Subjugated (3 page)

I inform you by this letter and by its enclosure that you have been selected for subjugation, as the representative of your town, Springfield, Northwest Region. This subjugation results from your town’s unsatisfactory power-efficiency practices, as reported to general headquarters. No appeal is possible, and you have duly been sentenced to subjugation by me, in hope that having seen you subjugated and then sent to the capital to serve the pleasure of the army for a term of no less than five years, your fellow citizens will learn to adopt more efficient practices in the use of our precious power resources.

The first part of your subjugation will occur on Saturday, 1 May, 2370, at your home. In the days intervening between your receipt of this letter and the enclosed garment, you are instructed to do the following, under penalty of flogging by me and/or the men of my company. You are to remember that you, like all civilian citizens of the Western Republic, are under surveillance at all times by the army, and would therefore be well-advised to follow these instructions as closely as possible.

First, you are to remove all your clothing, and put on the enclosed panties. You will wear them every day, and wash them by hand every night, before putting them on again after they have dried. From now until 1 May, you are not to remove the panties except to wash them, nor to lower them except to use the toilet.

While you wash your panties, and while you wait for them to dry overnight, you are to be entirely naked. You are to plan your meals and other activities accordingly, so that you can be alone and unobserved except by army surveillance while you are naked. You are to consider also that soon enough you will be naked in front of your whole town, as a punishment for their infraction.

You are to shave between your thighs, and to pluck or wax the hairs in your anal area as soon as possible, but in no case later than 28 April. You are to shave and pluck/wax there again on the evening of 30 April, to ensure that your vulva and anal area are as smooth as possible. You will be inspected on the morning of 1 May to determine whether you have bared yourself thoroughly under your panties, and any faults will be punished with the army paddle.

On the night of 29 April, you are to masturbate in your bedroom, in front of the mirror, without removing the panties, though you may lower them to your knees if you wish. Your surveillance records indicate that you have not masturbated previously, so you may wish to ask a friend for advice on how to get started. I suggest asking either Paula Young or Amy Heathers, as their records indicate that they pleasure themselves frequently despite also being frequently punished for the illicit practice. You are to touch yourself between your legs for at least five minutes, but no more than ten. You are permitted to climax.

Other than that required masturbation session, you are not to touch yourself between your waist and your knees except for purposes related to hygiene.

On the morning of 1 May, an army matron will come to your home to inspect you, in your bedroom. You must be naked when she arrives. After your inspection, and the punishment of any faults, I will enter your home. You are to be dressed modestly, over the panties. After a brief
ceremony, I will send your parents out of your house, and I will begin to punish you and enjoy you, employing the aid of my company as necessary to ensure your obedience. I will give you further instructions at that time.

I look forward to your subjugation, Miss Caprio, though I know it may prove difficult for you to do the same. In closing, I suggest you resolve to please me in whatever way I choose, and to carry out the instructions in this letter, and then the further commands I shall give you when we meet, to the best of your ability. The consequences for your bare backside otherwise will, I can assure you, be most dire, and I remind you that my corrective lessons, should they be necessary, will be given to you in the town square as well as in your home.

I have the honor to be your subjugator,

Capt. Bradley Clark

Commander, 4th Cpny

Bradley had written the letter knowing that it would be read by Colonel Davies and perhaps even by the general himself. He had used several of the letters on file as a guide, but he knew that he must show himself eager to subjugate Jenna Caprio in his own individual way, and these letters were not form letters in the slightest: high command expected an officer awarded a subjugation to give the general and his staff an enjoyable show from start to finish.

Nor could Bradley say he had not grown very hard while writing it, thinking of Jenna reading his words, and of her complying with them.

As he printed the letter, Bradley remembered his own Human Development class, in the big school building in Las Vegas where all the Sons of the Liberation lived and learned together the lessons approved by General Dumfries.

“As a healthy man,” Sergeant Connor had told them, “and as a soldier or an officer, you have the right—and indeed the obligation—to fuck any girl you want, as long as she doesn’t belong to a superior. To exercise that right and to fulfill that obligation is to continue the Liberation that gave all you men birth. Every time you claim your right to fuck—and especially if you ever have the opportunity to do an official subjugation—you teach the republic the most valuable lesson it can learn: the Army of Western Liberation takes what it wants, and governs in accordance with the will of General Dumfries and of his duly appointed successors.”

The man’s voice had grown to a crescendo, and even Bradley knew that he must cheer along with his fellow Sons of the Liberation, although even then, at eighteen, he had realized that something was very wrong with the will of General Dumfries.

So he had gone to the Palace of Joy with his classmates, and he had fucked for the first time. The girl, named Rose, had been very sweet to him. The sergeant had told the boys that they must not neglect to practice their disciplinary skills, and Rose herself had reminded Bradley that he should spank her, after she had taken his cock in her mouth so deliciously that Bradley had felt desperate to experience what Sergeant Connor had called “the greatest joy a soldier can know,” and plunge into her pussy, and then into what the sergeant called “the best place to show a girl who’s in charge.”

When Rose said, “Why don’t you get the whipping over with?” Bradley, feeling ashamed to have forgotten, suddenly wanted to whip the girl very thoroughly. He proceeded to do so, until Rose cried out in unfeigned agony and begged him to stop. In the frenzy of his arousal, then, Bradley bent her over the foot of the bed and fucked her wildly, until he had come with a shuddering growl.

Rose, stroking the welts Bradley had left with his belt, said afterward, “You’re going to make a fine officer. I can always tell.”

Bradley, who had felt ashamed of himself for hurting her, opened his eyes wide. “But I whipped you so hard,” he said.

