The Sergeant’s Claim by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

“See how obedient Jane has become?” said the headmistress. “Such a shame that she must be whipped, but if you take my advice, gentlemen, you will never fail to follow through on a promised punishment, no matter how penitent a girl may be.”

She deftly unsnapped the girl’s suspenders and tucked them under her garter belt. Andrew didn’t think he had ever seen anything nearly as bewitching as the sight of young Jane’s bottom in her white panties, pushed out now for baring and correction. The perfect curves, still covered in white cotton though giving salacious hints along the skimpy garment’s edges of the naughtiness inside, seemed to cry out to be taken into the hands of a strong man, spanked, soothed, and at last enjoyed to the fullest.

The headmistress hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Jane’s panties and pulled them down to her knees. The girl gave a little whimper. Andrew’s cock leaped at the sound and he heard a man to his right clear his throat. If the sound aroused him, the sight of the perfect, creamy bottom cheeks and then—for Mrs. Blenheim tugged Jane’s knees apart so that the white panties were a little stretched and her thighs well parted—of the bare furrow of little Jane’s eighteen-year-old cunt nestling just below nearly made Andrew have to clear his own throat.

Jane had met his eyes. Twice: he felt sure he hadn’t imagined it. Did it mean anything? Could it mean anything? With General Green and Major Loben both here, as well as twenty other men, how could the desire that had risen in Andrew’s heart, and his cock, for the girl who seemed to him by so much the most beautiful of the six up for auction today, ever find satisfaction?

The look in those sweet blue eyes, framed by her golden hair drawn back into a loose ponytail that seemed to Andrew now the only way a girl’s golden hair should ever be worn, so full of anxiety and eagerness to please, had seemed to steal his wits away in an instant. The opposite of hard-headed in that moment, even his brain had shouted, That one. She will be my girl, my wife.

He had kept his eyes upon her the whole time the headmistress had spoken, and when Jane hadn’t started undressing immediately he had wanted to call out to her, because he had known—and he had guiltily even wanted—what must happen. Andrew had heard many stories of how these auction days went, with the headmistress taking any and every excuse to show the men how her girls behaved under discipline, and how well-disciplined they were at the school to prepare them for a military household where they could expect regular bare-bottom punishment.

Then Jane had started to undress, an exciting enough sight in and of itself, and Andrew had scolded himself for being disappointed not to see her whipped. Visits to the relief facilities, he realized quickly, didn’t prepare a man for the sight of six eighteen-year-olds stripping down to their exciting underwear for him and his fellow soldiers.

And then, apparently just as Mrs. Blenheim declared, Jane hadn’t been paying attention—thinking of me? Andrew’s wayward mind couldn’t help asking—and she had reached back to take off her bra. She had to get the strap from the wall; she had to bend over the table with her backside presented to all the soldiers in the room. She had to have her headmistress pull her panties down, and part her thighs so that Andrew’s eyes could take their fill of the bottom that now seemed to squirm a little in anticipation of the discipline coming to it.

A handful, or so the headmistress had said. Until that moment, Andrew hadn’t really been sure what sort of wife he wanted, but instantly he knew: he wanted a handful of a girl. A wife who needed his guidance, who needed to be tamed. Not a defiant or a disobedient girl, but a girl who might forget to iron Andrew’s uniform and have to be drawn gently over his knee for a sound spanking to teach her the importance of her housework, and held tight afterward to reassure her of Andrew’s love for her. A girl who might then be instructed despite her blushes to kneel down and suck the penis that had quite naturally grown so very hard while Andrew spanked her pretty young bottom.

“Jane,” Mrs. Blenheim said severely, and brought the strap down hard across both the creamy round cheeks. Jane yelped, and her bottom clenched and surged, giving an exciting view of the girl’s pink little anus. Was it true that they trained the girls back there? As the headmistress continued the strapping she punctuated her words with lashes, each of them quickly raising an adorable pink mark to show how emphatic the lesson was that sweet Jane must now learn, for her own good. “You must take your responsibilities on this special day more seriously.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane sobbed. She bounced upon her toes, flexing her knees, and her bottom cheeks kept clenching uncontrollably and then parting, a sight that Andrew thought might drive him mad with the craving to possess her in her cunt and then in that surging backside; to still its wayward motions with its master’s cock. But she also seemed very well trained to keep her bottom in place for its punishment; though Mrs. Blenheim did bring her hand down upon Jane’s waist to steady her a bit, the girl kept herself well presented for the strap all the way through the stern chastisement.

Her bottom and upper thighs bore a great many of the pink stripes when the headmistress finally said, “There, Jane. Well done, girl. You took that well.”

