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The revised and re-posted Army officer Story in Fo

Memoirs of an Army Officer
Chapter 1. Picked up
"Get yourself out of my doorway you dirty old bag." The shop had long ago closed but the owner stayed inside finishing his paperwork. Now he wanted to leave and wait in the shelter of the recessed doorway until his wife drove by to pick him up. There was no way he was going to share the shelter with that smelly bundle of rags that had no business to be on his property. What did it matter to him that she had nowhere to go? What did it matter to him that it was cold and the rain was blasting its way horizontally along the street? It was obviously her own fault she had no money. Had no home. Probably drank all her support money. She just needed to make the effort to get herself a job. "Hurry up, hag. Move yourself or I’ll have to call the police to move you." His tone was menacing and loud. Muttering, grumbling and swearing more to herself than anyone, the woman picked up the two plastic bags that contained all her possessions, pulled her ragged overcoat tighter around her body and shuffled out into the street. She was already cold and wet through. While waiting for his wife the owner decided perhaps now was time for him to have a security grill across the recess, like every other shop in the street. It would save the increasing problem of these down and outs sl**ping in his doorway, pissing and leaving rubbish for him to clean up when he arrived for work each morning.
The woman plodded across the street to the bus shelter opposite knowing it would only be a temporary respite from the weather and wouldn’t provide a good place spend the night. The open sides gave little protection from the driving rain and in any case when more passengers for the late night bus arrived she would be pushed out. At the moment only one person stood waiting for the rural bus. "Perhaps he won’t mind too much and by the time the next bus comes maybe the rain will have eased and I can make the half mile to the walkway between the two supermarkets," she thought. The walkway was undercover for much of its length. However she knew that there too, resting would only be temporary. Security would come along every few hours and move her.
"Do you want somewhere to sl**p for the night?"
Startled, the woman looked up at the distinguished looking man waiting for the bus. "What could he want with her?" she wondered. "Surely he wasn’t looking for cheap sex? He looked well enough off for something better than she. Best ignore him."
"Do you want somewhere to sl**p for the night?" the man repeated in a slightly louder and more commanding voice.
"I’m not a cheap whore," muttered the woman.
"I wasn’t asking to fuck you woman," annoyance showing in the man’s voice, "I was asking if you wanted a bed to sl**p in tonight. I wasn’t referring to my bed but I do have a spare room, several in fact. You will have to have a bath first but you will have a room and a bed to yourself."
"If it’s a hostel, I’ve no money. None at all." Her voice broke and she started sobbing quietly.
"I can see that lady." Checking the time by his watch he went on, "If the bus is on time, it will be here in five minutes. If you want a bed for the night, get on it. I will pay your fare." Although the woman didn’t really believe there would be no strings attached to the offer, nevertheless she decided they couldn’t be worse than spending the night getting colder and colder and being moved from one wet place to another. If her life continued like this for much longer she’d be in hospital or dead. In any case life with the man couldn’t be any worse than it had been at home. She was already shivering and her shoes squelched with water as she walked. When the bus came she boarded it. At first the driver told her he didn’t want her sort on his bus but relented when the man paid her fare. Knowing there would be few other passengers on an atrocious night like this, he thought there wouldn’t be any complaints about her smell.
"Will you let me know when we are at Pennydelset please?" The man sat near the driver, "I’m fairly new here and don’t usually use the bus. Car’s in for service."
"Whereabouts in Penny?"
"Workhouse Lane. I’ve inherited the old workhouse."
"Whatcha starting it up again?" The driver nodded towards the passenger in the back.
"No, too many rules and regulations these days. It’s still got many of the beds in though. Most likely I’ll have to get it converted into flats or something."
Forty-five minutes later after a tortuous journey around the local villages that took twenty minutes by car, they alighted from the bus at a tiny village with only one small streetlight. It was very dark. The rain still sheeted down in torrents. The bag lady looked around but could see nothing except the one light some way along the road. Producing a small torch, the man led the way along a gravel drive. "It’s only about a hundred and fifty yards to the house," he shouted to make himself heard over the wind and rain. Bag lady now her shivering had ceased from the warmth in the bus, looked fearfully around and wondered if she had done the right thing. In this isolated, dark place, he could do anything to her and no one would know. But what did it matter? Her life now was hell. It had been bad for years, ever since her c***dhood but the last couple of weeks were hell, sheer hell.
A powerful security light came on as they rounded a bend in the drive. It dazzled the woman who wasn’t expecting it. "We’re here now," the man said as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys. He ushered her inside, and along a varnished wood block hallway into the kitchen.
"Hang your coat over the back of that chair and get the rest of your wet things off and into the washing machine."
