Military Engagement Ch. 03

Chapter 7 : Collection

The following morning Forbes appeared in the dormitory looking rather the worse for wear. From the pinkness of his skin he looked as if he had stood in a shower for half an hour to shake off the effects of the previous night. His brow was slightly furrowed as though he was using the muscles in his temples to keep the top of his head from falling in.

The morning inspection was perfunctory; the girls happy to be excused his usual attentions. It was after he'd finished checking each of the kit layouts in turn that he told me I'd be checking up on the progress that Clegg's people had made for another report to the Colonel that evening.

I didn't expect there to have been much activity since the day before but I guessed that Forbes was simply keen to get what he saw as a disruptive influence away from the other girls without him needing to do anything.

Luckily, when I logged into Clegg's network, it turned out that they had picked up the first two already and I was able to spend my time writing that up in a report for the Colonel.

The reports of Clegg's operations teams made scary reading. The blunt, matter-of-fact tones in which Harry's people wrote up their post operation notes made you realise just how little they thought about the consequences of their actions. L101's the forms were called. Everyone hated them and even Harry didn't push people if they were a bit late in getting them in unless it was an important job. You could tell a lot about the person filling the form in from the way they wrote it. Usually the better and more competent the operative, the simpler and more straightforward the L101. "Flowery language usually means a fuzzy mind," Harry always says. I could imagine that the Colonel would agree with him.

The L101 for the first pick up bordered on the terse. "Potato #1 and #2 arrived on time, #1 driving a Porsche 944, now garaged as asset #07/00989" it began (field operatives always refer to their targets as "potatoes" because they get "lifted"), "and both appeared to have completely accepted the legend we'd given them and were following their script exactly." ("Legend" was the term for the deception used to entice a target to a venue; "script" was the set of actions the target had been directed to follow or was expected to carry out." P1, known by my research work to me as Barbara, had been invited with her friend to discuss a possible TV role. Already known as a presenter on Belgian TV, she'd built up a reputation for schmoozing the Belgian jet-set and was renowned for her spiteful, arrogant treatment of hotel staff, restaurant waiters, and the like. We'd had no trouble finding folk to fill us in on her foibles and weaknesses. P2, Isabelle, had a similar attitude by all accounts but she'd got her position and money from a series of advantageous marriages. They had become friends a few months earlier and were often to be seen together drinking and partying in the smarter clubs of Brussels and Antwerp. The two of them, the legend had suggested, would make the ideal couple to front a series to be called "Inside L.A." and, subject to a very confidential discussion, they could both find themselves in receipt of a substantial fee and with the opportunity to shift up a notch in international celebrity ranking. At a venue chosen by Harry's team the two women arrived in time to be greeted by drugged drinks, two of Clegg's transport boxes and an appropriate quantity of ropes, straps and mouth sealing tape.

They wasted no time consuming the drink so it wasn't too long, according to the L101, before the other items came into play. "It was hard to tell," the L101 said, "whether the anaesthetic was strictly necessary or whether the amount of alcohol consumed alone would have been sufficient for our purposes. Both girls showed an enthusiastic acceptance of hospitality that speeded the process of lifting."

The collection of Patricia, Katherine and Helen – well Countess Helen to give her the proper title – was a bit more of a problem. The research reports showed that all three of them led a hectic social life. It hardly seemed like there was any time when it would be possible to get them alone, and that included night times when all three enjoyed a procession of boyfriends through their bedrooms. One possible opportunity presented itself when Rick's research team identified that the three of them had been invited to spend time in the Aegean on the yacht owned by Helen's uncle. Freddie's team soon established that the three of them had fallen into the sort of routine that always presents opportunities for a lift. The days were spent sunbathing on the yacht's foredeck. Even through binoculars it was apparently easy to tell that the girls had been upsetting the crew; demanding they take time out to fetch them sun cream, to find towels, or to fetch them drinks. As the sun set came they would head off in the yacht's tender to the nearby port in search of an evening's clubbing. The boat would wait there, often until dawn when they staggered back to the jetty, usually the worse for the evenings drink. Whichever unlucky member of the crew had been assigned to ferry them across got to wait around – usually in one of the harbour side bars. Typically they'd be gone from the yacht for six or seven hours. That gave Harry's team plenty of time.

