Friday, 6 January 2012

Tomorrow's Army

Story from Privilege Plus 09.

Tomorrow's Army
by Derek Cross

"That blonde girl's got a randy body on her," remarked one of the naked young men to his neighbour in the communal showers.

"The dark-haired one's nicely shaped as well," was the acknowledgement.

The first soldier glanced repeatedly at the blonde-haired girl through the water and the steam. She was rotating her face in the spray with her eyes clamped shut and seemingly uncaring that she was being ogled at. The girl was turned sideways to the two male soldiers on the other side of the large, white-tiled room, and therefore showed off the jut of her abdomen with its profusion of light-coloured hair. Admired also were her self-supporting breasts with their shrunken pink nipples pointing upwards.

Suddenly the block of soap slipped out of her hand and skidded around the wet floor before coming to a stop. The girl half-turned and bent down to retrieve it. The effect was to push her buttocks up into the air. The two observing soldiers on the other side of the shower-room stared wide-eyed at the rich, round orbs of their female colleague's bottom. They were perfection itself, divided by a neat, deep crease.

The sight lasted for only a second or two before the girl stood up and began to lather her breasts. She did not seem to have noticed the physical reaction her bending movement had caused to one of the young squaddies on the other side of the passageway. His pal, however, did notice, and reached out a hand to change the cascading water from hot to cold.

"Aagghhh! What did you do that for?" was the shivered complaint.

His mate pointed a finger at his crotch. The soldier nodded, grinned, and turned his back on the girl.

Jody had, however, noticed what had happened. Such a thing was only to be expected, of course, but she did wonder whether the new practice of both male and female soldiers living together, as well as training together, was a good idea.

Jody had surprised everyone when she had let it be known she wanted to join the Army. Her own father had 'joined up' when was eighteen, but things had been different then, and Jody was a young woman with the world at her feet. Her friends could not understand why she wanted to conceal her perfect curves and elegant legs in a khaki uniform.

The Army of the new millennium was, however, a far cry from the fighting force of earlier years. It was now much depleted and heavily commercialised. The only 'overseas posting' was the Isle of Wight!

Both sexes did the same jobs, slept in the same quarters and even showered in the same showers. Any sexual activity was, however, completely banned – despite the liberal ideas and advances of the previous two decades.

Kirsty, the dark-haired girl under the adjacent shower to Jody, had joined up for different reasons. She had needed a job! She turned off the shower and started to dry herself. Using both her hands, she rubbed the towel up and down her back, causing her full-moulded breasts to bounce freely with her movement. Down below, at the junction of her thighs, her now dry pubic hair spread upwards from her intimate entrance like a black fern.

Turning round, she raised one foot to a tiled ledge to dry between her toes. Her action displayed her bold buttocks, and the squaddie in the shower opposite was again grateful for another deluge of cold water.

"Hurry along, you lot!"

Jody was not the only one to groan. Corporal Wilkinson, the new recruits' Lord and Master for the next eight weeks, had arrived. He strode through the showers shouting at the top of his voice, exhorting everyone to hurry along for the next period of training. The blonde girl had got the impression that the bristle-haired, moustached non-commissioned officer was not in agreement with the modern idea of dual-sex training.

"Last one outside on parade is on Fatigues!" bawled the Corporal, his stentorian tones echoing around the tiled room. He clearly revelled in the power accorded to him by the two chevrons on his sleeves.

The shower-room at once became a flurry of activity as water was turned off and towels hurriedly rubbed over wet bodies. No one wanted to spend the evening cleaning and scraping baking tins in the mess or the like.

In her haste to get back in her uniform, Jody again let slip the bar of soap from her wet hands. It fell to the tiled floor just as Corporal Wilkinson was about to put down his right boot. The result was inevitable.

"Yeeowww!" he screeched as he skidded on the ceramic surface, falling backwards and sliding on his behind to end up beneath a still-running shower.

No one dared laugh, although the bedraggled figure of the angry Corporal spluttering under the spray of hot water was a truly comical sight. Jody was horrified. Whilst she wanted to rush to the aid of the stricken Corporal, something made her hold back. She was, she realised, going to be in very hot water – hotter even than the irate Corporal Wilkinson was under at that very moment – but only if she let it be known that the soap was hers.

At last the glowering NCO got to his feet and turned off the cascading water. His formerly well-creased, impeccable uniform hung from his broad frame like soggy blotting paper. Jody had never seen an angrier-looking man in her whole life. Her stomach gave a lurch, as indeed did everyone's in that shower area.

"Wh... wh... who did that?"

Wilkinson was in such a state of near apoplexy that he could not shriek as he normally did. His question came out as a pitiful squeak.

Jody looked around her. There were no accusing gazes. She made a quick decision. If she were to own up, no one, least of all the drenched drill Corporal, would believe it had been an accident.

The pretty blonde girl soldier was not the last one out on parade, but the one who was turned out not to be the only person given gruelling extra duties that day. Indeed, as Wilkinson furiously informed them, the whole squad would continue to do so until such time as the culprit owned up.

