Cadet: The Academy (11 page)

Robin giggled. When it was put that way, it
did
sound ridiculous. Jodie laughed softly along with her
for a few seconds, and then touched her hand to Robin’s cheek. Her
face moved close to her friend’s, and she regarded Robin with the
intensity of a laser beam.

“I love you, Robin Bransom,” Jody whispered,
with a passion that raised gooseflesh all over Robin’s body. “I
love you like the sister I never had, like my mother, like my
child, if I ever have one. If they separate us after we leave this
place and we never see each other again, I will still love my sweet
Robin forever.”

Both of them were crying by now, although
neither girl noticed the tears that dripped down their cheeks.
Jodie took Robin’s hand in hers, and pressed it against her firm
little breast. “You don’t
ever
have to worry about touching
me here…” moved the hand down the smoothness of her stomach until
it settled on the mound between Jodie’s legs, “…or here…” she took
Robin’s hand again, touching it to her lips and kissing her
fingertips, “…or here, or anywhere else. I promise not to
complain.”

Robin felt a fire burning in her body. It
resembled the sensations she had experienced when she was handled
by General Cafferson, but it was much stronger and completely
without the feeling that her body and mind were being controlled by
another. She gently withdrew her hand from Jodie’s. She saw her
friend look at her uncertainly, wondering if she had gone too
far.

Robin slipped her right arm under Jodie’s
body and reached the left around to tenderly imprison her. Jodie’s
face lit up again with her lighthouse-beacon smile. Robin pulled
her close with gentle, irresistible strength. She felt the smooth
warmth of Jodie’s compact breasts against hers and the way her
erect nipples slid along the smooth skin of her friends’ mounds.
No, not a friend only, not a sister, but a lover, Robin told
herself, as she pressed her lips against Jodie’s, opening her mouth
to let their tongues mingle delightfully. Jodie’s delicious
fragrance filled her nostrils and made her light-headed.

“You saw right through me, didn’t you?” Robin
whispered. Her hands caressed the soft skin of Jodie Lawrence’s
lithe body, gliding down her back over the springy muscles on
either side of her spine to end by cupping one firm buttock in
each.

Jodie was breathing in shallow pants. Her
hands were filled with Robin’s breasts, playing with the nipples,
and driving her friend to distraction. “What do you mean?” she
whispered.

“My plan,” Robin answered. Her hands now
firmly, but gently, held Jodie’s sweet bottom globes, and she used
her grip to pull her friend’s belly and pubic mound closer to hers.
“I
was
trying to seduce you into sin.”

Jodie giggled softly. “Nice job of seduction,
cadet cunt. I’m just putty in your hands.” Her head disappeared
down into the darkness under the blankets to kiss Robin’s rock-hard
nipples. Robin gasped with delight, and felt her pulse hammer in
her throat with excitement when Jodie drew her nipples one after
the other into her mouth, nibbling them with her teeth and brushing
the little heads with her tongue, until Robin thought she would
burst from the pleasure.

Jody slid down further, making a lump in the
covers like a mole in a vegetable patch. Robin felt clever, loving
fingers stroking the lips of her sex and spreading them apart.
“Jodie,” Robin whispered. “Jodie, don’t… don’t stop.”

When she felt Jodie’s soft tongue burrow its
way inside her, she nearly fainted from the wonderful sensation
that inundated her, submerged all her senses. It was not long
before her body writhed in an intense, shuddering orgasm that
seemed to go on forever. When Robin’s body finally relaxed again,
Jodie slid up to the head of the bed and popped her head out of the
covers. Robin could see that her mouth and chin were coated with
some liquid that gleamed weakly in the dim light. She grinned
impishly at Robin.

“Anyway,” she whispered, “we’ll get along
just fine if you remember to keep your hands to yourself, and not
try any funny business with me. I’m not
that
kind of
girl.”

Robin clapped a hand to her mouth, but she
was unable to prevent a little scream of laughter leaking out.

“I wonder if anybody heard us?” Robin hissed,
sitting up in alarm. In her excitement, she had forgotten about the
rest of the cadets in the big room, forgotten about everything.

