Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Boot camp goes wrong - the end.

Sep 21, 2013
Sergeant Charlotte Sinclair stood in front of her desk, watching the latest cadet head off to the dorm to change into the regulation uniform she would wear for the next three weeks. Known to her friends as Charlie, she was otherwise known in the camp as Ma'am, except for the commander of the camp, Major Nigel Potter, who variously called her Sergeant, Charlie, sugar lips, and a ball-breaking bitch.

Charlotte picked up the file from the top of the pile on her desk as she waited for the next cadet to arrive. Elizabeth Wilson, serial offender, given a last chance to show potential for reform before the court passed sentence. It was a fairly typical story: a child left to run wild by her parents who, by the time they noticed what she was getting into, had no means to control her. Or the will. By 16 she was living on the streets, and surviving, besting the delinquents, dealers and other trouble makers she met there. Her response to any challenge was to attack. She'd attacked church workers who tried to help her and now gave her a wide berth, police who now sent a swat team when they had to arrest her, and judges who now insisted that she be shackled whenever she was in court.

The door flew open and slammed shut. Lizzie Wilson walked in without the customary knock or the accompanying invitation to enter. She walked up to Charlie until their breasts were almost touching and stared her in the eyes. This was nothing new. Bravado from a street child who had to control and intimidate to survive. She would soon learn, they all did.

'Let's get one thing straight right from the off.' These were standard words when a new cadet arrived, but not when they came from the cadet. Charlotte tried to correct her, but Lizzie ignored the attempt and carried on in full flow. 'I'm going to do what I need to do to avoid going to prison, so you can put that into my report right now. Word is that you're the toughest Sergeant in the camp. Well, that doesn't impress me. I just want you to know that I'm going to make you my bitch. Understand? By the time I leave, you will kneel down and crawl to me when I enter the room. Just like you do for that cute Major.'

Sinclair was used to insolence, but this was at an entirely new level. And, this is what shook her most, not only did Wilson already know about her relationship with Potter, but she knew some of the games they liked to play as well. She was still trying to formulate a reply when Lizzie was opening the door to leave. 'By the way,' she sneered, 'I've seen those disgusting clothes you've issued for me and I just want you to know I won't be seen dead in those bra and pants. When you see me later, I'll be butt naked under those fatigues, full commando. That'll give you something to think about.'

And with that she was gone.
The cadets emerged muddy and exhausted from their attempts to navigate the assault course, supervised and assisted by Sergeant Sinclair and several instructors. Charlotte had just returned to her office when the door flew open behind her. She spun round to find herself inches away from Lizzie Wilson, splattered with mud and red in the face.

'Bitch,' she spat at Charlotte, her spittle spraying the front of her blouse, 'fucking bitch. That was deliberate and you know it. Damn you. You were that close,' she pushed her thumb and index finger into the Sergeant's face – the gap was half and inch or less, 'that close to being put over my knee and given a good spanking.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Charlotte tried to keep her tone level.

'Like fuck you don't. You mean you don't remember sticking that fat finger of yours up my ass and pushing me over the wall into ankle deep mud?'

Charlotte did remember and had had to bite her cheek to stop herself laughing at the fury on Lizzie's face when she rose from the mud in front of the other cadets. She had looked a fool, which of course was what Charlotte intended. The fact that her finger just happened to be aligned with the cadet's asshole was pure coincidence.

'It's no good denying it. Everyone knows that's one of your tricks. I just can't believe that you had the balls to pull it on me. Just remember, you pay for that before the week is out, just you mark my words, Charlie darling.'
The next morning the cadets were ordered to parade in the gym wearing shorts and t-shirts. Sergeant Sinclair and the other instructors were wearing the same. Sinclair's tight shorts showed off a thick pussy with bulging camel toe.

'Today,' the serjeant addressed the cadets, 'we are going to consider confidence. The ability to handle yourself in any situation, to respond as that situation demands. If necessary, the means protecting yourself physically. So,' she drew a deep breath, 'we will practice some self defence tactics.'

She looked around. Wilson was grinning at her. Time to put the plan into action. It had worked before, so why not now? Why indeed?

'Wilson, step out here. We will demonstrate, then the others will pair off and copy what we do.'

Wilson strolled nonchalantly forward and stopped a few feet away. She eyes the serjeant as if she were prey.

'Attack me,' Seymour's voice was loud, too loud perhaps. Had she betrayed her nervousness?

'How do you want it?' Wilson's voice was sly, shot through with innuendo.