Jane held her position, as if waiting to be dismissed. Andrew’s heart went out to her; the sweet girl’s golden head hung low and her shoulders heaved. He thought he could see a pool of tears glisten upon the upholstery of the table by the light of the neon bulbs overhead in this big, high-ceilinged room.

“Gentlemen,” said Mrs. Blenheim, putting the strap upon the table and, to Andrew’s surprise—a rather breathtaking surprise—beginning to stroke Jane’s punished bottom with her right hand, “those of you who are participating in an auction for the first time may not have heard about what happens here to girls like Jane, if they take their correction well. It’s important that you understand, though, just how close the connection is for these girls, between discipline and pleasure.”

Andrew did have to clear his throat, then, as the headmistress’ hand travelled down and in, stroking the bare lips and parting them to give a yet more thrilling view of Jane’s pink secrets enclosed there. Jane cried out and threw her head back. Andrew wished he could see her face, sure that it would have shame and wonder upon it in equal measure. He wished still more strongly that his own hand was doing what Mrs. Blenheim’s hand did.

“Jane will come now for you, gentlemen. I assure you that you will find all my girls just as wet and ready to please after even a fairly severe whipping. It’s very important that you understand this, because the denial of pleasure to a girl like Jane—locking her private places in a chastity belt, for example—can be an effective punishment as well, if spanking and whipping don’t get through. It’s also vital to remember that masturbation needs to be kept as a privilege for a girl like Jane. If you catch one of these girls touching herself, you must whip her severely, and fuck her hard—preferably in her anus—withholding pleasure from her and thus reforming her attitude. It is far too easy, I’m afraid, for one of my girls to forget her chores and spend the afternoon with her hand between her thighs.”

All through this highly enlightening address the headmistress’ fingers never broke their rhythm of back-and-forth strokes upon Jane’s pretty cunt, so thrillingly bare of the golden fleece Andrew felt sure must naturally grow there. He couldn’t decide whether, if he were to win Jane, he would allow her to grow back her nether curls. The thought of the months and years they might spend experimenting with whether Andrew liked his bride’s cunt to look this way or that way sent his mind off on another mad gambol through a land of fantasy. Each time her fingers traveled all the way into the place between Jane’s thighs, where the shadows hid her clit from view so that Andrew had to imagine the sweet pink nubbin, Mrs. Blenheim’s hand would linger, doing something that made Jane cry out loud and her hips shudder.

“Ride my hand, Jane,” the headmistress said then in a voice that sounded intimate despite carrying clearly around the room. “Show your husband how you will take his cock.”

Jane gave a low moan as Mrs. Blenheim’s hand stopped its motions, and then she shamelessly began to obey, moving her bottom up and down so that she could work her cunt upon her headmistress’ fingers as if they were a saddle.

“Good girl, Jane,” said the headmistress. “Are you ready for fucking? Show these soldiers how badly you need a big cock.”

Jane bowed her head and arched her back even further, so that now Andrew could even see the pink hood of her clit as she pushed her whole brightly glistening cunt desperately against her instructor’s hand. Her bottom’s up-and-down motions became frantic, and then erratic as with a wild cry and a raising of her head that made her look like a magnificent golden-maned filly she shuddered into her enormous climax. Her cries gave way to sobs of shame, and again Andrew wanted to rush to her and hold her and tell her that she shouldn’t be ashamed to show him how much she needed his cock inside her.

Mrs. Blenheim gave Jane’s cunt a final little wank, at which the girl cried out forlornly, bucking her hips as if unable to bear the excess of sensation. Then the headmistress withdrew her hand and said, “Pull up your panties, Jane, and replace the strap. Then return to the line.”

As Jane stood and went through the undignified motions of pulling up her underwear and re-snapping the suspenders to her nylon stockings, the other girls moved back to where they had been, leaving the space in line that Jane had vacated empty. Jane picked up the strap from the table, then turned and began to walk back to the place from which she had taken the implement of punishment. Her face was bathed in tears, a bright pink that nevertheless seemed to Andrew infused with light. She looked only at the back wall, it appeared, as she walked.

But then, again—a third time—she looked at him. At Andrew. If he had had time to think about what expression his face should bear, he would never have been able to produce something worthy of the moment. But by the miracle of the thing, the marvel of finding the girl he knew he must have, he had there—he could feel it, and he could see it from her answering look—a gentle, reassuring smile, telling her that if he had anything to say about it, her little performance would be cherished, and rewarded over and over.

Jane’s answering smile, so clearly involuntary and so very shy, took his breath away. The moment was over in the blink of an eye, and though Andrew felt sure it had happened it hadn’t lasted long enough to produce the sort of impression one could analyze, and go back over searching for signs either good or bad—had anyone else noticed? Had he done her a disservice with the frank promise in his look, when he didn’t even know yet how the auction worked except that for his valorous deed he had been put down on the marriage list and given five marriage points?

