Hard Corps (9 page)

‘I guess it’s a code of honour. I don’t know. I do know that you swear some pretty heavy stuff when you join. And there are some very powerful people involved. Not just at the Academy, but way high up, in positions of power, all the way to the Pentagon. Maybe it just isn’t worth the risk. I know I don’t plan to find out.’

‘You really are into this, aren’t you, Sam?’ We were getting close to my dorm and I spoke faster. ‘I mean, I was watching you up there. You enjoyed being whipped. You get off on it. And you liked fucking those girls, too. I saw it in your face, in your whole body language. You were having a blast.’

Sam laughed. ‘You’re on to me, huh? Yes, I love it. I adore it. I breathe it. I am it. Don’t you see? This is what I was born for: to exhibit myself, to expose myself, to allow myself to submit and to serve.’ Suddenly he leaned toward me, so close I could smell his citrus cologne.

‘And you, Remy. What about you? You came to the show. You stayed. You bowed to the masters. You blushed like a sweet little novice. Admit it, Remy. It’s in your blood, too. You know it is.’

I didn’t answer, but my facial features were suddenly defined by heat. I felt the flush and I knew he was right. Something in me had been awakened by Jacob and it wouldn’t go quietly back to sleep, no matter how I ignored it or denied it.

We stood at my dorm entrance now.

‘You better get your ass in there, Remy. No point in pushing your luck. Save that piece of paper: you might need it sooner than you think.’

And he was gone. I had been waiting for what I was sure was coming. I thought he was going to invite me to join the Corps. To become a ‘novice’, like him. I found that I was actually disappointed that he hadn’t. Even though I had been planning to refuse. To be interested is one thing; to join some slave ring was another! Then again, perhaps he didn’t have the authority to invite me. Perhaps only a master could do that. That would make sense. I consoled myself with this thought, though I felt ridiculous for even considering it.

Slipping into the darkened room, I quickly undressed. As I climbed between the cold sheets someone hissed at me.

‘Your ass is fried, Harris. You’re dead meat. I was at the library tonight, cadet. Where the fuck were you? I’m sure Sergeant Roster will be very interested.’ It was my nemesis, Cadet Jean Dillon. Why did she hate me so much?

‘Fuck off,’ I snarled back at her. I shut out whatever else she had to say with a pillow pressed down over my head. Closing my eyes, I let the events of this most amazing evening play again and again in my mind. I must have been more tired than I thought, because next thing I knew, dawn was creeping over the windowsill.

H
ow did morning get here so fast? As I jumped out of bed and rushed to the shower, Jean sneered, ‘Say your prayers, Harris.’ I felt a cold rush of fear as Sergeant Roster came toward us.

‘Having a little morning chat, girls?’

‘Ma’am, yes ma’am.’ Jean stood straight as a little arrow, saluting smartly. I stood at attention as well, waiting for the axe to fall, still not believing that the pass in my pants pocket would save me.

‘Do tell.’ Roster leaned in toward us, smiling sweetly, though her eyes were hard.

‘I was just wondering where Cadet Harris was last night when she was signed up for library. She must have got lost on the way.’ Jean looked intently at Roster, ignoring me completely. I glared at Jean. If looks could kill, she would have been dead on the spot.

‘Oh, is that so? What do you have to say about that, Harris? How many more demerits do you want this term? Haven’t you done enough push-ups and peeled enough potatoes for one lifetime? Speak up, cadet.’

I glanced over at Jean, willing Sergeant Roster to dismiss her. To my amazement, she snapped, ‘Thanks for the report, Dillon. Now go shower. You stink.’ Jean shot a poisonous glance at me, as if I had been the one to insult her, and skulked off to the showers.

‘Now, let’s hear it, Harris. Just where did you spend your evening AWOL? Out having a malt with your boyfriend?’

It was now or never. ‘No, ma’am. I, um, I have a permit. A pass.’

‘A pass? What kind of pass? I give out the passes around here, and I don’t recall giving you one lately.’

‘Please, ma’am. It’s in my footlocker. May I get it for you?’