Patricia, Katherine and Countess Helen were grabbed before they got to their first club, according to the L101. "P1 grabbed when she emerged from a bar while the other two were still inside using the washrooms. P2 and P3 went in search of their friend and split up. P2 collected as she entered the alley at the side of the same bar. P3 (Countess Helen) was followed and lifted as she took a short cut around the back of one of the clubs. She took a little longer to subdue being rather more athletic than her friends. Sounds of the music spilling out of the club masked her squeals. All three girls were stripped, bound gagged and shipped out from the port to our own boat. Meanwhile the yacht tender was taken, driven out of the harbour and up towards a rocky headland where it was scuttled, together with some of the girls clothes and belongings." The L101 indicated that reports in the local paper suspected that the girls had returned to the harbour, taken their boat out in a drunken state, overturned it and drowned. Their analysis suited Clegg's organisation.

After a few hours on the PC I was able to reassure the Colonel that all had gone according to plan and that Clegg's operation had the five women that he had requested in their hands. With that done, I was able to take a few moments to think about my own problems.

After the indignities that Tsai Linn had suffered after coming to my defence I felt that the least I could do was to apologise to her. I sought her out while she was cleaning in the kitchen, taking the chance to slip away from my work while Forbes had sneaked out for a cigarette around the back of the house. "I'm so sorry about last night, Tsai Linn," I said.

"Not for you to be sorry," she said, smiling in a reassuring way. "Not your fault at all. Those other girls. Most unfair. I think such behaviour is most incorrect. We may be slaves here but we are not animals. We should look after each other. Mylene, Angie and Lucy need to know they cannot bully others with impunity."

As we finished our conversation Mylene and Lucy came into the kitchen carrying piles of dirty plates in from the dining room.

"Hoping to set up another kinky session, Anderson?" sneered Lucy. I ignored her. "Or did you enjoy yourself so much you want another go, Tsai Linn?" The girl from Hong Kong simply smiled at her but then went on with her work.

Forbes voice called from the corridor outside. "Dobbs, Connor, Banks!" he shouted. "At the double!" Lucy, Mylene and Angie put the plates down and dashed out in response to the call.

"Don't worry," said Tsai Linn. "Their bad behaviour will not go unrewarded."

I never did work out exactly how Tsai Linn managed it but Lucy, Mylene and Angie all suffered unfortunate incidents over the next few days, resulting in punishments from Forbes.

After Lucy had been ordered to clean the living areas the discovery of a stale sandwich lodged behind one of the cushions on the couch brought her up before Forbes and the Colonel on a charge of dereliction of duty. Sentenced to twenty five strokes from Forbes's cane, she spent the next two days unable to sit or lay on her back.

Mylene had discovered that Forbes hardly ever used the downstairs lavatory and had managed to disable the smoke detector that was fastened to the ceiling. She had even somehow been able to swivel the lens around on the CCTV camera so that its field of view was restricted sufficiently to allow her to sneak in there to enjoy one of the cigarettes she stole from either Forbes's or the Colonel's supply. Unfortunately the camera lens somehow got pushed back and Mylene was confronted with the video evidence of her wrong doing. Another beating left her bruised and sore.

Angie had been accumulating a secret stash of chocolate bars. Forbes enjoyed all sorts of chocolate but was particularly fond of large bars of dark, cocoa rich, chocolate that reminded him of his times in Central America. Angie had managed to steal half a dozen bars. Taking one at a time, only stealing a bar when there were six or seven in the pile in Forbes's room and only taking them when Forbes had been out on one of his merry drinking sprees. She had hidden them behind a cupboard in one of the unused rooms. Somehow they found their way into Angie's locker, only to fall out at Forbes's feet during a kit inspection. She was summarily taken to the gym, strapped to the wall bars and thrashed by Forbes who was furious at the theft.

As was always the case all the girls were assembled to watch the punishments. Throughout Tsai Linn watched impassively. The others didn't seem to bother her or me after that.

Who did bother me was Forbes. That evening he announced I was assigned to be assigned to the Colonel's "relief duty" and I had a pretty good idea of what that would involve. The others all looked grateful. After Forbes had seen all the others into their beds he escorted me up to the Colonel's quarters. Basher was already in bed, lying on his back in monogrammed pyjamas, a sleep mask over his eyes.

"That you, Forbes?" he barked as we came in.

"Sir!" Forbes exclaimed.

