The Kingdom Ch. 11

"No, sir," I answered, shifting my weight and leaning forward in preparation.

"Alright," Hersh growled. "Let's begin."

Suddenly, the large window in front of me turned from translucent to solid white and the sybian between my legs roared to life. Startled, my mouth instinctually shot open. Holy hell it was intense! The vibrations were so violent that they caused my entire body to shake. I exhaled slowly. 'Mind over matter, Deb,' I told myself. You've got this. Over the past couple of months, I'd become quite gifted at fending off orgasms. Obviously, I wasn't always successful, but I was certainly more in control than I was when I started my training a month ago.

As the seconds passed, I felt my heart rate quicken and my breathing become more labored. I squinted and stared at a stain on the concrete floor in an effort to maintain my focus. After a minute, I could feel my resolve slipping. The vibrations were just too damn intense! To my helpless frustration, I could feel my body betraying me and inching closer and closer to climax. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. 'Steady, Deb,' I told myself.

"I, Delta November Foxtrot," I whispered to myself, "-do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic." Reciting the military oath of enlistment was a technique that Keith had shared with me to help me keep my wits in tense situations. As cheesy as it sounds, it's proved itself to be a lifesaver on several occasions. I desperately hoped that this be one of those occasions... "-that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders-"

Suddenly, the white window in front of me changed to a widescreen photograph of a diner. It was go time. I studied the picture, taking note of even the most trivial of details. The number of people, the number of men versus women, their ages, sizes, outfits, the location of the exits, the time listed on the wall clock, the specials listed on the menu board- no detail was too small or insignificant. Literally any question might be asked.

After 15 seconds, the picture changed to a photograph of a time square. I studied the billboards, vehicles, visible license plate numbers, pedestrians, their ages, sizes, outfits, etc. Lastly, the picture changed to a photograph of a crime scene with multiple bodies lying on the floor. I could feel an orgasm rapidly approaching. Eager to put it out of mind, I squinted my eyes to slits and zeroed in on the image in front of me.

Then, all at once, everything stopped. The sybian turned off, the image disappeared, and the large rectangular window became translucent again, revealing Hersh and the commanders looking at me intently.

"Image one," one of the commanders to Hersh's right said into a microphone. "What time was the picture taken and where?"

"12:41pm in Waverly, Nebraska," I replied.

"What were the servers holding?" he asked.

"The dark-haired server was holding a coffee pot, and the light-haired server, a notepad and pen," I answered.

"Image two," the man continued, not looking up from the clipboard he was reading from. "What type of vehicle is closest to the camera?"

"A police horse," I answered.

"How many remaining seconds are listed on the cross-walk display?"

"Four," I replied without hesitation.

"Image three," the man continued. "Which investigative body possessed control of the crime scene?

I closed my eyes in contemplation, "SAPD," I replied.

"What were the victims' causes of death?"

"The two females showed lacerations to the neck and the male had a gunshot wound to the head.

Hersh suddenly leaned forward to speak into his microphone, "The next set will begin with three minutes of stimulation prior to three images at 15 seconds each."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Begin," he added before the window turned back to solid white.

I groaned as the sybian roared back to life again. Shit shit shit, I thought as I clenched my fists and toes. "I, Delta November Foxtrot," I breathed out loud "-do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States-" It had only been a few seconds and I was already slipping into ecstasy. I continued reciting the creed and started over once I reached the end. I was teetering on the brink of orgasm. But my resolve was strong.

After several minutes passed without orgasm, I had successfully surprised myself. I felt like it could happen at any moment now. I continued speed-reciting the creed over and over until the white image finally changed to a photograph of a grocery store. The next image after that was a photograph of a train station. The last one was a photograph of a professional basketball game.

And then, the sybian ceased and the window turned translucent again. I slumped over panting. I'd made it. Barely, but I'd officially made it through another set without cumming.

"Image one," the commander said into his microphone. "What are the contents of aisle 6?"

I hesitated before replying, recalling the signs hanging over each aisle, "Cereal, pancake syrup, canned milk, and coffee,"

"What color shirts are the employees wearing?" he continued.

"Green," I answered.

"Image two," the commander continued. "Which gate does the Kensington train depart from?"

"Um... eleven," I replied.

"Which advertisement is highlighted on left-hand side of the terminal?" he asked.

"Anheuser Busch," I answered.

"Image three," he pressed on, "How many basketball players are wearing knee braces?"

"Two," I replied.

"Is the player who's taking the shot right-handed or left-handed?" he asked.

I closed my eyes, attempting to see the image again in my mind. "Right handed?" I said in question form.

Hersh suddenly leaned forward and spoke again into his mic, "The next set will begin with four minutes of stimulation and you'll have only ten seconds to study each of the three images."

I threw my head back, groaning.

"What was that, Sergeant?" Hersh growled.

"Yes, sir," I replied loudly, still staring up at the ceiling. I wasn't sure how I'd be able to pull this next one off. Once I climaxed, I knew that my mental faculties would rapidly deteriorate. I also knew that having my first orgasm would open the floodgates for more to follow...

Suddenly, the sybian sprang to life again and the window turned white. Holy shit! The pitch of the roar was a noticeably higher than it was before which meant that the sybian had been set to a stronger intensity. Motherfuckers!

I closed my eyes and screamed through my teeth, "I, Delta November Foxtrot do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution-" And that's all I made it through before experiencing the most intense orgasm of my entire life. My body contorted and and trembled uncontrollably as I wailed through my clenched jaw. Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT!! My trial had suddenly gotten much more complicated...