'Anyway you want.'

Wilson moved swiftly forward, shot out both hands, and took a firm grip on each of Seymour's small breasts. The Serjeant immediately brought her hands together, forced her arms up between Wilson's, releasing her grip, and grabbed one of her arms, before spinning her round and knocking her face down. With the cadet on the floor, she dropped onto her back, pinning her to the floor.

'That was easy for you, wasn't it.' Wilson's voice barely carried to the serjeant. 'They're too small for me to get a proper grip. Mine were bigger than yours are now when I was 10.'

Seymour ignored her and addressed the other cadets.

'Try that one. Use your arms to force your opponent's apart, spin them and topple them, then pin them down. Speed is important.'

She rose. Freed, Wilson rose to her feet and rubbed her breasts.

'That was deliberate, wasn't it. The Major won't be pleased with you when he sees my bruises.'

The further reference to her commanding officer shook Sinclair, but she concentrated on the other cadets, before finally coming back to face Wilson.

'Try something else, something different.'

Again Wilson moved swiftly. This time she collided with the serjeant and reached round to clamp onto her buttocks. Immediately, Sinclair had locked her hands over Wilson's wrists, forced her arms outwards and pushed forward, tripping the cadet onto her back, and landing on top of her, pinning her shoulders to the floor with her knees. She looked down at the girl's grinning face.

'You've got a tight ass,' the words floated up from the floor. 'I bet your Major is a nice tight fit up there.'

Sinclair held her in place as she directed the others to practice similar manoeuvres.

'You've got the hots for me, having you.' Wilson was getting more brazen, her voice louder now that her words were covered by the noise of the unarmed combat around them. 'I can smell your cunt from here.'

The sergeant ignored Wilson's insults and watched the performance of the others. She then spent some time demonstrating some moves before turning her attention make to Wilson.

'Come on,' she commanded, 'show us your next move.'

Wilson wasted no time. She shot forward, her hand outstretched towards the serjeant's crotch. Sinclair anticipated, as she was intended to, and grabbed the wrist. Wilson closed in, twisting her arm to turn the Serjeant's wrist against the joint, causing her to break the hold. At the same time, she used her free hand to reach over, take a firm grip on her t-shirt and pull it over her head. As soon as her other arm was free, she took hold of the back of the serjeant's bra and pulled that over her head as well.

The serjeant was trapped. Her arms were tangled in her clothes, which covered her head and her chance to see what her opponent was up to. She struggled in an attempt to free her arms, but they merely became entangled. And Wilson was pulling at the clothes, throwing the serjeant off balance. The other cadets had been stunned, thinking that this must be some plan by their serjeant to show them how to fend off this sort of attack As soon as realisation dawned, they began laughing and cheering Wilson on, calling out suggestions for further humiliation to heap on their serjeant.

The instructors stood back, not daring to intervene and incur their sergeant's wrath, and secretly enjoying the show.
Wilson began throwing Sinclair in faster and faster circles, before letting her go, spinning across the gym before colliding with the wall bars and collapsing in a heap. Realising she was free, Seymour quickly threw off her t-shirt and bra and rose, flushed and flustered, to advance on her adversary. Wilson instantly dropped into a crouch, the classic stance of a street fighter, dodging from side to side to thwart any attack.

Freed from her entanglement, the sergeant switched tactics into street fighter mode. Feinting left and right she approached her prey and then threw herself into a roll that took her to Wilson's feet. Taken unawares by this swift trick, Wilson was unprepared for the fist that shot into her crotch, sending her staggering backwards. She teetered for a moment, before slumping to the floor where she rocked back and forth, her hands thrust between her thighs, moaning and cursing.

Sinclair shook her head, blew hard and retrieved her t-shirt. She gave a curt nod in the direction of a pair of instructors, which they interpreted as a signal to go to the aid of the cadet who was now trembling. Having dressed herself again, she turned to the squad.

'You've seen a valuable demonstration of how to adjust your tactics to your opponent's tricks.' She blew hard again, like a bull snorting, before continuing. 'That may be a little advanced for most of you at this stage. Pair up again and try something different. Get used to anticipating and responding.'

It came as no surprise when Wilson stormed into Sinclair's room that afternoon. Unlike her previous visits, she did not approach, but stayed by the door. Her face was pale and her voice shaking when she finally spoke. 'You'll regret doing that, Charlie my darling, oh yes, you will regret that so much.'

