Duty, Honor, Country       by: Brandy Dewinter

 

Chapter 6 - Tranquil?

When Sandy awoke the next day, her first impression was pain. The trauma of the previous night was almost too much for her mind to accept. Her memories were distant, disjointed, disconnected. She remembered enough to understand the source of the pains that assailed her and deep shame added its burden to the load she carried. The transformed soldier wept silently in her bed, sure what she perceived as her weakness had betrayed the team, and Marilyn. The nurse noticed her stress on the monitors and was soon at her side.

"Now just relax, honey, you’re fine now," she tried to reassure the sobbing girl.

Sandy couldn’t speak to answer her, her throat was as choked as any intruder from the night before had made it. She just shook her head in helpless negation and let the tears run down her bruised cheeks.

"Do you hurt bad?" the nurse asked. "The doctor said I can’t give you anything unless I call him. Do you want me to call him?"

Sandy just wanted to be alone in her misery, so she gave another negative shake and looked away at the blank wall. The nurse went back to her station and called the doctor anyway. He happened to be talking with Marilyn about Sandy’s prognosis. The blonde team leader overheard enough of the conversation to realize that Sandy was awake and Marilyn was on her way to the room before the doctor even hung up. Once at her bedside, Marilyn just leaned over and gave Sandy a long, warm, gentle hug, cradling her in her arms. Sandy turned to Marilyn’s breast like a child to her mother and shook with deep sobs that were too overwhelming to allow recognition of how the motion was aggravating the physical pains that assailed her.

"It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay now," Marilyn murmured monotonous assurances that meant no more, and no less, than the gentle stroking of the girl’s hair. The doctor stood quietly by as the two teammates shared a closeness that was more than comrades in arms. After an interval that seemed forever, yet was only a few minutes, the wracking sobs diminished and Sandy’s crystal green eyes looked up to meet the brilliant blues of her comforter.

"I’m so sorry, Marilyn," she whimpered.

"No. You’re not," Marilyn declared with deliberate flatness, an absolute, unequivocal order from a general to a private. It shocked Sandy, as it was supposed to do. She pulled back further to get a better look at Marilyn and saw fierce determination in those eyes that had moments ago seemed so softly comforting.

"You performed magnificently," Marilyn continued. "Two of those pigs were out of the picture, a third would have been for long enough for you to get away. There aren’t more than three or four soldiers in any army that can take on three street thugs while wearing 5-inch spikes and a tight skirt, let alone beat the crap out of them. All of those who can are part of our team. Your only problem was that there were more than three of the pigs, and that’s not your fault, it’s mine. I didn’t let the team work together, I sent you out alone. But I do have a job for you, and I expect your best efforts, just as you have always given me your best efforts."

The doctor looked like he wanted to intrude, but Marilyn was sure Sandy needed the emotional reassurance that she was still valuable to the team, and personally to her leader, more than any physical comfort. She held him off with a glance that revealed the strength of will that had gotten her this job in the first place, then waved him out of the room.

"Since you earned the right not to participate in our El Supremo’s class today," Marilyn began with a reminder of the happy time before the tragedy, "I’m going to get you started on the next phase of our training. Beginning later this morning a language instructor will come in. Don’t tell any of the other girls, yet, but you may be able to tell from the language where we’re going. I’ll tell you now, it’s not a Latino country and the dictator doesn’t really call himself El Supremo, though he likes the equivalent in his language. I expect you to become our language expert since you’ll have some idle time on your hands for a few days. I won’t insult you by telling you to do your best to get better, but we need you looking beautiful before we can go on the mission, so keep that in mind also. Any questions?"

Sandy’s wide eyes betrayed her shock at the sudden turn of events. She had felt broken and useless, only to be complimented and confirmed in absolute terms as still part of the team. Motivation takes many forms, but Marilyn had learned to push Sandy’s buttons with sure reliability and the green-eyed brunette was lifted from the depths to the heights with a couple of simple orders, most of which promised hard work and struggle, followed by danger. Well, Marilyn had picked her team carefully, more carefully than most of them knew. She stood up slowly, knowing that jiggling Sandy’s tortured body was to be avoided if possible, then turned to leave.

As she did, she heard a quiet voice from Sandy, "Thank you."

