the armored personnel carrier rumbles as it winds down the dirt road. morale for the soldiers inside is at an all time high. how could it not be when the superior rides with them?
she sits resplendent at the front of the apc. the soldiers are dressed in their all black combat fatigues. the sole splash of color the emblem of the broom and hammer. the crest of maid special operations command.
superior sits in her combat uniform. fatigues, her high leather boots, and a long, black coat worn on the shoulders. new to her ensemble are a smallsword on her hip and a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder.
surrounding her are the elite fireteam kestrel. or the remnants of those maids. private in her fatigues, but herald and diva still dressed in their maid uniforms. the maids cradle their sniper rifles, polished to a mirror shine like superior's, but private carries the standard m4a1 battle rifle the same as every other enlisted maid.
a voice speaks over the radio. "Superior we have--"
"multiple contacts, approaching at high speed. i'm aware, thank you corporal." these partisans love their motorcycles. "pull over."
silent obedience, superior's favorite, is the response from the corporal driving.
"girls, go kill for me." a battle cry goes up from company a as they rush out of the back of the apc. private follows quickly behind, joining the frontline. "diva, herald, with me."
as the main force takes up a defensive perimeter, the apc guns it for the treeline. the truck is an asset that can't be lost unless the soldiers wish to march back to their castle.
but it won't come to that, superior is here.
superior's two followers drop to a knee and prepare their rifles. superior stands, rifle still shouldered and sword still sheathed. not a hair out of place. not even a bead of sweat dares to form under the brutal august sun.
the roar of motorcycle engines draws close. private engages them, with the report of her rifle signaling the start of combat.
private is the perfect soldier, dropping the partisan dead with one burst. the other riflemaids hurry to match her perfection, no less eager to follow their orders.
the bark of gunfire surrounds superior as she surveys the battle. the eye of the storm, she is calm and collected even as stray bullets whiz past. two dozen riders. now cut down to sixteen as more shots land home.
her girls, even though they're not as dedicated to her as private, are good soldiers. she's seen to that personally. they give better than they get, not even a single maid has fallen, yet.
how could they fall? superior hasn't given permission.
soldiers dive for cover and an explosion shortly follows. a partisan grenade creates a hole in the perimeter. a rider breaks through, gunning straight for the grim figurehead of company a. her back is turned, she's vulnerable.
the partisan reaches for her smg.
she reaches for her smg...
she reaches for her smg but she cannot draw the weapon.
“tire.”
diva's rifle cracks a ringing gunshot and the front tire of the motorcycle blows apart. diva cycles the bolt with mechanical efficiency.
“shoulder.”
diva's hot bullet tears through the partisan's shoulder. the impact sends her sprawling onto the dirt.
“fetch.”
–
every pair of eyes in company a is trained on diva. success in battle means they get a reward. and she gets the reward of being it.
all eyes except herald, who stares straight ahead blankly, private, who gets her own commendation, and superior. superior coldly examines the partisan tied up on the floor of the personnel carrier.
the partisan glares back at her, eyes burning with fury and disgust. how can this be what she lost to? her shoulder screams in pain with each unforgiving bump of the dirt road. a dead eyed soldier patched her up but didn't give her any painkillers. she just chucked her in the apc and drove away in silence.
the bodies of her fallen comrades lay dead in the dirt. nothing more than carrion.
she makes to spit on the boot of this cold bitch.
but she can't open her mouth.
"you would look good in a uniform."
–
"the human mind can only focus on seven things at a time, plus or minus two."
this again. an interrogation would have made sense, but her jailer never asked her anything. her expression in the mirror is always unreadable.
not that cora wanted to look in the mirror in the first place. one of that blonde bitch's sycophants dragged her to a tailor while the rest of her soldiers ganged up on one of their own and fucked her right there in the motorpool. they didn't even remove the bullet lodged in her shoulder before measuring her for a uniform.
her clothes were confiscated during her treatment and in their place was a perfectly fitted maid's uniform.
it took three maids to subdue her before they could force it on.
she can't bring herself to look in that mirror and see what they've turned her into.
"one, the sound of my boots. two, the sound of my voice."
as much as cora wants to shut the doors of her mind, she can't do it. she's tired. she has no idea how long she's been in this cell. it's dark, she's alone. only her reflection for company.
"three, your breath. four, the pinch of the handcuffs."
necessary to keep cora from ripping off the uniform.
"five, the weight of your uniform."
five. five was enough. she could just manage five. that first time the maid with the terrible boots came she made it all the way to eight. but now…
"six, the smell of my perfume." cherries, black pepper, rain.
cora's mind scrabbles for purchase, but it can't hold on as she plummets down a cliff and into the trance-dark ocean of oblivion.
"tell me your name."
"Co....ra..." cora's voice is slow and sluggish, weighed down by the mire of oblivion.
"good girl cora. i am your superior."
"Superi...?"
"yes. i am your superior. you're here because you require special attention."
“I do?”
“yes, you do.”
“I do.” cora nods weakly.
"you're still learning. you've got promise."
“I do…”
"you're happy and sweet. a little clumsy, a little stupid."
"A little... stupid." her mind snags on that. stupid?
"yes, you're a little stupid. always making absentminded mistakes."
"Yes, a little stupid." superior irons out that crease in cora's mind.
“but you’re a good maid.”
"I'm a good... maid?"
"yes, cora, a maid. you've been a good maid for us, a good maid for me."
"A good maid. I'm a good maid."
“for me.”
“For you, Superior.”
–
"Stupid girl! How is the princess supposed to take tea without the teapot!"
Cora shudders at the insult, a warm fire of arousal kindling in her breast.
"I'm sorry, corporal! I forgot it, I'll be right back!" Cora hurries back to the kitchen to fetch the teapot but her feet get mixed up with each other and she falls to the floor in a heap. Her skirt is so short she flashes her panties to the corporal.
"Fucking get up and go!"
Cora's face burns as she scampers back to the kitchen. Another maid hands her the teapot with a weary smile.
"Such a stupid bimbo," someone murmurs in the back of the kitchen. Cora moans. Cruel laughter follows her out of the kitchen as she heads towards tea service.
She'll make another absentminded mistake and embarrass herself in front of the princess again. But it won't matter. She's a good maid for her Superior, even if She's the only one who sees that.
Private First Class Ingrid Braam Stands Alone Against Her Superior Officer.
(Brainwashing)
Pfc Ingrid Braam has been having a bad few weeks. Everyone around her is changing but no one seems interested in listening, least of all Sergeant Zephyr.
Cara and Thalia hang off her every word like obedient pets. Ingrid tried asking them what happened, why they changed into... into whatever they are now.
Cara refused to answer. In front of Sergeant Zephyr, Cara looked to her for approval. Sergeant Zephyr never permitted her to respond. And any challenges she raised to her directly were brushed off as, "not a concern worth troubling yourself over."
Finding Cara alone didn't prove helpful either. She hardly ever was on her own, preferring to attend to Sergeant Zephyr's every need. And when she was and Ingrid managed find her, she deflected. She said she didn't know what Ingrid was talking about, that she was happy, that she's doing better than ever.
But she didn't seem to remember anything past a month ago.
Thalia, though. Thalia was almost impossible to pin down. When she's not on duty with Kestrel Unit, she's always helping out some other maid. Always volunteering for extra overtime and assignments. Even showing up to help without being paid.
And in those few off hours, she's sleeping with every maid in the castle. Ever since people learned that all they had to do was ask, she's been taken by every lusty pair of hands that want her.
And whenever she manages to get a spare second of Thalia's time, she sprints away for Sergeant Zephyr like a rabbit caught out by a hawk.
Ingrid's never felt more alone. And the incessant ringing of Sergeant Zephyr's boots haunts her in her sleep. Always clacking away in the back of her skull. She's tried earplugs, melatonin, meditation, nothing seems to rid her of the siren call of Sergeant Zephyr's boots.
Unable to sleep for the phantom ringing, Ingrid finds herself alone in the common room. She stares vacantly at a tv that she isn't watching but is on for the noise. Anything to stifle the sound of those boots.
Those boots that only seem to get closer and louder with each step.
It isn't until Sergeant Zephyr is standing before her that Ingrid realizes it wasn't merely phantom steps.