The orgasm lasted for what felt to be 30 seconds. By the time it was over, I felt like I could have collapsed. It was as if all of my energy had suddenly vanished. But the worst part of it all was the continued relentless assault of the sybian. In my personal opinion, one of the worst sexual tortures imaginable was being over-stimulated post-climax. After an orgasm, everything becomes far more sensitive and raw. Even minor stimulations quickly turn from pleasurable to painful.

I opened my eyes to make sure the next image hadn't appeared yet. To my disappointment, the window remained white. I could tell that my climax had had already done a number on my mental state. I honestly had no idea how much time had passed and how much time I had left. I took a deep breath and attempted to compose myself. Get it together, Debra, I thought to myself.

With the help of my military creed, I was able to hold out for another couple of minutes before being rocked by another mind-melting orgasm. This one was less intense, but equally as psychologically taxing. And given the fact that I was fearful of missing the next image, I had to orgasm while keeping my eyes open. This, I came to realize, was more challenging than it sounded...

On the heels of my second orgasm, a photograph of a boat dock appeared, followed by a photograph of a carnival, and lastly a photograph of a chessboard. Fortunately, my orgasm had subsided just in time for me to concentrate and I was able to direct my full attention to the images in front of me.

Then, the sybian stopped vibrating and the window became translucent again. As I had been before, I was asked two questions per image, to which I answered semi-confidently. And once again, without telling me whether or not I was correct, Hersh leaned forward and spoke into his mic.

"Alright," he said. "The next set will begin with five minutes of stimulation that leads into questions from the images you've already seen."

I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to stop myself from screaming at him. How the hell did he expect me to be conscious after five more minutes of this?

"Yes, sir!" I shouted, bracing myself for the sybian to spring back to life. A moment later, that's just what happened. I abandoned my military creed in favor of screaming insanely at the ceiling. Moments into the set, I climaxed again, sending my body into another convulsive fit. I continued shrieking in the hopes that it would help keep me alert.

At this point, my orgasms were lasting no more than a few seconds and were occurring at a faster frequency. This, I'd come to learn over the past couple of months was the result of over-stimulation. Eventually, my orgasms would become what are called "micro-orgasms" and grow so close together that they'd be indistinguishable from each other.

By the end of my five minutes, I was a total wreck. My body was slick with a coat of sweat, my hair was matted against my forehead, and a pool of cum had accumulated on either side of the sybian. But as distraught as I was, my anger was what was keeping me upright. This wasn't a trial. This was fucking MADNESS. The commanders were nothing more than a bunch of sadists.

Finally, the window became translucent again and the commander with the clipboard leaned into his mic to ask his questions. But to my shock, the sybian didn't stop...

"In the photograph of the diner," he began, "-how many customers are standing?"

"Um, aren't you gonna turn this shit off?" I shouted at him as I came down from another orgasm.

"I repeat, how many customers are standing?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of his paper.

I threw my head back and groaned, "Two!" I shouted. This was fucking ridiculous.

"In the basketball game," the commander continued, "-how much time is left on the shot clock?"

My eyes suddenly rolled back in my head as another micro-orgasm hit me. I moaned as my body quivered uncontrollably.

"How much time is left on the shot-clock?" he reiterated.

"I don't know... 6!" I replied loudly. "6 seconds!"

Without missing a beat, the commander continued to his next question. "In the photograph of the chess board, which chess piece is located on space G8?"

I'm not sure if it was the orgasms, the unfairness of this trial, or the commander's ugly-ass face, but I suddenly lost all interest in complying. I was done. Once I answered these questions, they'd probably just up my next set to six minutes and go again. At some point enough was enough. And I had officially had enough.

Panting deeply, I simply stared back at the commander in silence.

"Which chess piece is on G8?" he repeated, lifting his gaze from his clipboard.

I said nothing. I knew the answer the answer was a knight. But I had officially reached my limit. I was done with this shit.

Another orgasm hit me, causing my body to convulse. But my rage allowed me to keep my eyes focused steadily on the commander and maintain my glare. For the next ten seconds, nothing happened. Everyone behind the window simply stared at me as I doubled down on my new vow of silence.

"Last chance, Sergeant," the commander said. "The chess piece."

I'm not sure what prompted my next reply, but it came out of me without thought or premeditation.

"Hun," I said softly through gritted. Nobody reacted.

"Come again?" the commander asked.

Taking a deep breath, I shrieked, "I said HUUUUUUUUUUUN!!"

All of the suddenly, the sybian turned off. My chest heaved up and down as I remained glaring at the commanders through the window. The moment the sybian had fallen silent, a sense of regret began to wash over me. I had failed. My temper had gotten the better of me and caused me to fail my trial. Months of hard work and dedication had been wasted. As angry as I was with the commanders, it suddenly paled in comparison to the anger I had for myself. How could I have done that?

But after what felt like an eternity of silence, something odd happened. I saw something that I'd never actually witnessed before. Hersh's lips had curled upward into what looked like a faint smile. The sight was quite frankly unseemly. General Hersh was smiling...

Hersh suddenly leaned forward to speak into his mic. "You have successfully completed your trial," he said in his growly voice. "Best of luck out there, Brandy Michaels."

I was speechless. I had passed my trial. Not by answering the questions correctly, but by refusing to answer them altogether... Just as Corporal Leonard Hersh had done all those years ago in a Vietnamese prison. My training was complete. I may not have been the frontrunner of the group, but Hersh believed that I was ready. And that was good enough for me. My next stop: the hellhole affectionately known as the Kingdom...