Marilyn nodded abruptly as though it were only to be expected that she would properly use the resources of the team, and that Sandy’s role was just as reasonable. She didn’t turn back, though, because the film that filled her sparkling blue eyes would have destroyed the image of command she had used to snap Sandy from her despair. She strode as quickly from the room as her towering heels and habitual wiggle would allow, looking now for the doctor. He was allowed to tend to his patient, an embarrassing but necessary interlude that would be repeated many times over the next few days. Sandy recovered quickly, though. Her renewed sense of purpose was supported by visits from her friends. They smuggled her treats from the dining room, some of which extracted a painful price a day or so later when their remnants worked their way to their ultimate destination, but Sandy loved them anyway. The language training occupied her for several hours each day and she still practiced at her barely-adequate lock-picking skills whenever she had a moment to spare. After a week she was allowed to return to her room. She still didn’t move with the liquid grace she had shown before, but she looked better, the bruises gradually fading, the cuts on her lip slowly shrinking.

In her room she found an article from a local paper about the aftermath of her assault. Five gang members had been found dead in an alley, all with broken necks. One also had a fractured skull from being crushed against a truck window, one was blinded and almost castrated from some sort of penetrating trauma. One had a broken nose and teeth from sometime before he received the deathblow to his neck. Signs of sexual assault indicated that a rape in progress had been broken up, with fatal results for the attackers. The paper reported that the strength of the retribution indicated that some group of men must have been involved in the rescue, since women were not considered capable of applying such force. The police were looking for a woman accompanied by at least a couple of men, and possibly another woman. If anyone had seen anything in the alley, please notify such and such, etc. An editorial was clipped to the article that expressed due concern about vigilantism, but expressed no regret that the gang members had been dealt with so severely.

After another week she was physically healed, and in another she had re-learned her feminine skills. The pain of her assault lurked in her eyes, though, adding to the damsel-in-distress appearance in a way none of them would have wanted, but which was nonetheless impossibly effective. She was more desirable than ever, more certain to invoke help from any men she encountered who had even the faintest sense of chivalry, or of true masculine responsibility.

All quiet times must come to an end, though, and when she was as fully recovered as she was likely to get, Sandy returned to the unarmed combat mat against El Supremo. Everyone, most of all Sandy, was shocked at her new lethal effectiveness. She managed to hold a potentially killing stroke by only the barest of margins, at the last second flattening a hand that would have crushed a larynx into a resounding slap. It scared her, terrified El Supremo, and got her excused from further practice. It was clear that her reflexes had chosen the path of attack rather than defense when confronted by a masculine threat, and that her skills had not been lost through the trauma. Her problem, if it was a problem, was control. There was a fierce anger within her now that made her deadly in a way none of the others could match.

That wasn’t the end of the surprises for the day, however. Marilyn finally told the rest of the team of their destination and they had the first briefing on their actual attack plan. It was deceptively simple. They would merely allow themselves to be captured as harem slaves. All initial captives were kept inviolate until El Supremo (as they continued to call him) got around to initiating them, something that might take months. Until that happened, they could wander through the harem at will. The turnover was so great that new faces would not be unusual. Converging on the only entrance to the hidden biowar lab at a specified time when the technicians were asleep, they would gain entrance and effect the switch of the harmless agent for the deadly brew. There was a problem, though. From a source that Marilyn wouldn’t reveal, it had been learned just how El Supremo’s technicians delivered their fresh, live sperm to gain passage within the inner compound. Girls from the harem were chained at strategic spots throughout the lab, blindfolded to prevent them from seeing what was going on. Hidden within a mitten covering their bound hands was a button to open their assigned interior door. The doorways were reportedly like airlocks, possibly with exactly that purpose, and only one man could pass at a time. The chained girls were trained to push their concealed button only when a man ejaculated into their mouths, with the usual deadly penalties for non-compliance. The problem was that there was the possibility that one of the true harem girls would realize that there were unauthorized intruders and compromise the mission. They could kidnap this theoretical observer from her captors and keep her from revealing their presence, but they couldn’t trust her to work the door properly.

One of the team, any one of the team, would have to be prepared to replace a door sentinel. That meant they would have to be prepared to function as oral receptacles for sperm until relieved. The compelling logic of this situation did nothing to overcome the revulsion of the team members, except for Jaymi.

