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Subjugated by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Subjugated by Emily TiltonBradley no longer had any doubt that this spanking would do Jenna a very great deal of good. The attempt to escape had brought out her need to feel just how thoroughly he would take charge of her: by guiding her resolutely back into the living room and placing her over his knee he had demonstrated to her bodily his power over her. Now, by adding to that feeling of being controlled by his masculine strength, the corrective pain of his firm hand applied to her little bottom, he would prepare her to accept her own innate need to submit to the much more intimate attentions she must soon accept from him, and to obey the shameful commands he must soon give her.

He could tell from her tears and her yelps of pain that the paddling from Mrs. Trest had left her already sore. That made his task easier, because as he spanked Jenna steadily, focusing mainly on the middle of her pert little backside, nicely set off by the red panties but certainly not defended by them, he knew his principal purpose must be to bring her to repentant tears.

She had tried to escape; whereas before that she had only the abstract knowledge that Bradley had chosen her to undergo subjugation on behalf of her town, now she knew she had disobeyed, in trying to run away from that subjugation. He must make it entirely clear to her both now and when he paddled her for the escape attempt that in running from him and trying to get out the back door Jenna had revealed her naughtiness, and Captain Bradley Clark knew how to punish naughty girls.

He spanked her in silence except for her little whimpers and sobs, until he had made the center of her bottom glow a very bright pink.

“Just look at that bottom,” came Joe Franklin’s voice in his ear. “Magnificent. Captain Clark is certainly giving it what it deserves now, isn’t he? Young Jenna Caprio should probably have thought twice before she decided to break for the door.” A pause, and then, “And there we see Jenna’s face, as she realizes the error of her ways. Many officers say that’s their favorite part of a subjugation: teaching a girl a lesson she didn’t think she needed, about the proper way to behave. Look at that pretty pout on Jenna’s lip, and those tears running down. I don’t think she’ll be disobeying Captain Clark again anytime soon.”

“Jenna,” Bradley said, stopping the spanking for a moment, “I’m going to pull your panties down, now. I think you could tell that they didn’t really make your spanking any less painful, but I want you to think about what it means to have your panties taken down by me.”

He hooked two fingers into the waistband of the lacy red panties. Jenna gave a questioning little cry, as if even though Bradley had warned her, she hadn’t expected that he would actually do it.

“What do you think it means, Jenna?” he asked softly.

“It… it means that… that y—you… can?” she asked in a quavering voice.

“Very good,” Bradley said, and slowly lowered the garment to the middle of the girl’s thighs, relishing the feeling of the delicate mesh in his fingers and the sight of the naughty underwear moving, exposing at last the tender furrow of her pussy just a tiny bit as it peeped out between her legs.

“And there’s our first sight of Jenna’s young cunt. Very sweet. Well shaven, as you can already see just from the little glimpse Captain Clark has just exposed. We’ll be seeing a lot more of that cunt, of course, as the day goes on.”

He put his right hand on her right bottom-cheek, loving the warmth he had created there with the spanking. He rubbed gently. Again came the questioning cry from Jenna: she had expected the spanking, but not perhaps the possessive way Bradley touched her now—or, perhaps, the arousal he suspected he forced on her in this little pause.

“What else, Jenna?” he asked, continuing to rub. “What about the place where panties go, on your body? What does it mean that I uncovered that place?”

Now she gave a little sob, as if at the thought that she would have to speak of something so shameful.

“Answer me, Jenna,” Bradley said, and lifted his right hand. He brought it down in three sharp spanks to right, left, and center; the center one, as he had intended, finding her pussy-lips with the punishing blow.

Jenna cried out loud at the pain and the terrible indignity.

“Answer me,” Bradley said again, resuming the spanking more steadily. The pink, which had begun to fade, quickly returned, all across her little bottom.

“Oh, this is very clever on Captain Clark’s part, I think. He wants to take her into her paddling thinking about what it means to have her sweet young cunt bare, and the red panties down around her knees.”

Jenna could only cry all the more, until Bradley stopped again, abruptly.

“Are you ready to tell me about what it means to have your pussy uncovered, Jenna?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I… I… can’t c—cover that part.”