For once she closed the door quietly as she left.
Major Nigel Peters, the commander of the Camp, leaned back in his chair and looked down the table at the five sergeants, each in charge of one of the squads at the Camp.

'Thank you for your detailed reports on progress. I think that will be all for today. Please report again at the end of this week.' His language was, as it always was, precise. He didn't rise. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. The Sergeant knew the reason. He did not want to display his prominent erection. And she knew who was the cause of it. At least, she hoped she did.

The serjeants rose. Charlie, who had sat closest to the door, directly facing the Major, stood back to allow her colleagues to troop out before her. Just in case.

'Sergeant Sinclair, a word if I might.'

His clipped tones sent a quiver down her spine and made her ass clench. She closed the door, turned and walked smartly across the room, taking the seat next to him, hoping that perhaps his wife might be away again soon.

Their knees were close enough to touch and, when they did, neither moved away.

'It's about Wilson,' the Major came straight to business.

Sinclair waited.

'I heard what happened,' Peters continued, 'the whole camp has heard.'

Still Sinclair waited.

'She made a laughing stock of you.'

'I know, Sir,' Sinclair spoke at last. He was right. That was exactly what Wilson had done.

'I suppose we could send her back to the court for immediate sentence. That's allowed for particularly recalcitrant cadets.'

Sinclair tried to read his expression, or his tone, anything to give her a clue that he was on her side. But he was inscrutable. Like always.

'But,' the Major continued, 'I am reluctant to take that step, at least so soon in the course. It would be an admission of failure – your failure, Sergeant, an acknowledgement that you could not cope.'

Sergeant, that was what he had called her. If only he had said Charlie, just once, that would have meant so much to her.

'Or,' the Major paused, 'or I could transfer her to another squad.'

Sinclair felt her stomach churn.

'No, Major, please, not that.' She would not be able to bear that humiliation. It would mean the end of her career.

'So what do you suggest, Sergeant?'

Sinclair thought.

'I've had cadets like her before and they came round, eventually. But for some, and Wilson is one of them, only physical discipline works. I know we try to take a more psychological approach nowadays, but in extreme cases-' She left the sentence hanging, hoping for his support.

But it did not come.

'That is a matter for your judgement.' He was distancing himself from her. Her only consolation was that their knees were still touching.

Message received and understood.

'I won't let you down,' she risked resting her hand on the Major's arm, 'I promise, Nigel.'

He did not remove her hand and, after a while, she felt him relax.

'Fuck, Charlie, I wish I had seen that fight you had with Wilson.'

Yes, she bet he did. His cock was probably throbbing right now at the images in his mind.

Their knees were still touching.

'Anything else, Sir?' She so hoped there was something else.

'No, nothing else, thank you, Sergeant. That will be all. Keep me informed.'

She wanted to kiss him, especially when he was being so precise and stern. It turned her on, as he knew perfectly well. She nudged his knee with hers, but elicited no reaction.

At the door, she turned to salute, but the Major was already back at his desk, sorting through files.
The next morning, the squad paraded in their running gear.

'Set a good pace,' Sergeant Sinclair told her instructors. 'Let's work off some of their surplus energy. I'll bring up the rear to chase any stragglers.'

Off they went, the instructors setting a fast pace, across the parade ground, out of the camp and into the surrounding hills. Half way to the top of a trail, the narrow route worked along the edge of a wooded valley. With the cadets now strung out, Sinclair was a long way off the head of the pack. When the cadet ahead of her passed out of sight round a bend, Charlotte put on a spurt to catch her.


Suddenly she was flying, her feet were pulled from under her and a hand in her lower back pushed her off the path and into the undergrowth.

But the hand did not let go. It held on to her shorts. Vaguely aware of what was happening, Charlotte grabbed at the waistband but it was ripped from her hands as she toppled.

She came to a halt half way down the slope, staggered to her feet and scrambled back up to the path. There she stood, wearing now only her running vest and pants, fortunately the green regulation issue rather than the more racy lace ones that she wore if she was going to be seeing the Major. She looked around, but there was no sign of her shorts, only a note on the ground.

'Catch me if you can,' it read. She had no doubt who had left it.

Resigned to the indignity, Charlotte set off at a fast pace to catch the cadets. She found them catching their breath. Some threw sideway glances at her, others studiously looked away. They all knew what had happened and who had been responsible. There was no choice but to continue dressed as she was.

She attracted more attention, including an occasional whistle, when the cadets returned to the camp. All were breathing heavily, including Wilson. Sinclair dismissed them to the showers and headed for her office to collect her uniform.