"Listen, girls, I’ve been there, done that. It’s not so bad. I know that some of you have wondered about me all along. Sandy knew about me from the start. I’ve swung both ways with men and women, and the only true erogenous zone in anyone is the one between their ears. If you truly want to please someone you love, or even lust after, then you’ll accept any non-painful physical action you can do to give them pleasure and it will be a pleasure of its own. As soon as you accept that sucking a guy’s cock can be a pleasure, then the nature of the physical act doesn’t matter any more. I don’t expect to enjoy blowing some guy I don’t know while I’m bound and blindfolded, but that’s because it’s forced, not because of the cocksucking. If we need to do this, we can."

With that, the longest speech the normally reserved Jaymi had ever delivered to the team, she sat down. The others were as shocked by the uncharacteristic outburst as by the revelation of propensities that had been only rumors. It was an amazing coincidence, or perhaps a sign of the intimate closeness their long teamwork had created, to see multiple throats gulp as Jaymi’s words triggered a reflexive response in the other team members.

In the next instant, all the team members, even Marilyn, were looking at Sandy. She had the greatest reason of any of them to fear and hate this approach. Her introduction to oral sex had been a brutal rape, one that could traumatize anyone into such a psychological rejection that it would be impossible for her even to try. Yet, if she could make the mental adjustment to the openness of mind expressed by Jaymi, could the others do any less? They watched as memories of her assault flowed behind her eyes, the pain visible in ways too subtle for those not part of the team to see, but glaring obviously to the tight-knit group. Then her eyes went to Marilyn, who looked back with unjudging patience, another silent communication telling Sandy that Marilyn would back up whatever decision she made. Finally, Sandy’s eyes turned to Jaymi. The dark-eyed bisexual had never been intrusive on any of the team members, accepting herself even if they would not. That patience, really trust, had gained her the trust of the other team members in a way that aggressively forcing acceptance of her chosen lifestyle could never have achieved. Sandy met Jaymi’s eyes and couldn’t reject the gentle philosophy of the quiet lady, no longer one of "them" in any way that mattered, now just another one of "us."

"All right, Jaymi, what do we need to do?" Sandy asked quietly.

Jaymi looked at Marilyn for confirmation that Sandy’s acceptance was a team decision, and at a silent nod turned back to the group. "Well, I guess it depends on what we want to achieve. We can make this mechanical, in a way that never touches us where we live, or we can learn to do it right, as an opportunity to pleasure our lovers. Even real women sometimes choose to be mechanical, but I’ll tell you what, if you approach it as an act of love, it’ll be more enjoyable for you as well as for your partner. I guess I think we should pair off and just practice a little. If you’ve been on the receiving end of a good blowjob, you’ll figure out what to do. If not, well, let me know."

Another collective gulp passed through the team. Marilyn glanced at Constance, and if the team had been paying close attention they would have seen a slight frown of negation flicker across Connie’s elegant features, followed by a equally subtle nod from Marilyn.

"Very well," Marilyn resumed control of the briefing, "we’ll do as you suggest. I guess I’ll need a partner, too, but we can worry about that later. We all accept the wisdom in Jaymi’s approach, but I think a little privacy is still in order. I’ll leave it to you to work out any details. Now, let’s get to work on our language lessons."

With that the training continued. No one was surprised to find out that Marilyn already had good skills in the target nation language. She had always led from the front. Sandy had made good use of her time as well, so the team had two tutors to go with the formal language teachers provided by the army. They made good progress over the next few weeks, not becoming fully fluent which wasn’t required, but gaining enough skill to eavesdrop effectively on any conversations they heard, and to read signs that might be significant.

That evening as Sandy was preparing for bed, she tried to decide what to do about the strange challenge she had accepted. It was pretty apparent that Carol and Vanna were going to work something out between themselves, which left Sandy partnered with Jaymi. That prospect didn’t bother her as much as it once would have, which bothered her in a different way. The rape had been ugly, no aspect of it ever approached pleasure, ever triggered an iota of desire within her. But she remembered the thoughts of being kissed by a man that had been arisen within her when she watched Jaymi getting kissed. She knew that living in the persona of a woman constantly for almost a year had affected her in more ways than showed externally. Submitting to a man in a loving relationship was not nearly as repulsive as it once would have been, and Jaymi appeared to be a quite beautiful young woman, which pushed a lot of buttons that a normal-looking man would not. It was a confused, neither fish nor fowl relationship that was so outside the norm for their background that there were no easy rules to follow, no standard answers to quote. Sandy did realize, though, that it would be up to her to make the first gesture. Instead of cleansing her face, she freshened her makeup to its highest standard, brushed her tumbling mane into shining liquid night, climbed up on sky-high feathery mule slippers and slipped into a floor-length emerald nightgown with her trademark almost sheer, almost revealing, now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t design. She made her way to Jaymi’s room and knocked quietly.