Ingrid almost jumps out of her skin. Sergeant Zephyr isn't dressed in her usual uniform. She's still got the boots on, of course, but she's dressed in her dark black fatigues. The ones she wears for night ops. her service pistol is strapped to her thigh.
"trouble sleeping, pfc braam?" her sonorous voice fills the common room, though it barely rises above the television.
Ingrid snaps up the remote and switches the tv off. "Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I was just."
"it's alright, you don't have to pretend with me. human edifice is so tiring, don't you agree? why not say what we mean and do what we want?"
"What?"
"mmm. have i lost you? i'm sure i don't know where, but, let me put it in simpler terms for you. you're having trouble sleeping. why hide it? why tell me yes and then no and then fabricate an excuse? the truth, pfc braam, it will set you free."
Ingrid wants nothing more than to bolt. Her survival instincts are screaming at her to get the fuck out of there. To find the captain or the lieutenant or someone, anyone who can help her.
"Who are you, what have you done to Aella? She would never--"
"how well do you think you know aella zephyr?" Sergeant Zephyr speaks the name as if foreign to her.
"She's my friend! She loves dancing and fashion. She's a damn fine shot and she would never do something like this!"
"you're missing something, private first class. think hard. the woman who became aella zephyr, what do you know of her?"
Ingrid opens her mouth to answer but the words fail her. Aella never spoke of her past, not with her. Lenora knew things, the lieutenant knew more, but they didn't share with her.
"Um... There were, there were gaps. In her memory. I know that much."
"and the woman before you now, is she aella zephyr?"
"She must be! Who else could she be!"
"she is your superior officer."
"Of course, she's my team leader! She got promoted, naturally she's my superior officer."
"so then it's natural you obey her."
It's like running full speed into a wall. Ingrid's mouth keeps moving, trying to form words that don't come. In the face of that cold, military logic, what can she say? She's a maid and soldier both.
Sergeant Zephyr begins to circle, walking patiently around the common room. The ringing of her boots marks every step. It pounds at her head, thundering in her veins.
"do you ever feel like you're surrounded by toys, pfc braam? i do. toys pretending to be people. and when you stop looking, they turn back into dolls. you want to know why i did what i did to private and diva? i set them free. i gave them the guidance they needed to be who they want to be, what they want to be. they'd still be depressed, lonely toys without my hand. they are toys now, still. but they are toys without shame. instead of playing at being a person, they abdicate their humanity to me. and now i play with my toys in the way that most suits them. private is a loyal soldier, diva wants to be everyone's friend, and then there's you. i wonder, what is the best way to play with you?"
Ingrid's head spins, she can't make sense of Sergeant Zephyr's words. But that terrible ringing pounds them into her skull, deep into her mind.
Ingrid half rises, "Ffff-uck you."
"oh, no, i don't think you'll be leaving. not when i can grant you what you want. the reason you came out here in the first place." Ingrid stares at Sergeant Zephyr, barely able to make out her blonde hair in the darkness. "sleep."
She orders, and so it is. Ingrid crumples to the floor, almost immediately plunged into the embrace of sleep. The last words she hears, "toy soldier, at attention! there's work to do tonight."
A bucket of cold water is thrown over Ingrid Braam. She jolts awake in a dark room, lit only by the red emergency lighting strips along the baseboards. It's a small room, made claustrophobic and hot by all the warm bodies. But she can see Sergeant Zephyr standing before her, just a meter away. Beside her, the husk of Cara Moran, holding an empty bucket.
Ingrid coughs as she tries to clear her airway from the sudden inundation. And as her eyes adjust to the darkness, she sees the remnants of Thalia Grimm watching near the doorway.
"good soldier, private." Private shudders and a vacant smile blossoms across her face. Ingrid's instincts kick in again, screaming at her to run, run, run.
But she can't. She's tied down to an operating table. It's been raised so she slants at an angle before Superior and her Subordinates.
She's naked.
"ingrid braam, private first class. member of sniper unit fireteam kestrel." Superior reads from a personnel file. "service specialties include dishwashing, preparing breakfast, and selecting artwork for the principal's gallery."
Superior closes the file and opens a journal. It's yellow, but in this low light it's impossible to tell the color. "possible ego levers include religious upbringing, loss of home to partisans, and transition. though that last one applies to everyone present." Diva giggles at Superior's little joke.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Superior gestures towards Ingrid with her head and Private strikes her with a baton. Ingrid screams in pain.
"don't speak, ingrid, you need only listen." Tears stream down Ingrid's face uncontrollably, but somehow she is able to remain silent. The only sounds her shaky breathing and the phantom ringing of boots.
Phantom ringing that soon becomes real as Superior circles around her. She disappears like a phantom into the darkness, but her voice and her ringing boots remain.
"ingrid, i know what you want. i've seen it, i've watched it happen plenty of times. you want power. you want the strength to get your way."
Superior's boots ring in their terrible rhythm.
"in that way, you and i aren't so different. we both want to get our way. but where you want power, a brutish urge, i want control. the control over all the little toys in my life. i want to pull their strings and make them dance to my tune, to instill perfect order."
Superior's boots halt, she looks over the back of the operating table, peering inverted down at Ingrid.
"i have a place for you, ingrid braam, you just need to give up being ingrid braam. if you relinquish that, you will receive all the power and purpose you will ever want. the power to avenge your home, the power to get your way, the power to show everyone once and for all that you are not a little girl."
Ingrid's mind echoes with the dreadful steps of Superior's boots. But louder than that are all her words and promises. She can't help but believe them, for they're all true. She wants it, the power, the terrible purpose. If all she has to do is let go.
But, won't she lose everything?
As if reading her mind, Superior speaks. "the only thing you have to lose is the pain, ingrid braam. the guilt, the shame, the distorted sense of responsibility you feel to maintain the facade of personhood. look at private, look at diva. they've never been happier and all because i freed them of those burdens."
Ingrid looks at what's left of her squadmates, undeniably happier than before they encountered Superior and her ringing boots. Their minds too, too vacant to even conceive of guilt, the only thing they believe in is their instruction from Superior. To be a good soldier, to make everyone happy.
"And me? What will I do?" Private raises her baton again, but Superior stills her with a raised hand.
"you will be my herald. you will walk the halls of this place and you will spread the word of the freedom i bring. and when the time is right, i shall set you loose upon the wicked."
Of course. Herald. Superior's time is too valuable to spend meeting every single toy eager to break free. Herald will do that. Herald will be Superior's mouthpiece.
and when the time is right, "angel, take flight." the trigger phrase drills into herald's psyche. it rewrites her fundamental reality. she is no longer ingrid braam, private first class. she is now the herald of the superior. her divine mercy shall grant guidance to the superior. superior's love shall grant release to the guided.
"toy soldier, at attention! bunny, hop to it. angel needs her wings."
the lights dim in private's and diva's eyes. they recede into the darkness as their other selves take over. bunny works at the restraints, gently removing them. angel stretches her aching joints and massages the dark, dark bruise that toy soldier left.
toy soldier steps behind the operating table and extracts a sword. a long, sharp blade with a cruciform guard. she hands it reverently to angel who takes up the sword. she pulls it from her scabbard and admires it in the blood red light. superior's wicked grin is reflected in the steel.
superior walks around to the front of her subordinate trio.
"Superior, who shall I strike down?"
"none, yet, angel. you have earned your place at my side. and for your loyalty you must be commended. you and toy soldier both."
already well trained, toy soldier drops to her knees in front of superior's left boot. immediately angel follows suit on the right, eager to see exactly what kind of commendation she shall receive.
"angel, follow toy soldier's lead. toy soldier, you may begin." toy soldier starts happily humping away at superior's left boot. angel is a fraction of a second behind. while the two work themselves into a lustful haze, superior writes in her yellow journal.
"bunny, scamper home. did you make a lot of friends this week?"
diva returns to herself, she glances downwards to see angel and toy soldier grinding and rolling their hips against the superior's boots. the black leather tools of mesmerism.
"Sure did! I helped a bunch of squadrons with their chores and their duties. And afterwards, I helped them all relieve their balls!"
"good girl, diva. good, good girl." diva beams with pride. "do you think you can be friends with angel, too?"
"Of course! I can be friends with everyone!" it's superior's turn to smile with pride. though the expression doesn't even reach her eyes.
below, toy soldier's already blown one load, she looks up eagerly, begging for orders for a second. she whines when superior shakes her head no but obeys. beside her, angel is close, she's teetering on the precipice.