They listened. From all over the barracks
came the soft sounds of lips on flesh, heavy breathing, creaking
bedsprings and whispered words.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Jodie said,
looking around at her classmates with something like awe. “I guess
everybody’s too busy to notice us.”

“Great,” Robin said smiling. “‘’Cause I have
something to take care of, and I want a little privacy for it.” She
gently pushed Jodie down to lie on her back, and dove under the
covers. In a moment her hands were underneath Jodie’s perky
buttocks and her mouth was seeking the little blonde’s lower
lips.

Kate Swenson’s plan was not a big success
that night; at least, few of the cadets got a full night’s sleep.
It still proved to be a popular way to beat the cold weather, so
popular, in fact, that they continued the practice even after the
weather warmed up in the spring.

* * * * *

March second was Robin’s nineteenth birthday,
and Jodie arranged a party for her. They were able to persuade one
of the cooks at the mess hall to bake a birthday cake by using a
now-standard procedure: they would draw straws, and the cadet with
the short straw would fellate the cook in exchange for a cake.

After Robin blew out the candles, and they
sang “Happy Birthday”. Jodie presented her with a gift, a silver
box tied with a sparkly silver ribbon and matching bow.

“Jodie, what is this?” Robin asked. “It has
to be some kind of contraband. What kind of trouble are you going
to get into for this?’

Jodie’s eyes twinkled roguishly. “The
corporal that got this for me made sure nobody knows about it, and
he’s not going to be telling anybody either. In fact, I’m not sure
he’ll ever regain the power of speech after I got through with
him.”

“Jodie…” Robin began, exasperated, but then
stopped. Her friend was incorrigible. She constantly took advantage
of the rule (instituted immediately after Sergeant Powers had been
disgraced) that forbade the enlisted men from having sexual contact
with the cadets. Eventually, Robin was sure, she would be
caught.

“Just open it, lover,” Jodie urged. All the
cadets gathered around as Robin fumbled with the box. She inhaled
sharply when she saw the contents. When she lifted the item over
her head, she was rewarded with exclamations of “Wow”, and whistles
of appreciation.

It was a piece of underwear, or rather
lingerie, as the term “underwear” utterly failed to do any kind of
justice to the garment. It was sky-blue, nearly the color of
Robin’s eyes, lace, and seemed to be composed mostly of empty
space. It was beautiful.

“Victoria’s Secret,” a broadly grinning Jodie
told the open-mouthed Robin. “It’s called a ‘cut-out baby-doll’ and
it’s made of lace. Don’t bother to ask me what it cost, I’m not
telling. Now model it for us!”

As Robin quickly pulled her skinsuit off she
asked, “What about Sergeant LeFevre? If he sees this, the whole
platoon will get so many demerits he’ll probably sprain his arm
dishing them out. Plus, he’ll confiscate this thing,” Robin
said.

“Trust me to arrange things better than
that,” Jodie replied. “The Sergeant won’t be back for hours, maybe
not until morning.” Robin stopped with her pants halfway to the
ground to look quizzically at her friend.

“You know the way LeFevre develops a big lump
in his pants every time he sees Steph in bend over to tie her
boots?” Jodie asked. Stephanie’s bottom was outstanding, even among
the stellar selection of posteriors the platoon could boast. “She
wagged it at him and whispered in his ear that he could do more
than look at it tonight if he met her tonight over in ‘J’ barracks
before ‘Taps’,” Jodie explained. “Steph told me to say ‘you’re
welcome’, and you owe her a private show.”

Robin was now naked, and she eagerly slid the
garment over her head. It was so skimpy that it almost required an
act of faith to see it at all.

“How does it look?” she asked anxiously. “Is
it pretty?” Her classmates appeared to have been struck dumb.

“I never understood when a girl was sexually
assaulted and they would say, ‘the way she was dressed, she was
asking for it’ until just now,” Sandy Merriweather said. The remark
was met by a chorus of agreement.

“Model it for us, Robin,” Kate Swenson
demanded. “Walk the runway,” she said, indicating the aisle between
the beds.

Robin would always remember the expression of
happiness and pride on Jodie’s face as she flounced along the
linoleum floor, doing her best to imitate the exaggerated
hip-slinging stride of a runway model at a fashion show.