"Come in," she heard from inside.

The door handle turned in her hand and she stepped in to see Jaymi also dressed beautifully, also carefully made up.

"I hoped you’d come," the dark-eyed girl told her guest.

Her response was tentative nod, a fidget, an unconscious flirtation with a now-habitual toss of long dark hair, but no words.

Jaymi walked to Sandy and offered a gentle hand. Sandy’s hand raised almost of it’s own accord and she felt herself drawn toward the bed, then seated beside Jaymi.

"You really are a virgin, aren’t you?" Jaymi asked.

"Not any more," came the bitter reply, surprisingly bitter, she thought she had put that behind her.

"That’s not what I mean. You’ve never made love with anyone, have you?"

Sandy looked away, but shook her head.

"Let me show you what it means to make love, tonight," offered Jaymi. "You don’t have to do anything but relax and enjoy. When you’re ready, some other time, you can decide what it means to give love, as well as to receive it."

"Does it have to be love?" Sandy asked.

"It doesn’t have to be the live-our-lives-together sort of commitment, but it’s best if your partner’s pleasure is more important to you than your own. That’s as good a definition of making love as I know."

With that, Jaymi slid off the bed to kneel at Sandy’s feet. She raised the hem of the emerald nightgown to reveal matching lacy panties. At her urging, Sandy lifted her hips and the panties were slid down her smooth legs. Another urge and the gaff followed. Sandy was still too confused for a full arousal, but in moments a stirring occurred as Jaymi gently helped her testicles descend into a more comfortable position. It was easy to imagine that Jaymi was a pretty girl, and only a girl, forgetting what the internal plumbing hidden behind her own feminine clothing really looked like. Sandy immersed herself in this fantasy, forcing down the whisper in the back of her mind that this was supposed to be wrong, forbidden, repulsive. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the bed.

The gentlest touch of graceful fingers almost hid the first butterfly-wing kiss of soft lips. Sandy found herself focusing on the sensations, trying to decide just exactly what Jaymi was doing to cause each particular sensation, not so much to learn how to do it as to appreciate the full nature of the sensation. As a slick tongue added its contribution, highlighted by a slight cooling as the deposited liquid evaporated, Sandy began to respond as any healthy young man would respond. His/her erection grew to its not-inconsiderable fullest with stepping increments in time with the accelerating pulses of her/his heart. When Jaymi’s ruby lips finally encircled the tip, Sandy gasped in a confusion of emotions too interlocked to sort out, and too consuming to need distinction. Under Jaymi’s increasingly energetic devotions, Sandy’s confusion melted away into driving need, more intense than any that she/he had felt with his/her own manipulations, more demanding than breath, more demanding than thought itself. His world compressed to a small universe centered on his stimulated flesh, then detonated in an explosion as great as that forming the galaxies, at least to his overwhelmed senses. Sandy hovered on the edge of consciousness as he felt himself empty his seed into Jaymi’s willing mouth, then began to recover as his senses brought his universe back to the range perceived by mortals.

For the first time in months, Beech felt embarrassed to look so pretty. The swell of his shapely bosom, the smell of his makeup, the taste of his lipstick, all seemed wrong. He wanted to get out of the beautiful nightgown, to rip off his scarlet nails, to purge himself of every trace of femininity and be a man again. He sat up to see Jaymi’s gentle smile turn to concern as she registered the self-disgust apparent on the young man’s still-beautiful face.

"Sandy, what’s the matter?" Jaymi asked.

"This is wrong, all wrong, I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m not a girl, I’m a man. This is just wrong," Beech asserted.

"Now take it easy," Jaymi demanded. "You’re just feeling the aftereffects of all those hormones your body just dumped into your system. Haven’t you been masturbating at night?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Why not?" Jaymi continued her interrogation. "You’re young, healthy, full of a normal sex drive as you’ve just amply demonstrated."

"Normal, right," Beech snorted. "Dressing in makeup and high heels isn’t normal."

"This isn’t about clothes, at least not only about clothes. It’s about being all that you can be. You’re in the Army, and that’s what you signed up for," Jaymi tried to make a joke of it.