As she entered the room, she froze. There, sitting in her chair, was Major Nigel Potter.

'I see,' he paused to have a long look at Charlotte's legs, 'that things did not go quite according to plan.'

'At least,' she replied tartly, 'I kept my pants. Otherwise I'd have had to run back naked.'

Both of them took their time to imagine what that would have looked like. Eventually, Nigel rose and approached Charlotte.

'I want this to work out for you, Charlotte, I really do. But there is nothing I can do to help you with this. It's down to you.'

As he headed for the door, Charlotte gave in to her emotions. Her voice shrill, she cried out, 'Are you screwing that bitch Wilson? Tell me, please. I need to know.'

Nigel did not answer and did not look back as he left the office.
Charlotte was not sure if she was more annoyed with Lizzie Wilson or Nigel Potter. She needed to get away from the poisonous atmosphere of the camp and restore her self esteem. Which is why late on the Friday evening she was striding down the main street of the town beyond the camp, dressed in white thigh boots, black fishnets, short red leather skirt, and white blouse. Beneath her clothes, she wore a pink bra and panties. And her long red hair was flowing behind her as she headed for her car.

Heads turned as she passed. Few recognised her, especially those who were used to seeing her in a tight beige uniform with her hair pulled into a severe bun. But some did.

She was approaching an alley when she spotted a party of revellers approaching. They were spread out across the sidewalk and made no sign of making way for Grace. It was dark between the street lights and the women were milling around each other, making it difficult to see their faces.

When it happened, it took Charlotte entirely by surprise. As she passed through the revellers, hands grabbed her arms in a tight grip, while a fist pistoned into her buy. Caught unawares and not braced for the blow, all Charlotte could manage was a grunt before the hands on her arms pulled her back, dragging her into the alley. Once there, she was rammed against the rough wall as a hard punch hit her first in the left kidney, then the right. pulled back and spun round, blows rained down on her. Punches to her tits, stomach and abdomen. More than Charlotte could count and too many from too many directions for her to protect herself.

Hands now took hold of her ankles and whipped her legs from under her. Punches were now replaced by kicks, from both sides. Charlotte rolled into a ball to protect herself, but the kicks continued along her spine and across her lower back.

For a moment there was respite, but Charlotte had no time to relax before her wrists and ankles were in firm grips and being pulled, leaving her spreadeagles on the cobbles. She was aware of only a blur of movement before the first kick caught her in the crotch. There was one blissful second of calm and peace before the pain registered in her brain. Another kick followed, then another, then another, was it five or six in all? She had reached the verge of passing out from the pain, when light flashed in her eyes.

'What's going on? Police, stop, stand back, against the wall.'

Charlotte's attackers ignored the orders, but let go of Charlotte, and charged the officer, knocking her to the ground and trampling her on the way out of the alley. The officer scrambled her to feet and rushed over to Charlotte.

'Are you OK?'

Charlotte's answer was to double up and vomit at the officer's feet.

'N-n-n-ooo,' she grunted before throwing up again. 'What about you?'

'I'll survive-' the officer tried to laugh her injuries off but then doubled over in pain. She straightened. 'I've had worse, which is why I wear a pussy guard.' She doubled over again. 'But it doesn't work perfectly.'

'I need to get to my car. I'll be OK then.' Charlotte wanted to get back to the camp and the protection it offered. But the officer was not going to let her go yet.

'Do you know who they were and why they attacked you?'

'I don't know who they are but I'm pretty sure who sent them. I'm from the boot camp.'

The officer searched around for her torch and then helped Charlotte to her feet. As they emerged into the better light of the street, the office got her first good look at Charlotte.

'Fuck me,' she exclaimed. 'WOW.'

This wasn't the first time Charlotte had received a reaction like that. Her butch build and feminine outfits attracted some women. Definitely heterosexual, the sergeant was not averse to a female dalliance when she was in the mood. But now was not one of those times.

'Sorry, officer, maybe another time, but right now I'm not feeling my best.'

The officer, rejected, immediately stepped away. 'No, and you don't look your best either. Forget the lift, make your own way back to your car.' And off she went.
'You took your time.'

The voice came out of the darkness. Charlotte had hobbled back to her car and driven back to the camp. She had managed to reach her apartment on the base without meeting anyone and had just let herself in. The voice had come from the bedroom and it was immediately recognisable. Lizzie Wilson's.

Charlotte stormed into her bedroom, to find Lizzie peering out from under the sheets.

