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From: nostrumo@nienor.s.bawue.de (Nostrumo)
Subject: TG: Duty, Honor, Country     by  Brandy DeWinter  (6/8)
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Hi.

  As far as I remeber this story was not posted yet, but if I'm
mistaken it will be a nice repost :). The title says everything.

  As always: I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim to it. If
you have some useful hints or some good comments, your mail is welcome.
Flames, you know, will be piped to /dev/null.

  If you are an author and wish to remain anonymous or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands
for story postings and for nothing else.

Enjoy the story.

Ciao
	Nostrumo

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<



6.  Chapter -    Tranquil?


When Sandy awoke the next day, her first impression was pain. The
trauma of the previous night was almost too much for her mind to
accept. Her memories were distant, disjointed, disconnected. She
remembered enough to understand the source of the pains that
assailed her and deep shame added its burden to the load she carried.
The transformed soldier wept silently in her bed, sure what she
perceived as her weakness had betrayed the team, and Marilyn. The
nurse noticed her stress on the monitors and was soon at her side.

      "Now just relax, honey, you're fine now," she tried to reassure the
sobbing girl.



   Sandy couldn't speak to answer her, her throat was as choked as any
intruder from the night before had made it. She just shook her head in
helpless negation and let the tears run down her bruised cheeks.

      "Do you hurt bad?" the nurse asked. "The doctor said I can't
give you anything unless I call him. Do you want me to call him?"

      Sandy just wanted to be alone in her misery, so she gave another
negative shake and looked away at the blank wall. The nurse went
back to her station and called the doctor anyway. He happened to be
talking with Marilyn about Sandy's prognosis. The blonde team
leader overheard enough of the conversation to realize that Sandy was
awake and Marilyn was on her way to the room before the doctor even
hung up. Once at her bedside, Marilyn just leaned over and gave
Sandy a long, warm, gentle hug, cradling her in her arms. Sandy
turned to Marilyn's breast like a child to her mother and shook with
deep sobs that were too overwhelming to allow recognition of how the
motion was aggravating the physical pains that assailed her.

      "It's okay, baby, it's okay. You're okay now," Marilyn murmured
monotonous assurances that meant no more, and no less, than the
gentle stroking of the girl's hair. The doctor stood quietly by as the
two teammates shared a closeness that was more than comrades in
arms. After an interval that seemed forever, yet was only a few
minutes, the wracking sobs diminished and Sandy's crystal green eyes
looked up to meet the brilliant blues of her comforter.

      "I'm so sorry, Marilyn," she whimpered.

      "No. You're not," Marilyn declared with deliberate flatness, an
absolute, unequivocal order from a general to a private. It shocked
Sandy, as it was supposed to do. She pulled back further to get a
better look at Marilyn and saw fierce determination in those eyes that
had moments ago seemed so softly comforting.

      "You performed magnificently," Marilyn continued. "Two of
those pigs were out of the picture, a third would have been for long
enough for you to get away. There aren't more than three or four
soldiers in any army that can take on three street thugs while wearing
5-inch spikes and a tight skirt, let alone beat the crap out of them. All
of those who can are part of our team. Your only problem was that
there were more than three of the pigs, and that's not your fault, it's
mine. I didn't let the team work together, I sent you out alone. But I
do have a job for you, and I expect your best efforts, just as you have
always given me your best efforts."

      The doctor looked like he wanted to intrude, but Marilyn was
sure Sandy needed the emotional reassurance that she was still
valuable to the team, and personally to her leader, more than any
physical comfort. She held him off with a glance that revealed the
strength of will that had gotten her this job in the first place, then
waved him out of the room.

      "Since you earned the right not to participate in our El
Supremo's class today," Marilyn began with a reminder of the happy
time before the tragedy, "I'm going to get you started on the next
phase of our training. Beginning later this morning a language
instructor will come in. Don't tell any of the other girls, yet, but you
may be able to tell from the language where we're going. I'll tell you
now, it's not a Latino country and the dictator doesn't really call
himself El Supremo, though he likes the equivalent in his language. I
expect you to become our language expert since you'll have some idle
time on your hands for a few days. I won't insult you by telling you to
do your best to get better, but we need you looking beautiful before
we can go on the mission, so keep that in mind also. Any questions?"

      Sandy's wide eyes betrayed her shock at the sudden turn of
events. She had felt broken and useless, only to be complimented and
confirmed in absolute terms as still part of the team. Motivation takes
many forms, but Marilyn had learned to push Sandy's buttons with
sure reliability and the green-eyed brunette was lifted from the depths
to the heights with a couple of simple orders, most of which promised
hard work and struggle, followed by danger. Well, Marilyn had picked
her team carefully, more carefully than most of them knew. She stood
up slowly, knowing that jiggling Sandy's tortured body was to be
avoided if possible, then turned to leave.