It worked. Beech couldn’t help laughing at the ludicrous extension of the standard Army slogan. Perhaps the chemical cocktail that had flooded his body was gradually being absorbed, but he passed the point of self-disgust and began to recover his self-respect. With an almost visible wrench of transition, Beech became Sandy again. She smiled at Jaymi with her accustomed demure attractiveness and urged her dark-eyed friend up to sit beside her.

"Thank you," Sandy said. "I needed that."

"From the quantity, I guess you did," laughed Jaymi.

This embarrassed Sandy again, but in a funny way, and she started giggling as she gently wiped a spot of cream from Jaymi’s lip. "I wasn’t talking about that," Sandy claimed, then got pensive again as her glance flickered down to the almost revealed triangle at the bottom of Jaymi’s shorty nightgown.

Jaymi sensed her unease and relieved it immediately, "Not tonight, dear. Not until you’re ready. Get yourself back together and go to bed. We’ll have time."

Sandy nodded gratefully as she pulled her underwear up toward her hips. Before she completed the motion she stopped, took her gaff all the way off with a sigh of relief, and pulled just the now-distorted emerald panties into place. She swayed back to her tall slippers with accustomed grace and moved toward the door, escorted by the patient Jaymi. At the doorway, though, she stopped and turned to her friend. Somehow, it seemed wrong to just walk away after the things that had happened tonight. Without letting herself have long enough to think about it, Sandy wrapped her arms around Jaymi and lowered her painted lips to those of her companion (lover?). They kissed with more friendship than passion, at least, that’s how it began, but Jaymi had always been prone to acceptance, to love with her close friends, and in moments her desire was becoming apparent in the energy she was pouring into the kiss. Sandy felt herself respond, but a part of her was still not ready for that, so she pulled back, gave Jaymi one more quick peck as a promise for later, than left.

The next morning it was apparent that they had not been the only ones to experiment with a more intimate relationship. The glances Carol and Vanna were exchanging had a lot more heat than they had shared before, a lot more interest. Marilyn noted this and worried that the forced closeness would cause her team members to lose perspective, but she also had read of the Band of Thebes and knew that commitment to a lover/comrade was a powerful spur to military virtue. Perhaps it was just because she hadn’t achieved her own opportunity the night before that was making her testy, she decided.

Marilyn’s observation of Sandy and Jaymi actually led her to the wrong conclusion about them. Jaymi was bright and cheerful, attentive to Sandy in a non-possessive but clearly devoted way. Sandy, on the other hand, was distracted, still trying to come to grips with the conflicting emotions within her. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been such a overwhelming impact if she had enjoyed a more fulfilling sex life previous to that night, but that was not the case. To Marilyn, though, it appeared as though Sandy shared her lack of fulfillment, and that Jaymi was smugly satisfied, as though the donor and recipient of the previous night’s pleasure had been reversed. Trusting her team to work the problem, they went through their normal workouts, dressed, and began the day’s rehearsal.

Marilyn had obtained a reasonably detailed description of the internal arrangement of both the harem and the hidden biowar lab. The idled soldiers who had washed out of the team had been building a replica in a corner of the training base, complete with simulated airlock doors and bondage equipment. Soon every team member was familiar with the layout and knew where the key passages were. Sandy and Carol were assigned the primary tasks of being distractions, either in the harems, or as they escaped. They would also act as guards during the break-in. Jaymi was the premier lock picker, backed up by Marilyn. Vanna was assigned the job of shepherding the false culture to the replacement point. Constance wouldn’t be able to penetrate the inner sanctum, of course, since she wouldn’t be able to make a live sperm donation. She would be the external guard. They wouldn’t need to take their own weapons since the harem was decorated with a variety of deadly devices to allow the harem girls to deal quickly with any male intruders.

Their capture and delivery to the harem was one part of the plan they couldn’t control directly. El Supremo had long since ceased worrying about the opinion of the rest of the world and ruthlessly controlled the press within his own nation. He ignored all requests for aid in finding the small groups of beautiful women that seemed to frequently disappear in his area of the world. As a result, and because the groups of girls that were likely to sightsee in his depressed country were often rebellious and unwanted at home, the disappearances were not common knowledge. Marilyn decided they would again separate into their like-personality trios and just wait to be picked up. The key skills were part of each team, at least well enough to proceed.

Rehearsal, language practice, dinner, all normal activities proceeded normally. Finally, as their evening meal drew to a close, the girls dispersed to their rooms. Once again Sandy found herself dressing up her makeup and selecting a flattering nightgown. Once again she found herself at Jaymi’s door. Once again she knocked and was bidden to enter.

