Ostnordia Ch. 03

Ostnordia chapter 3 -- Defeated, Dominated, and Delighted

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I had been the top of my class at the academy and number one in flight school. At only age 27, I had become a Flight Leader the previous month. It wasn't a record, but close. Partly since my first name was Magda, I'd been awarded the callsign "Dagger", and my flight's radio handle was "Knife". After lunch I walked to the squadron commander's briefing on the strike missions we would fly that night. We would be on the bleeding edge, the first to attack when we got within range of Ostnordia's main Air Force base.

Our carrier constantly had a pair of fighters and an anti-sub chopper airborne for immediate defense, which kept the maintenance teams quite busy. Just to have three aircraft aloft; we needed nine more undergoing maintenance, refueling, or replenishment. I saw several maintenance techs walking past in the corridor when the Commander came in.

As he started his speech, the entire city-sized ship shuddered, and we heard a large explosion aft. A loud bell dinged repeatedly and a voice announced through a speaker, "General quarters! General quarters! Damage control team one report to deck six, frame one oh four, port side!" I was glad to know that area was dry food storage, instead of anything vital.

My people and I ran to the flight ready room. I was climbing a ladder and nearly fell as there was another explosion and the ship shook again. The Captain's voice announced, "All ASW aircraft prep for immediate launch! Begin anti-sub zigzags! Launch countermeasures!"

I commanded one of the strike-fighter squadron's three flights of eight planes. I figured our squadron would be fourth in the launch sequence. Once the ASW helicopters and patrol bombers launched, next up would be the electronic warfare group with their huge radar plane, two EW planes, and a pair of fighters to escort them. Next would be the fighter squadron. I estimated we'd have at least 15 minutes to get ready.

I called, "Ten-hut!" as the Admiral walked into the ready room. He told us, "We've been hit by three torpedoes. I'm giving you new targets and ordering strikes immediately."

He gave the other two flights their orders and they ran out. He spoke to us last. "I want Knife flight to take out the Ostnord submarine base. It's 400 kilometers, but anti-air defenses should be light. We don't have time for full recon or detailed planning. Here are the photos we have." He set them on the table and we quickly studied them.

"Take out this munitions bunker, the drydocks here, and these fuel tanks. The prime target is the headquarters building here. Destroy it first, then hit it again to be sure. If you're lucky enough to see enemy ships or subs, sink the sons-of-bitches." There were two more explosions and another alarm went off. The admiral picked up a phone and ordered, "Strike squadron launches once the EW squadron is up. Their Air Force is pathetic, so defensive fighters can wait. I want some payback!"

We ran to our planes and got ready. By the time we were on the flight deck and our first jet was being hooked up for catapult launch, the ship was listing to port, tilting about five degrees to the left. I thought the deck was usually farther above the waves, too. I doubted anything could sink a supercarrier, but we had clearly taken on a lot of water.

I gave my XO the honor of being our flight's first launch, and would go last myself. I watched cats shoot our jets into the sky a pair at a time. It was a dangerous and well-planned dance, with people running back and forth pulling off safety caps and plugs, double-checking systems quickly, and hooking landing gear to catapults. They didn't think much of it, but were often within a few meters of running jet engines, helicopter rotors, or planes being catapulted down the deck.

A pedestrian hit by a two-ton pickup truck going 80 kilometers an hour is usually a goner. Powerful blasts of steam propelled heavy pistons about 200 meters down the ship, dragging our thirty-ton aircraft behind the cat sleds at well over 250 kilometers an hour. A pedestrian collision with one of them would leave a pink paste instead of a corpse.

I usually enjoyed watching the launches and patiently waited for my turn, but I was getting worried. The ship seemed to be settling further into the water. The Admiral announced the last thing I ever thought I'd hear. "Shoot all aircraft, then prepare to abandon ship! Launch the boats!"

I told my flight over the radio, "Knife flight alternate airfields are Tromso, Norway or Jukka... Jukkasiji... the 'J' one in Sweden nobody can pronounce." That got a few nervous giggles. "Do your best to get back to one of our carriers, though. If you land in a neutral country, you'll be interned until the war is over."