Sounds like a military man, bag lady thought to herself as she fumbled with the buttons of her coat and watched the man d**** his mackintosh and beret over a chair and carried it nearer the Aga cooker. Finally she undid the last button and sloughed the coat to the flagstone floor. The man picked it up, shook some of the rain from its surface and hung it over another chair and moved it alongside his. Bag lady hung her old felt hat on a nearby peg, shook her wet tangled hair and straightened her body. Her eyes took in the massive size of the kitchen, bigger than the ground floor of her old home. Large scrubbed pine table in the centre, cabinets with utensils all neatly stashed. Windsor bow-backed chairs. Large, solid fuel cooker. All reminiscent of a past era. At least it was warm. She could feel the cosy warmth on her face, it made her feel drowsy.
"Get all those wet things off and into the washer." Again the order was barked out as if giving instructions to a subordinate. It jerked her back to reality. Bag lady took the top layers of clothing off but hesitated when she was down to her shirt and skirt. "Everything. No need to be shy here. I’m not going to **** you. I won’t harm you." Slowly she removed the remainder of her things watched closely by the man until only her bra and knickers were left. Her benefactor, if indeed he was, showed some surprise as the woman emerged from an excess of garments. She was much younger than he had thought. He now guessed thirty-five to forty years old. Obviously undernourished because her ribs stood out but she was well built and had breasts that had barely started to sag. However, it wasn’t these that caught his attention. Her whole body was covered with welts. Most were now fading but some on her backside still showed clearly even though, as he rightly guessed, they were a fortnight old.
"Those too. Into the machine." He indicated the bra and knickers, "You don’t have anything different to every other woman." For the time being he ignored the stripes on her body. Bag lady tried to cover her breasts and pubic area with her hands. "Time we were introduced," the man went on, "Colonel Jeremy Saunders-Smythe. Most people just call me Colonel or Sir." He held out his hand.
Bag lady shook it carefully with her cold wet hand and said, "Margaret Smith." For the first time for a while Margaret smiled at the incongruity of the situation. Such a formal introduction when she was naked and he fully dressed. "Doesn’t anyone call you Jeremy or Jerry?" she asked.
"f****y call me Jeremy. No one since school days has dared to shorten it. Is yours shortened to Maggie?"
"Not until yours is shortened too." Some of her old spirit was returning.
"Touché. Bath now. Follow me."
Again the bathroom was impressive in its size. Black and white chequered tiled floor and walls. Large cast iron bath. Toilet with a mahogany seat, polished brass hinges and the inside of the bowl decorated with a blue flower pattern. Soft lambs wool mat alongside the bath. "Use the loo if you need to while I fill the tub. Sorry I don’t have anything other than Johnson’s Baby Bath to put in the water. Haven’t had any lady guests yet."
"Please," Margaret said, "Please leave me to do it on my own."
"Just get on with it woman. You’ve probably been squatting in public places for some time. Sit and have your piss. The water will be ready shortly." Indeed the water was already gushing, gurgling and spitting out of the ancient brass taps. Margaret sat and with the sound of running water in her ears, couldn’t help but relieve her bladder. She blushed with embarrassment but the Colonel ignored both it and the smell that emanated from her unwashed body. She should have been used to being in a bathroom and performing with men in the same room but it seemed different with this stranger; this Colonel Jeremy Saunders-Smythe.
"Okay Margaret, into the bath with you." The nude woman flinched as his hands wrapped around her back touched her flesh to steady and lower her into the warm water. For the first time in two weeks she had the luxury of a bath and she tried to thank the man but only a few mumbles came from her mouth. When her bottom touched the bottom of the bath she winced but the Colonel still ignored it. Questioning could wait until later.
"What are you going to do with me?" Margaret questioned.
"Tonight, nothing. In the morning we’ll discus your options which will include going back to living on the streets. For now though, I’m going to make us some tea and will bring it here as soon as it is ready. Leave the door ajar. Later we’ll eat. It sure looks as if you could do with something inside your belly, Margaret. You take sugar?" With these words the man left, returning some ten minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea. Hers he placed on the end of the bath, then he lowered the toilet seat lid and sat down.
"Feeling a little more civilised now?" Without waiting for an answer he went on, "Tell me about yourself."
"What do you want to know. Not really much to tell."
"Just a sort of short CV of your life."
"I’m thirty-eight years old. Worked as a secretary for the local electricity company for ten years. I lived with my parents all the time. Gave up the secretary’s job when my mother fell ill. When she died, I had to look after father in the way he expected. Took a variety of temporary and part time jobs and was made redundant from the last about two months ago. All my money went into the f****y account. A fortnight ago I came home from a day of job hunting to find what little stuff I had in bin bags along the side of the house. The door was locked. Another woman, Jill, his girlfriend had moved in two months ago and I guess he felt he needed me less. I’d had to submit to punishments from both of them. I banged and banged on the door. Father let me in and when I protested about my treatment he caned me while the woman held me and then threw me out. I found a B&B but only had enough money in my purse to stay for two nights. I kept trying for a job but it is surprisingly difficult when you don’t have a proper address. I had no choice but to learn to sl**p rough. It’s not the best time of year to do that."