As Jane passed his chair, he turned to look at her crossing the room to the hook by the door, noticing now uncomfortably how many other eyes followed precisely the same path to Jane’s shapely bottom. Not all, by any means, for it was clear that Jane didn’t answer every taste: many of the other twenty-two men in the room had their eyes on one or another of the other girls. But General Green and Major Loben both were looking at the way the cute round cheeks moved in the white cotton, where Andrew thought perhaps he could see a little damp spot had developed.

Jane walked back to her place without looking up at all. Andrew suppressed a sigh of disappointment. If it is in my power, he thought, I will take you home with me, Jane.

Carol observed the little drama developing between Jane and Sergeant Creston with a good deal of interest. Every auction day seemed to bring at least one special moment where one of her girls found herself with a preference for a certain soldier or officer, and that man returned the interest. Carol didn’t believe in love at first sight, but she had seen enough of these connections that she thought some unknown force did sometimes take hold when dominant men and submissive girls came together in such charged circumstances.

So she had of course tried hard to make sure that the girl strapped—as the headmistress always strapped a girl during this initial stage, so that she could illustrate the wisdom she always must deliver to the prospective husbands in the room, about how best to give their brides the guidance they needed—would be Jane. She didn’t like to admit to having favorites among her girls, but Jane was special to Carol. The dreamier girls always seemed to remind her of herself at their age, and of how Colonel Blenheim had used to correct her with a firm hand when he found Carol, as he often did, touching herself in the bathtub, secretly hoping he would come in and find her, and make her confess that she couldn’t stop thinking about his cock, and could she please suck it while he punished her?

That had always brought a smile to the colonel’s face: it had amounted to a sort of tacit permission to masturbate that Carol thought she would probably have not been able to live without. The colonel believed very strongly that Carol’s cunt should be kept for him alone, but when he caught Carol playing with it, the punishment was never unbearable if she sucked his penis like a good girl should.

Imagining Jane with Sergeant Creston, on her knees before him with his cock filling her mouth as he brought his belt down upon her upraised bottom, filled Carol’s heart with nostalgic happiness. There wasn’t much Carol could do to help him win Jane, but she did have some influence over how things arranged themselves.

When the girls had returned to the line, the damp spot definitely evident on Jane’s panties—and, Carol noted, on Rowena’s and Annie’s as well, both girls being very sensitive to the sight of another girl receiving bare-bottom correction—she turned again to the men of the audience and said, “As you’ll see, gentlemen, we dress the girls in rather old-fashioned lingerie, to encourage in them the modesty society expected of young ladies in the days when these garments were the height of fashion for women. I feel sure you’ll agree with me that their downcast eyes and their blushes, especially as they remember what just happened to their classmate Jane, and how it may well soon happen to them at the hands of one of you, add a special attraction to their young charms. Turn around please, girls, to your right, and put your hands on your knees, with your shoulders nice and high.”

Six sweet, white-panty-clad bottoms were presented to the officers and soldiers.

“I don’t know if you agree with me, gentlemen,” Carol continued in her most treacly tone, “but the sight of an eighteen-year-old in her cotton panties seems to stir thoughts of the most delicious, if forbidden kind. I can’t imagine that if I, their matron, feel it, you brave and strong men don’t! I want you to let your imaginations roam, no matter how forbidden the thoughts you are having. It’s an important part of the auction process that the men who choose their brides today give free rein to their desires, in order that they be able to make a choice that truly suits them. If you are the sort of man who will keep his new wife up all night learning to suck his cock and spanking her if she cannot take it deep enough, you would do much better to acknowledge that desire to yourself, and bid only on girls who clearly—as will be frankly discussed here today—will respond well to that treatment, and learn the difficult lessons you wish to teach.”

Carol looked right at Sergeant Creston now. “If on the other hand you are the sort of man who will take great time and care to get your bride used to having your penis in her anus, before you begin to have her that way regularly—the sort of man whose patience and forbearance will let him guide an eighteen-year-old firmly but also gently to the kinds of pleasures you crave and which are your right as a warrior—you will naturally make a different choice.”

The sergeant’s brow seemed to furrow slightly, as if he weren’t quite sure why Carol had singled him out, but he returned her gaze frankly, and she could tell that he did indeed see himself in the little portrait she had just painted of the right sort of man for Jane. The difficulty of course lay in the fact that really there might be more than one right kind of man for a girl like that, and the greater harshness of another soldier or officer might well awaken the same obedience in her, though without making for the same happiness.

Carol moved her eyes to scan the crowd more generally, as she went on, resting her gaze in turn on majors, colonels, generals, a corporal who had held a post against the odds, a lieutenant who had led a successful assault. None of the men who sat there for valorous deeds had displayed half as much valor as Sergeant Creston. That meant that things looked promising for the first round of the auction, but if more than one man bid on Jane, it would get very complicated indeed.