"Hello," Sandy said quietly. Jaymi nodded in return.

"Are you ready for this?" Jaymi asked, her calm smile showing patience, and acceptance.

"I think so," Sandy said.

"May I make a suggestion?" offered Jaymi. "Why don’t we just hold each other, and maybe snuggle a little, and maybe even share a kiss or two, just to get ourselves in the mood?"

In some ways this was worse for Sandy, it made it personal, it made Jaymi a real person and not just an appendage to be exercised. Yet in other ways it made it better. Jaymi’s fundamental philosophy was that people in love should love to please each other, the act was not the end in itself but a means to be a good lover. What they had wasn’t love like the romance novels talked about, but it was a loseness that built on the camaraderie of tight military groups, added the isolation and interdependence of their unique training regimen and added still further the desire that each still felt for beautiful examples of the gender they had been raised to be attracted to. Kissing a woman as pretty as Jaymi was not a hardship. Sandy had been used to thinking of her as a woman for so long that the incongruity seemed to be in Jaymi’s plumbing, not in Sandy’s attitude. After a pause too short to show reluctance, Sandy moved forward and wrapped her arms around Jaymi, to receive a matching squeeze.

"You really are a special person," Sandy whispered in Jaymi’s ear.

"And so are you," Jaymi answered. "I don’t discriminate because of gender in my lovers, but I am very discriminating in all other ways. I demand that those I share my love with be tender, compassionate, loving, and warm-hearted. Like you."

The words were part of the standard method lovers had developed over generations to assure their partner that this was more than an animal exercise, more than a passing biological urge. They worked, though, just as they had worked before. In a few minutes the hugs had warmed and lips were seeking lips. This time Sandy didn’t hold back when Jaymi let heat flow into her kiss. She went with the energy and returned it, finally urging Jaymi back onto her bed. This time Sandy kneeled at Jaymi’s feet. She had already noticed that Jaymi had removed her gaff. Only her dark red panties covered a bulge that demonstrated the true gender Jaymi had been born to. Covered but not concealed, the hardness of Jaymi’s masculine package was too demanding to be hidden. Sandy struggled to develop an image of the encounter she could live with. Should she try to deny her own nature and become as feminine as possible, or should she capitalize on Jaymi’s beauty and treat this as a strange feature on a special woman? In the end, no simple answer sufficed. Jaymi was Jaymi, and Sandy was herself, accepting Jaymi’s beauty and her cock, as part of her lover, justified in themselves. It was only later that she realized her own hidden tool had remained quiescent, helping by stillness not to disrupt the complex part she played.

By the time Sandy was finally ready to culminate her act, she had become sufficiently accustomed to the idea that it seemed right somehow, no longer something to worry about. She knew how much pleasure it could give, and that was her objective, giving pleasure. Of course, she wasn’t skilled. With infinite patience, Jaymi coached her through techniques that were effective without requiring excessive penetration. In time, not a long time since Jaymi was quite excited by Sandy, the short-haired brunette was erupting into the long-haired girl’s mouth with energy and passion. Ironically, the sodomizing rape Sandy had endured had already exposed her to the taste and texture of semen and she swallowed without additional mental anguish. She softly sucked the last traces of cream from Jaymi’s diminishing member and finally sat back, actually quite smug at the near-coma that seemed to grip Jaymi. It was a moment or two before Jaymi’s eyes fluttered open to look at her grinning friend.

"Did I do okay?" Sandy asked with wide-eyed innocence, a pretense that fell to a giggle she couldn’t contain.

"No," denied Jaymi, then laughed at the instant hurt in Sandy’s eyes as she continued, "you did terrific. I know you’ve never done that before, at least not with your heart set on giving pleasure. What I don’t know is how you learned to do it so well, so fast."

"I had a good teacher," Sandy purred as she slid up beside Jaymi to snuggle. Jaymi let a hand gently drift down in the beginnings an offer to reciprocate, but Sandy intercepted her hand and just held it, whispering, "Tonight was my night to give you pleasure. Let’s just enjoy being together for a little while before I leave."

Jaymi nodded, then slid back onto her bed so that they could both lie comfortably.

