s face that she’s desperate to figure out what he means—what his penis is, and what else he has in store.”

Bradley spoke slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Jenna’s. “After I enjoy your mouth for a good long time, Jenna, it will be time to complete the first part of your subjugation. Raise your skirt for me, please.” He let go of her hands.

“Wh-what?” Jenna whispered. The little white hands fluttered in front of her tummy adorably, clenching lightly but rapidly and repeatedly—almost convulsively.

“I think you heard me, Jenna. Show me my red panties, so I can tell you what will happen after I use your mouth.”

Jenna swallowed, very visibly.

“Captain Clark has just employed the word ‘use’ very effectively, hasn’t he, there? Also very suave, wasn’t it, how he called the panties ‘his red panties’? Watch what happens now.”

Her fluttering hands descended, and Bradley’s last vestige of doubt left him, because the look on Jenna Caprio’s face betrayed an arousal so clear it paradoxically made him want to hug her and take her on his lap and tell her that it would be alright, and it was okay to feel that way about discipline and even about sex. She had closed her eyes, and her brow had furrowed; now she even caught her lip in her teeth, and a tiny whimper came from her chest.

Her fingers reached the lightweight plaid wool of the school-uniform kilt, traveled down very slowly over the pleats, at last grasped the fabric where it covered the tops of her slim thighs and began to gather it into her hands so that the bottom hem, which had lain just above her sweet little knees, covered in the sheer black of her stockings, rose up the thighs.

More of the stockings, encasing Jenna’s trim pink-white legs, came into view: black, but promising adorable fair skin when he at last made her roll them down. Then that fair skin itself, over the thicker elastic tops of the stockings, with the cock-stiffening promise that the best part of a girl—as defined by General Dumfries’ version of traditional values—would soon lie exposed before Bradley’s eyes.

The practical necessities of the way we live now,
read the manual,
lamentable though they are when compared with the benefits of the modern lifestyle our forefathers lived before the great collapse, have at least made it possible to re-establish the proper sexual relations between men and women. A woman’s body was fashioned by nature for the use of a man’s penis. Her vagina is therefore her best and most important part. Her anus comes second, because the regular penetration and pleasurable use of a woman’s anus renders her pliable and obedient. Her mouth comes third, because using it gives much pleasure to a man’s penis, and because her obedience can be shown by her words and by her mute acceptance of man’s authority.

A hint of red lace, slowly revealed. The sound of Jenna’s labored breathing, each exhalation nearly a sob. The plaid wool rising, rising.

The red panties, over the shaved cunt, which could only be guessed at through the pretty lace; the narrow front panel, accentuating the tender triangle of the girl’s young loins by exposing so much of it. The sweet expanse of milk-white flesh to either side of the naughty strip of lace suggested to the eye that the cunt and bottom so scantily covered by the panties could be very easily bared indeed: the panties pulled down by that exiguous waistband, or even the front panel roughly pulled aside so that a man could do everything he wished there between Jenna’s legs.

Bradley stretched out his hand, with the palm turned up, and brought his two middle fingers just to the spot where Jenna’s clit lay hidden, but did not touch her there.

“Look down, Jenna,” he said softly.

She opened her eyes, and gave a questioning little whimper when she saw that he was nearly touching her.

“My manhood is going to go here,” he said.

“Oh, n—no…” she breathed.

“And here’s as fine an example as you’ll ever see of an officer making a girl’s body betray her. Captain Clark has style, but he’s going to have to be careful if he wants to put on a real show today.”

Bradley took Jenna gently by the hips then. She started, and the fingers holding the kilt almost released the fabric. He began to turn her around, inside the ambit of his knees.

“Oh-ho, what’s this? Looks like the captain has a way to get a little defiance after all!”

When he had Jenna facing away from him, Bradley reached out peremptorily, and took the back hem of the kilt in his left hand. He raised it high, placing his knuckles against the soft Oxford cloth of her school blouse. She trembled at the touch, and then she gave a startled cry when he stretched out his right hand and pulled the thin strip of lace that ran, barely visible, between her bottom-cheeks, out and to the side, until it ran over the right cheek and would stay there, held by its elastic.

“Oh, God…” Jenna whispered. “Oh, please, no.”

He put his middle finger boldly into that valley, between the firm, pert ovals of her backside, his cock stiff as iron.

“And finally it will go here.”

* * *

No. How… whatever a ‘manhood’ is, how… how could it?

Go. What did
go
even mean?

Jenna’s resistance came upon her, and she didn’t even think consciously of Plan Beta until she had bolted from between Captain Clark’s knees, tripping over his right foot and falling to the living room rug, as one of the horrid AV crews, the two faceless soldiers who wouldn’t even look at her, so intent on recording her shame were they, followed every movement. She tried to rise, pulling herself up on one of the old, overstuffed chairs from the days when the living room was called a parlor, and people did civilized things in it.