“Why may you not cover your pussy and your bottom?” He began to rub again, and Jenna groaned in relief and perhaps in pleasure.

“Because you… y—you…” Her voice trailed off, and even from his position above her, he could tell that her face was bright red.

“Because I what, Jenna? I know you don’t understand exactly what’s going to happen to you when I get all your clothes off, but I think you can find a way to say it anyway.”

Another little sob from Jenna. Her voice emerged in a whisper. “You’re going to have me there.”

“Yes, I am,” Bradley said softly.

“And I think we’ll see him… yes, there it is. Captain Clark touches Jenna’s cunt for the first time. Just a little rub, and a little wank, you see, to let her know he’s pleased, of course, but also to make sure she understands his right to take charge of her body just as he likes. On her face there you can see that her arousal is coming along very nicely, even though she certainly never thought her first sexual experience with a man would involve so much stern discipline for her bare bottom.”

Captain Clark’s fingers were so gentle—so much the opposite of the way that very same hand had just spanked her so hard—that Jenna, to her shame, couldn’t help trying to push back against them.

The captain’s chuckle came from above her, and the fingers left her pussy. “High time for your paddling, Jenna,” he said. “Otherwise you might get even naughtier.”

Jenna opened her eyes to see again the camera looking back at her. She pictured the alarm on her face, as Captain Clark suddenly changed his manner. For a moment he had seemed different, and somehow special: the man who had touched her pussy so gently for the first time, and made her gasp and try to ride his hand, thinking that perhaps he would find her to be a good, pleasing girl. Now he had become again the stern officer, shaming Jenna for her wanton behavior.

“Get up,” he said, “and go over to the chair on the other side of the fireplace. Lay yourself over its arm, with your cheek against the cushion. Keep that skirt up and your panties down, please.”

Red-faced, Jenna stood up, turning toward the chair as she did so. Did she really have to hold her skirt up in back?

“Kilt nice and high, now,” murmured the cameraman. “We need a nice close-up of that red bum of yours, over those sweet red panties.”

Jenna made a little frustrated sound in her nose, feeling like a punished little girl—just the way the captain wanted her to feel, she realized, and the thought made her face flush even hotter.

“Get over there, Jenna,” he said, with a little edge of menace in his voice. “Butt up and face down this instant. You earned this paddling with that silly stunt a few minutes ago. You need to understand how serious I am about teaching you to obey me.”

He stood up behind her and gave her a hard spank with his hand. “I said, get going!”

The pain from the spank, on top of her already sore backside, made Jenna jump and run toward the chair, her skirt still humiliatingly raised behind while the cameraman followed to get his close-up.

Biting her lip, but not hesitating in her desperation not to be spanked or paddled any more than she had to be, Jenna bent over the arm of the big old chair. Not needing to be told, now, she laid her right cheek on the chintz-covered cushion, so that she again regarded the camera—the other one this time, for the first had stayed behind her, no doubt still taking close-up shots of Jenna’s rear end.

She heard the door open, and she saw another officer—a lieutenant, she thought, from his insignia—come through it and stand at the doorway to the living room.

“Ah. Thank you, Jacobs,” Captain Clark said, moving toward the newcomer. Jenna saw now that Lieutenant Jacobs held a paddle just like Mrs. Trest’s. He held it out to Captain Clark and the captain took it. “That’s all for now,” he said. “You’ll have your fun later.”

“I’m sure I will, sir,” said the lieutenant. His eyes met Jenna’s, and he winked. She took a sharp breath. What did they mean?

The lieutenant departed. Jenna watched Captain Clark approach with the paddle.

“Now, Jenna,” he said. “Why am I about to paddle you?”

Jenna’s voice felt terribly thick. “I tried to run away.”

“That’s right.” She watched him take a stand to the left of her hips, where they were bent over the chair arm. She watched him raise the paddle very high, and the sight alone made her whimper. Then the paddle came down, with a whistling sound and a terrible crack, and the pain was so terrible that she screamed.

Then, speaking a word as he delivered each stroke, he kept lifting his arm high and bringing it down, as Jenna kept screaming.