There was another explosion as a crewman hooked the catapult sled to my jet's forward landing gear, and the ship tilted even more to the left. I held the brakes down, wound both engines up to full power, then kicked in the afterburner. The shooter gave me the 'Ready' signal and saluted. I saluted him back, then got ready for the powerful rush of Gs. He gave the classic 'pistol' sign with his gloved hand, then moved his thumb to order my launch.

I was thrust back into my seat, but not as strongly as usual. I was instinctively relieved the G force wasn't as intense as expected, but worried at the same time. Something was wrong. The catapult delivered less energy and speed than a normal launch. I felt my rear tires hit the tip of a wave as I barely made it into the air! One meter lower, and I would have been swimming in the Arctic Ocean instead of flying!

We grouped up and headed for our target at nearly Mach one, only 20 meters above the sea. Over the radio I heard the carrier had been hit again, then lost steam and electrical power as a magazine exploded. I was the last pilot to leave the ship in a plane instead of a life raft.

Our mighty ship slowly fell beneath the waves. Due to the organized abandonment, only 23 crew were lost. Over three thousand were saved. The enemy had also sunk a frigate. Years later I heard it had taken three enemy submarines working together to do it. Our ASW helos had blown up two of them. One of our subs had torpedoed the last, but too late.

I remembered that several years ago Ostnordia had bought a few thousand radar-guided missiles. Since the missiles were the last generation and over 10 years old, and we flew the latest stealth strike-fighters, they wouldn't be a problem. We wouldn't reflect any radio signal for them to home in on.

As we crossed the beach and climbed above the mountains, my computer displayed the impossible. There were HUNDREDS of aircraft ahead! It showed the number of targets as '99', the most it could keep track of, but there were obviously many more. I was surprised and confused. I knew the whole Ostnordia Air Force only had about 30 fighter jets, and wondered what the Hell was going on.

I scanned the sky and only saw tiny dots far in the distance, though radar reported many of them were less than a kilometer from me. I saw a few sparkly reflections in the sky. I felt and heard a THUMP as I collided with something small. I looked at my left wing and saw I had run into a remote-controlled drone, like kids played with. It had barely scratched the paint on my wing, but now there were a few bits of the drone and a long piece of aluminum foil stuck there.

Several of my group broke radio silence at nearly the same time.

"Knife three to leader, I see hundreds of targets on radar, but there's nothing there."

"Knife seven to knife one, I ran into a cloud of toy drones. What's going on?"

"Knife two. There are hundreds of drones all over the place, and they're carrying long pieces of foil. What the fuck?"

I suddenly realized aloud, "Aluminum foil is reflective to radio waves! We won't be stealthy anymore!"

Just then most of the targets dropped off radar as the drones fell to the ground simultaneously. Only seconds later, I saw many fast-moving targets on the screen. Again, it showed the number of them as '99'. I noticed the speed of one was Mach 4, telling me they were MISSILES! DOZENS AND DOZENS OF MISSILES!

I yelled into my mic, "It's a trap! Get the hell out of here!" As I turned to the right, the tail of my plane exploded and I started falling from the sky. The 'FIRE' and 'MASTER WARN' alarms both blared in my ears as I announced, "MAYDAY! Knife one hit! I'm going down! Knife one MAYDAY!"

As a second missile blew my left wing off, I yanked the 'Eject' handles and blacked out.

-

When I woke I didn't remember much of the previous week. I still knew I was Lieutenant Commander Magda Mullins of Naval Aviation, Inc. I was very proud to fly for the only company that owned a pair of aircraft carriers. I sadly remembered my carrier, my home, had been sunk. I nearly cried remembering I had been shot down during my first and probably only combat mission. I'd never be promoted to the highest ranks without some combat achievements. I'd never reach Admiral rank, maybe not even Captain! My career was as good as over.

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Arvid Helmsen and his boys were the mountain's only inhabitants, other than a few goats and the occasional wandering bear. They used a rock and mortar fireplace as the cabin's only heat source. We mainly ate venison, fish, or goat meat; along with vegetables and potatoes or rice. My favorite was an excellent spicy stew Hans made.