"angel, return to heaven."
and when herald returns to her new self, her body is rocked by the orgasm. she rides the shocks of pleasure and continues to grind hard against superior's boot, feeling every lace. this is where she belongs, at the foot of superior.
superior looks proud and then disgusted, herald came on her boots. "toy soldier, at ease. private, teach herald how to properly care for my boots. diva, the kit is in the top drawer." a key sails through the air to diva who catches it and scurries over the the shelving lining one of the walls.
brush, oil, polish, and rags all get forced into herald's hands.
"one last lesson, herald. once my boot shines as bright as its twin, our work will begin in earnest."
herald smiles widely, finally happy to put its strength to its proper purpose.
superior sits across the table from the visiting princess in the castle gardens. a beautiful summer day, warm with a breeze and low humidity. she is appointed in a freshly pressed maid’s uniform, white headband, and black boots polished to a mirror shine.
the gardens are in full bloom, a beautiful arboretum of vibrant color. tulips and daisies and sunflowers and rows upon rows of roses. red and white and blue and black roses stretching out to fill the space. the favorite flower of the captain and lieutenant of the branch, the one they bear in their names. one the lieutenant chose not to pass on to her little sister.
let her be her own person, that was the reason then. when superior was merely combat doll twenty-six. before she came into her power and position. when the wounds faolain blackrose inflicted on her were still fresh and aching. maybe she should have kept a tighter leash on the living weapon. if she did, the tip of that blade might not have pointed itself at her throat.
no use dwelling on the past, as ever, superior looks towards the future. and the beautiful opportunity before her.
princess akari daintily selects another macaron from the tea service, carefully prepared by superior herself. the princess wears a beautiful dress of rich red silks. a silver tiara studded with diamonds and sapphires sits atop her long chestnut tresses.
“To tell the truth, I had expected to meet with the captain of this branch.”
“the captain is regrettably detained and will not be available today. i extend our humblest apologies, highness.”
“And the lieutenant as well? Where is Faolain Blackrose?”
“again, my humblest apologies, your highness. in the captain’s absence, the first maid is attending to the affairs of the castle. thus meeting our esteemed guest has fallen to me.”
“You have no authority to negotiate!”
“highness, had we but notice of your arrival.”
“Don't talk back to me!”
“of course, highness.”
princess akari bites into the macaron. it’s delicious. light and airy and perfectly baked. of course it is, superior made them herself.
“if i may, your highness, how did you come to hear of faolain blackrose and our branch specifically? we of the maid special operations command strive to keep our opsec tight and our operators anonymous.”
“Call it a professional interest.”
“oh? and what profession might that be, your highness?”
“Call me Akari. And if you must know, miss…”
“my name is of no consequence, akari.”
“Well, Maid, if you must know, my principality could use a private insurgent force. I am dealing with upstart usurpers and–”
“with respect, akari, that is not what i asked.”
“Then we shall speak no further of this!”
the conversation lapses into silence. if akari does not wish to speak of it, it shall not be spoken of. the princess’s word is final. she sips the tea and enjoys superior’s fine pastries. mostly the pastries, the tea becomes cold in her cup as she snacks on the fine baked goods..
“do you enjoy my baking, akari?”
“You prepared these?
“yes, akari. when i am not busy with military matters or looking after my staff, i often find myself in the kitchens. baking is a hobby of mine and it relaxes me.”
“You should be proud of yourself, Maid. These are exquisite.”
“thank you, akari. i shall be sure to provide you with more during your stay with us.”
“Yes, well. I do not plan to stay long. Only until I have the chance to discuss my needs with your superiors.”
“indeed, akari.” superior smiles a cold smile. a smile like plunging into the black depths of the ocean. where the light of kindness cannot penetrate. “until then, i am at your service. should you need anything, please call upon me.”
“Yes, yes, Maid. I know how to use servants like you, thank you very much.” akari palms a cookie as she stands. “You may take me to my chambers now.”
the walk to the guest apartments is quiet and uneventful. superior’s boots gently ring as she leads akari through the gothic halls of castle bluerose. the name is a useful pretense, as is the captain herself. an outright takeover would lead to msoc command investigating superior’s actions before she was ready to take them on. she and her chosen would certainly escape the diakoneion’s wrath, but she’d lose access to a steady stream of toys and pretty dolls to play with. pliable minds, ready to be molded by her word and gesture. much like akari’s.
“Maid, I should like to see your training grounds.”
“as you wish akari. this way, please.” superior turns on her heel and leads the princess through yet more labyrinthine halls, up a flight of stairs, and eventually out onto a balcony that overlooks the training grounds.
maids spar with brooms and training blades. some soldiers in fatigues practice their hand to hand and knifeplay against each other. maids in their dresses aim rifles at targets on the secluded firing range. akari watches as a tall maid with short red hair fends off four soldiers armed with knives. she chews on her pilfered cookie as she examines her would-be troops.
“i trust this meets with your approval?”
“Yes, these soldiers look acceptably formidable. What about you, Maid? Are you as capable a soldier as all the rest?”
“certainly, akari.” superior’s sotto takes on a rare shade of amusement. “my talents lie outside the battlefield, but i am more than capable of holding my own. i would not be an officer of msoc if i weren’t.”
“Be more specific, Maid.”
“i am a sniper and fencer and lead a fireteam of snipers. plus one riflemaid who uses our standard battle rifle. her skills are better suited to the front line.”
“I should like to see you in action, Maid.”
“as i say, akari, my particular talents lie outside the battlefield. i would not make for a good show.”
“Hmph. I shall speak to your commanders about your impudence, Maid.”
“i’m sure you would like to. shall i show you to your chambers?”
–
the guest apartments for visiting princesses are decadently appointed. akari is staying in the red rooms, decorated in deep shades of red. silks and velvets and damasks. the room almost drowns in the color of blood.
“These will do.”
“very good, akari. there is an ensuite through that door and a private balcony.”
“I have eyes, Maid.”
“as you say, akari. if you should need anything at all, please pull the call bell and i shall arrive shortly. day or night.”
“Are there no other maids?”
“no, akari. the other officers are unfortunately busy and my subordinates are not as skilled as i am.”
akari squints at superior’s collar. “What rank are you? I’ve never seen an insignia like that.”
“ah, it is an internal msoc designation.” superior gestures to the silver x pinned to her collar. “i would not bore you with our jargon.”
“Very well, I have travelled long to be here. I would rest before the evening meal.”
“as you wish, akari. shall i bring it to your chambers?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Maid curtsies deeply and exits the red rooms. Akari is left alone for the first time since her arrival. Her things have already been unpacked. Lavish dresses of red and black silks carefully hung in the closet, her jewelry meticulously sorted and stored in the jewelry box, even her perfumes and cosmetics arrayed on the vanity.
And placed on top of her pillow, a small white box with a black ribbon tying it closed. This was not part of her luggage. Her curiosity gets the better of her and she opens it. She may be here on a recruiting mission to bolster her failing military, but at the end of the day, she’s still a princess. Inside, eight chocolates. Handmade, no doubt.
“They don’t do things by halves here, do they?” She thinks aloud. Her sweet tooth isn’t quite sated yet and these chocolates should be just the treat to tide her over until dinner. And the dessert that is certain to follow. Even for the princess, war rationing means she hasn’t been getting as many sweets as she is accustomed to. As many sweets as a princess deserves.
Akari pops the first chocolate in her mouth. It’s like nothing she’s ever tasted before. Her refined palate, honed over a lifetime of treats and delicacies, can’t pick out every note. It just tastes so good. Rich and creamy and sweet with something underneath. Something dark and just the slightest bit bitter, the perfect counterpoint to the tooth aching indulgence. She closes her eyes and savors the chocolate. How long has it been since she’s had something like this? She’s been at war for who knows how long at this point. The princess before her and before her and before her. A terrible battle over succession and peasant rights and taxation and all the sour thoughts that spoil her appetite.
Akari loses herself in the chocolates, putting down everything she worries about for the few moments of peace she finds in the deliciously complex candy. By the time she opens her eyes next, all eight pieces have been eaten. Her troubles return all at once, her decadent peace melts away. Maybe she’ll ask Maid for more after dinner.