      As she did, she heard a quiet voice from Sandy, "Thank you."

      Marilyn nodded abruptly as though it were only to be expected
that she would properly use the resources of the team, and that
Sandy's role was just as reasonable. She didn't turn back, though,
because the film that filled her sparkling blue eyes would have
destroyed the image of command she had used to snap Sandy from her
despair. She strode as quickly from the room as her towering heels and
habitual wiggle would allow, looking now for the doctor. He was
allowed to tend to his patient, an embarrassing but necessary interlude
that would be repeated many times over the next few days. Sandy
recovered quickly, though. Her renewed sense of purpose was
supported by visits from her friends. They smuggled her treats from
the dining room, some of which extracted a painful price a day or so
later when their remnants worked their way to their ultimate
destination, but Sandy loved them anyway. The language training
occupied her for several hours each day and she still practiced at her
barely-adequate lock-picking skills whenever she had a moment to
spare. After a week she was allowed to return to her room. She still
didn't move with the liquid grace she had shown before, but she
looked better, the bruises gradually fading, the cuts on her lip slowly
shrinking.

      In her room she found an article from a local paper about the
aftermath of her assault. Five gang members had been found dead in
an alley, all with broken necks. One also had a fractured skull from
being crushed against a truck window, one was blinded and almost
castrated from some sort of penetrating trauma. One had a broken
nose and teeth from sometime before he received the deathblow to his
neck. Signs of sexual assault indicated that a rape in progress had
been broken up, with fatal results for the attackers. The paper
reported that the strength of the retribution indicated that some
group of men must have been involved in the rescue, since women were
not considered capable of applying such force. The police were looking
for a woman accompanied by at least a couple of men, and possibly
another woman. If anyone had seen anything in the alley, please notify
such and such, etc. An editorial was clipped to the article that
expressed due concern about vigilantism, but expressed no regret that
the gang members had been dealt with so severely.

      After another week she was physically healed, and in another she
had re-learned her feminine skills. The pain of her assault lurked in
her eyes, though, adding to the damsel-in-distress appearance in a way
none of them would have wanted, but which was nonetheless
impossibly effective. She was more desirable than ever, more certain to
invoke help from any men she encountered who had even the faintest
sense of chivalry, or of true masculine responsibility.

      All quiet times must come to an end, though, and when she was
as fully recovered as she was likely to get, Sandy returned to the
unarmed combat mat against El Supremo. Everyone, most of all
Sandy, was shocked at her new lethal effectiveness. She managed to
hold a potentially killing stroke by only the barest of margins, at the
last second flattening a hand that would have crushed a larynx into a
resounding slap. It scared her, terrified El Supremo, and got her
excused from further practice. It was clear that her reflexes had
chosen the path of attack rather than defense when confronted by a
masculine threat, and that her skills had not been lost through the
trauma. Her problem, if it was a problem, was control. There was a
fierce anger within her now that made her deadly in a way none of the
others could match.

      That wasn't the end of the surprises for the day, however.
Marilyn finally told the rest of the team of their destination and they
had the first briefing on their actual attack plan. It was deceptively
simple. They would merely allow themselves to be captured as harem
slaves. All initial captives were kept inviolate until El Supremo (as
they continued to call him) got around to initiating them, something
that might take months. Until that happened, they could wander
through the harem at will. The turnover was so great that new faces
would not be unusual. Converging on the only entrance to the hidden
biowar lab at a specified time when the technicians were asleep, they
would gain entrance and effect the switch of the harmless agent for the
deadly brew. There was a problem, though. From a source that
Marilyn wouldn't reveal, it had been learned just how El Supremo's
technicians delivered their fresh, live sperm to gain passage within the
inner compound. Girls from the harem were chained at strategic spots
throughout the lab, blindfolded to prevent them from seeing what was
going on. Hidden within a mitten covering their bound hands was a
button to open their assigned interior door. The doorways were
reportedly like airlocks, possibly with exactly that purpose, and only
one man could pass at a time. The chained girls were trained to push
their concealed button only when a man ejaculated into their mouths,
with the usual deadly penalties for non- compliance. The problem was
that there was the possibility that one of the true harem girls would
realize that there were unauthorized intruders and compromise the
mission. They could kidnap this theoretical observer from her captors
and keep her from revealing their presence, but they couldn't trust her
to work the door properly.

