relaxed a little, uncurling his legs and sitting back against the cold iron.
‘Well. What you saw was part of my training. I am a novice. A novice slave.’ As he said the word something jolted inside of me. I realised I was holding my breath, waiting for more. ‘When I cross my wrists like that, like you saw, it’s part of my training too. It is a gesture of submission. I’m in this club. It’s a special kind of club. You know?’
He looked at me appealingly, as if willing me to say, ‘Ah, yes, I see now,’ and leave it at that. But instead I said, ‘What kind of club? A slave club? For real? What do you mean?’
Sam sighed and ruffled his short, red hair with a gesture that made me think it must have been much longer before his cadet-short military cut. ‘OK, let me try to explain.’ Again he paused, trying to compose himself. I resisted my strong urge to scream at him to tell me already. Finally he started again, and this time kept going.
‘Well, you know maybe that some people are just naturally dominant, right? And some are just naturally submissive. I don’t mean men versus women: it’s something deeper than that. I think you’re born to it, really. Most people tend one way or another. I personally think people that are drawn to the military have more pronounced tendencies, either dominant or submissive, but that’s just my opinion.
‘Because here you are either a soldier — a follower — or you are the leader. There is no in-between. Well, I am a follower, no question about that. I like the order and discipline of military life. I like knowing exactly where I stand, and what is expected of me. I like — ’ he hesitated, as if trying to find the word, or the courage to say it ‘ — to serve,’ he finally finished.
I was still waiting for the real story. So far he hadn’t said anything particularly novel. I mean, I understood the dynamics of a military hierarchy that naturally had leaders and followers. But I let him go at his own pace. He continued, relaxing a little as he warmed to his subject.
‘Some people were born to serve, and to submit; others to control, to use and to claim.’ My hands suddenly felt sweaty, and my throat was dry. Of course, I knew where I had heard these words before. Thoughts of Jacob flooded through me, causing me to draw in my breath to keep from moaning at the vivid memories of our last time together. Sam continued calmly, unaware of my discomfiture.
‘Normally in this society there is very little opportunity to explore these feelings in a controlled, safe environment. Well, here you can. It’s like heaven on earth for someone like me.’ He paused again, and looked at me slowly, a little smile now curling on his lips. I realised I was holding myself very still and tense. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I leaned back into the unyielding bench, trying to look nonchalant. Inside, I was coiled, as if ready for something I had always been waiting to hear.
‘Well — ’ he leaned very close to me, so that his nose was almost touching mine ‘ — it’s called the Slave Corps. It’s been around since the Academy was established, maybe longer. It’s a formalised SM club.’ I must have looked puzzled. He defined it. ‘Sadomasochism. You know. Whips and chains. Masters and slaves. OK, Remy, you can close your mouth now.’ I realised with a shock that it had actually fallen open and I shut it, biting my lips.
He went on, now clearly warming to his topic, fear of betrayal behind him, or just accepted. ‘But the Hard Corps isn’t just a sex-play group.’
I interrupted him, confused. ‘The Hard Corps? Didn’t you just say the Slave Corps?’
‘Oh,’ he laughed. ‘The Hard Corps is a joke, a nickname. I suppose I really should show more respect, but everyone calls it that. You know, like hard core.’ He laughed again, and then went on. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, it isn’t just a bunch of horny people getting together to get their rocks off in some
‘Well. What you saw was part of my training. I am a novice. A novice slave.’ As he said the word something jolted inside of me. I realised I was holding my breath, waiting for more. ‘When I cross my wrists like that, like you saw, it’s part of my training too. It is a gesture of submission. I’m in this club. It’s a special kind of club. You know?’
He looked at me appealingly, as if willing me to say, ‘Ah, yes, I see now,’ and leave it at that. But instead I said, ‘What kind of club? A slave club? For real? What do you mean?’
Sam sighed and ruffled his short, red hair with a gesture that made me think it must have been much longer before his cadet-short military cut. ‘OK, let me try to explain.’ Again he paused, trying to compose himself. I resisted my strong urge to scream at him to tell me already. Finally he started again, and this time kept going.
‘Well, you know maybe that some people are just naturally dominant, right? And some are just naturally submissive. I don’t mean men versus women: it’s something deeper than that. I think you’re born to it, really. Most people tend one way or another. I personally think people that are drawn to the military have more pronounced tendencies, either dominant or submissive, but that’s just my opinion.
‘Because here you are either a soldier — a follower — or you are the leader. There is no in-between. Well, I am a follower, no question about that. I like the order and discipline of military life. I like knowing exactly where I stand, and what is expected of me. I like — ’ he hesitated, as if trying to find the word, or the courage to say it ‘ — to serve,’ he finally finished.
I was still waiting for the real story. So far he hadn’t said anything particularly novel. I mean, I understood the dynamics of a military hierarchy that naturally had leaders and followers. But I let him go at his own pace. He continued, relaxing a little as he warmed to his subject.
‘Some people were born to serve, and to submit; others to control, to use and to claim.’ My hands suddenly felt sweaty, and my throat was dry. Of course, I knew where I had heard these words before. Thoughts of Jacob flooded through me, causing me to draw in my breath to keep from moaning at the vivid memories of our last time together. Sam continued calmly, unaware of my discomfiture.
‘Normally in this society there is very little opportunity to explore these feelings in a controlled, safe environment. Well, here you can. It’s like heaven on earth for someone like me.’ He paused again, and looked at me slowly, a little smile now curling on his lips. I realised I was holding myself very still and tense. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I leaned back into the unyielding bench, trying to look nonchalant. Inside, I was coiled, as if ready for something I had always been waiting to hear.
‘Well — ’ he leaned very close to me, so that his nose was almost touching mine ‘ — it’s called the Slave Corps. It’s been around since the Academy was established, maybe longer. It’s a formalised SM club.’ I must have looked puzzled. He defined it. ‘Sadomasochism. You know. Whips and chains. Masters and slaves. OK, Remy, you can close your mouth now.’ I realised with a shock that it had actually fallen open and I shut it, biting my lips.
He went on, now clearly warming to his topic, fear of betrayal behind him, or just accepted. ‘But the Hard Corps isn’t just a sex-play group.’
I interrupted him, confused. ‘The Hard Corps? Didn’t you just say the Slave Corps?’
‘Oh,’ he laughed. ‘The Hard Corps is a joke, a nickname. I suppose I really should show more respect, but everyone calls it that. You know, like hard core.’ He laughed again, and then went on. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, it isn’t just a bunch of horny people getting together to get their rocks off in some
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