Arvid and his sons Hans and Arik were bearded and tall, very muscular, and very Nordic. They had rescued me from the tree my parachute was tangled in. They carried me to their cabin and bandaged me up. They said when they found me I had a piece of metal sticking out of my right leg, a broken right ankle, and a concussion. My headache and confusion, along with the bandage, splints, and pain in my lower leg confirmed it. I didn't speak much of their language, but fortunately they knew some English. Most of the time they were quite nice. They helped me walk to the outhouse or kitchen, they fed me, and generally took good care of me.

The exceptions were important and disturbing. When they helped me to the outhouse, they insisted on watching me pee or poop! It was terribly humiliating! Hans seemed to especially love watching me take a dump and jerked off as he saw the shit drop from my ass. He never hurt me, but I thought he was a serious freak.

Each night they took turns raping me, which was even worse! They weren't ugly or dirty, but I didn't want them. I didn't even know them! The sense of helplessness was the worst part for me. Even as a child, I'd always been at least partly in control of my life, but they stole my power away. I lost my sense of self-worth, safety, and confidence. They didn't injure me, but did whatever they wanted. I tried to stop them many times, but was helpless as a kitten in comparison.

One of the bearded and burly brutes would hold my arms above my head while another laid on top of me, played with my breasts, and stuck his big penis in. They usually did it missionary style and always thrust into my vagina bareback. Several times I asked them if they could at least use condoms, but they didn't seem to understand. They were careful not to hurt me, but all three of them did it nearly every night.

The sons were 19 and 21, and would usually rape me after breakfast too. I fought and resisted as strongly as I could the first few times, but each of them was nearly twice my weight. I'd have the same chance of success if I tried moving the ocean uphill with a fork. When I didn't struggle they were gentle, but it was still rape.

Every night before supper they forced me to strip, then washed my whole body with wet rags and a pail of warm water. After the first week, I convinced them to let me wash myself. They let me, so long as they could watch. They bathed the same way and seemed to like it when I watched them. I made a point of looking away most of the time, at least for the first few weeks.

Our conversations started out in an adversarial way. Well, adversarial from my side. I demanded they quit touching me, quit raping me, and let me go. I insisted they needed to take me to a city and release me, or at least quit watching me in the damn outhouse. They smiled and looked amused.

They let me rant and shout all I wanted. When I was finished venting my rage, they would hold me firmly as they kissed my face and told me I was pretty. They'd smile as they squeezed my tits, then they'd force their dicks into me again.

One day all three of them went somewhere. I picked up my cane, put on an old parka they kept as a spare, and made my escape. I hobbled an entire thirty meters before I tripped on a rock. I rolled over fifty meters down the steep mountainside. I grabbed a shrub near the edge of a cliff, just before falling to my death. I clung there and yelled for help at least half an hour, until they returned and saved me again.

I attempted to get away again a week later. I struggled to walk a kilometer down the winding switchback road in two hours, and knew it was over ten more kilometers to the closest town. I did my best to ignore the pain in my ankle and keep going, only to see their truck coming around the corner. Arik kindly picked me up and rested me in his lap on the ride home. I was surprised they didn't punish me. Escape seemed as impossible as resisting their strong muscular arms or their powerful lust, so I didn't try to get away again.

One day I finally had a meaningful conversation with Arvid. He said, "On mountain life hard. Much work, very much. You have bad leg, you no work. You no get wood or food. You no get water from river. You need help only way you can. We be good. We feed and no hurt you. You help HOW YOU CAN." He smiled sweetly as he rested his hand on my shoulder.

It seemed to make sense, so I nodded. I was happy when he smiled and kissed my lips gently. I was angry again when he rolled me over and fucked me from behind as I yelled, "NO!"

I didn't want sex with them and didn't like them. Not much, anyway. Who would like men that raped them daily? My body betrayed me, though. I had frequent orgasms, sometimes two or three a night. But I still hated them. Mostly.

-

I learned from Arik that the mountain they lived on had been part of three countries at different times. Nobody had fought over it. The craggy cliffs topped with yet more unyielding rock was just part of the adjacent land. It changed ownership as an afterthought when the fighting for the desirable forest and farmland around it was over.

I realized they were actually being generous by letting me sleep alone in one of the bedrooms most of the time. There were only two beds, so one of the boys would sleep next to his father and the other would be on the living room sofa. They talked about building another bedroom in the spring, since altering an outer wall of our home during autumn or winter would be a very bad idea. I was beginning to think of the cabin as home, instead of a prison.