      One of the team, any one of the team, would have to be prepared
to replace a door sentinel. That meant they would have to be prepared
to function as oral receptacles for sperm until relieved. The compelling
logic of this situation did nothing to overcome the revulsion of the
team members, except for Jaymi.

      "Listen, girls, I've been there, done that. It's not so bad. I know
that some of you have wondered about me all along. Sandy knew
about me from the start. I've swung both ways with men and women,
and the only true erogenous zone in anyone is the one between their
ears. If you truly want to please someone you love, or even lust after,
then you'll accept any non-painful physical action you can do to give
them pleasure and it will be a pleasure of its own. As soon as you
accept that sucking a guy's cock can be a pleasure, then the nature of
the physical act doesn't matter any more. I don't expect to enjoy
blowing some guy I don't know while I'm bound and blindfolded, but
that's because it's forced, not because of the cocksucking. If we need
to do this, we can."

      With that, the longest speech the normally reserved Jaymi had
ever delivered to the team, she sat down. The others were as shocked
by the uncharacteristic outburst as by the revelation of propensities
that had been only rumors. It was an amazing coincidence, or perhaps
a sign of the intimate closeness their long teamwork had created, to
see multiple throats gulp as Jaymi's words triggered a reflexive
response in the other team members.

      In the next instant, all the team members, even Marilyn, were
looking at Sandy. She had the greatest reason of any of them to fear
and hate this approach. Her introduction to oral sex had been a brutal
rape, one that could traumatize anyone into such a psychological
rejection that it would be impossible for her even to try. Yet, if she
could make the mental adjustment to the openness of mind expressed
by Jaymi, could the others do any less? They watched as memories of
her assault flowed behind her eyes, the pain visible in ways too subtle
for those not part of the team to see, but glaring obviously to the
tight-knit group. Then her eyes went to Marilyn, who looked back
with unjudging patience, another silent communication telling Sandy
that Marilyn would back up whatever decision she made. Finally,
Sandy's eyes turned to Jaymi. The dark-eyed bisexual had never been
intrusive on any of the team members, accepting herself even if they
would not. That patience, really trust, had gained her the trust of the
other team members in a way that aggressively forcing acceptance of
her chosen lifestyle could never have achieved. Sandy met Jaymi's eyes
and couldn't reject the gentle philosophy of the quiet lady, no longer
one of "them" in any way that mattered, now just another one of "us."

      "All right, Jaymi, what do we need to do?" Sandy asked quietly.

      Jaymi looked at Marilyn for confirmation that Sandy's
acceptance was a team decision, and at a silent nod turned back to the
group. "Well, I guess it depends on what we want to achieve. We can
make this mechanical, in a way that never touches us where we live, or
we can learn to do it right, as an opportunity to pleasure our lovers.
Even real women sometimes choose to be mechanical, but I'll tell you
what, if you approach it as an act of love, it'll be more enjoyable for
you as well as for your partner. I guess I think we should pair off and
just practice a little. If you've been on the receiving end of a good
blowjob, you'll figure out what to do. If not, well, let me know."

      Another collective gulp passed through the team. Marilyn
glanced at Constance, and if the team had been paying close attention
they would have seen a slight frown of negation flicker across Connie's
elegant features, followed by a equally subtle nod from Marilyn.

      "Very well," Marily resumed control of the briefing, "we'll do as
you suggest. I guess I'll need a partner, too, but we can worry about
that later. We all accept the wisdom in Jaymi's approach, but I think
a little privacy is still in order. I'll leave it to you to work out any
details. Now, let's get to work on our language lessons."

      With that the training continued. No one was surprised to find
out that Marilyn already had good skills in the target nation language.
She had always led from the front. Sandy had made good use of her
time as well, so the team had two tutors to go with the formal
language teachers provided by the army. They made good progress
over the next few weeks, not becoming fully fluent which wasn't
required, but gaining enough skill to eavesdrop effectively on any
conversations they heard, and to read signs that might be significant.

      That evening as Sandy was preparing for bed, she tried to decide
what to do about the strange challenge she had accepted. It was
pretty apparent that Carol and Vanna were going to work something
out between themselves, which left Sandy partnered with Jaymi. That
prospect didn't bother her as much as it once would have, which
bothered her in a different way. The rape had been ugly, no aspect of
it ever approached pleasure, ever triggered an iota of desire within her.
But she remembered the thoughts of being kissed by a man that had
been arisen within her when she watched Jaymi getting kissed. She
knew that living in the persona of a woman constantly for almost a
year had affected her in more ways than showed externally.
Submitting to a man in a loving relationship was not nearly as
repulsive as it once would have been, and Jaymi appeared to be a
quite beautiful young woman, which pushed a lot of buttons that a
normal-looking man would not. It was a confused, neither fish nor fowl
relationship that was so outside the norm for their background that
there were no easy rules to follow, no standard answers to quote.
Sandy did realize, though, that it would be up to her to make the first
gesture. Instead of cleansing her face, she freshened her makeup to its
highest standard, brushed her tumbling mane into shining liquid night,
climbed up on sky-high feathery mule slippers and slipped into a
floor-length emerald nightgown with her trademark almost sheer,
almost revealing, now-you-see-it-now-you-don't design. She made her
way to Jaymi's room and knocked quietly.