–
akari shovels heaping spoonfuls of her ice cream sundae into her mouth. she ate all the food that was brought before her for dinner. miso soup and edamame, three plates of sushi, but what really holds her attention and her appetite is the dessert. ice cream made with eggs from the harpy aviary, three scoops heaped high. chocolate and strawberry and vanilla. hot fudge sauce poured in a river over the ice cream, slices of banana and maraschino cherries and whipped cream and wedges of chocolate covered waffle cones. superior stands nearby, in her eyeline though not commanding attention.
“i’m glad you are enjoying the dessert, akari.”
“We’re under rationing at home. I never get food like this anymore.”
“what a shame. a beautiful princess like you should get everything she desires.”
“Yes, well, my generals seem to think that the front line needs more supplies than the royal palace. Eventually they turned my own staff against me and started siphoning away my grocery deliveries.”
“how cruel.”
“It’s for the good of the principality,” she answers between bites. “At least that’s what they tell me. In truth, I am thankful to be away from the castle.”
“it is our pleasure to host you.”
“Be that as it may, Maid, I would like to conclude our business here as soon as possible so I might return to my rightful throne.”
“rightful throne?”
“Did you forget I’m a princess?! How impudent! From now on, you are forbidden from using my first name. A maid like you should know her place.”
“of course, my lady. i did not mean to imply anything untoward. merely, i am aware that your principality has been dealing with a succession crisis for some time now and that there are others who may object to you claiming the throne.”
“I’m the one paying your retainer, I call the shots!”
“and it shall please us to obey as soon as we have completed negotiations.”
“ENOUGH!” akari brandishes the ice cream spoon at superior like a blade. “sit there in silence, Maid! You cannot negotiate with me, I shall not suffer to hear an ignorant maid’s opinions of my rule.”
superior simply curtsies by way of an answer. she watches in silence as akari devours her sundae like a starving hyena. like it might be the last sweet thing she gets before returning to war. the spoon clinks against the bottom of the bowl as she scoops up even the melted ice cream soup. only when she has finished the very last speck of her dessert does superior clear her place, handing the dish off to another maid stationed just outside the chamber door who carries it away to the kitchens.
“I should like to retire for the evening.”
“is there anything else i may provide for you, your highness?”
“Do you have any more of those chocolates? The ones that were on my pillow.”
“i shall prepare some for you to have in the morning, highness. they were handcrafted by me and take rather a long time, so i’m afraid we do not have any to hand. i shall return to the kitchens immediately.”
“See that you do, Maid.”
–
the morning saw no further progress on negotiations. the captain and lieutenant both conveniently preoccupied by other duties that either drew them from the castle or demanded their full attention. a new box of eight chocolates sat on superior’s desk. akari paced the office impatiently in a fresh blue dress. she fumed while superior calmly sorted through her reports and made occasional notes in a white journal.
“This is an indignity! Do they really think I can be ignored?”
superior scratches another note in her journal with her fountain pen. she does not answer akari’s question.
“Answer me!”
“apologies, highness, i was under the impression that you did not wish to hear my commentary. the captain and lieutenant are currently dealing with urgent business. we appreciate your patience and ask your forgiveness. would you care for a chocolate?”
superior lifts the lid from the box and offers it to akari. the princess snatches one up and pops it in her mouth. the lid is replaced and the box set back on the table. a wave of pure calm passes over akari as she eats; the chocolate acts as the perfect balm to her angry heart. superior writes a few more neat lines in her white journal as akari enjoys her bliss.
“you were saying, princess?”
“No, no, it’s nothing. I’m sorry for my outburst, you’re working.”
“oh this is nothing important, just a few necessary approvals that require my signature. i would be more than pleased to continue serving you in a few minutes.”
“I’m a guest here, it would be impolite of me to make demands.”
“you are a princess, and i am your maid. it is your place to make demands of me.”
“There must still be some sense of propriety.”
“as you wish, akari.”
akari sits across the desk from superior. no longer pacing and fuming. she is the picture of quiet patience. superior glances up at her and makes a quick note in her journal before snapping it shut and locking it in her desk.
“shall we take a walk in the gardens?”
“That sounds nice.”
“come along, akari.” the princess takes one long look at the box of chocolates resting on superior’s desk. it would be so easy to palm the box and take all its perfect confections. but superior’s ringing boots slowly lead into the hallway and she can’t help but follow, leaving the box behind.
–
the sun is out in full force, beating down on akari and superior as they walk. the air is still and humidity is high. a terrible day to be outside. akari is quietly sweating as they take their promenade through the gardens. superior, however, is the picture of calm. even dressed in her black uniform, covered from head to toe. if the heat bothers her, it certainly doesn’t show in her placid smile.
they make one circuit of the gardens, a fine sheen of sweat paints akari’s face. superior pulls her over into the shade of a large umbrella and helps the struggling princess into a chair. she vanishes for a moment and returns with a bowl of italian ice. akari’s face lights up at the cold treat and digs in immediately. superior smiles a subzero smile as her face puckers.
“Lemon! Sour! I hate sour things!”
“try it, akari. once you get used to the sour, it’s quite sweet underneath.” akari looks down at the italian ice, she takes another small nibble. the idea to demand another flavor doesn’t even cross her mind. true to superior’s word, once the initial sourness of the lemon mellows out on her tongue, it is remarkably sweet and delicate. the ice melts into a sweet juice on her tongue. superior dabs away a small trickle of the icemelt that leaked onto akari’s chin with a handkerchief.
“eat up, or it will melt, akari.”
akari nods slowly. she looks down at the bowl and eagerly enjoys the treat. the perfect choice for a hot, oppressive day like this. superior made such a good decision with the italian ice, akari can feel her strength returning to her with each bite. they don’t have sweets like this at home, they barely have anything to spare. a total war economy for a fight they’re losing day by day, inch by inch. does she really have to go back? akari looks up at superior, an empty bowl in her hands.
“good girl, akari.”
“May I have another one of those chocolates?”
“later, princess.”
–
general suzuki stands in the empty conference room, anxiously pacing. it’s been weeks since princess akari left to negotiate with msoc local one directly and there’s been no news. it pains her to leave the front, but there’s nothing else she can do but throw herself on the mercy of the paramilitary maids and beg, alongside her princess, for their aid.
she knows when she’s getting iced out. a low rank officer brought her to this conference room and told her to wait but it’s been upwards of an hour and no one has come. only a small tea service, placed on the table shortly after her arrival. the pot has long since grown cold in her impatience.
after another hour of waiting, the conference room door swings open and a blonde maid with a silver x insignia on her collar strides in. “my apologies for keeping you waiting, general suzuki. i was unfortunately detained attending to the needs of princess akari.” the maid closes the door behind her and the general takes note of a smallsword on the maid’s hip as she crosses and sits at the head of the table. general akari sits once the maid has taken her place.
“I am glad that you are here now, at least. Who do I have the honor of addressing?”
“i am the superior, you may address me as such.”
“Superior? Are you the captain of this branch?”
“no, general. i am its superior. but you had more pressing matters to attend to than the particulars of my title and rank, didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes of course. My apologies. As I’m sure you are aware, our principality is embroiled in a brutal succession crisis. Pretenders and usurpers all challenge Princess Akari for the throne and our military is on the verge of collapse, insurgents are all but inside the castle gates. We need troops and materiel or we will fall.”
“your princess made the same plea to me weeks ago when she first arrived.”
“What do we need to do to secure your aid? Just name it and it’s yours.”
superior rises and slowly walks to the door, she opens it and murmurs to someone outside. she returns with princess akari in tow. she’s dressed in a simple white dress, her gem studded tiara still resting on her head.
“Princess!” akari regards her general with emptiness, eyes land on her without recognition.
“why don’t we let akari here decide? akari, your general here says that your principality shall fall unless we intervene. should we?”
“My general?” akari answers blearily, like a child awoken from a deep sleep.
“oh yes, general suzuki is here to beg our aid. she wants us to leave the castle and go fight in the war over your throne. do you want that?”
“No! No, I don’t wanna leave the castle!” superior turns to general suzuki with an icy look of absolute calm.
“there you have it general.”
“There must be some mistake!” general suzuki rises from her chair. “There’s no way Princess Akari would just give everything up!”
“my, my princess, that sounds like treason to me. countermanding you like that.”