“No, please… please, no more,” she sobbed after the second stroke, but he kept going until she had received all six, though he had to bring his hand down upon the small of her back to keep her still as her bottom writhed across the padded chintz that lifted it for punishment.

“Get a good shot of that, please,” the captain said. “Let’s let the whole republic see what happens to a disobedient girl. Jenna, go ahead and rub your bottom, please.”

“Oh, God,” Jenna whispered, at the feeling of rubbing herself there, as she pictured people watching on their view screens; seeing the welts her bottom must now bear, perhaps commenting that Jenna Caprio had only gotten what she deserved.

She heard the paddle put down on the mantelpiece. Oh, no, she thought, remembering what he had said would come next.

“We’ll get you out of your clothes, now, Jenna,” the captain said. “Stand up and pull up your panties. Then, with your skirt lifted so I can see your red panties, go upstairs to your room and take everything off except for the panties. Kneel on the rug and wait for me.”

Jenna rose slowly, still rubbing her bottom almost unconsciously. She reached down, blushing, and pulled up the panties. She couldn’t bear to look anywhere but the floor, but out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the AV crews move quickly to the stairs and turn to face her, perhaps so that they could capture the woeful look on her face as she climbed to the place where she would at last learn the lesson that seemed to lie at the heart of everything.

Her bottom still hurt terribly, and she kept rubbing it even after she had pulled up her panties, suddenly becoming conscious of a strange, wicked new feeling. Part of her had defiantly begun to want to put on a show for the camera that must be coming behind her, to capture the shameful state of her bottom, and try to get little peeks at the way the panties sat so scantily between her legs. Jenna couldn’t help giving those glimpses in the motion of her legs as she climbed, she knew, and suddenly she actually wanted to give them. The wicked feeling of wanting to show her pussy to the camera seemed to make the warmth of the paddling more ambiguous, just as the spanking, harsh but still so much gentler, had done.

She reached her door at last, only to find to her chagrin that the AV crew had already entered and were waiting to watch her undress. Again feeling the strange mixture of shame and arousal, she turned her back on them and began to undress in the corner, very conscious nonetheless that would continue to give that view of her punished bottom that they seemed to want.

As Bradley climbed the stairs to Jenna’s room, where he must now deflower her in her childhood bed, Joe Franklin provided some analysis.

“Subjugating officers are about equally divided, when it comes to where they take the girl’s maidenhead, but most of them will at least have her perform oral sex right there in the living room. By ordering Jenna up to her bedroom, Captain Clark perhaps intends to draw a clear connection between what she did Thursday night, by his command, and what she will now do.”

Clearly the producer of the show had cut to footage of Jenna masturbating two nights before, because the voice continued, “Isn’t that a naughty look on her face, there, as she reaches her very first climax? I’m guessing that by having her there in the bedroom, Captain Clark is trying to say that it’s time for her to pay for her pleasure by providing him with a good deal of pleasure of his own.”

He had reached the landing. One of the cameramen, who had shot him coming up the stairs, now waited to go in with him when he opened the door. The cameraman said softly to him, “Captain, do you have a moment to tell us what you’re planning? Just so we can make sure to get the best angles.”

Bradley thought for a moment. He definitely did know what he planned for Jenna, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell the cameraman. On the other hand, every facet of his conduct would be reported to high command, so if he were going to give the performance he should, this kind of professionalism was necessary.

And if he were going to give the performance, he must do it well, and sound like a real Son of the Liberation. “I’ll fuck her face for a good long while, there on the rug,” he said.

“If she resists,” said the cameraman, “she’ll get the belt, I assume?”

“Yes,” Bradley said, picturing it and growing hard at the mental image.

“Will you whip her right there, or over the bed, do you think?”

“Right there, I’d guess.”

The cameraman looked satisfied. “Then, for the defloration, doggy, do you think? Some officers have been experimenting with having the girl hold her knees open. It gives a very nice presentation of the cunt and anus.”

“I’ll have her kneel and display herself first, with the rear view to me, and give her a few with the belt just for fun. Then I’m going to ride her that way.”

“Interesting,” said the cameraman. “Face to the mattress?”

Bradley nodded, trying not to show how aroused this degrading conversation had got him.