      "Come in," she heard from inside.

      The door handle turned in her hand and she stepped in to see
Jaymi also dressed beautifully, also carefully made up.

      "I hoped you'd come," the dark-eyed girl told her guest.

      Her response was tentative nod, a fidget, an unconscious flirtation
with a now-habitual toss of long dark hair, but no words.

      Jaymi walked to Sandy and offered a gentle hand. Sandy's hand
raised almost of it's own accord and she felt herself drawn toward the
bed, then seated beside Jaymi.

      "You really are a virgin, aren't you?" Jaymi asked.

      "Not any more," came the bitter reply, surprisingly bitter, she
thought she had put that behind her.

      "That's not what I mean. You've never made love with anyone,
have you?"

      Sandy looked away, but shook her head.

      "Let me show you what it means to make love, tonight," offered
Jaymi. "You don't have to do anything but relax and enjoy. When
you're ready, some other time, you can decide what it means to give
love, as well as to receive it."

      "Does it have to be love?" Sandy asked.

      "It doesn't have to be the live-our-lives-together sort of
commitment, but it's best if your partner's pleasure is more important
to you than your own. That's as good a definition of making love as I
know."

      With that, Jaymi slid off the bed to kneel at Sandy's feet. She
raised the hem of the emerald nightgown to reveal matching lacy
panties. At her urging, Sandy lifted her hips and the panties were slid
down her smooth legs. Another urge and the gaff followed. Sandy was
still too confused for a full arousal, but in moments a stirring occurred
as Jaymi gently helped her testicles descend into a more comfortable
position. It was easy to imagine that Jaymi was a pretty girl, and only
a girl, forgetting what the internal plumbing hidden behind her own
feminine clothing really looked like. Sandy immersed herself in this
fantasy, forcing down the whisper in the back of her mind that this
was supposed to be wrong, forbidden, repulsive. She closed her eyes
and leaned back on the bed.

      The gentlest touch of graceful fingers almost hid the first
butterfly-wing kiss of soft lips. Sandy found herself focusing on the
sensations, trying to decide just exactly what Jaymi was doing to
cause each particular sensation, not so much to learn how to do it as
to appreciate the full nature of the sensation. As a slick tongue added
its contribution, highlighted by a slight cooling as the deposited liquid
evaporated, Sandy began to respond as any healthy young man would
respond. His/her erection grew to its not- inconsiderable fullest with
stepping increments in time with the accelerating pulses of her/his
heart. When Jaymi's ruby lips finally encircled the tip, Sandy gasped
in a confusion of emotions too interlocked to sort out, and too
consuming to need distinction. Under Jaymi's increasingly energetic
devotions, Sandy's confusion melted away into driving need, more
intense than any that she/he had felt with his/her own manipulations,
more demanding than breath, more demanding than thought itself.
His world compressed to a small universe centered on his stimulated
flesh, then detonated in an explosion as great as that forming the
galaxies, at least to his overwhelmed senses. Sandy hovered on the
edge of consciousness as he felt himself empty his seed into Jaymi's
willing mouth, then began to recover as his senses brought his universe
back to the range perceived by mortals.

      For the first time in months, Beech felt embarrassed to look so
pretty. The swell of his shapely bosom, the smell of his makeup, the
taste of his lipstick, all seemed wrong. He wanted to get out of the
beautiful nightgown, to rip off his scarlet nails, to purge himself of
every trace of femininity and be a man again. He sat up to see Jaymi's
gentle smile turn to concern as she registered the self-disgust apparent
on the young man's still-beautiful face.

      "Sandy, what's the matter?" Jaymi asked.

      "This is wrong, all wrong, I shouldn't be doing this. I'm not a
girl, I'm a man. This is just wrong," Beech asserted.

      "Now take it easy," Jaymi demanded. "You're just feeling the
aftereffects of all those hormones your body just dumped into your
system. Haven't you been masturbating at night?"

      "What? Of course not!"

      "Why not?" Jaymi continued her interrogation. "You're young,
healthy, full of a normal sex drive as you've just amply demonstrated."