“If of course you are neither of those sorts of men,” she said with a lightly ironic smile, “and you wish only for a girl who will keep your home and change your babies’ diapers, and you find in yourself a distinct lack of forbidden fantasy…” The men laughed, as they always did, but Carol knew that this description applied to a fair few of them. Four of her girls would most certainly suit that sort of man best. Though Carol liked nearly all her girls in every class, she found the docile diaper-changers, as she thought of them, uninteresting. “…you will do well to choose a girl suited to that sort of life, who will require a minimum of bare-bottom correction to become a conscientious homemaker.”

She looked down the pretty row of pantied bottoms. “Alright, girls,” she said. “Stand up and take off the rest of your clothing, please.”

While the class obeyed, and the men shifted in their seats in response to the revelation of such youthful loveliness, Carol delivered the outline of the auction procedures. “After Dr. Quinn examines the girls individually here on the table and contributes his opinion on each girl’s fertility and fuckability, our initial round of bidding will commence. For those of you who have not participated in an auction before, in this round you will silently bid your marriage points for one girl. Your marriage points build from year to year, as you may or may not know. Officers begin with a single point when they reach the rank of major; enlisted men who join the list through valorous deeds start with a number of points that depends on how many lives they are estimated to have saved. In order that we have no mysteries, in this year’s auction Sergeant Andrew Creston and General Green have the most points, with five each. Eight officers have four points, five officers and enlisted men have three points, seven have two, and three have one point. Because each man may only bid on one girl, and some men may not bid at all if they don’t find among the girls of this class a bride they wish to take home, it’s not impossible, you men with one point, that you could be in the top three bidders for the girl in whom you’re interested.”

The girls had finished undressing and stood with their backs to the audience. Their clothes now lay in sweet little piles on the big white table.

“Put your hands at your sides, girls, and turn around,” Carol said. A few little whimpers at modesty offended came from the line of virgins even now, but they all turned, again to the right, a blush suffusing every face. It was one of Carol’s favorite moments of auction day. As always, it produced a spontaneous round of applause from the audience, who again seemed to shift in their seats as they clapped their hands.

“On behalf of these lovely young women, who are all extremely modest and demure despite being made to show themselves to you this way, thank you,” Carol said. “You can see in their red faces that once you bring them home they would not undress so shamelessly for the world—unless of course you were to command it.”

Carol smiled, thinking of how Colonel Blenheim had loved to show her off to other married officers, in exchange of course for a similar display of their own wives’ charms. There was more than one military club devoted to the more forbidden side of warriors’ lusts, and so Carol had acquired her expertise in the kind of advanced training needed by the young women of the Eastern Commonwealth if they were to prove pleasing to their husbands. What happened after Carol and the other wives had stripped in the richly appointed lounge of the Rakes’ Club lay well beyond what she taught in her schoolroom and upon the table in this practical room, but it had qualified her very well to hold the position of headmistress here.

“Hands on your heads, girls,” Carol said. She loved this position, because she could always see in the face of a girl like Jane, as she assumed it, that it meant to Jane exactly what it should mean: My body belongs not to me, but to the man who masters me. “Hands under your breasts,” Carol said after a long moment. “Offer them to these fine warriors. Show them why they should choose you.” Annie’s whole body seemed to turn red at that, and Lara gave a little moan as she handled her big, though very firm breasts, with their brown nipples, so erect that they seemed ready to pop off.

“Turn around again, and spread your feet, girls. Then bend down and grasp your ankles. It’s time to show these men what they’ve really come for.”

Six bare cunts and tiny bottom-holes confronted the officers and soldiers, with their owners’ faces, very red, just behind and below. Pink secrets peeped out from paler lips where grownup curls had been removed to give the proper sense of exposure. Perfect bottoms parted to show the narrower place where, in Carol’s experience with the colonel and his friends, a man liked to take his pleasure when he wanted to teach a lesson to his wife regarding his rights and her need to submit to them.

Carol delivered the final part of her outline over the throat-clearings and chair-creakings of the audience. “The three men on each girl’s list of bids who have the most marriage points will proceed as her suitors—we call them that as a nod to ancient history—and meet with me and the girl this afternoon to discuss the second stage of the auction process. The top bidder, according to points and the tiebreaking procedure, will be the first to enjoy the girl, tonight in her dormitory room.”

She surveyed the line of bending girls a final time, looked out over the rapt audience who had eyes only for the remarkable display of submissive beauty before them.

“Alright, girls,” Carol said, returning to her kind schoolmistress voice, “you may stand, pick up your clothing, and return to the schoolroom. I will call you one by one for your examinations.”