“Can I ask you to turn her face to the left, so we can get a good angle on how she feels about your cock, captain?” The cameraman’s bland demeanor seemed to accentuate the dominance Bradley felt.

“Sure,” he said.

“And you’ll save the anus for later and come in the cunt right then?”

“Of course.” That was almost a trick question: General Dumfries had made it clear in interviews that though it was not an official requirement of the orders issued to subjugating officers, he much preferred that an officer’s first semen of the day go into the girl’s vagina, to emphasize to her that according to traditional values, her womb belonged to the man who possessed her.

Girls who got pregnant from their subjugations, too, had a different role in Las Vegas. Other pleasure girls received birth control injections until they left that service at thirty and went to the Palace of New Life, to become pregnant by officers and bear their children for the republic. If Jenna became pregnant today, though, she would go straight to the Palace of New Life as soon as it was discovered.

There, of course, like the rest of the girls in the Palace of New Life, she would while pregnant continue to serve the pleasure of officers who liked to fuck pregnant girls. General Dumfries had also made it clear that he enjoyed that himself from time to time, and the manual proclaimed,

Women with new life in their bodies often need as much sex, if not more, than they did before they became pregnant. Men are encouraged to continue to enjoy girls—gently, of course—throughout their pregnancies until the girls’ thirtieth week. Punishments of pregnant girls should, however, be confined to hand-spanking.

“Of course,” said Bradley, suddenly picturing himself fucking a pregnant Jenna in the Palace of New Life. The thought was so unexpectedly arousing that he did swallow, then. He cleared his throat to conceal a moment the high command might see as weakness, and adopted a gruff tone. “We through here?”

Joe Franklin’s voice was saying, “She doesn’t have long to wait now, I imagine. Captain Clark is making his final preparations to enjoy lovely young Jenna Caprio. What is she thinking, we naturally wonder? Is she wet under those red panties, even though she doesn’t even know what she’s wet for? Does she know that the thing Captain Clark is going to feed her will also soon tear through her virginity?”

“Sure, sir,” said the cameraman.

Bradley opened the door to Jenna’s room to see her kneeling as he had ordered, her hands covering her little breasts and her head bowed. He stepped inside and the AV crew followed him.

“And here he is. He has an important choice to make here—is he going to say anything, or… yes, as I suspected, he’s just taking his belt off, and lowering his trousers and underwear. And now the shirt as well. Look at this fine officer, citizens. Look at his hard cock. Put yourself in young Jenna’s place. I think we’ll see him double the belt, here, and get it ready in case he has to whip her.”

“Jenna,” he said sternly, “open your mouth and put your tongue out.”

She looked up, and he saw her eyes go to his cock for the first time. An expression of alarm crossed her face, and she pursed her lips as if to reject the suggestion that she might open them for something so strange and menacing.

Bradley took a step forward, raising the belt just to show her what would happen if she disobeyed. He took his cock in his left hand. “I’m not going to ask again, Jenna. I know you’ve never seen a man’s penis before, but because your town couldn’t meet its obligations, you don’t have a choice. You’re going to suck a cock, now, and start to learn your place.”

Jenna couldn’t seem to make her mouth do anything but stay firmly shut. Why? It’s just… a body part, right? Why can’t I do as he says?

Then she felt her eyes widen as she realized why she couldn’t obey: good girls didn’t have anything to do with what boys had between their legs. The thing that stood straight out from Captain Clark’s loins, his penis—his cock: even though Jenna had never seen one before, had never guessed that when at last the mysteries of men being with their wives and having them and putting their manhoods into their wives’ bodies stood revealed, it would look like the stiff, sinewy thing that hovered now before her face, she had known that whatever it was, to touch it willingly would make her a bad girl.

And now, strangely, a part of her wanted to be a bad girl, and that part kept trying to make her part her lips and put out her tongue so that the officer could lay his cock upon it. But the good-girl part of Jenna—that part that had controlled all her actions for so very long—said no. That part wanted to remain a good girl: the straight-A student bound for college in the East. That part remembered what Mrs. Trest had said about good girls and how they must save their reputations. They must never let boys touch their breasts, even outside their blouses. They must never touch their breasts, or their vaginas, except for hygienic purposes.