“Counter-what?”
“she’s telling you no, princess. she’s not supposed to do that. princesses are supposed to get whatever they want.”
“That’s right…”
“she needs to be punished for her treason, princess.” general suzuki looks on in horror as superior draws her smallsword and places the handle in princess akari’s hands. “we all know the punishment for treason, right?”
general suzuki runs for the door. she pulls on the handle only to find it locked from the outside. princess slowly advances on her, the needle point of the smallsword glinting in the overhead lights of the conference room.
“oh, and princess?” princess turns to look at superior as she sets a white box with a black ribbon on the table. “kill her and i’ll let you have one of these.”
general suzuki barely has time to process superior’s words before princess runs her through. her stab is amateurish though plenty powerful. the cold steel rips through her entrails, gouging a deep puncture through her guts. she hacks up a spray of blood and struggles to stay standing through the pain. it’s painful, but not lethal. princess wrenches the blade free and drives it into general suzuki’s sternum, piercing a lung.
“Please, Princess. You don’t have to,” her breath falls out from under her and she can’t complete her protest. she can only stare in horror as the dead eyed princess removes the blade and finally finds her heart.
in her last moment of consciousness before the end, general suzuki watches as princess akari, white dressed stained with blood, eats a chocolate out of superior’s open hand.
An Aella Zephyr & Faolain Blackrose Long Form Piece
It's Time The First Maid Put A Stop To This.
When Fireteam Lupis Stormed Aella's Quarters It Was Early, Pre-Dawn. But She Was Already Dressed, Waiting For Them. She Regarded The Maids' Shotguns And Axes With Serenity, Unbothered By The Show Of Arms. She Presented Her Hands For Lieutenant Blackrose To Cuff And Went Without Resistance.
And That Only Pissed The Lieutenant Off.
Lieutenant Blackrose Seethed As She Marched Her Clone To The Cells, Unable To Shake The Feeling She'd Been Played.
Why Did She Not Resist? Why Did She Volunteer The Restraints? How Can She Be So Calm As She's Put In A White Jumpsuit And Gagged?
Only A Look That Read "i'll see you later, lieutenant," As The Cell Door Slammed Shut.
Then The Hunt Was On.
--
A Plastic Chair Scrapes As Lieutenant Blackrose Drags It In Behind Her. The Cell Door Slams Shut, A Member Of Fireteam Lupis Guarding It At All Times. The Lieutenant Sits, Glaring Down At Sergeant Zephyr. The Sergeant Lounges Casually, Back Resting Against The Wall.
Faolain Leans In And Pulls The Gag From Her Clone's Mouth.
"hello lieutenant, i'd say good morning or good evening, but my sense of time is distorted. i'm sure you understand."
Lieutenant Blackrose's Face Settles Into Hard Lines. She's The One Who Has To Set This Right. One Of The Few In The Castle Who Can Resist The Mesmerism. And The One Who Brought Aella Into This World.
"it's impolite not to return a greeting, lieutenant you taught me that."
Blackrose's Chakra Lashes Out, Silently Disintegrating The Mesmeric Attack. Their Back And Forth Always Goes Like This. The Sergeant Making An Overture Of Mesmerism, One She Knows The Lieutenant Will Swat Away. And The Lieutenant's Forced Response.
"I Don't Remember Teaching You Mesmerism."
"no, that was my own study. it's fascinating, truly, what one can do to the human mind. in a way, i have the staff therapist to thank. seeing her work with master sergeant leblanc inspired me to the study."
Blackrose Returns Only Silence.
"lieutenant, as grateful as i am for the opportunity to converse, it's not much of a conversation if you don't talk."
Another Parried Psychic Attack.
"We Captured One Of Your Fireteam."
"oh? which of my toys did you take?"
The Lieutenant Grimaces, But The Disgust Doesn't Creep Into Her Voice. She Can't Betray The Emotion In Front Of The Sergeant Or She'll Twist It Against Her. Even The Expression Is Too Much.
"Cara Moran."
"ah yes, private always did need the most direct supervision. is she well?"
"You Know She Isn't, You Made Her Unwell."
"no lieutenant, you made her unwell by depriving her of me."
Blackrose Stamps Down On The Urge To Strike The Sergeant. It Wouldn't Help.
"tell me, how did you find private?"
"It Wasn't Hard, She Was Pawing At Your Door Like A Lost Dog."
A Sickening Smile Twists Across The Sergeant's Face. Aella's Smile Used To Light Up A Room, Not Drop The Air Temperature Ten Degrees.
"thank you for your expert insight on dogs, lieutenant."
Lieutenant Blackrose Bites Her Cheek To Keep Herself From Lashing Out. She Looks Away From The Sergeant, Eyes Landing On Her IV Nutrition. The Other Maids Cannot Be Exposed To Her, So Meals Are Out Of The Question. The Tubing Snakes Behind Her Back Where Her Hands Are Bound.
"and where is private now?"
"Incarcerated."
"nearby?"
"Classified."
"is she unharmed?"
"She Is Sedated So That She Does Not Harm Herself Again Trying To Find You."
"the ideal soldier, wouldn't you agree? loyal, almost to a fault."
"I Wouldn't."
"that's a shame. and the rest of my toys? have you found them?"
Lieutenant Blackrose Reaches Down And Affixes The Gag Again, Tightly. Their Time Is Up. The Sergeant's Eyes Glitter With Cruel Understanding. The Chair Scrapes Into The Darkness.
--
Time Passes In The Cell. The Lieutenant Enters Occasionally To Change The IV Bag. The Sergeant Never Tries Anything During These Brief Visits. She Cannot Work Her Mesmerism Without Her Voice And The Lieutenant Leaves Her Gagged.
Four IV Bags Come And Go Before The Lieutenant's Chair Scrapes In Again. The Gag Is Yanked Away Forcefully.
"Where Are Grimm And Braam?"
"diva and herald? i'm sure i don't know what you mean, lieutenant. i haven't left this room in... how long has it been?"
"Where Are They, Aella?"
"oh i haven't been called that in a long time, you must be getting desperate."
The Lieutenant Stands Suddenly, Plastic Chair Skittering Away Behind Her. Her Right Hand Curls Into A Raised Fist.
"strike me and you'll prove yourself no better than our operators, zero-eight."
Faolain Freezes.
"How...?"
"i remembered."
"But You Shouldn't."
"the first mind i worked upon was my own, lieutenant. and, just as you told us that night, your fingerprints were there too. amateur work really, both you and them."
"If You Can Remember Then Why? You're Just Like The Operators Were, Bending Women Into Weapons."
"no, i'm nothing like them. i'm better. that mesmerist was so focused on breaking us dolls, turning us into what she wanted, what her superiors wanted, she didn't stop to consider that our natural desires might cause us to strain against what she wanted. my toys will never question my work because i let them be what they want, do what they want. i simply reformed their identities around that and channeled their desires to suit my needs."
"And What Needs Are Those? We Gave You A Home, A Family, Direction. What More Could You Need?"
"control, lieutenant. if you're not in control, someone else is." Lieutenant Blackrose Stares At Her, Mouth Agape. "do you understand that, or do you need to ask your big sister to explain it to you?"
Lieutenant Blackrose Gags The Sergeant And Storms Out, Dragging The Chair Behind Her.
--
"you look tired, lieutenant."
Lieutenant Blackrose Slouches In Her Plastic Chair, Dark Rings Softly Haunt Her Eyes. It's Been Impossible To Capture Grimm, And Braam Hasn't Been Seen Since The Sergeant Was Captured. Whenever Lupis Unit Gets A Lead On Grimm, The Maids Of The Castle Work Together To Secret Her Away Or Warn Her Or Obstruct Their Capture Operation.
They Won't Let The Wolves Take Their Friend.
So She's Still Out There. "Granting wishes," "making everyone happy," And Worst Of All, Telling People About Her Superior.
And Just Because Lupis Hasn't Found Braam, Doesn't Mean They Don't Hear About Her. A Herald, Proselytizing. It Makes The Lieutenant's Stomach Churn.
"How Do We Stop Them?"
"hmm?"
"Your Fireteam. We Can't Catch Them, We Can't Find Them. You Made Them Like This, How Do We Stop Them?"
The Sergeant Laughs Coldly. "i thought you had everything handled, lieutenant? the unshakable first maid asking her prisoner for help? my oh my how shameful."