"Fine. Who's on relief detail this evening?"

"New girl, Sir. Cadet Anderson."

"Fine, fine," Snell responded. "Might as well make use of her while she's here. Set her up and then you can go."

"Yes, sir," said Forbes. He pointed to the floor beside the Colonel's bed and had me kneel down. Reaching under the bed he pulled out a short length of chain and looped it around my neck before fastening it with a padlock. It didn't take much thinking about to realise I wouldn't be moving any distance from where I was until the chain was unlocked.

"That'll do, Sergeant," the Colonel said as the padlock clicked shut.

Behind me I heard Forbes snap himself to attention. "Good night, Sir," he said and the door closed.

With Forbes gone I stayed put, not that I had much choice, hoping that the Colonel would doze off without requiring my services. It was a forlorn hope. "Anderson," he barked.

"Yessir, Colonel, sir," I responded.

"Don't shout girl, I'm trying to get to sleep here. Now you won't know the drill so here it is. You take your pretty little fingers and see what you can find inside my pyjama trousers. Just make sure it stays stiff until I get to sleep. Never could sleep without a good pull. And watch your finger nails too. They way some of you girls go at this I could be scarred for life."

"Yes sir," I answered quietly, reaching up to untie the cord of his trousers. I was quite surprised to discover he was completely shaved. ("That's one thing he's never asked any of us to do," said Tsai Linn when I mentioned it to her.) Whether years of masturbation had worn it down or not I've no idea but it took me some feeling around to find his cock.

"Good grief girl, stop fumbling and get on with it," Snell complained.

"Sir!" I said, gripping hold of the short stubby projection that I'd finally managed to get hold of. Almost at once it started to grow. With surprising rapidity a penis that had felt not much larger than my own thumb, swelled to four times the thickness and five times the length. That I was having the desired effect was clear from the Colonel's breathing which had become deeper and more rhythmical. I'd been forced to jerk off some of Clegg's guards many times of course and the sexualisation programme had made me practice for hours at a stretch (well at a squeeze as well, really) but what was surprising was that once the Colonel's erection was fully formed he just seemed to lapse into a relaxed state with no sign that he was approaching orgasm. No matter how I squeezed, pulled, teased or stroked, the Colonel continued in his half asleep state, his cock rigid in my hands. At the slightest sign of slacking on my part, the Colonel was quick to encourage me to renew my efforts and to remind me that Forbes's cane would surely await any failure to continue.

Eventually after an hour or more, the sounds of the Colonel's heavy breathing were replaced by the unmistakable sound of snoring. Finally I felt able to stop, allowing his cock to shrink back. I slipped down beside the Colonel's bed, clutching my aching wrist, almost sobbing with the pain in my fingers. As I did so, taking the weight from my knees, I realised that I had been kneeling for so long that my knees and legs were virtually numb. I toppled over to lay on the floor, the chain to my neck just long enough to allow me to lay down. With the pain in my joints almost enough to make me cry out I curled up as best I could to try to sleep. It wasn't helped by the constant sound of the Colonel's snoring.

I slept fitfully but eventually fell into a deep sleep which was only disturbed by the arrival of Forbes the following morning. He helped the Colonel into his wheel chair and then unchained me. "Off you go Anderson," Forbes said. "Plenty to do today."

"Yes, Sergeant," I said trying to stand as smartly as I could in spite of the aches in my mistreated limbs.

As I left the Colonel's bedroom I heard the Colonel say to Forbes, "Not too bad, that one. Seems to have a bit more strength in her wrist than some of those girls. You can have her on relief duty again, soon." Not for the first time I was sorry to have done such a good job.

Chapter 8 : Training

The Colonel was quite insistent. "I want a detailed report on the training of all of these girls," he said. "I'm sure Clegg's people can set it up so you can do it from here."

He was right of course. All the training rooms back at the Prep Centre had CCTV and Rick was able to set up a link with the Colonel's PC so I could follow what was going on. Some of it made pretty unpleasant viewing, especially knowing that I was responsible for the girls being there.

Here's the first part of my report on Barbara, for example:-

Barbara's first training session followed immediately after she was put through the Centre's admission process. It was clear from her responses that she objected to being weighed, measured and fitted with her collar. She failed to cooperate with the admissions clerk by providing the necessary personal details for her files. As a consequence, her gag was replaced pending use of more intensive interrogation techniques. She was still wearing the dress that she had on at the time of her abduction – a long, cream dress in an off-the shoulder style - but by now it was streaked with stains and the skirt was torn as a result of the treatment received during her capture. She was sitting on a solitary chair in the middle of one of the small training cells, her wrists still bound behind her and her mouth taped shut.

