Chapter 1: A Controversial Study

Villawood Montana, 1959

She looked at the telephone only briefly before she snatched up the handset. The telephone was the same colour as her fingernail polish: bright red. It sat on top of a wooden box on the large oak desk. Printed on the box in bold letters were the words For Emergency Use Only. As far as she was concerned this was an emergency.

She unclipped the earring from her right earlobe and put the phone to her ear.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” the disembodied voice said.

“This is Airman Samantha Steele ... I mean ... Samuel Steele. I don’t know where to start ... things have gotten out of control here,” she said breathlessly.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” the disembodied voice repeated itself.

“This place is crazy. It’s been crazy for months. Things are happening here that shouldn’t be happening. The experiment has gone off the rails. What’s happening isn’t right,” Sam said, her voice so choked with emotion it was hard to understand her.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” the disembodied voice said for the third time.

Sam didn’t know what else to do so she told the whole story or at least the part where things had started to spiral out of control right up until the present.

“So that’s what’s happening. What are you guys going to do about it?” her voice was hoarse from crying.

The Private on the other end of line was named Specialist Monroe and he looked up at Colonel Johnathan Flagg who was standing next to his desk with a look of consternation on his face.

“What do you want me to do sir?” Specialist Monroe asked.

Colonel Flagg leaned in and switched off the speaker and put his finger on the telephone cradle and broke the connection.

“Give me the tape son,” he pointed to the tape recorder which had recorded the conversation.

“You keep your mouth shut Monroe. We’re all bound by the official secrets act here son,” Flagg said tersely and the Private nodded.

He unspooled the tape and handed it to the Colonel who took it from the Private and left the room.

Samantha Steele looked at the handset in disbelief. She put it back to her ear and tapped the cradle, trying to re-establish the connection but the line was dead. She heard the creaking of leather boots behind her and turned around slowly.

Staff Sergeant William Brody had entered the office silently and stood in the middle of the room dressed in his faded but immaculately pressed khakis.

He put out his hand and Samantha gave him the handset. He put it back in the cradle and looked at Sam with his icy blue eyes that conveyed no emotion whatsoever.

“Get on your knees!” he grunted.

“Oh please no!” Sam whispered.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Bill Brody whipped the belt out of the loops of his fatigue pants and doubled it over and held it by his side menacingly.

Sam got down on her knees gingerly; her movement constricted by her tight pencil skirt. She was careful not to get any splinters in her knees from the sawn lumber flooring or to put a runner in her nylons. Nylon stockings were currently plentiful at the department store but the supply was not inexhaustible.

“You know what to do,” Bill smacked his belt against his thigh to emphasise his point.

Sam leaned forward and began to unbutton Bill’s fly. This was part of the punishment, making her unbutton him and take out his appendage. It was a means of degradation and control.

Sam freed Bill’s erect organ and it stood out proud from his groin: seven inches of turgid flesh with a sleek lustrous veiny shaft, terminating in a pink bulbous glans. She could smell the sweat and feel the heat coming from his crotch.

“Do it,” Bill put a hand on Sam’s head and guided her face to his groin.

She dutifully opened her mouth and took what he offered her. As much as she wanted to close her eyes she knew that would incite more punishment. She obediently raised her emerald green eyes to Bill’s face and stared at him as she began to suckle his cock.

She sucked on the shaft with her lipsticked lips while she tickled his fraenulum with the tip of her tongue. She knew from learned experience that it gave Bill optimum pleasure and that was the objective: to maximise his pleasure so that he climaxed as quickly as possible.

She batted her eyelids at him, her eyes big and frightened like a new-born fawn. Her eyes were embellished by thick black eyeliner and mascara and the lids painted with garish blue and pink eyeshadow. Bill glared down at her, watching her red lipsticked lips suck his hard cock. He sighed and patted her head like one might pat a good dog.

Sam felt Bill’s cock begin to swell to full tumescence and start to quiver. She was prepared for her mouth to be flooded with his seed. She knew that she had to swallow it all and not waste a drop.

But Bill had other ideas. He wrenched his cock from her face and held her head still as she attempted to take him back in her mouth. Samantha wanted him to ejaculate in her mouth because the alternative was unpalatable.

“Get up,” Bill held out a hand and helped Sam get unsteadily to her feet.

She tottered on her high heels but Bill held her tight so she wouldn’t fall. He leaned in and kissed her and she let him; neither kissing him back nor fighting him off. There was no point in disobedience or noncompliance.

“Bend over the desk,” he growled.

“Please no,” Samantha pleaded.

Bill slapped his belt against his thigh and glared at her and Sam obediently turned around and bent over the desk.