'I wanted to make sure you got back safely.' Her voice was like honey. 'I hear you ran into a spot of bother.'

'Nothing to do with you, of course,' the reply was heavy with sarcasm.

Lizzie ignored it. 'Why not join me. Get a taste of what it's going to be like when you become my bitch.'

Charlotte ripped the sheet off the bed, revealing Lizzie, naked except for a thick strap on. Lizzie laughed as Charlotte lunged for her to be met by a knee in her stomach and sent her to her knees beside the bed.

'Feeling a little sore are you, darling? My friends told me they gave you a good kicking. Just to warm you up for me later.'

A kick in the face left Charlotte dazed and sprawled across the Floor. Before she could recover, Lizzie had pounced, rolling her over, pushing her skirt over her hips and pulling her fishnets and thong off her buttocks. The young woman was between her thighs, rubbing the thick dildo between her cheeks.

'Argh, stop this, damn you, stop this.'

Charlotte clenched her buttocks but could not stop the progress of the dildo as Lizzie forced it into her ass.

'No – no-o-o, OOOWWWWWW.'

Lizzie had Charlotte's hair in her hands now, pulling back hard and riding Charlotte like a stallion.

Desperate to escape, Charlotte summoned all her remaining strength, pushed her hands under her shoulders, and strained as she tried to lift herself on her arms. Slowly at first, then faster, she forced herself upright until, with a final heave, she was able to hoist Lizzie off her back.


More pain as the strapon ripped out of her ass, but she was free.

Before Lizzie had a chance to react, Charlotte spun and lashed out, catching her on the point of her chin and sending her head snapping back onto the floor.

When Lizzie was able to take in what was happening, Charlotte was standing over her, her clothes still in disarray, her make up streaked, her hair tangled, glaring down at her.

'Damn you, Elizabeth Wilson, damn you to hell for what you have done to me. So help me, I am going to have my revenge, even if it means killing you.'

Lizzie lay where she was and burst into laughter.

'You are magnificent when you're angry, Charlotte, you really are.'
Charlotte reached down, picked up Lizzie under her armpits and smashed her back against the door.

'You think I'm angry,' she snapped in Lizzie's face, 'well just hang around how much more angry I'm going to get.'

Again she slammed Lizzie into the door.

'You've got a really tight ass,' Lizzie grinned back at her, obvious to the pain down her spine. 'That Major must be a snug fit up there.'

This earned Lizzie a third smash into the door, but it did not stop her talking.

'Let me put you out of your misery, Charlie, yes, I am fucking your Major. He's had my cunt and my ass and then I sucked him dry. I know what you do to him and what he does to you. Everything.'

Charlie's response was to spit in Lizzie's face.

'And it's not just me. You think you're special, but you're not. He screwing the other sergeants and always has the pick of the cadets. He likes the wildest. Like me.'

Charlotte let go, leaving Lizzie to drop onto her knees.

Lizzie's eyes looked up, sparkling with mischief.

'This is only going to end one way, Charlie Sinclair, and that is with you submitting yourself to me. You'll do it, you know you will, because you can't get the better of me.'

Charlie grabbed a handful of Lizzie's hair and pulled her to her feet.

'Each time we have met one on one I was the one who won, like in the gym, like tonight. You can send a bunch of your buddies after me but one on one you have no chance.'

Once again, Lizzie's response was to laugh.

Charlotte let go, open her door, and propelled Lizzie into the corridor. She slammed the door and went to the window where she saw Lizzie strolling away, naked except for the dildo swaying in front of her.
Major Potter eased his balls as he watched Sergeant Sinclair drill her squad. She had the tightest ass and juiciest cunt of all the sergeants at the camp, just the way he like it. But Cadet Wilson. She was something else, she could teach the sergeants a trick or two. Damn, his balls tightened as he remembered, the way he attacked his foreskin last night, he was afraid she was going to bite it clean off. She had a way of tormenting a guy and leaving him drained that left the Major wanting more.

Those two women were set on a collision course. And he wanted to be there at the end, because there would be a titanic battle. He would be on hand to claim the winner and then, naturally, to console the loser. But which would it be? Charlie had the skill and experience; no one could meet her if they played by the rules. But Lizzie was street wise and knew smarter moves if she was given a chance to use them. Even then, though, Charlie wasn't above some dirty moves herself, especially if her reputation and career were on the line. And they were, very much so. The Major would not be sorry to see her leave; she was becoming clingy and demanding, like she had some special place in his life.

