Female army drill

Naked female soldier
To all female soldiers: harsh conditions and disciplinary practices are training.

"It was hot today, even in the car with the steady breeze. Looking behind I noticed that the she had trouble to keep up even with a moderate speed. I ordered the driver to stop and watched the girl slump down. Perhaps she had fainted, I thought at first. It would not have been surprising. “It looks, as if she needs a little stimulating.”

I unhooked the belt at my waist as I strode back to the girl. My nerve ends tingling with pleasure again. On arrival at the recumbent figure, I realised that the girl had not actually fainted but was merely exhausted. I laid the strap viciously across the upturned buttocks, evoking a shriek which the driver, in the car clearly heard. He got up to join me.

“You slack bitch ... get on!” I bellowed. Again the strap cracked down. Again the girl shrieked in torment. Making some superhuman effort, she tried to get up on her feet again, but ultimately failed. “I think we’ll have you doing it the hard way,” said the driver who had joined me. He yanked up her head by pulling on her blonde hair. I noticed the girl’s petrified face, wet with tears, slack with exhaustion. That's how I liked to see them; when I really put the pressure on.

“Get up” he ordered. Conditioned to obedience, the girl tried again, in vain. The driver let his leather whip crack loudly in the hot air. Still not enough to make the girl get up.

Craaccckkk! Craaccckkk! The whip fell across her back, before she could move again. I joined in with the belt.

Punishment on wooden horseConvulsed with pain, she finally got up again; she was breathing hard. I looked at her with smug satisfaction. "If you make it to the next stop without breaking down again, you'll get some rest. But I’ll have you on Punishment Detail tonight and see to it you get a really good caning! And the rest of the evening you are going to be on display, riding the wooden horse in the wardroom.”

My motto: Biology might not be destiny, as the slogan goes, but it still matters on the battlefield. An machine gun round travels at 710 feet per second, no matter how you self-identify.



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