Rose smiled, though she also winced as her finger caught the edge of a welt, and said, “That’s how I can tell.”

* * *

As she read the letter, Jenna felt her whole body flush, and then go ice cold in horror, alternately, over and over. She had known that the subjugation would be shameful, and even painful. She had known that it would involve paddling, she supposed, because that was a punishment she had grown accustomed to seeing in school assemblies.

But she had never even guessed that the subjugation might involve the kind of humiliating display described in the letter. She remembered her mother telling her in those same brief, whispered conversations in January about the idea of Plan Beta and how if it should come to pass, she must not submit entirely, so that she might provoke the interest of those who watched the subjugation. Jenna thought her mother had wanted to tell her what subjugation entailed, but there had never been time, perhaps because whenever her mother began to talk about it, her face turned very red and she couldn’t continue.

And Mrs. Trest would be coming to inspect her, the same way she had that horrible day at the beginning of the Human Development unit. Inspect her, to make sure she had bared herself properly. Jenna looked at the red panties lying on her bed, and pictured what she would look like in them once she had carried out the instruction about shaving herself between her legs. Mrs. Trest had in fact given the class instructions about how a girl should shave there, and Jenna blushed as she remembered the severe-looking, brown-haired woman in her mid-forties, telling Jenna and her classmates to use scissors to trim the hair down, then to soak in a warm tub, and to shave there.

Should she just go get it over with now? She turned involuntarily and glanced again at where she knew the surveillance camera lay in the crown molding of her room. As she grew up in that house, her father had often warned her about the cameras, and how if she overheard anything about town affairs, she must never mention it, even at home. Some of Jenna’s friends had admitted to being a little embarrassed to know that anyone at headquarters would watch them in their bedrooms or even their bathrooms, but because Jenna wasn’t conscious of doing anything improper, she regarded the surveillance cameras as a security measure that liberated them from fear, as General Dumfries declared in his weekly message.

At least, that was how she had felt until her father had taken her on a long walk, and told her how the Western Republic really worked, and about the possibility of escaping to the Eastern Commonwealth.

Deciding that she must begin by following the instructions from the captain—what did he look like? how cruel would he be?—to the letter, Jenna started to unbutton her white school-uniform blouse. She had a sudden, defiant urge to turn to the surveillance camera and remove all her clothing brazenly, to say,
So you want to see my naked breasts and my naked pussy?
Well, here they are
.

But instead shame won out, and she turned her back to the camera as she shrugged her blouse from her shoulders, and then unhooked her plain white bra. Absurd, she realized, because of course they would see everything very soon. But something in Jenna could not overcome the modesty her education had instilled. And hadn’t Mrs. Trest said that men much prefer to marry modest girls?

As she unbuttoned the waistband of the little kilt, she wondered, when army officers watched girls who were going to be subjugated, whether they liked modesty or brazenness. The thought seemed so strange to her that she tried to push it away, and she focused on the feeling of the wool against her fingers, and then against her legs, as she stepped out of the uniform skirt.

Underneath, she had the regulation black thigh-high stockings that eighteen-year-olds wore, and the regulation white cotton panties. Blushing furiously, she rolled down the stockings and laid them together with her kilt on top of the blouse and the bra on her bed. The time had come, and Jenna felt her blush deepen as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and began to pull them down, sure that the exposure of her little bottom would be closely observed by the officer who would arrive in a week to give her his further instructions.

She put the school panties on the bed and picked up the lacy ones that had come from the envelope. Trembling, she sat on the bed and began to pull on the red panties. As soon as she felt the lace up against her pussy and her bottom and felt the way it both covered and exposed her, she understood the terrible logic of the instruction to remove all her hair there and bare herself for her subjugating officer: Jenna must have no covering between her waist and knees that had not been specified by the man who would possess her there.

She thought of the thing she must do on Thursday night, and the degrading suggestion that she ask Paula and Amy for help. Wouldn’t
they
be happy to hear that their self-pleasuring activities were known to the officers of the Army of Western Liberation!

What would happen if she did not obey the order? If she did not stand in front of her mirror and touch herself in that shameful way? Surely the command must have been given to make her wonder exactly that. She would be punished of course—but would a troop of soldiers burst through the door to whip her? Or would the captain himself simply knock?

Sitting there in the lace panties he had sent her, she realized to her mortification that she had grown warm and wet between her thighs. How could that be? How could she be excited about her subjugation? How could she wonder whether she might actually be permitted to touch herself now?—whether she might indeed not be able to stop herself?

But the letter said,
only then.
Only 29 April. And if she moved her hand to her pussy now to feel what the panties were like upon her private places, the soldiers would burst in, the captain would knock, and Jenna would be placed over the arm of the sofa in the living room and punished so very, very thoroughly…

Jenna rose and began to dress again, conscious only of the underwear that even underneath her modest school skirt would mark her out as the girl who would receive subjugation at the hands—and, Jenna thought with burning cheeks, other, secret parts—of the general’s army. She tried to think about the chores she must do now, helping her mother with dinner and checking the chickens’ feed and the irrigation system. She tried, but all she could seem to see in her mind was a girl doing chores naked except for her red panties.

“You’ve got yourself a live one, there,” said Colonel Davies, after Jenna had left, apparently to do her chores. “Make sure you give her what she deserves for those looks she gave the camera.”

Most of the other officers had left when Jenna started to dress, but John Leese waited until the colonel had left the mess, and shook Bradley’s hand, then leaned in to say something in his ear. This shaking hands and leaning in gesture made a familiar part of the interactions of officers who wanted to speak without the monitoring cameras and microphones picking anything up. Bradley fixed the usual good-humored smile on his face, as if Leese were telling him a dirty joke.