‘Get it. And this better be good, Harris. You have stepped over the line one too many times.’ I rushed back to my bunk and pulled my pants out of my footlocker. Inside the pocket was the little folded piece of paper. My heart was pounding as I presented the pass to her. The secret would be out then. She would know about me, and she might guess that I knew about her. I didn’t see any way around it though. Thanks to Jean, my hand was being called before I was ready to make the play.

Sergeant Roster took the paper from me and opened it, a sceptical look on her face. I waited, terrified that it was all a horrible mistake and that the pass was some worthless hoax. As she glanced at it, her colour deepened, the pink seeping into her cheeks. Slowly she looked up, her eyes locking with mine. After what seemed a lifetime, but surely was just a few seconds, she spoke.

‘As you were, cadet. Get on to the showers. You have PT this morning. Look sharp!’ She turned on her heel and left. I stood for a moment, as if I had been glued to the floor. Jean snapped me out of it.

‘What was that about?’ She was sneering, ready to launch into some diatribe, no doubt, about my attempts to curry favour with the sergeant. I was in no mood to listen.

As elation rushed through me with the realisation that I had gotten off scot-free, I whirled toward Dillon, feeling the power of victory. Grabbing her by the throat, I pressed her against the wall.

‘Mind your own business, Dillon. You made your trouble. Now go back to your slime hole.’ I dropped my hold then, and swept past her. I was tired of taking her shit. I had a pass.

*   *   *

After classes that evening, an upperclassman by the name of Charles Smith came over to where I was sitting at the library. Leaning down, he said, in a quiet voice, ‘Excuse me.’ I knew his name because he was on the basketball team, and a good player at that.

‘Yes?’ I looked up, wondering why he was talking to a toad, and so politely to boot. I started to get up, not wanting to remain seated against protocol.

‘No, no, don’t get up.’ He sat across from me, leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘I’m here on different business. SC business.’

I looked around quickly, as if we might be overheard. SC business! I didn’t say anything, but I was listening with every fibre of my being.

‘Interested?’

I nodded, not even daring to speak.

‘This is an invitation. This will be your only invitation, so pay attention. If you choose to accept, be at the tower at twenty-one hundred hours. Be prompt. There is no consequence for choosing not to come. However, be advised that if you break ranks on this, if you say a word to any of the uninitiated, you will regret it.’ His veiled threat bothered me a little, but I was too curious to hear what he had to say to focus on that.

‘If you choose to accept…’It sounded so secret-agent, so James Bond.

He went on, leaning toward me, speaking barely above a whisper. ‘You are to wear nothing under your daily uniform except the ankle bracelet you will find in your mailbox this evening. Be prepared to strip. Be prepared to suffer. We have chosen you.’

I almost laughed at his pompous words. Chosen me, indeed! But even as I tried to dismiss it as so much nonsense, my heart was racing. I had trouble catching my breath. Be prepared to suffer. Oh, my God. Just the words set off something inside of me. I knew before I admitted it aloud in my thoughts: I would go. I had to go. I had to know at last if this was for me.

I couldn’t manage much more than an ‘I’ll be there, at the tower, at twenty-one hundred hours.’ Smith nodded, stood and strode away.

That evening I found a little packet in my mail slot. I went to the bathroom, closing the door to a stall for privacy. With fingers almost trembling with impatience, I ripped open the package. Inside were three things: a little velvet box, a piece of paper, and a key. A key just like the one Sam had. My fingers slid up and down the smooth metal. I pressed the key to my cheek, enjoying its cool, hard feel against my skin. I would need to get a chain, like Sam had, so I wouldn’t lose it. For now, I slipped it into my pocket and turned my attention to the other items.

Inside the little velvet box lay a pretty little gold chain. After unlacing my boot and pushing down my sock, I secured it around my left ankle. It felt cold but quickly warmed against my flesh. I shivered in spite of myself, remembering the direction to wear it, and only it, under my uniform.

Next the piece of paper. It was a pass, just like the other one, only this one was typed and more specific. ‘SC Pass for 2100–2400 hours, Friday, November 5, Bell Tower, 2B.’ Three hours! And here it was, already only an hour until I had to be there! I jumped up and went to the showers. I’d better make myself presentable for whatever the hell I was letting myself in for.