His cock was stiffening as he watched the women running, jumping, bending and stretching, faster and faster as the instructors drove them to up the pace. And all nicely positioned to endure the Major had a good view. He slipped the bolt to lock his door and eased his pants down. His cock slowly unfurled and rose, the head pushing the foreskin aside.

He closed his eyes and recalled the sight of Lizzie kneeling before him, here in his office, his cock as stiff as a flag pole. Her fingers were tickling his balls and making occasional trip in the direction of his ass, while her tongue worked under his foreskin and around his head. Until. God, yes until. His hand worked faster now. Yes, until she began to nibble at it. and then, bite it, pulling it taut. ARGH. He was afraid his scream would be heard, but there was no one about at that time of night.

The women, cadets, sergeants and instructors were all bent over now, asses pointing at his window as if in salute, their fatigue pants stretched tight over asses of all shapes and sizes. The Major's hand worked faster, his chest was tight. If only they were naked, he could inspect them, one at a time, taking as long as he liked.


The shout echoed around his office and he looked down. His orgasm had taken him by surprise, spraying the front of his tunic. Fortunately he had a spare uniform for just such an emergency. He was needing to use it more and more often nowadays.
Last edited:
Sinclair left the parade ground and headed for her quarters. Time for a rest before the afternoon assault course. And a chance to relax in knowing that, with luck, she had put an end to Wilson's antics. The squad had at least got through a morning with no disruptions from that quarter.

But the Sergeant had spoken too soon.

The moment she stepped into her room, everything sent dark. A towel was thrown over her head, she was tripped to the floor, and hands took hold of her legs, pulling off her boots, her fatigues and finally her pants.

She had had little chance to struggle and by the time she had realised what was happening her attackers had gone. She threw away the towel and found her boots and fatigues cast aside. No sign of her pants. Well that was no problem, she had plenty.

Except she could not find any. Not army issue. Not personal, not the ones the Major liked. None.


She picked up her phone and rang the Master Sergeant, asking her to come over. She arrived minutes later, to find Sinclair sitting on her bed naked from the waist with her head in her hands.

'The bitch,' she spluttered, 'she's stolen my pants, every last pair.'

The Master Sergeant hid her grin. 'No worries, just to commando, we've all done that before now.'

Sinclair shook her head.

'No, she's planning something to make a fool of me. It's the assault course this afternoon.'

'OK, look, I know, take mine. They'll be a bit small for you, but they were clean on this morning.'

The Master Sergeant stripped off her pants and handed them over. Regulation green. Hipster style. But smaller by at least two sizes and a tight fit across the crotch.

An hour later, Sinclair was chasing the cadets around the assault course. She was leading the way, hanging from overhead bars, swinging from one to the next, when she felt the hands at her waist. In a second, her fatigues were hanging round her ankles and her ass was displayed in the snug pants.

She almost laughed out loud.

The culprit was nowhere in sight, but she would be wondering how Sinclair had got out the trap she had set for her.

The game was not over yet.
Sinclair was not going to be caught out, not twice in the same day. As she returned to her quarters, she watched out for any sign of an ambush, and when she reached her door she let it swing open before stepping inside.

There on the bed, propped up against the wall, was Wilson, grinning.

'Hi, Charlie, you got one over on me that time. Who lent you those pants? They were way too small to be yours.'

Sinclair stepped inside, glanced around quickly, and closed the door.

'Let's have a time out,' Wilson's voice was soft and soothing. 'Just to show my good intentions, I've brought your pants back.' Here eyes shifted to a bag on the table.

Sinclair shuffled towards it, her eyes fixed on the bed. Lifting the bag, she felt inside, removed a handful of her underwear. A quick flick of her eyes told it they were hers.

'I keep my promises,' Wilson's voice was silky. 'I promised to make you my bitch and I will. And now I am promising this is time out, just the two of us, no tricks. Come on, come over here, you know you want to.'

As Sinclair approached the bed, Wilson reached out and drew her closer. A few quick movements of the cadet's wrists and the Sergeant's fatigues were around her ankles. Wilson's leaned forward to inspect her crotch. You've got a really plump pussy. Jenny spotted it right away; she can't stop talking about. She told us she wanted to eat you out as you hung there on those bars. Fuck that would have been so hot.'

She reached up, unbuttoning Sinclair's blouse. Her fingers traced the edges of the bruises that were developing on the Sergeant's torso.