      "Normal, right," Beech snorted. "Dressing in makeup and high
heels isn't normal."

      "This isn't about clothes, at least not only about clothes. It's
about being all that you can be. You're in the Army, and that's what
you signed up for," Jaymi tried to make a joke of it.

      It worked. Beech couldn't help laughing at the ludicrous
extension of the standard Army slogan. Perhaps the chemical cocktail
that had flooded his body was gradually being absorbed, but he
passed the point of self-disgust and began to recover his self-respect.
With an almost visible wrench of transition, Beech became Sandy
again. She smiled at Jaymi with her accustomed demure
attractiveness and urged her dark- eyed friend up to sit beside her.

      Thank you," Sandy said. "I needed that."

      From the quantity, I guess you did," laughed Jaymi.

      This embarrassed Sandy again, but in a funny way, and she
started giggling as she gently wiped a spot of cream from Jaymi's lip.
"I wasn't talking about that," Sandy claimed, then got pensive again
as her glance flickered down to the almost revealed triangle at the
bottom of Jaymi's shorty nightgown.

      Jaymi sensed her unease and relieved it immediately, "Not
tonight, dear. Not until you're ready. Get yourself back together and
go to bed. We'll have time."

      Sandy nodded gratefully as she pulled her underwear up toward
her hips. Before she completed the motion she stopped, took her gaff
all the way off with a sigh of relief, and pulled just the now-distorted
emerald panties into place. She swayed back to her tall slippers with
accustomed grace and moved toward the door, escorted by the patient
Jaymi. At the doorway, though, she stopped and turned to her friend.
Somehow, it seemed wrong to just walk away after the things that had
happened tonight. Without letting herself have long enough to think
about it, Sandy wrapped her arms around Jaymi and lowered her
painted lips to those of her companion (lover?). They kissed with
more friendship than passion, at least, that's how it began, but Jaymi
had always been prone to acceptance, to love with her close friends,
and in moments her desire was becoming apparent in the energy she
was pouring into the kiss. Sandy felt herself respond, but a part of her
was still not ready for that, so she pulled back, gave Jaymi one more
quick peck as a promise for later, than left.

      The next morning it was apparent that they had not been the
only ones to experiment with a more intimate relationship. The
glances Carol and Vanna were exchanging had a lot more heat than
they had shared before, a lot more interest. Marilyn noted this and
worried that the forced closeness would cause her team members to
lose perspective, but she also had read of the Band of Thebes and
knew that commitment to a lover/comrade was a powerful spur to
military virtue. Perhaps it was just because she hadn't achieved her
own opportunity the night before that was making her testy, she
decided.

      Marilyn's observation of Sandy and Jaymi actually led her to the
wrong conclusion about them. Jaymi was bright and cheerful,
attentive to Sandy in a non-possessive but clearly devoted way. Sandy,
on the other hand, was distracted, still trying to come to grips with
the conflicting emotions within her. Perhaps it wouldn't have been
such a overwhelming impact if she had enjoyed a more fulfilling sex life
previous to that night, but that was not the case. To Marilyn, though,
it appeared as though Sandy shared her lack of fulfillment, and that
Jaymi was smugly satisfied, as though the donor and recipient of the
previous night's pleasure had been reversed. Trusting her team to
work the problem, they went through their normal workouts, dressed,
and began the day's rehearsal.

      Marilyn had obtained a reasonably detailed description of the
internal arrangement of both the harem and the hidden biowar lab.
The idled soldiers who had washed out of the team had been building
a replica in a corner of the training base, complete with simulated
airlock doors and bondage equipment. Soon every team member was
familiar with the layout and knew where the key passages were. Sandy
and Carol were assigned the primary tasks of being distractions, either
in the harems, or as they escaped. They would also act as guards
during the break-in. Jaymi was the premier lock picker, backed up by
Marilyn. Vanna was assigned the job of shepherding the false culture
to the replacement point. Constance wouldn't be able to penetrate the
inner sanctum, of course, since she wouldn't be able to make a live
sperm donation. She would be the external guard. They wouldn't
need to take their own weapons since the harem was decorated with a
variety of deadly devices to allow the harem girls to deal quickly with
any male intruders.

      Their capture and delivery to the harem was one part of the plan
they couldn't control directly. El Supremo had long since ceased
worrying about the opinion of the rest of the world and ruthlessly
controlled the press within his own nation. He ignored all requests for
aid in finding the small groups of beautiful women that seemed to
frequently disappear in his area of the world. As a result, and because
the groups of girls that were likely to sightsee in his depressed country
were often rebellious and unwanted at home, the disappearances were
not common knowledge. Marilyn decided they would again separate
into their like- personality trios and just wait to be picked up. The key
skills were part of each team, at least well enough to proceed.