And so 2100 hours found me at the tower. Just as I pressed my key into the lock, the door was pulled open, startling me for a moment. It was Sam! I felt so relieved to see someone I knew that I almost hugged him. ‘Sam! I didn’t expect to see you! I’m so glad you’re here. I — ’

‘Ssh! Don’t talk. I was sent up to escort you to the chamber. We aren’t supposed to talk.’

‘God. The chamber. It sounds so Gothic. I can’t believe I’m doing this.’

‘I remember how scared I was. I wish I could warn you, advise you, but everyone’s test is different. Just be honest. Be brave and be yourself. Don’t fake something you don’t feel, because this isn’t a game, Remy. If it isn’t for you, this is definitely the time to find out. You won’t be the first one to back out, and no one will hold it against you.’

There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but Sam put his fingers to his lips as we reached the bottom of the steps. The lush atmosphere of the thick carpets and muted lighting reminded me sharply where I was. Pressing my lips together, I followed Sam. We went past the door where the stage show had taken place and stopped a few doors down. Sam knocked and, as he did, my stomach flip-flopped. Silently he moved back and stood to the side, so that I was alone in front of the door. A part of me wanted to bolt, to turn around and run back the way I came. But I stayed rooted to the spot. I had come too far to back out now.

The door opened on silent hinges. Dr Wellington was there, smiling at me. I glanced toward Sam but he was gone. ‘Come in, Remy. We’ve been expecting you.’ For a second I imagined I was entering her home for a small get-together. She pulled the door open and I saw three people, one woman and two men, sitting on chairs arranged in a half circle. One of the men was very young, most probably an upperclassman. There was one empty chair, that presumably Dr Wellington had recently occupied. None of them was anyone I had met, which relieved me. It would be hard enough to pass whatever tests they had in mind without the more personal aspect of someone I knew well being there.

Dr Wellington led me to the area in front of the chairs. ‘May I present Remy Harris? She has agreed to submit to this initiation. She is a complete novice, without any training either in or out of the Corps. Please bear that in mind as you choose your test. I will start, since I extended the invitation.’ Before I had time to dwell on that, she said, ‘Now, Cadet Harris. Are you here of your own free will?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said in a voice so low I had to repeat myself.

‘You are about to undergo a series of tests, devised by each of us on this committee, to determine your suitability as a member of the Corps. If you pass, then from that moment forward you will become a novice in the Corps. Eventually you may earn the rank of slave. It is not inconceivable that you might even earn the rank of mistress, but that is unlikely. Not many slaves have what it requires to lead others. But we will speak of this later.’ I noticed that she didn’t introduce the other people in the room to me, as she had the night of the stage show. Maybe now that I was ‘auditioning’ for a position as a novice in the ‘Hard Corps’, it was no longer necessary to extend such courtesies. She continued. ‘For right now, you can start by removing your uniform. Then kneel in front of us, head touching the floor, arms extended in front of you.’ As she spoke, she gracefully lowered herself into the fourth chair. The test had begun.

I stood, staring at her, willing my mind to process what she had just said. Her eyes flashed as she watched me and I realised they were all staring, waiting to see what I would do. Shit. I could strip. We saw each other naked all the time in those lousy shower stalls with the flimsy curtains that wouldn’t stay put. But there were no men in the showers.

Well, first the boots. That was easy. I removed my boots and socks, automatically folding the socks per army regulation. Then I stood again, consciously avoiding the eyes of these people watching me so intently. Taking a deep breath, I began to unbutton my uniform shirt, willing my hands not to shake. As I reached the bottom button, I had to exert all my willpower not to pull the olive drab fabric tight against my naked torso. Instead, I let it fall open, wriggling my shoulders to allow the shirt to fall. As always, I was uncomfortably aware of my breasts. I wished for the thousandth time that they were small and high, instead of full and large. I felt my nipples tingle and harden under the gaze of these strangers.

I realised with a small rush of triumph that I had managed to remove my shirt without passing out. I was breathing hard and knew I was flushed with embarrassment, but I could do this. I was as tough as Sam and those girls on the stage. Now came the panties. I opened them and pushed them down, wondering briefly how to remove them while still standing up without looking like a clown. I don’t think I succeeded too well in the grace department, but somehow I got them off. I kneeled quickly, relieved at the chance to be able to cover myself by crouching on the floor. With my forehead touching the ground, I didn’t have to look at anyone. I closed my eyes.