She looked up at the arrival of the chief trainer. I could see from her look that she was impressed by his appearance. Always a smart dresser, he was wearing a black Armani suit over a black open necked shirt. Barbara looked at him as much as to say, "Hmm, if you're my captor, maybe this won't be so bad." She was cocking her head to one side in a way that invited the suspicion that she was flirting. He pulled the tape clear of her mouth. She straightened herself up. He appeared pleased by the view this afforded him of her breasts and cleavage.

"You seem like a man of taste," she said.

He looked at her for a moment. "I have that reputation," he replied. "Although unfortunately, for you my dear, I also have a reputation for ruthlessness and my primary interest at present is to see that you are properly prepared and trained."

"I can see you know what you want," Barbara responded. "I admire that. I might even confess to being aroused by a ruthless and handsome man. Why don't you free me and we can see how we can amuse ourselves."

The chief trainer gave her a tolerant smile. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't think you've yet understood how things work here. I just needed to be satisfied that you would be ready to start this morning. My admissions clerk had some difficulty in getting the required data, I understand."

"I'm not keen on talking to minions," Barbara said with a smile. "I prefer dealing with the boss."

"So I see," he replied. "No matter. I see no reason why we cannot proceed. We will talk again soon, I am sure."

"I'll look forward to that," Barbara said. Ignoring her, he replaced her tape gag and left the cell. I knew what would happen next. I knew she was under estimating her captors. I knew that they would just see her flirtatious approach as another tool to break her.

It didn't take long for it to start. One of the orderlies that clean the cells appeared, carrying a bucket, broom and shovel. Barbara, ignored him as he swept around her, peering disdainfully at him, in spite of the fact that her wrists were tied and her mouth taped shut. He finished his sweeping and turned towards her. "Hey," he said, "you're the new cunt, ain't you?"

She looked back at him with shock. He grabbed her by her arm and half dragged her, half threw her across the room to a mattress that lay on the floor in one corner.

"Let's see if you're any good," he smirked, pulling at the belt of his trousers. He looped it around her neck earning a terrified look in return. "I think you know what I want," the cleaner grinned as he pushed his trousers down. She shook her head in protest. He reached forward and pulled off the tape that gagged her.

"No, stop," she said, as the gag came clear. "Your boss, he was just here, talking to me. He won't want you to be doing this."

The cleaner laughed. "You've got a big mouth – it needs filling." He reached behind her head grabbed a hank of hair and twisted. The pain made her squeal. He laughed, his cock stiffening at the sound of her distress. Her eyes widened as he pulled her head towards his crotch, pushing his thick salty member between her protesting lips. She gagged and choked as he thrust against the back of her throat. He came quickly, pulling clear of her mouth, leaving a trail of his cum, dripping from it down onto her dress. She coughed and moaned as he pulled his trousers up, only to see one of the man's colleagues appear at the door of the cell.

"Hey Ted," her assailant called. "You finished cleaning out those sluices? There's a new piece in here. You wanna try her out?"

"No, please," begged Barbara.

"Why not," said Ted, stepping into the cell and unzipping his coveralls. He took her the same way, holding her head hard against his crotch as his cock throbbed inside her mouth. Ignoring her struggles and choking grunts, he kept up a constant stream of chatter with his friend. "Did you see the game last night? Yeah, rubbish weren't they. Have you heard if the new valves and pumps are in yet? Those sluices are in a terrible state! Fuck knows what I had to wade through to clear that last blockage. Is this the only new piece or have we got some more new toys around the place this week? You up for a drink when we get off? Yeah? Great. Still gotta get on, I guess." And with that he climaxed, pushing more cum into her mouth and down her throat. As he let go of her head she fell back, coughing. He reached down and pulled at her skirt, using it to wipe himself off. Then he looped a length of chain around her neck, fastened it with a padlock and then padlocked the other end to a ring set in the wall. "There you go darling," he said. "We wouldn't want you wandering off before the other guys have had their go, would we." Barbara looked up in horror as the two men left the cell, locking the door behind them.