      Rehearsal, language practice, dinner, all normal activities
proceeded normally. Finally, as their evening meal drew to a close, the
girls dispersed to their rooms. Once again Sandy found herself
dressing up her makeup and selecting a flattering nightgown. Once
again she found herself at Jaymi's door. Once again she knocked and
was bidden to enter.

      "Hello," Sandy said quietly. Jaymi nodded in return.

      "Are you ready for this?" Jaymi asked, her calm smile showing
patience, and acceptance.

      "I think so," Sandy said.

      "May I make a suggestion?" offered Jaymi. "Why don't we just
hold each other, and maybe snuggle a little, and maybe even share a
kiss or two, just to get ourselves in the mood?"

      In some ways this was worse for Sandy, it made it personal, it
made Jaymi a real person and not just an appendage to be exercised.
Yet in other ways it made it better. Jaymi's fundamental philosophy
was that people in love should love to please each other, the act was
not the end in itself but a means to be a good lover. What they had
wasn't love like the romance novels talked about, but it was a
closeness that built on the camaraderie of tight military groups, added
the isolation and interdependence of their unique training regimen and
added still further the desire that each still felt for beautiful examples
of the gender they had been raised to be attracted to. Kissing a
woman as pretty as Jaymi was not a hardship. Sandy had been used
to thinking of her as a woman for so long that the incongruity seemed
to be in Jaymi's plumbing, not in Sandy's attitude. After a pause too
short to show reluctance, Sandy moved forward and wrapped her arms
around Jaymi, to receive a matching squeeze.

      "You really are a special person," Sandy whispered in Jaymi's ear.

      "And so are you," Jaymi answered. "I don't discriminate because
of gender in my lovers, but I am very discriminating in all other ways.
I demand that those I share my love with be tender, compassionate,
loving, and warm-hearted. Like you."

      The words were part of the standard method lovers had
developed over generations to assure their partner that this was more
than an animal exercise, more than a passing biological urge. They
worked, though, just as they had worked before. In a few minutes the
hugs had warmed and lips were seeking lips. This time Sandy didn't
hold back when Jaymi let heat flow into her kiss. She went with the
energy and returned it, finally urging Jaymi back onto her bed. This
time Sandy kneeled at Jaymi's feet. She had already noticed that
Jaymi had removed her gaff. Only her dark red panties covered a
bulge that demonstrated the true gender Jaymi had been born to.
Covered but not concealed, the hardness of Jaymi's masculine package
was too demanding to be hidden. Sandy struggled to develop an image
of the encounter she could live with. Should she try to deny her own
nature and become as feminine as possible, or should she capitalize on
Jaymi's beauty and treat this as a strange feature on a special
woman? In the end, no simple answer sufficed. Jaymi was Jaymi, and
Sandy was herself, accepting Jaymi's beauty and her cock, as part of
her lover, justified in themselves. It was only later that she realized
her own hidden tool had remained quiescent, helping by stillness not
to disrupt the complex part she played.

      By the time Sandy was finally ready to culminate her act, she
had become sufficiently accustomed to the idea that it seemed right
somehow, no longer something to worry about. She knew how much
pleasure it could give, and that was her objective, giving pleasure. Of
course, she wasn't skilled. With infinite patience, Jaymi coached her
through techniques that were effective without requiring excessive
penetration. In time, not a long time since Jaymi was quite excited by
Sandy, the short-haired brunette was erupting into the long-haired
girl's mouth with energy and passion. Ironically, the sodomizing rape
Sandy had endured had already exposed her to the taste and texture
of semen and she swallowed without additional mental anguish. She
softly sucked the last traces of cream from Jaymi's diminishing
member and finally sat back, actually quite smug at the near-coma
that seemed to grip Jaymi. It was a moment or two before Jaymi's
eyes fluttered open to look at her grinning friend.

      "Did I do okay?" Sandy asked with wide-eyed innocence, a
pretense that fell to a giggle she couldn't contain.

      "No," denied Jaymi, then laughed at the instant hurt in Sandy's
eyes as she continued, "you did terrific. I know you've never done that
before, at least not with your heart set on giving pleasure. What I
don't know is how you learned to do it so well, so fast."

      "I had a good teacher," Sandy purred as she slid up beside Jaymi
to snuggle. Jaymi let a hand gently drift down in the beginnings an
offer to reciprocate, but Sandy intercepted her hand and just held it,
whispering, "Tonight was my night to give you pleasure. Let's just
enjoy being together for a little while before I leave."

      Jaymi nodded, then slid back onto her bed so that they could
both lie comfortably.

