The W.O. came closer to authority than the sergeant. Galla was a good-natured girl who was content to receive his attention and to hand over to him most of the reins of office. He drilled the girls with amazing competence and managed to infuse into them a pride in what they did and what they were. Their precision drill became a showpiece and was much in demand at public functions. He also taught them to shoot straight and far. He caned their bottoms until there was not one of them who did not get the bull at least one shot in five at five hundred yards. He was a martinet but they respected him.
Caning was implicit in their service. They were caned for everything. One, two or three strokes at a time, but in a week it mounted up. If the bottom of any girl became too inflamed the cane was switched to her hands or the soles of her feet. Since none of the troop relished the two latter inflictions there were few who did more than modestly infringe the rules. Had Trudy been asked if the troop was happy she would have had to say yes.
“Is it very miserable, dear?”
Trudy’s reverie was broken. Maisie Collins, the honey blonde member of the guards, had approached, curious but unheard. She was surveying her colleague’s plight with erotic interest. “Everything they do to us makes a girl’s cunt stick out,” she observed meditatively. “Have you noticed? The way those clamps fasten your ankles . . . ?”
“Of course it’s miserable,” Trudy wailed. “I don’t see why all you girls had to spank me so hard.”
“The sergeant was watching.”
“I think you all enjoyed spanking me,” Trudy sniffed. “This punishment might be bearable if a girl’s bottom wasn’t beaten first. Mine feels like I’m sitting on a hot stove.”
“You can’t move it at all, can you!”
“Did you come to sympathise or gloat? I hurt!”
“Don’t get shirty. I expect we’ll all get to sit there sooner or later. Have you noticed: it doesn’t matter how good a girl is she gets caught out on something or other.”
Trudy managed a giggle. “Are you all going to bite old Ringbolt’s cock?”
“I think it’s a carryover from the Old Imperial Army,” Maisie pondered. “They had to mind their P’s and Q’s. It’s supposed to keep us on our toes.”
“I’m not on my toes! Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“If you’re going to be irritable I’ll leave,” Maisie pouted. “I know it’s horrid for you but it’s not my fault. If I could let you down I would. But those clamps on your ankles . . . ! I say, they are ingenious, aren’t they! Do they hurt?”
“Not much. They just tell me I’m fixed for good. I don’t think an earthquake would budge them. They scare me.”
“Ever think of escape?” Maisie became serious.
“I don’t mean from that post but from the guards. Daphne and I talk about it a lot. Would you join us?”
“What’s the punishment if we’re caught?”
“A flogging. Then sent to a work camp.”
“No thanks. I don’t think I could stand being flogged. The very word makes me shiver.”
“That’s because you’re being punished now and you’re hurting and sort of sorry you misbehaved,” Maisie said wisely. “But the thing is: we need not be caught. All we have to do is get inside the Consulate or across a border—?”
“And I bet the work camp is pure hell.”
“Well, you’re not exactly comfortable where you are,” Maisie pointed out reasonably. “Do you want to stay a guard and be fucked by the drill master until you’re middle-aged and they don’t want you anymore?”
“Of course not, but it’s silly to talk of escape. We’re prisoners. That fence—”
“There’s a rumour we’re all going out on some sort of exercise. A maneuver or exhibitions or something. We’ll be away from here. If we keep our eyes open . . . ?”
The girl in pain upon her post twisted unhappily, then managed a sad giggle. “There are worse places than this, Maisie, and worse jobs. I was chained in a cage for weeks and weeks . . . ! This is better. And haven’t you noticed, there’s times when we’re all proud? When old Ringbolt’s got us to do something clever? Or when we’re all marching in step and sticking our tits out?”
“Yes I know, there’s that. But look, I’ve got to run. Darling, keep your chin up—and think about what I’ve said? Bye now.” Trudy pondered an improbable escape. There wasn’t much else to occupy her mind except her pain.
“I’m a reasonable man. You didn’t have to bite it.” Warrant Officer Ringbolt’s tone was conciliatory. He gazed with approval at the naked girl suffering her punishment for oral assault upon his genitals. “After you’ve served your time on that post I’m quite prepared to let bygones be bygones.”
Trudy morosely supposed it part of this punishment that she endure visits and scrutiny from all and sundry. Prudently, she decided to try and repair a damaged entente. “That’s awfully sweet of you, sir. I’m sorry I was so silly. Is it better?”
“Better? What—? Oh that! Ahem, yes—no damage.”
“I deserve every minute of what I’m getting, sir.”
“Do you now!” He fixed her with a baleful eye.
He was well aware of the predilection of damsels to cozen mature males. But his regard melted before the onslaught of Trudy’s breasts and Trudy’s pubic hair. Both were superlative and merited his full attention. “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he rambled absently. “May make a guard out of you yet.” Struck by a random vision, he guffawed. “Damn good thing for you it wasn’t the President.”
Trudy tittered dutifully. “I’m so thankful, sir, I could never have forgiven myself. I don’t know what got into me—”
“Well, it wasn’t me!” This sally was delivered with a gargantuan guffaw to which she contributed a wan smile.
“I’m afraid I was nicely brought up, sir. My parents were very strict with me.”
“A pity! Poor judgment with a girl in my opinion.” He brightened. “Tell you what. Bring that little arse of yours to my place after drill tomorrow. I want to see what it looks like. What you’ve had takes a day to mature properly—should be a pretty sight. Then we’ll make a proper appointment for me to fuck you properly in the old-fashioned way sometime next week?”
“That’s very generous of you, sir. I’ll be there.” Trudy wondered if her loathing showed. But she was sick of punishment.
“Actually it is,” W.O. Ringbolt agreed modestly. “A conventional piece of tail is a bit of a waste, in my opinion. At my age a man wants a bit of, well, I suppose sophistication is the word, eh! But considering the stand your parents took with you I’m prepared to accept a plain ordinary, piece of tail.”
“You’re ever so kind, sir, I know mother would be grateful.”
“Well, that’s settled then.” The W.O. visibly preened. “Sorry I have to make you wait ’til next week, but I’ve already promised—”
“That’s quite all right, sir,” Trudy hastily interposed.
“But I expect by Wednesday or Thursday I’ll be ready for you.” He bestowed a heavy scrutiny upon her pubic hair. “Wouldn’t want you to feel you got less than my best, y’know.”
“I’m sure I’m going to feel a lucky girl.”
The W.O. donned an air of diffidence and raised his appraisal to Trudy’s breasts. “I suppose the girls have told you about the option?”
“I don’t know anything about an option, sir.”
“Hmmm, might have guessed!” He now emanated magnanimity. “There’s times when you girls don’t want. I mean, that time of the month and all that sort of rot. Or maybe they’re not in the mood. In cases like that I give ’em the choice of taking ten of the best instead.”