No one but Marilyn knew the timeline for their mission, but they practiced as though they had all the time in the world, and no time at all. The team practiced the actual assault until each member could do any other girl’s job, picking up at any point in the task. They also continued their nightly practice as well, until the novelty had given way to a deeper, more fulfilling sense of sharing. Sandy was once again preparing herself for an evening’s "instruction" when she heard a knock at her door. She smiled in anticipation. The ever-patient Jaymi hadn’t come to her room before. Checking her incredible appearance one last time in the mirror, she went to the door and flung it open with a brighter smile than her normal damsel-in-distress persona employed, then almost squeaked in surprise. Marilyn was standing there.

"Hello," Marilyn said in an unknowing echo of the timidity Sandy had experienced. "Is someone expecting you?"

"Um . . no, not really," Sandy replied.

Marilyn knew what the ‘not really’ meant, but instead of turning away, she asked, "May I come in?"

"Of course," replied the dark-haired girl as she stepped back. Marilyn followed her into the room, then stood uncertainly, a most unusual condition for the forthright team leader.

"I’m sure you can guess why I’m here," the blonde began to explain. "I need a partner for the ‘special’ training you girls have been sharing. I wondered if you would be willing to be my partner for the night. I don’t think Jaymi would mind."

Sandy was too surprised to answer. Not that the prospect was uninteresting. Marilyn had always been pretty in a more classic way than the subtleties employed by Sandy. Thanks to the sophisticated training she had received from Krystal, the younger girl had learned to be devastatingly attractive, far and away the most desirable on the team. Yet to the perceptions of the young, unsophisticated boy that still lived within her, the intensely feminine, blue-eyed blonde Marilyn had become was the epitome of beauty. Nonetheless, it’s not every day that a general, however beautiful, comes to a private’s room and offers oral sex.

Perhaps with a more sophisticated interior to go with her polished exterior, Sandy would have been able to work through genteel responses, positive or negative, to Marilyn’s suggestion. Instead, she was just flustered and incoherent for a few seconds. In the end, though, it was inevitable. The sexual stimulation she had been getting at least on alternate nights had her hot and bothered before Marilyn even appeared. Regardless of external appearances, it boiled down to a beautiful person offering a horny twenty-year-old a chance at a blowjob, and rejection was not very likely. With a shy nod that had become her typical answer to most questions, Sandy accepted.

Marilyn took the younger girl by the hand and led her to the bed, calling on her charm to put Sandy at ease. She giggled with her airhead bimbo voice and said, "I’ve been, like, practicing, you know, on some totally awesome sex toys, so, like, I think I have the basic idea, you know, but I’m, like, sure there’s nothing like the real thing."

Sandy’s not-so-hidden response pulsed in the front of her nightgown. It was clear that she wasn’t wearing her gaff. It was also clear that the idea of the jiggling, giggling, blonde playing with some sort of sexual aid was incredibly erotic to the unsophisticated girl, as Marilyn had expected. Her grin grew wider at Sandy’s astonished gasp and visible pulse, and she took charge of the situation with less concern.

"Now, you just lie back and, like, relax. I’ll do all the, you know, work," Marilyn directed with another giggle accenting the thought that it was ‘work’.

Sandy let herself be swept along with the flow, soon feeling Marilyn’s gentle, but unique ministrations bring her erection to its full, young vigor. The blonde’s technique was different than Jaymi’s, more mechanical, more intellectual if that can be applied to such an intensely personal act. But it was definitely skilled. Whatever books Marilyn had studied had certainly been accurate on how to stimulate the male member. In only moments, Sandy was gasping and beginning to climb her peak. Marilyn backed off to avoid a too-quick culmination, a tactic which elicited a moan from Sandy that was so heartfelt it was funny to the experimenting team leader. She quickly resumed her motion, different enough to start Sandy on a new escalator rather than just continuing on the old one. This time, Marilyn decided to try out her ‘special’ techniques, and let her lips gradually move further and further down Sandy’s rigid shaft.

Sandy felt the change. It even registered on her diminishing awareness. As the tip of her cock began to penetrate Marilyn’s tight throat, Sandy realized that she was receiving something that even Jaymi had never learned to give. In a moment, when she felt Marilyn’s lips lightly caressing the still hairless skin at the base of her shaft, she had to lift her head and look at the image. Marilyn’s blonde curls bobbed lightly as they framed her face, the stretched oval of her ruby lips covering the target of her ministrations so thoroughly that Sandy might have in fact been as feminine as she appeared. Then Marilyn did something tricky with her throat and Sandy exploded. The transition was so abrupt that Sandy almost bucked Marilyn off onto the floor. The young brunette’s back arched into a hard bow, her heels lifting off the floor as her body was supported by her straining toes and thrown-back head and nothing in between. Marilyn rode her like a champion, though, and kept up with every pounding convulsion. When Sandy eventually returned to the real world, Marilyn let the shrinking live sex toy slide from her lips. A smug smile that was the mirror of those her team had previously displayed lifted her lips as she felt that satisfaction that a lover has when they know they’ve been good, very, very good. Or very, very, bad depending on your perspective.