"No friends you could have stayed with?"
"My life was foolishly centred around my father." For a while they sat in silence. Margaret trying to keep her breasts covered with foam, Jeremy watching her. Each time she reached for the mug, her breasts rose above the water and under his stare she could feel her nipples involuntarily harden. Looking at him sitting fully dressed on the toilet seat while she was a naked as the day she was born, Margaret wondered again why he had brought her here. Would he want to fuck her? Not that it would be any hardship if he did. From her position in the bath it was difficult to see but she thought his trousers bulged more than normal at the front. Would he want to do other things? Like her father? Or worse? Margaret’s mind confused by the sudden change in her life and the luxury of the warm water after so many nights in the freezing cold, couldn’t decide if she liked the man or not or even if it mattered.
"What about the other welts on your body? Some are quite old" The question again startled her.
"Father said I needed disciplining whenever I did something he didn’t agree with and when I...." Margaret left the sentence unfinished. It was none of his business really. She closed her eyes and relaxed in the warm water. Her mind ran through all sorts of scenarios. Jeremy waited for her to continue. Opening her eyes again, instead of continuing she asked, "Sir? Colonel?" Margaret hesitated and then thought why the hell. Two can play at these games. "What is your personal CV Sir?" To her surprise he answered.
"Good question. If you decide to stay, you will need to know." Margaret wondered what motive would lie behind the invitation to stay but kept quiet. Jeremy went on, "Spent thirty-six years in the army. Mostly in the Black Watch. Enlisted at sixteen. Saw service in India then a quietish few years and into the Gulf war and Kosavo. Saw plenty of people far worse off then you. I was last stationed at the America airf***e base at Lakenheath as a liaison officer. Remembered I had an aunt that lived in this house and came to see her regularly. She was a sprightly old lady and lived alone in this big old place. She only used three or four rooms, the kitchen, bathroom and her bedroom. Another room she seemed to keep as a workroom for her sewing and stuff but towards the end she didn’t do much of that. The others were never touched in the six years or so I came here to visit. I retired about six months ago and rented a couple of rooms in town here so I could keep an eye on her and did a few repairs and alterations to the rooms she used to make them more comfortable and easier to use. Developers kept trying to get hold of the place but she was adamant she wasn’t going to sell, despite the place was far too large and dilapidated. A month ago she died at the age of ninety-four leaving the house to me. She also left me an annuity to restore the place and possibly again turn it into a refuge for poor and destitute women. I wouldn’t mind doing that but as I told the bus driver, the regulations are far too onerous so most probably I’ll convert it into flats. However, with the sex discrimination act I doubt whether I can make them available just to women. I’ve only lived here full time for a week and part time for the week previously so I haven’t done more than clean up the rooms she used and started to clear one other bedroom." The Colonel paused in his tale, stood and abruptly returned to his officer bearing. "Time for you to get out of the water and dry yourself, young lady." Opening a cupboard door her pulled out a dressing gown. "When you’re dry put this on. It’s one of mine but you are not too much smaller than I am so it should fit well enough. Auntie’s stuff will be much too small. She was a tiny woman."
"Do you have to watch me all the time?" Margaret complained. "Is this why you want to start a women’s refuge? To get your rocks off looking at the women in here? Then forcing them to go further? That doesn’t sound much like a refuge. Is that what you are going to do to me? Are you just another pervert! I guess that’s why you picked me up."
"I am an officer and a gentleman madam! You will not impugn my name in that way without paying the price." Without further warning, the Colonel sat again on the toilet seat, pulled Margaret across his lap and commenced spanking her naked arse with all the f***e his hand could muster. Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack! The blows rained steadily on her bum. Screaming and swearing, Margaret struggled to free herself but to no avail. He was far too strong for her. Soon she changed from swearing to pleading with him to stop but it wasn’t until her arse was very sore and deep red in colour that he did so. "Apologise!"
"I’m sorry Sir. I shouldn’t have said that."
"Remember, that spanking if you decide to stay here. I will not tolerate insubordination or rebellious words and actions by those under me. It looks as if you should be able understand that from what I can see of your body."
"Sorry Sir," Margaret repeated, thinking she had better humour him and blushing because she knew he’d noted the welts on her arse and elsewhere.
"I’m a fair man, but a strict one. Of course I liked watching you. It is some time since I have had the pleasure of a woman but I gave you my word I wouldn’t fuck you tonight and if you decide to leave in the morning, that will be the end of it. That is the word of an officer and a gentleman. It will not be broken. Stop snivelling, put the dressing gown on and come to the kitchen and help prepare something to eat."

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