Hans told me that in the summer they spent large amounts of time cutting firewood. They also did a lot of fishing in the rivers and hunted goats on the mountain or deer in the valleys below. For cash, they had a small silver mine and sold it in the closest town. He said with the small amount of silver they got for a day's work, he could make more as a cook in town.

I had a nice time learning recipes from Hans. He even showed me how to make an excellent sweet bread using honey, a mix of wheat and rice flour, and dried berries. After dinner I complimented him on the delicious food. I was happy when he smiled and kissed me, but angry when he carried me to the bed and raped me again. It was less terrible, though. He held me with less force than usual. He gave me a nice orgasm with his fingers after the second time he fucked me. I fell asleep in his arms. When I woke I was quite confused. I wasn't sure if I still hated him, or was starting to love him.

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After breakfast, Arik and Hans sat and stared at me. They looked at each other, then Arik asked, "We no fuck some time, if you suck. You suck, no need sex. Okay?" I nodded and gave each of them blowjobs in turn. They let me go at the speed I wanted, and were careful not to thrust into my mouth too far and choke me. I hadn't done oral sex in a long time, and kind of missed it. Like most men's, their semen didn't taste very good. I just swallowed it quickly, so it wasn't a big deal. As I was about to go to sleep, they scared me a little when they walked into the bedroom. They each kissed me and gave me a hug, but honored the agreement and didn't fuck me. I was less reluctant and gave them blowjobs again in the morning.

That night Arvid stripped and sat on the edge of the bed with me. He gave me a choice. "Fuck or suck, you pick." I kissed him, then laid on my back. I fondled his powerful arms, then played with his nipples as he made love to me. It was finally love instead of rape. I realized I loved all three of them.

The next day I kissed and made love to the father and his two sons after breakfast, then again after supper. Before we slept, I even gave Hans a blowjob as the other two watched. I was quite happy to have three handsome lovers, and they didn't seem to mind sharing me. The day I convinced them to try licking my pussy was one of the best of my life. They discovered they didn't mind if I'd give them a blowjob too, and their strong, warm, wet tongues did magical things to my kitty and clit. I squirted for the first time ever, and the second!

A month later I was finally able to walk without a cane. I was happy to be recovering until I noticed my breasts were a little sore. The next two mornings I was sick, and my nipples became even more tender. I realized I was PREGNANT!

Even if I could get back to Corporate forces, I would never be allowed in a combat zone if I were with child. I'd be stuck doing a desk job, if I was lucky. I'd never be trusted with command or secret information again, since I'd be having an enemy's baby. I cried the rest of the day. That night we didn't have any sex and Arik kindly cuddled with me as I fell asleep.

-

In the spring, five months after I had been shot down, we went to town for food and other supplies. A Corporate Police officer stopped us. He glanced at a picture on his phone and asked me, "Are you Magda Mullins?"

"Yes."

"Please put your hands on your head. You're wanted as a deserter." He cuffed my hands behind my back and put me in the back seat of his patrol car. At the police station, Arvid and his boys served as witnesses that I had been shot down and wounded, and wasn't able to return to civilization until then.

Since the Ostnordia government had fallen, any of its unowned citizens could be claimed as slaves by members of the Corporate military. I asserted claim over my new slaves Arvid, Arik, and Hans; and took ownership of their mountain!

I was overjoyed the tables had been turned, and I had my revenge at last! When I explained it to them, I was highly annoyed.

They smiled at me and didn't seem to care. Nothing really changed.

I was terribly sad to hear I was the only survivor from my flight. The medal they gave me only made me feel worse. My only combat accomplishment had been getting most of my friends killed. I didn't want any more military anything. I resigned my commission and started a new life.

I had a long talk with them about power and consent, and the Helmsen men finally saw the light. To make me happy and get lots of good sex, they're willing to do whatever I say now. Instead of raping me every day, they're very romantic and give me oral any time I want. They're great fathers and take excellent care of our son and daughter too.

During the summer I fly passenger jets for an airline. In only six months, I make more than they ever did from the silver mine. I still get to travel a lot, and have a great time when I visit home two or three times a week.