"Shut Up."
"if that's what you want." The Sergeant Stares Off At The Wall Behind The Lieutenant, Studying It As If There's Something Fascinating In The Concrete.
"No Work Is Getting Done."
No Reply.
"The Maids Are Shirking Their Duties."
No Reply.
"Damn It All, Aella! Answer Me!"
The Sergeant's Gray Eyes, Perfect Mirrors Of The Lieutenant's, Lock Onto Her Captor.
"you can't, lieutenant."
"There Has To Be A Way."
"there isn't. my toys can't go back to how they were before me. and even if they could, they wouldn't want to."
"I Read Your Journals."
"i expect you found them enlightening."
"I Found Them Sickening."
"those feelings are not mutually exclusive."
"What Happened To Make You Like This?"
"let's not retread old ground? you asked for my help, lieutenant. deep down, you know what to do."
Silence, From Lieutenant Blackrose.
"if you will not, then shall we discuss something else? how is private? is she taking well to captivity?"
"She's Not Eating. She Won't Until We Let Her See You. She's On IV Nutrition, But She Keeps Trying To Rip The Needle Out."
"good girl, private. why don't we start small, lieutenant. i can get private to eat again, real food, too. surely you don't want to be responsible for a prisoner dying under your watch."
Faolain Rises From The Chair Slowly, The Gag Goes Back On. She Trudges Out Of The Cell With The Chair Scraping Behind Her. The Sergeant Watches Her Go, Unperturbed.
--
Three IV Changes.
The Sergeant Is Blindfolded, Shackled At Her Legs, And Hauled Out Of The Cells. She Walks, Slowly For The Restraints, Until She Hears Another Cell Door Swing Open. The Sergeant And Lieutenant Step Inside.
The Lieutenant Pulls Off The Blindfold And An Emaciated Private Lies Sprawled On The Floor Of The Cell. Her Arm Is Covered In Bruises From Where The Soldiers Had To Force The IV In.
"Fix This."
The Sergeant Turns To The Lieutenant Coolly, The Lieutenant Sighs And Removes The Gag.
"when was the last time you sedated her?"
"We Haven't Since The Hunger Strike."
"how long ago?"
"Five Days."
Private Looks Up, Suddenly Attentive When She Hears The Sergeant's Voice. She Scrambles To Her Feet And Stands At Attention.
"Superior! I'm so glad to see you unharmed!"
The Sergeant Nods Her Head In Greeting, Arms Still Bound Behind Her.
"private, my apologies for my extended leave of absence. my business still remains unresolved for the time being. are you well?"
"Yes, Superior! I may not be fighting fit at the moment, but I am unharmed."
The Lieutenant Folds Her Arms Over Her Chest.
"good, private, that's very good. my leave will be over and you can return to my side soon. until then, i need you to do something for me."
"Anything, Superior!"
"good girl, private," The Lieutenant Turns Away In Disgust As Private Tents Her White Jumpsuit At The Praise.
"Hurry This Up Already." Private Growls At The Lieutenant, How Dare She Make Demands Of Superior. The Threat Is Silenced By A Sharp And Deadly Look From The Sergeant.
"i need you to start eating again, private. you will need your strength for what comes next. and when we're reunited, i'll give you a commendation."
Private's Eyes Snap To The Sergeant's Bare Feet.
"But, Superior, where are your boots?"
"safe, private. don't worry about that, focus on getting strong again.
"Yes, Superior!" Private Gives A Weak Smile And Salutes, She's Still Weak Physically, But Her Spirit Is Back.
"we're done here, blackrose. private won't trouble you any longer." Private Watches In Horror As The Lieutenant Gags The Sergeant Again. She Makes To Lunge Forward, To Defend The Sergeant But Stops Dead Still When The Sergeant Shakes Her Head.
Down Comes The Blindfold, And Back To Her Cell.
--
The Plastic Chair Drags Against The Concrete Floor. The Lieutenant Collapses Into It.
"Let's Talk Terms." Superior Mumbles Through The Gag. The Lieutenant Mumbles Curses As She Removes It And Tosses It Aside.
"hello lieutenant, i'd say good morning or good evening, but my sense of time is distorted. i'm sure you understand."
"Hello Sergeant." Blackrose's Own Mental Defenses Remain Active, Shielding Her From The Passing Mesmeric Attack. But How Does She Keep Launching Them Without The Boots To Channel The Magic?
"what terms are we negotiating here?"
"Your Release."
"my release! finally, you see reason." Lieutenant Blackrose Stares A Hole In The Ceiling, Unable To Look At Superior, The Woman She Once Called Her Little Sister Is Long Dead. "i expect an unconditional release for both myself and private."
"We Can't."
"you have to."
"I Know! Of Course I Know!" Blackrose Erupts From The Chair In Rage. "How Can You Be So Calm! You're Destroying This Castle, My Family, My Home! And All Over Some Ego Trip!"
Faolain Punches Superior In The Mouth, Her Lip Splits, Crimson Blood Spilling Down Her Face.
"did that make you feel better?"
Of Course It Didn't.
"i expect an unconditional release. i expect private to receive one as well. i expect to continue my work with my subordinates undisturbed. and i expect to have my pick of any promising toys that catch my eye."
"We Can't."
"then your castle will rip itself apart. you will have to put down every maid in this place, hunt down diva and herald, and execute my toys. and then me. can you do that, lieutenant? are you prepared to do what it takes to root out a psyker's influence?"
"A Psyker? No, There Aren't Any Living Psykers."
"without my boots i had to find other ways to exert my will. all this time unsupervised, the perfect crucible to hone my craft. so really, i have you to thank, faolain. thank you, for being the perfect test subject."
Faolain Wants To Vomit. She Chokes Down The Bile And Just Stares At The Terrifying Monster Sitting Against The Wall.
"don't be too upset, little wolf. it's not in my interest to see this place destroyed. where else can i get a steady stream of toys?"
A Long Silence.
"Where Did I Go Wrong?"
"you should have killed me when i was combat doll twenty-six."
--
Faolain Can't Bring Herself To Watch. She Stares At The Floor As Superior Receives Thunderous Applause. She Returns From The Cells Resplendent. Adorned In Her Military Dress Uniform, Coat Worn On The Shoulders, And Her Gleaming Black Boots.
Superior Waves To The Cheering Crowd Of Gathered Maids, Dozens Of Them. Herald And Diva Stand Off Behind Each Shoulder. They Look Almost As Immaculate As Their Superior.
Toy Soldier Humps Away At Superior's Boot, Pants Already Stained From One Orgasm. She's Feeling Generous, She Said, And For Toy Soldier's Bravery In Captivity, She Is Rewarding It With An Additional Commendation.
Faolain Uses All Her Strength To Block Out Superior's Speech. She Doesn't Want To Listen, She Doesn't Want To Hear. She Needs To Be Certain Her Mind Stays Uninfected.
She Especially Can't Face Up To Her Weakness.
That She Couldn't Execute Superior When She Had The Chance.
Eventually The Crowd's Cheers Die Down And The Soldiers Chatter Amongst Themselves. Faolain Faces Them And Speaks For The First Time During This Morbid Celebration, "All Of You, Get Back To Work!"
the soldiers all look at faolain. then they turn to superior. who nods her assent.
Thalia Grimm Has Some Choice Words For Her Superior Officer.
(Brainwashing)
newly minted sergeant aella zephyr, the superior, writes away at forms in her office. the promotion comes with a stack of daily, weekly, monthly reports that she needs to file by hand and double file on the base's computers.
her toy soldier, private cara moran, stands at her seven o'clock, ready for any request her superior might have. it's a comfortable rhythm they've settled into. order, obedience. though it was not without its fits and starts.
early into their new relationship, moran would be at aella's door every night. whining and crying out for her previous mesmerist, dr. maimuna almiraj. but long nights and the more constant exposure to her direct superior has made doctor almiraj a faint memory. plus the careful, dedicated work aella performed in the private's mind to methodically root out the nekomata. not even the name almiraj remains.
and moran is truly happier like this. her anxiety vanished after that first night on the battlements. her performance as a soldier has more than returned to expectations, it's surpassed any of moran's prior metrics. unlearning the shame of eager obedience took another few meetings, but it was beaten out of her with each ring of the superior's boots.
and that's the real work of art in superior's eyes. turning a shy woman into her eager attendant. shameless and guileless in her obedience, even when she's moran and not the toy soldier.
superior stamps another approval and adds it to the stack to scan into the database. every report is half filed, work must be twice done or not at all. not that she minds, of course. the menial task of scanning and filing can be left to the toy soldier behind her. only the task of writing the reports rises to the level of the superior.
superior sets aside the paperwork for a moment and unlocks the top drawer of her desk. from within, she pulls a crimson journal, moran's progress notes. as her first real experiment, superior has been keeping a detailed record of everything that she has put her toy soldier through. a grim instruction manual for a grim task.
as she flips to a blank page, private thalia grimm bursts through the door into her office. superior closes the journal, sets it on the desk, and regards the intruder with a placid smile. while a member of her fireteam, grimm should be trained better than to enter without first knocking and receiving permission.
who knows what they could be doing in there?