      No one but Marilyn knew the timeline for their mission, but they
practiced as though they had all the time in the world, and no time at
all. The team practiced the actual assault until each member could do
any other girl's job, picking up at any point in the task. They also
continued their nightly practice as well, until the novelty had given
way to a deeper, more fulfilling sense of sharing. Sandy was once again
preparing herself for an evening's "instruction" when she heard a
knock at her door. She smiled in anticipation. The ever-patient Jaymi
hadn't come to her room before. Checking her incredible appearance
one last time in the mirror, she went to the door and flung it open with
a brighter smile than her normal damsel-in-distress persona employed,
then almost squeaked in surprise. Marilyn was standing there.

      "Hello," Marilyn said in an unknowing echo of the timidity Sandy
had experienced. "Is someone expecting you?"

      "Um . . no, not really," Sandy replied.

      Marilyn knew what the 'not really' meant, but instead of turning
away, she asked, "May I come in?"

      "Of course," replied the dark-haired girl as she stepped back.
Marilyn followed her into the room, then stood uncertainly, a most
unusual condition for the forthright team leader.

      "I'm sure you can guess why I'm here," the blonde began to
explain. "I need a partner for the 'special' training you girls have been
sharing. I wondered if you would be willing to be my partner for the
night. I don't think Jaymi would mind."

      Sandy was too surprised to answer. Not that the prospect was
uninteresting. Marilyn had always been pretty in a more classic way
than the subtleties employed by Sandy. Thanks to the sophisticated
training she had received from Krystal, the younger girl had learned to
be devastatingly attractive, far and away the most desirable on the
team. Yet to the perceptions of the young, unsophisticated boy that
still lived within her, the intensely feminine, blue-eyed blonde Marilyn
had become was the epitome of beauty. Nonetheless, it's not every day
that a general, however beautiful, comes to a private's room and offers
oral sex.

      Perhaps with a more sophisticated interior to go with her
polished exterior, Sandy would have been able to work through genteel
responses, positive or negative, to Marilyn's suggestion. Instead, she
was just flustered and incoherent for a few seconds. In the end,
though, it was inevitable. The sexual stimulation she had been getting
at least on alternate nights had her hot and bothered before Marilyn
even appeared. Regardless of external appearances, it boiled down to
a beautiful person offering a horny twenty-year-old a chance at a
blowjob, and rejection was not very likely. With a shy nod that had
become her typical answer to most questions, Sandy accepted.

      Marilyn took the younger girl by the hand and led her to the bed,
calling on her charm to put Sandy at ease. She giggled with her
airhead bimbo voice and said, "I've been, like, practicing, you know,
on some totally awesome sex toys, so, like, I think I have the basic
idea, you know, but I'm, like, sure there's nothing like the real thing."

      Sandy's not-so-hidden response pulsed in the front of her
nightgown. It was clear that she wasn't wearing her gaff. It was also
clear that the idea of the jiggling, giggling, blonde playing with some
sort of sexual aid was incredibly erotic to the unsophisticated girl, as
Marilyn had expected. Her grin grew wider at Sandy's astonished gasp
and visible pulse, and she took charge of the situation with less
concern.

      "Now, you just lie back and, like, relax. I'll do all the, you know,
work," Marilyn directed with another giggle accenting the thought
that it was 'work'.

      Sandy let herself be swept along with the flow, soon feeling
Marilyn's gentle, but unique ministrations bring her erection to its
full, young vigor. The blonde's technique was different than Jaymi's,
more mechanical, more intellectual if that can be applied to such an
intensely personal act. But it was definitely skilled. Whatever books
Marilyn had studied had certainly been accurate on how to stimulate
the male member. In only moments, Sandy was gasping and beginning
to climb her peak. Marilyn backed off to avoid a too-quick
culmination, a tactic which elicited a moan from Sandy that was so
heartfelt it was funny to the experimenting team leader. She quickly
resumed her motion, different enough to start Sandy on a new
escalator rather than just continuing on the old one. This time,
Marilyn decided to try out her 'special' techniques, and let her lips
gradually move further and further down Sandy's rigid shaft.