'They gave you a good working over, didn't they, those friends of mine. Pity that dyke of an officer broke up the party.' She pressed each bruise hard, but Sinclair did not react until Wilson's fingers pinched the thick lips of her pussy and twisted hard.


'Painful, eh. My guess is that you like pain. I hope so because there's going to be plenty of it. Now let's get our kit off and get down to business.'

The two woman lay beside each other, stroking and exploring each other, using tongues and lips and fingers. As their lips approached for their first kiss, Sinclair shifted her weight and rolled on top of Wilson, her thighs pinning the cadet's, her hands pressing down her shoulders. She lowered herself and kissed the young woman hard.

Wilson laughed.

'You're feisty, Charlies, I'm going to enjoy breaking you.'

Their eyes, each glowing in challenge to the other.

'I'm going to take your balls, Lizzie, castrate the street bitch and send her back like a pussy cat.'
Lizzie held Charlie's gaze, for a long time.

'So you think I have balls, eh, look that Major. Well there are no balls between my legs, honey. Get down there and have a good look.'

Sinclair did not need to look, but she accepted the invitation and slid off the bed, lowering her face to Wilson's crotch.

She stared for a while before raising her head.

'Nope, you're right, baby kitten, no sign of any balls. But you do stink like an alley cat.'

She was right, the cadet had come straight to Charlie's quarters without passing through a shower first.

'Yep, you stink, stink of stale sweat and rank piss. My favourite perfume.'

Charlie spread her tongue and licked Lizzie's pussy clean.

'That's better and I still can't see any balls. But I can see a clit twitching away down there. So I'll just have to bite that off instead.'

Without giving Wilson a chance to protect herself, Sinclair sank her teeth into the small clit, grinding and pulling.

Wilson writhed and cursed and swore, grabbing handfuls of Charlie's hair and trying to pull her off, which only made the pain worse when Charlie failed to loosen her grip. Instead she threw her head from side to side, her eyes watching the cadet's face.

'Bitch, goddam you, bitch, fucking stop this or I'll piss in your face.'

Charlie's response was to slip a finger up Wilson's ass, making her shudder and squirm and moan, while Charlie's jaw stayed clamped on her clit.
Charlie now brought her left hand into play, penetrating Lizzie's cunt with two fingers, beckoning with them until she hit the spot.

Lizzie immediately began writhing as one of Charlie's hands worked her ass and the her pussy, while her teeth continued to gnaw at her clit.

Soon, Lizzie's hips were bucking and her thighs shaking.

'Damn you, Charlotte Sinclair, damn you to hell and back.'

Charlies worked her harder, holding her close to orgasm but never letting it develop, easing off as Lizzie's moans grew louder.

Finally, she let it happen, working her fingers harder and faster, as Lizzie shook and howled.

When she finally cam, she threw her legs round Charlie's neck, pulling her tight into her crotch. As she went limp, Charlie eased off, until she finally pushed the legs aside.

'You see,' she rose on her knees, 'you've never known what it is like to be controlled before. All this show you put on is just a front, hiding what you really want.'

She leaned forward and brought her lips in contact with the cadets. She spoke with their lips in contact,.

'Taste you cunt, Elizabeth Wilson, taste your cunt. And admit that this is what you really want. You want to give yourself to me. Come on, admit it. Give yourself to me.'
But Lizzie did not succumb to Charlie's invitation and the pair fell into a peaceful sleep in each other's arms.

Lizzie was the first to wake and slid out from under Charlie's weight.

For a while, she stood and gazed down at the Sergeant before she began to stroke her.

Charlie stirred to find herself being caressed with the tip of the cadet's finger. She lay back, allowing Lizzie to follow the trail wherever it led her. and it led all over the Sergeant's body, but always avoiding any erogenous zone, approaching but never reaching, withdrawing and moving elsewhere, only to skirt away on a safer route.

Steadily, Charlie began more aroused, as much by the anticipation as by Lizzie's touch, tensing herself for what, in the event, never happened. Her breathing came faster and she began to shift around, hoping that Lizzie's finger might accidently come into contact with a nipple, her labia, her clit or even her throat or ear lobe or lips, but the cadet was always too fast for her.

For over half an hour, Lizzie continued the torment until she finally leaned close to Charlie's ear.

'This won't end until you beg me to finish it.'

But Charlie shook her head. She must not let herself give in.

Another quarter of an hour and the torment still continued before Lizzie whispered again.

'Just one word, darling, that is all it will take.'

Again, Charlie shook her head.

Finally after an hour, with Lizzie's fingers gliding over Charlie's ass, the Sergeant hissed.