By now Sandy had come to grips with their strange situation enough to bypass any sense of shame or revulsion at unusual gender roles. She just enjoyed the pleasure of good sex, giving or receiving, so Marilyn was spared seeing the dismay that Jaymi had once evoked. When Sandy’s eyes finally flickered open, she looked at her leader/lover with new appreciation and a smiling offer of her own. Marilyn’s first response was to reject the offer, hiding any rejection of Sandy herself behind giggles and persona.

"That was, like, so cool," the blonde bubbled as she started to stand. "If I’d have known that was so much, you know, fun, I’d have done it sooner."

Sandy intercepted her, gently grasping her hands and pulling her to sit on the bed.

"You don’t have to do this," Marilyn said, her trained voice tones still high and sweet, but her attitude adult and controlled.

"No, I don’t have to do this, but I want to, I need to," Sandy said. She slid to her knees before the blonde and pulled at the hem of the concealing nightgown. Marilyn was still "fully" dressed, including her gaff, so it was took a few moments of gentle caresses before her hidden member was standing to attention. Like the good soldier to which it was attached, it was firm, yet soft to the touch of tender fingers, of glossy lips, of flickering tongue. Sandy was pleased in a way that didn’t diminish her affection for Jaymi to be able to also pleasure Marilyn. A part of her found it amusing that she had so much power over an officer so much higher than her in rank, a power that became compelling as she began to lift the groaning blonde to higher and higher levels of excitement.

It was another unforeseen result of Sandy’s brutal rape that her throat had already felt penetration to a depth most women cannot support. Once she had put the horror of the attack behind her, the not-quite-unfamiliar sensations of taking more and more of Marilyn’s cock down her throat were a little less shocking, a little more endurable. Then they were not just endurable, but enjoyable as Sandy adjusted to the intimacy, not enjoyable for the pure physical sensation which was still warring with reflexes evolved over eons, but enjoyable for the sharing of love with a person Sandy had come to respect more than any other in her life. The time came when her own ruby lips were leaving their own delicate mark on the smooth skin surrounding the base of Marilyn’s shaft, a triumph that filled Sandy’s green eyes with joy even as Marilyn’s blue eyes rolled back into ecstasy. The tricky little thing that Marilyn had done came to Sandy’s mind and she tried to decide what it had been. What else do you do when something is in your throat? She swallowed around the thick member that filled her. Her peristaltic motion milked Marilyn’s cock and was just as effective as when the tables had been turned. Maybe more. Where Sandy had been a bucking bronco, Marilyn was a taut spring cranking in ever more tension. A small, high shriek from almost beyond the range of audible sound squealed from the woman’s elegant throat as her back arched so high it appeared her blonde curls were headed for her high-heeled slippers. Before they joined, Marilyn’s being collapsed into an arrow of expulsion, spurting silently and invisibly straight into Sandy’s stomach. Later, Sandy was to realize she never even got a taste of Marilyn’s cream, it was so far past her taste buds when Marilyn finally surrendered it.

Gradually the tension in Marilyn’s back released and she settled back on to the bed. When Sandy was sure that she had milked her leader’s nectar as fully as she could, she released her captive and gently lowered the hem of the blonde’s nightgown over the dwindling incongruity, restoring Marilyn to unblemished femininity. It was a moment or two more before Marilyn’s eyes flickered in another unconscious parody of the actions the team had been learning together.

"Wow," she breathed, triggering a smile from Sandy.

"Wow, yourself," Sandy replied. "You are one HOT woman!"

"Hot and bothered, anyway," giggled Marilyn. "Well, I guess I’m ready for this mission."

"Are we?" asked Sandy, suddenly serious.

"Yes," Marilyn confirmed quietly. "Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll stop by Jaymi’s on the way and let her know you won’t be coming. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow."

 

(continued in part 7)

 

 

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© 1998 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.