It was actually twenty-four hours before Jody finally decided to admit culpability. The atmosphere in the accommodation block was becoming unbearable; so, too, were the extra tasks. This time she took one smart pace forward when Corporal Wilkinson asked for the umpteenth time who had been responsible for his embarrassment.

At her admission of guilt, Jody heard a torrent of words such as she had never heard before. She had to stand stiffly to attention in the barrack room whilst the NCO read the Riot Act to her. The crestfallen blonde knew that all her colleagues were on the side of the Corporal for a change.

"Are you prepared to have this matter dealt with here and now?" hissed Wilkinson severely. "Or do you want it to go before the Colonel and have him punish you?"

"Now, please," gulped Jody.

The man stepped back. The glint in his eyes was the most evil she had ever seen. Wilkinson smiled. It was not a nice smile. Quite the worst smile Jody had ever seen, in fact.

"If I give you twelve strokes of a cane to forget the incident, will you make a promise NOT to report the punishment to anyone?"

The question came as a bombshell. Despite the fact that caning had in recent years been reintroduced in schools and in penal institutions, Jody well knew that it was not allowed in the Army under King's Regulations. There were many gasps of surprise.

Despite the fact that she was standing at attention, Jody's shoulders slumped. A myriad of thoughts flashed through her mind. She could get kicked out of the Army. She knew well enough that the Colonel was not in favour of the 'mixed soldiery', and might well seize on the excuse to have her pack her bags.

She heard herself croak, "I'll accept the caning."

There were excited murmurs from behind her, coupled with remarks such as, "I should think so," and "It's no more than she deserves."

Wilkinson exercised his authority. Orders were given to lock all doors and draw all blinds. Jody felt sick as she saw the Corporal striding to his room. She knew what he had gone for.

He returned, marching as though on the parade ground. Under his arm was a long thin cane with a rounded handle. The NCO threw the cane down on to the long table in the centre of the room. It landed with a clatter on the highly polished top. Jody stared at the menacing stick, a quaking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Remove ALL your clothing!" came Wilkinson's next barked command.

Jody had somehow known all along that that the caning was to be on her BARE bottom! Not for the first time in front of her comrades, the young blonde girl began to remove her uniform. Only that first time in mixed company had been strange: the inevitable remarks had been passed, but Jody had retaliated by joking about the blokes' bits and pieces.

This time, however, the feeling was different again. She felt rather like a slave must have felt as she stood in nothing but her matching white bra and panties before the assembled company. There was an air of excitement in the big room. Everyone had already seen what she was made of, but no one had previously laid so much as a finger on her. Maybe that was the difference.

Jody took a deep breath, and her breasts were thrust out as she reached behind her back to unsnick her bra catch. Then she pulled the cups away from her finely-shaped breasts. Semi-naked, she stood at attention. Everyone, the dark-haired Kirsty included, scrutinised her near nudity.

"Will someone take her knickers off!" barked Wilkinson. "She doesn't seem to want to do so herself."

It was Kirsty who volunteered. As though it were a well-practised drill move, she stepped several paces forward, yanked down the hapless blonde's last item of clothing, and marched smartly back again.

The long-limbed, athletic girl soldier with the high cheekbones and wide-set blue eyes had everything in the right place. Her breasts, whilst not overly large, were a perfect shape and the nipples were pink and dainty. She wanted to move her hands in front of the spreading curls of her light pubic hair, but dare not. Her bush did little to hide the beginning of her pink gash.

"Stretch over the table!"

The abrupt instruction was accompanied by a grim smile. "Let's have that lovely bottom nice and high." The Corporal reached for a pillow and placed it over one end of the table so that her rear would be elevated.

It suddenly dawned on Jody that she wouldn't be the first female soldier to have felt the Corporal's cane. Why else would he have such an implement in his room? Not only that, but the way he'd put the pillow on the end of the table indicated that he was no novice at this. She then had a nagging thought that the Colonel himself probably DID know about the canings and turned a blind eye to them. He might even be encouraging them!

There were sickly grins on the faces of her male colleagues as the naked and nubile female soldier approached the wooden table. Taking a deep breath, she folded herself over it so that her mound was pressed into the pillow.

"Pull her up a bit more!" instructed the Corporal. "Her arse isn't high enough."

Eager hands pulled her further along the table-top until the tips of her toes were just touching the shiny floor and her breasts were squashed against the cold surface.

The ripe swellings of Jody's buttocks were exposed in all their naked glory. She kept her thighs pressed together and hoped she'd be able to keep them shut for the duration of the coming ordeal.

"Her arse looks better than ever," whispered the soldier who had admired her shape in the showers on that fateful day.

"We'll all need a cold shower after this," sniggered his pal.

Corporal Wilkinson stepped smartly forward, his cane held upwards like the sword of an officer on ceremonial duty.

This was the worst moment of young Jody's life. Her whole body twitched as she felt something cold and hard touch her waiting, trembling bum. In order to measure his stance, the NCO had pressed the cane across her buttocks, making a deep vale in the tender flesh.