      Sandy felt the change. It even registered on her diminishing
awareness. As the tip of her cock began to penetrate Marilyn's tight
throat, Sandy realized that she was receiving something that even
Jaymi had never learned to give. In a moment, when she felt Marilyn's
lips lightly caressing the still hairless skin at the base of her shaft, she
had to lift her head and look at the image. Marilyn's blonde curls
bobbed lightly as they framed her face, the stretched oval of her ruby
lips covering the target of her ministrations so thoroughly that Sandy
might have in fact been as feminine as she appeared. Then Marilyn
did something tricky with her throat and Sandy exploded. The
transition was so abrupt that Sandy almost bucked Marilyn off onto
the floor. The young brunette's back arched into a hard bow, her heels
lifting off the floor as her body was supported by her straining toes
and thrown-back head and nothing in between. Marilyn rode her like a
champion, though, and kept up with every pounding convulsion. When
Sandy eventually returned to the real world, Marilyn let the shrinking
live sex toy slide from her lips. A smug smile that was the mirror of
those her team had previously displayed lifted her lips as she felt that
satisfaction that a lover has when they know they've been good, very,
very good. Or very, very, bad depending on your perspective.

      By now Sandy had come to grips with their strange situation
enough to bypass any sense of shame or revulsion at unusual gender
roles. She just enjoyed the pleasure of good sex, giving or receiving, so
Marilyn was spared seeing the dismay that Jaymi had once evoked.
When Sandy's eyes finally flickered open, she looked at her
leader/lover with new appreciation and a smiling offer of her own.
Marilyn's first response was to reject the offer, hiding any rejection of
Sandy herself behind giggles and persona.

      "That was, like, so cool," the blonde bubbled as she started to
stand. "If I'd have known that was so much, you know, fun, I'd have
done it sooner."

      Sandy intercepted her, gently grasping her hands and pulling her
to sit on the bed.

      "You don't have to do this," Marilyn said, her trained voice tones
still high and sweet, but her attitude adult and controlled.

      "No, I don't have to do this, but I want to, I need to," Sandy
said. She slid to her knees before the blonde and pulled at the hem of
the concealing nightgown. Marilyn was still "fully" dressed, including
her gaff, so it was took a few moments of gentle caresses before her
hidden member was standing to attention. Like the good soldier to
which it was attached, it was firm, yet soft to the touch of tender
fingers, of glossy lips, of flickering tongue. Sandy was pleased in a way
that didn't diminish her affection for Jaymi to be able to also pleasure
Marilyn. A part of her found it amusing that she had so much power
over an officer so much higher than her in rank, a power that became
compelling as she began to lift the groaning blonde to higher and
higher levels of excitement.

      It was another unforeseen result of Sandy's brutal rape that her
throat had already felt penetration to a depth most women cannot
support. Once she had put the horror of the attack behind her, the
not-quite-unfamiliar sensations of taking more and more of Marilyn's
cock down her throat were a little less shocking, a little more
endurable. Then they were not just endurable, but enjoyable as Sandy
adjusted to the intimacy, not enjoyable for the pure physical sensation
which was still warring with reflexes evolved over eons, but enjoyable
for the sharing of love with a person Sandy had come to respect more
than any other in her life. The time came when her own ruby lips were
leaving their own delicate mark on the smooth skin surrounding the
base of Marilyn's shaft, a triumph that filled Sandy's green eyes with
joy even as Marilyn's blue eyes rolled back into ecstasy. The tricky
little thing that Marilyn had done came to Sandy's mind and she tried
to decide what it had been. What else do you do when something is in
your throat? She swallowed around the thick member that filled her.
Her peristaltic motion milked Marilyn's cock and was just as effective
as when the tables had been turned. Maybe more. Where Sandy had
been a bucking bronco, Marilyn was a taut spring cranking in ever
more tension. A small, high shriek from almost beyond the range of
audible sound squealed from the woman's elegant throat as her back
arched so high it appeared her blonde curls were headed for her
high-heeled slippers. Before they joined, Marilyn's being collapsed into
an arrow of expulsion, spurting silently and invisibly straight into
Sandy's stomach. Later, Sandy was to realize she never even got a
taste of Marilyn's cream, it was so far past her taste buds when
Marilyn finally surrendered it.

      Gradually the tension in Marilyn's back released and she settled
back on to the bed. When Sandy was sure that she had milked her
leader's nectar as fully as she could, she released her captive and
gently lowered the hem of the blonde's nightgown over the dwindling
incongruity, restoring Marilyn to unblemished femininity. It was a
moment or two more before Marilyn's eyes flickered in another
unconscious parody of the actions the team had been learning
together.

      "Wow," she breathed, triggering a smile from Sandy.

      "Wow, yourself," Sandy replied. "You are one HOT woman!"

      "Hot and bothered, anyway," giggled Marilyn. "Well, I guess I'm
ready for this mission."

      "Are we?" asked Sandy, suddenly serious.

      "Yes," Marilyn confirmed quietly. "Get a good night's sleep. I'll
stop by Jaymi's on the way and let her know you won't be coming.
We're leaving the day after tomorrow."




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