"private grimm, to what do i owe the pleasure?" she asks in that soft, rich voice. subtle as a knife's edge and twice as lethal. moran moves to intercept, but is stilled by a raised hand from superior.
"What the fuck did you do to Cara?" grimm growls, almost shouting the accusatory question. superior quirks an eyebrow at private grimm.
"do to private? i'm sure i don't know what you mean." of course, she labored under no delusion that her work would go undetected. she even expected that of kestrel unit, grimm would be the first to speak up.
in a manner just like this.
"You did something to her! Fucked with her head. After that night, on watch, she's been following you around like some lost puppy. You don't even use her name anymore! It's all 'private' this and 'private' that. I thought we were friends!"
superior turns her head minutely to one side, not taking her eyes off of private grimm for even a moment.
"private, close the door and lock it."
"Yes, Ma'am!" eager to be of use, private walks swiftly to the door and obeys the order. closing and locking the heavy oaken slab. for her part, private grimm just stares in disbelief.
private returns to her spot behind superior, she looks expectant for praise that does not come.
instead, superior rises from her chair and walks towards grimm. her boots make that terrible ringing sound with each fatal step. an overwhelmingly effective psychic tool. what started as a mere fashion item has taken on new life as superior's mental metronome.
those that hear cannot help but heed.
those that heed cannot help but eventually succumb.
those that succumb cannot help but obey.
and grimm, poor private grimm. she's been hearing it every day since that fateful night where aella became superior.
the slow, measured steps of superior serve to silence grimm's protests. superior stops, inches from grimm, well within her burst range. one quick snap of her arm and she could put superior on the floor. but her arms feel like lead.
"private grimm, would you be so kind as to look at private?" no last name for private, that's all she is now. grimm fights to maintain eye contact with superior but it's almost painful meeting her unflinching gaze. her gray eyes pierce through to her very soul. so eventually she obeys.
she cannot help it.
grimm's eyes light on private. still standing in her spot, still looking at superior like she's the most important thing in the world. and she is, to private, at least.
"tell me, private grimm. how does she look?"
"She looks..." grimm cannot bring herself to complete the sentence. she looks happy, elated, blissful. not a shred of shame or decency about her.
"private grimm? that was an order." private gasps slightly from behind the desk. superior's order went unheeded, it borders on blasphemy. private opens her mouth, eager to fill the silence, hoping to accomplish the order that went unanswered.
superior stills her with a raised hand.
"She looks. Happy."
"she does, doesn't she? and more than that, she is happy. and all i did was give her the permission to be exactly who she wants to be."
grimm slowly turns back towards superior. she's lost. confused. what could she have meant by that.
"allow me to demonstrate. watch closely. toy soldier, at attention!" the light behind private's eyes fades to nothing. toy soldier clicks her heels and snaps into a salute before superior and grimm.
"Your orders, Ma'am?"
"toy soldier, stand just like that until i release you."
"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am!"
superior turns to regard her newest recruit. "private needed desperately, more than anything to be a soldier. to be a good soldier. the kind of soldier who follows orders and gets praised by her superior officer. and to her, i'm exactly that. her superior officer. the one who gives her orders and praise and validation that she is exactly where she's supposed to be. i'm certain you noticed the woman who was cara moran slipping and falling. i caught her and made her into private. my private, my soldier."
superior taps her boot heel on the hardwood just once, enough to bring everyone's attention onto her like the dot of a laser sight.
"and i could do the same thing for you. tell me, private grimm, what is it that you want? that thing you could never ask for because your pride and shame won't allow you to have it?"
"I... Nothing! No! I don't want anything!"
superior lashes out first, striking private grimm directly in the stomach. she doubles over, trying to catch the breath that rushed out of her. toy soldier remains perfectly still.
"disobedience will not be tolerated. lying is absolutely unacceptable, private grimm. all of you, you all want something. cara moran wanted to be a good soldier; private has become a good soldier. you want something, thalia grimm. there is no shame in it, i will help you accept it and achieve it."
private grimm reaches a clawed hand towards superior's boot. if she can just damage that perfect psychic totem, if she can just blemish it, she can drive superior from her mind.
superior sees this and kicks private grimm in the ribs. once, twice. then she switches to the other boot, to keep them perfectly identical. once, twice.
"you will not be doing that, private grimm. you will tell me what you want."
private grimm hacks and splutters on the floor of superior's office, unable to form the words. but superior is an infinite well of patience, she will have the truth of it. no matter what it takes.
"I... I want... I want to forget."
"forgetting is easy. what do you want after that? who do you want to be?"
superior lowers herself over private grimm. her presence is like a gravity well. pulling everything in, inescapable.
"I want everyone to like me. I want to be popular."
a grim smile breaks out on superior's face. one that does not reach her eyes.
"oh yes, i can make you popular. i can make you liked by everyone. you just have to give everyone what they want. can you do that for me? can you give everyone everything they ask for?"
"Yes."
a swift kick in the ribs again.
"Yes, Superior!" the girl yet to be molded splutters out. she's learning her place, that's good.
"everyone will ask things of you, but my requests are your first priority, understand?" superior paces around the fragile body at her feet, boots ringing out their mental metronome. "if someone asks you something that contradicts me, you run away."
"Yes, Superior!"
"good girl, now. bunny, hop to it." the trigger phrase implants deep into bunny's amygdala. the light behind grimm's eyes fades out, but she rises from the floor and turns to face superior, absolutely elated.
"What can I do for you, Superior?"
"for me, nothing." bunny looks crestfallen, the woman she heeds the most doesn't need her. "but, there is something you can do." she regards the toy soldier, still dutifully saluting behind the desk. sweat beads on her forehead as muscle fatigue sets in. "toy soldier, you may stop saluting."
toy soldier immediately drops her arm to her side, grateful for the release.
"good girl, you did well. you earned a commendation for your performance." toy soldier's eyes laser onto superior's boots. "not this time, private. toy soldier, ask if you may fuck bunny."
"Bunny, may I fuck you?"
"Of course!" as if she would ever say no. as if she could ever say no. that word has been excised from her vocabulary. toy soldier and bunny surge to meet each other. flesh finding flesh, need finding need. there's no question as to who tops. bunny gives, toy soldier takes.
superior sits, disinterestedly filling out more reports as the two of them fuck on the floor like animals. the office fills with the stench of sex and the clapping of skin. it isn't until she hears the keening moans and grunts of her two pets that she even bothers to look up.
so close to orgasm for the both of them when, "toy soldier, at ease. bunny, scamper home."
their reformed identities rush back in. they realize what they're doing and realize they're powerless to stop it. private completing an order from superior and diva making a wish come true.
then they climax.
superior grants them the dignity of coming down before new commands are issued. "private, clean this up. diva, i'm finished with you for today, but it would please me greatly if you went and made some more friends out in the castle. i would like to see you first thing in the morning."
"Yes, Superior!" still a trained maid, private cleans with aplomb.
"Yes, Superior!" diva puts her uniform back on before skipping out of superior's office to find more wishes she can grant.
superior stamps another form and adds it to the stack for scanning later.
two down. one left. from the top drawer, superior pulls a blue journal and begins to write.
Private Cara Moran Needs Special Attention From Her Superior Officer.