The girl held her breath. For some reason, she glanced behind her and saw the awful cane poised in the air. Kirsty was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Jody just hoped the dark-haired girl got a taste of the same medicine before training was over.

As Jody turned her head away, she heard the SWISSHHH of the thin wood as it sliced through the air waves.


Next second it had thudded its way into her bottom. The impact of the cane on the upstretched bum was like a pistol shot. Jody's pretty mouth stretched wide in a wail as her bottom was suddenly injected with hurt.

None of the observers had ever seen anyone caned before, and they watched in awe as a whitish, soon to redden, line appeared across both of Jody's luscious bottom-cheeks.

Before she had become used to the shocking pain, the cane descended to bounce once more off the offered buttocks.

"Aagghhh!" cried out Jody, pressing herself into the pillow in her groin. The peach cleft tightened to a vertical line, now bisected by two horizontal streaks, one inch apart. The tormented cheeks clenched and unclenched, accompanied by a wriggling of Jody's toes.

Again she heard the whistling rush behind her. It was a sound she knew she would never forget.


The rattan struck hard on to a slightly higher area than before. Jody's bum-cheeks jerked with the sharpness of the additional pain. How on earth could she possibly last out for another nine of these?

Again the cane rose, quivered, and flew to its rounded target.

"Aaaggghhh!" cried Jody, knowing all too well that the wand had bitten into her nates lower down that time.

She clenched her fists and pressed her mound into the minimal comfort of the pillow once more. Her right leg bent involuntarily backwards at the knee, and a gap opened up between her pearly thighs when it was straightened again.

The burning pain had barely subsided than she heard the terrifying whirr once more.


"OWWwwwwww!" she wailed in a shrill voice.

Jody's helpless behind, now flushed and striped, rotated wildly. Her long, elegant toes danced on the floor and her thighs abandoned the visual protection they had previously afforded, so that those parts of herself which Jody had thus far kept hidden were lewdly displayed for all to see.

The sight was, naturally, much appreciated, but many of the male recruits had grim faces and balled fists, just the same. Kirsty looked worried; it had dawned on her that the awful Corporal Wilkinson might find an excuse to do the same to her!

The steely blue eyes of the man in charge were alive with enthusiasm. He held the cane high in the air and put all his force into the sixth stroke across the girl's already well-whipped posteriors.

The CRACK rang out angrily. Jody's entire bottom leaped frantically with the impact and she let loose a screech that threatened to call out the guard.

Jody's frantic breath now began to come in uneven gasps. She was really struggling to cope with her suffering – a suffering that was only half over. It felt as though her brain was aflame. Her distressed sit-upon certainly was!

The previous lashing stroke had landed diagonally across the stripes caused by the five earlier horizontal ones, and ebbing pain had thus been reignited to cause an explosion of renewed hurt.

Wilkinson paused at the halfway stage. Jody, however, just wanted him to carry on, dreadful though it was. And continue he did, pausing maliciously between each remaining, agonising stroke. Jody's bare, latticed bottom gyrated lewdly with each forceful impact of the deftly applied cane. Every line was a vivid red and the skin around each was flushed a deep pink.

Each swipe of the thin stick across her normally so-lovely buttocks produced a jerking back of Jody's head, accompanied by a wail of distress from the back of her throat. Her fingertips scrabbled against the highly-polished table-top and her toes fluttered and skidded on the equally well-shone floor.

When the time had been reached for the final stroke to be delivered, Jody was sobbing uncontrollably. Her behind felt like a furnace. Tentacles of fire had engulfed her body and brain. She sucked her lower lip, awaiting the merciful end to her ordeal.

For the first time, the stern-faced NCO slightly changed his stance. Those watching knew he was up to something devilish. Jody realised just what he was going to do when she felt the cool wood kissing the join of her thighs and deeply-scored nates.

"Nooooooo!" she pleaded, imagining the further torment about to be inflicted. Her spread-cheeked behind waggled furiously, but it didn't put Wilkinson off his aim. Like the true marksman he was, he landed his pain-imparting rattan wand exactly where it had kissed the target on its recent reconnaissance.


This time the feel of the cane was far from cool. It was white hot! Jody screamed and thrashed her legs like a demented frog...

* * *

It was towards the end of training that Kirsty gave cause to receive a summary punishment as an alternative to appearing before the Colonel. She had been caught in a compromising position with a young squaddie. The Army of the new century frowned upon such things – on duty, at any rate!

As Jody watched the first red stripe appear on her colleague's satiny-silk flesh, she forgave her for grinning when she herself had been in that same position over the table.

The blonde-haired girl soldier was absolutely certain by now that the Commanding Officer was aware of such 'goings-on'. Her father was due to retire soon, and she had decided to wait until he was a former Colonel before she questioned him about it.

Jody knew she could have revealed her identity to Wilkinson, and he wouldn't have dared touch her. She was glad, however, that she had not given way under duress and revealed that she was the daughter of the Commanding Officer.

Jody thought she was going to make a very good soldier!

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