“That’s my girl,” Jodie boasted. “Hottest
little model in the whole damn Army.”

* * * * *

The cadets were treated to two more visits
from General Cafferson over the winter. He saw each cadet again on
his January visit, but spent the time talking to them and reviewing
their records rather than fucking them and forcing them to have
orgasms in his presence. He seemed to know absolutely everything
about every cadet, including what was going on with their families
back at home. He told the assembled cadets when he left that he was
proud of every one of them, and told them to be proud of their
achievements as individuals and as a group. In the beginning of
March he returned, this time making them perform sexually for him
as before. They found it somehow easier to live with the second
time; in part because they knew what was coming, and in part
because they had become hardened to such usage.

“They really
can’t
get inside me!”
Ally Reid exulted to her mates after she had returned from a
session with Cafferson. The petite redhead had been penetrated back
and front by the General and Captain Wagner. She had been forced to
masturbate to orgasm twice before she was permitted return to the
platoon. “My asshole is a little sore, but I’m fine otherwise.
Those pencil-dicks don’t bother me any more. Fuck ’em. We’re the
cadet cunts!” she chanted, joined by the platoon on the final four
words.

They also were visited again by a junketing
group of generals, although none of the ones that had come to the
Academy in December. Moreover, this group went much easier on the
cadets. Although they all made use of the girls for sex, they were
much more careful how they went about it. It seemed to the girls
that they were worried about getting too rough with them.

“Did somebody tell Cafferson about those
assholes back in December?” Jodie demanded at a platoon meeting.
“If somebody here has a pipeline to God, she should tell the rest
of us.” No one in the platoon admitted to communicating with
Washington, and they were forced to conclude that the Chief of the
General Staff had ways of finding things out that were not
available to ordinary mortals.

With the approach of spring came a day that
every cadet had been dreaming of: they would receive a full week of
liberty before the first full class of the NWMA arrived at the
beginning of May. A week before, they were given a pre-leave
lecture by Captain Wagner in the echoing auditorium.

“You all are familiar with the classified
aspects of the Academy program,” he said to the assembled platoon.
“Before you wrote your first letter home, you had been warned that
it was a violation of the Military Secrets Act to communicate to
any unauthorized person about matters such as administrative
discipline, cadet skinsuits…,” this term had become universal since
the day when Jodie had coined it, “…the nature of the personal
aide’s work, and so on. Of course, every letter was reviewed and
censored where necessary. But some of you may be wondering what is
to keep an unhappy cadet from telling her parents or talking to the
press once she is outside these walls at home on leave? Moreover,
even if none of you is willing to risk the penalties for violating
the law, there is always the danger of an inadvertent breach of
security. Fortunately for the entire program, a solution was
found.” He paused, looking them over.

“How many of you remember meeting a Dr.
Stanton Wexler?” Wagner asked. “Raise your hands, cadets.”

Robin exchanged puzzled glances with Jodie
and shook her head. The other cadets had the same reaction.
Evidently nobody was familiar with the name.

“No?” Wagner asked. “It may surprise you to
learn that every one of you has met with him a minimum of four
one-hour sessions since your arrival at this institution.” This
statement was greeted with a sudden murmur of disbelief from the
girls. “He has, through post-hypnotic suggestion, obliterated your
memories of the sessions.”

“I can assure you that it’s true, cadets,”
Wagner cut in over the buzz. They fell silent. “Dr. Wexler is a
psychologist who specializes in hypnotherapy. Each of you has been
hypnotically conditioned to be unable to communicate with any
unauthorized person about any classified aspect of this school. You
won’t be able to tell anybody about those things, whether by
accident or intent.”

At this, there was another outburst, louder
than before. The Captain waited patiently for it to die down.

Corey Harris stood up. “Sir, pardon me, but
how do we know that any of this is real? It sounds like something
out of a Heinlein novel.” Corey was a science-fiction fan, with a
paperback book in her hand at every free moment.

“For one thing, there is the fact that not
one of you remembers the hours you spent with Dr. Wexler in the
annex behind the infirmary for your conditioning,” the Captain
responded. “We have film studies of it being done, for training
purposes. The fact that not that not one of you remembers anything
about it should certainly prove something.” He waited for this to
sink in.