Somehow, too, without even mentioning it at all, Mrs. Trest had made it clear at the same time that the hidden portion of men’s bodies—the mysterious part covered by their pants—constituted a matter good girls must never think about. If that place should become visible, a good girl must turn away, and if the man should invite her—or even command her—to touch it in some way, a good girl must refuse.

Captain Clark lifted the belt high, and then he stooped a little bit, and to Jenna’s shock and worse, to her melting arousal, he took the back of her head by the hair and pulled her face right up against him, so that her innocent mouth, despite its firm closure, must nevertheless touch his cock, right at the complicated base of the thing, where a naughty, animal fragrance seemed to rise to her nostrils and there were curly hairs that tickled.

Jenna gasped, and then she cried out into his loins, for the captain had stooped, it now appeared, so that he could whip her backside around the tiny seat of the panties, once on the left cheek and once on the right.

She felt the strong muscles of his thighs move again, and then the belt came down once more, left and right, and Jenna yelped in response.

Captain Clark straightened again, not letting go of Jenna’s hair. It wasn’t painful, but she felt utterly controlled and dominated by the way he could keep her head still or move it as he liked.

“Open your mouth, Jenna,” he said softly but very menacingly, “and put your tongue out. You’re going to suck my cock now, or I’m going to keep whipping you until you do.”

Her bottom burned like fire: the four lashes from his broad leather belt had reawakened the pain of the paddling terribly, and she trembled as she thought about what a mess of welts her backside must now be. She opened her mouth.

“Good girl,” Captain Clark murmured. “Now the tongue. As far out as it will go, and curled down over your lips.”

Feeling her face flush hot, she obeyed, though it felt terribly strange. It should feel strange, though, shouldn’t it? she thought. I’m about to become a bad girl, no matter what he says. She curled her tongue down until she felt its tip almost touch the very top of her chin.

“There we go,” Captain Clark said. “Look at me, now.” He let go of her hair and took his cock in his left hand. The right hand, with the belt wound around it, rested at his side.

Jenna’s attention had been focused on the cock, as he moved it slightly and even rubbed it a little. Does that make it feel good? she wondered. The way it feels good when I rub my clit? Now she turned her eyes upward to find him looking down at her with an expression that startled her with its complex mixture of affect: severity and authority, but also, she thought for a fleeting moment, a deep sympathy.

When Captain Clark spoke, though, the sympathy seemed to disappear, and Jenna wondered if she had seen it at all. “The high command in its wisdom understands how sorely the citizens of the Western Republic stand in need of continual reminders that only by meeting their obligations will they avoid punishment.”

With the hand that held the belt, he brushed his knuckles gently against Jenna’s cheek. She shivered to feel that thick leather on her naked shoulder, on her bare neck.

“The high command understands that only by a regular display of the army’s superiority over the ordinary citizen, depicting in the most direct images what the powers of the army are, in our republic, can the citizenry be properly controlled. Only by making the citizenry watch an officer fuck a nubile, virginal girl, selected only because he wished to fuck her and therefore dressed in a garment that singles her out as the chosen symbol of his mastery and the army’s dominance, can we teach the lesson of perfect obedience.”

Jenna’s jaw started to ache, and she felt her brow crease in alarm. Fuck. What did it mean? Was it the same as be with and put?

The hand holding the belt came around the back of her head, seized her hair together with the belt. The captain’s eyes flicked downward, as if to look at his cock, and then he laid it upon her tongue. It felt so strange and shameful and big that Jenna made a gurgling sound of involuntary protest.

But Captain Clark said, “Shh, Jenna,” and then he thrust inward, far. Very far—too far, and Jenna gagged, but he held her head firmly and began to move his cock in and out. His breathing came more heavily. Jenna breathed desperately through her nose; she thought she would faint, but the big thing just kept moving, according to the pleasure of the officer who clearly liked the feeling of thrusting deep inside. He had both hands in her hair now, and he held her head still. Shameful wet sounds came from her mouth, and he said, “And so I fuck you, now, Jenna Caprio, so that you and your town will learn who it is who does the fucking, in the Western Republic.”

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