'OK, bitch, OK.'

But Lizzie did not change course.

Until, finally, Charlie cried out: 'PLEASE.'

Lizzie responded instantly, spreading Charlie's cheeks wide, and licking swiftly along her crack. Charlie moaned, lifting her hips to press against the cadet's face.

'Just do it, for fuck's sake,' Charlies cried out, 'you know what I want, give it to me.'

Lizzie rolled her tongue and eased it into Charlie's hole.

'FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK' Charlie screamed as Lizzie worked her tongue in and out, in and out, in and out.

When Lizzie finally finished, she dealt Charlie a resounding smack across her cheeks and sat back on her heels, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat.
'Nigel, no, please, you can't be serious.'

Charlotte had been summoned to the Major's office and told in the plainest terms that this tension – Nigel was fond of pompous and understated language – had to stop, and he knew just the way to do it.

To her surprise, he did not reprimand her for using his first name when they were on duty.

'Charlotte, believe me, this is for the best, for you, for the cadet, for the Camp.'

'But,' Charlotte protested, 'she's devious, there is no telling what tricks she will pull.'

'No,' Nigel's voice was firm, 'there will be no tricks, not from her and not from you either.'

'But how can you be sure?'

'I can be sure, Charlotte, because I will be there to ensure fair play, on both sides.'

'And you'll be able to ensure that fair play favours me, won't you.' Her hand reached out and stroked the bulge in his fatigues. He was hard, like she knew he would be, standing this close to her, there was no way he could resist. She spread her thighs and squatted, reaching up to unfasten his belt.

'Sergeant, please, remember where you are, the door isn't bolted.'

She knew that and she didn't care.

'I know, Major,' she slipped easily back into the military titles, 'and I don't give a fuck, not even if the entire Camp marches in and watches me give you a blowjob.'

His cock was waving in her face, he was as turned on at the risk as she was, although they both knew that discovery would mean the end of their careers.

Her tongue reached out and slowly licked along he length of his shaft.

'No,' she gasped and spat, 'no. God damn, Nigel, you've been fucking. And not with your wife, I know what her cunt juices taste like.' A thought struck her. 'NO, tell me, NO NO NO, it can't be. You've not been fucking that trailer trash Wilson.'

Nigel said nothing.

'Bastard,' she snapped, 'well I'll be there, 9 am in the gym, Saturday morning, like you want. And I kick that little bitches ass from here to hell and back, and you can stand there and get yourself off watching it happen.'

With that, she stormed out, leaving her commanding officer half naked with a hard-on and the door of his office wide open.
What are you doing here?

Waiting for you.

How did you know I'd be here?

The same way you knew I'd be coming.

Yeah, this is about us, right? Just the two of us.

We don't need anyone else. We don't need others gawping or the Major playing with his little willy.

It's not that little.

No, you're right, it's not, thank goodness. But this is nothing to do with him anyway. We need to settle this.

That OK with me, if that's what you want.

OK, let's strip off and get on with it before someone finds us in here.

They won't, I blocked the door. No one can get in. It's just us, the two of us.

How do we decide who's won?

Submission. That's what this is about after all, submission. One of us has to accept that she's the sub and the other the dom. Once that's sorted, everything will be perfect. This – this thing – this thing between us has always been about that one thing, hasn't it.

We could just fuck.

Yeah, we could do that and we will do that, later, when it's sorted between us. Fucking will just postpone the problem.

Right, let's get on with it.

Why are you just standing there? We're supposed to be fighting.

Are we? You want to fight. You want to beat the grap out of me. Go on, get it off your chest. It won't make any difference, I'm certainly not going to submit. But you want to do it, so I'm letting you. So what's the problem?

I don't want to hurt you.

I'm sure you do. Just do it. Go on, hit me any where you want, as hard as you like. I can take it.

I know you can.

We both can.

Which makes this pointless, doesn't it. Seeing who will give in and accept that the other owns them. Fighting is irrelevant. It was Nigel's idea, because it turns him on to have two women fighting.

And what happens to the fight, the one Nigel organised?

It won't happen. He'll turn up, but we won't.

Maybe we should wait and fuck him.

Together, you mean?

Yeah, he's not plenty to go round.

Do you think so?

I know so.


OK what?

I admit it, I need you, on any terms you like. Just take me, make me your bitch, own me. Please.

You've know this was inevitable, right from the start.

I know. We both have, from the moment we set eyes on each other.
Top Bottom