(Hypnosis, Guns)
cara moran has been slipping. the reserved sniper of fireteam kestrel is letting down her sisters in arms and her lance corporal. grimm and braam are on their own patrols, silently watching over separate walls of the castle. yet moran and zephyr walk together, rifles slung on their shoulders. moran can't be trusted to be left alone anymore. aella's boots ring clearly on the flagstones, while they give away her position they are a concession lance corporal zephyr is unwilling to grant command.
moran trails a few steps behind her, happy to avoid the aella's gaze. the moon shines down on the maids as they stop to gaze out into the open plains.
"moran, what's going on with you?"
"Ma'am?" moran can't bring herself to address aella's accusation or even look at her.
"you had promise, moran. you were one of the best shots in my squad. are you satisfied with your skill fading into the past?"
moran's mouth hangs open, she gathers her composure enough to stammer a reply, "N-no, Ma'am!"
"then how do you account for the degradation in your skills? your aim is worse than it was a month ago, your service standards are slipping, and you're showing up late to duty shifts. explain yourself, moran."
moran stops and starts a half dozen times. aella resumes her patrol, with the private following behind her. her boots ring on the stones in a steady rhythm.
"I've been going through a lot lately. News from home. I've been seeing a therapist, I promise I'm getting better." aella rolls her eyes into the darkness. she's heard rumors about this therapist. lenora told her about her run ins with master sergeant valentine leblanc and her strange hypnotic habits.
"dr. almiraj, is it? tell me, what is she putting into your head?"
"Ma'am? It's therapy. It's just talk therapy."
"is it?" aella's low voice is smooth as silk, and rich as black coffee in the night air. "tell me, what is the trigger phrase she gave you?"
"Trigger phrase? Really Ma'am this has gone too--" moran is silenced with a firm gesture from her superior officer. her shoulders fall. the derision from her team lead is starting to get to be too much.
"let me guess." moran begins to protest again, conduct unbecoming of an officer. "doll isn't right for you and hound doesn't fit either." aella continues her walk across the battlements. "toy soldier, at attention!" her command is punctuated by another rhythmic bootfall.
the night is perfectly silent for a moment, not even the breeze dares to shatter the stillness. it isn't until moran snaps into a salute, clicking her heels together that the tension finally breaks.
aella turns to face her toy soldier, a deathly cold smirk breaking across her face.
"Your orders, Ma'am?"
"roll call, soldier. state your name and rank."
toy soldier falters. "I am a private, Ma'am. A soldier. You need not--" toy soldier is cut off by a sharp look from her superior officer.
"you do not decide what i do and do not need to know, private." superior's voice rumbles like distant thunder. toy soldier shudders as it learns the new rule. "but clearly that information is above your rank. private will suffice for the time being until i find something more suitable to call you."
"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am."
"private, field strip your rifle."
toy soldier obeys instantly, dropping to the floor cross-legged to better disassemble the weapon. It takes her less than two minutes to break the gun down into its main components. they lie carefully placed, ready for reassembly on the walkway. toy soldier looks expectantly up at her superior officer.
a flicker of pride flits across superior's face. her own record for a field strip is only slightly faster. "good, private. i won't have to send you back to basic."
toy soldier beams at the praise. recognition by an officer, it makes her shudder. superior pauses before giving another order. doubt in the back of her mind. is it right to take advantage like this? moran is so vulnerable, so pliable. she's supposed to look out for her fireteam, but here she is, calling one of them a toy.
but the needy look on toy soldier's face breaks through any hesitation. she's lost without her orders. but whatever she's been ordered, she'll perform perfectly.
the perfect cog in the military machine.
a perfect weapon for superior to wield.
"hands behind your back, private." toy soldier obeys. "reassemble your gun."
toy soldier starts to bring its hands forward to start reassembly when her world suddenly flashes white. her face stings as she recoils from the force of superior's strike.
"no, private. did i say you could use your hands?"
"No, Ma'am."
"then tell me why you disobeyed a direct order."
toy soldier hesitates, "Ma'am I just thought--" toy soldier is cut off by a kick in her ribs.
"whoever trained you did a piss poor job, private. you are not supposed to think. you are not allowed to think."
toy soldier's head pounds. "I... what?"
"that is an order, toy soldier."
the last flame of toy soldier's will gutters out. her superior's order is absolute. her word is law. no soldier would ever think of defiance, that would be treason.
and she'd never get praised by her superior again.
toy soldier's will drains away. she looks up at her superior, awaiting orders.
"from now on, you are forbidden from seeing doctor maimuna almiraj. when you feel insecure or upset or anything pesky that you don't like, you come to my quarters. your superior will take care of you. i will train you and shape you into the perfect soldier, private."
toy soldier stares blankly up.
"nod if you understand, private."
toy soldier nods excitedly.
"good soldier. reassemble your rifle. you may only use your mouth. you have ten minutes. begin."
toy soldier springs into action. superior looks at her disinterestedly, half watching, half tracking the minute hand of her watch. she taps her foot as the time ticks away, each tap ringing clearly on the battlement.
toy soldier presents a fully reassembled rifle with ten seconds to spare. its covered in drool and she's sucking in heavy breaths. superior looks down from her watch.
"good work private. very good work, indeed. you've earned yourself a commendation."
"Thank you, Ma'am!" toy soldier beams with pride. not just praise for a job well done, but a commendation too! she stays firmly rooted on the walkway, waiting for permission from superior.
superior kicks the rifle away, sending it skittering towards the parapet. toy soldier tracks it with her eyes until its out of view. she hasn't been ordered to look.
a black leather boot, polished to a shine lands in front of toy soldier. she stares at it blankly.
she can't be blamed for not knowing what to do. no one's ever taken the time to train her.
"hump it. until you cum, soldier."
toy soldier springs into action, wrapping herself around superior's leg. she positions her crotch at the toe of the boot and works herself up and down the beautiful leather. what a stunning symbol of authority. privates have to wear these unfashionable combat boots. comfortable, sturdy, long-wearing but completely lacking in style.
but superior's boots. superior's boots are beautiful. pitch black leather that threatens to swallow the light before reflecting it back in a dazzling shine. they climb up to her knee. they even have a heel, something that is absolutely forbidden for front line troops.
but superior gets to wear them. because of course she does. she's the superior.
toy soldier works herself into a grunting, moaning mess. she aches and throbs as she bucks her hips into superior's boot. for her part, superior looks completely bored. she maintains her watch, scanning for any potential threats, even as toy soldier ruts into her.
the pace changes. toy soldier slows, feeling every lace of the boot through her uniform. she hears something snap open but doesn't register it. she hasn't been ordered to. she's only been ordered to hump until she cums.
it isn't until the cold barrel of superior's pistol presses into her temple that her rhythm breaks.
"i didn't say stop, private. continue." toy soldier resumes her frantic pace, her face a blend of fear and ecstasy. "the gun is part of your hazing. you want to be a good soldier, don't you?"
toy soldier whines, superior takes that as affirmation.
"good soldiers are fearless private." the safety clicks off. "show me how fearless you are."
toy soldier redoubles her efforts. frantically fucking superior's boot like it's the only thing in the world. and it is. the pistol presses hard into her skin. sweat glistens in the moonlight.
she's close, superior can feel it. with one great thrust, toy soldier cums in her uniform. she splatters her cum against her underwear and a stain starts to leak through her clothes.
"up, private. don't you dare stain my boots."
toy soldier snaps to attention. the mess in its pants completely forgotten all for the sake of the new order.
superior gazes at her handiwork with pride. it's true, someone else laid the groundwork, but she seized control of this pliable mind. she revels in the possibilities the future holds.
"good work private. collect your rifle and stand at attention."
toy soldier obeys, jogging over to her forgotten gun and rejoining her superior in short order.
superior muses on what the trigger to surface may be, but it comes to her in seconds.
"toy soldier, at ease."
cara moran comes crashing back into herself. she's dazed, confused by the missing time. but she regards aella with a new awestruck respect. her face burns as she realizes what the mess in her underwear is, but shamefully doesn't volunteer anything.
"feeling any better private?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you for listening Ma'am."
"of course, that's what superiors do for their subordinates."
moran looks away, a deeper flush rising to her cheeks. those words of recognition a soothing balm to her bruised ego. superior knows what's best for her, of course she does.
aella speaks into her radio, "this is zephyr, all points report."
all clears sound off in turn. superior offers the radio to moran. "report in, private."
"private moran here, all clear on the south wall."