Bill struggled to ruck Samantha’s pencil skirt up her thighs because it fitted her tightly but it was worth the effort. Bent over the desk as she was, her pert derrière swathed in translucent lace-trimmed full-cut panties was a marvel to behold. Her garters ran down inside her panties emerging from the leg holes, clipped to the coffee-coloured welts of her fully-fashioned nylon stockings, the seams running down the back of her legs in dead straight lines.

Bill took a minute to admire the visage while he stroked his cock. He nested it in the furrow of her buttocks and rubbed it between the soft globes of her ass enjoying the feel of the silky cool fabric of her panties on his turgid phallus. Sam knew better than to move. If she was lucky he might ejaculate there; he’d done it before.

But not today.

Bill took a tube of K-Y Jelly from his pocket and placed it on the desk. Sam looked at it and choked. Another means of manipulation. She was duty-bound to apply the lubricant where it was needed because if she didn’t Bill would go in dry and that would be torture. Sam knew this from bitter experience.

“Not today please Bill, let me finish you with my mouth,” Sam pleaded but Bill remained silent.

She uncapped the tube of lubricant, squeezed a dollop on her fingertips and reached behind her and slathered it on Bill’s erect penis. She wiped her hands on a tissue.

“Open your panties,” he growled.

It was another means of exercising control over her. Making her do the very things she hated.

“Oh god no please don’t Bill,” Sam begged but she compliantly eased aside the gusset of her panties.

“You know where it goes,” he barked.

Sam took his penis and nestled it between her buttocks, guiding the glans to her puckered bud and then she held onto the desk and waited for William Brody to rape her.

This was how it always went when she was naughty. He made her wait. The indignity of being bent over with her skirt hiked up and Bill’s cock nestled in the furrow of her sphincter wasn’t enough; he made her wait until he was ready.

Bill slowly inserted his cock inside Samantha’s tight asshole.

It went the way it had so many times before. At first there was the pain, a dull ache that wasn’t so much unpleasant as it was uncomfortable. She resisted the urge to try to expel it. Then there was the stretching of her sphincter and the walls of her anus. She felt a fullness that was almost indescribable. She felt degraded and demeaned.

Then Bill put his hands on her hips and began to slowly push his cock in and out of her rectum.

This was where Sam wished he’d just ravage her and pound her ass like a jackhammer but he didn’t. He fucked with long, slow, almost loving strokes and she hated it. She hated it because it washed away any pain she was feeling and filled her aching anus with pleasure. The pleasure was overwhelming and insurmountable. She had no way of supressing it.

The first time she had felt it she was stupefied that such a carnal revolting act could cause her such delectable pleasure and deep satisfaction. The more she tried to supress it the more it intensified. It was the same every time and today was no different.

As William Brody’s long thick cock reamed her anus she gasped and grunted with pleasure. Ringlets of dulcet delight radiated from her tight sphincter and her prostate. The irony was that if she struggled all she did was intensify Bill’s pleasure and her own so she stayed still, bent over the desk, while Bill fucked her. He moved his hands to her thighs and stroked them.

She would never tell Bill how much she relished it when he did that. The very first time she had put on nylons she was enchanted with how they felt on her flesh but when Bill stroked and pawed at them it drove her wild with lust. She couldn’t suppress a shiver of delight and Bill smiled wickedly and fucked her harder.

Her anus was so tight around his throbbing his cock. The first time he had fucked Samantha he was very trepidatious, thinking that what he was doing was a mortal sin but after that first time he couldn’t get enough of her.

He slammed his cock all the way inside Samantha’s slick tight ass and heard her gasp as he ejaculated; filling her back passage with his warm semen. Samantha wriggled like a stuck animal impaled on his hard throbbing penis. Bill wasn’t sure if it was pain or pleasure that made her do that whenever he came inside her, and he really didn’t care.

It was pleasure. Intense pleasure. The feel of Bill’s cock buried inside her, spewing forth his issue, his groin pressed against her panty-clad buttocks his fingers raking her stocking-sheathed thighs induced deep carnal desires that Sam loathed but also cherished. She hated herself for enjoying it as her cock sputtered and filled her panties with her creamy issue.

Bill kept her pressed against the desk while the last of his spend filled her anus and god help her Sam loved it when he pushed himself against her buttocks in post coital bliss. Her own cock was tingling and throbbing as she dribbled the last of her seed into her panties.

Bill pulled out and admired his handiwork. Sam’s pink puckered bud quivered and dribbles of his semen ran down the crack of her ass and stained the tops of her stockings. He eased the gusset of her panties back into place and smoothed the fabric over her globes.

Then he stepped back and slapped her ass three times with his belt.

“You stay out of this office do you understand?” he barked and Sam nodded, unable to speak because of the pain radiating from her glowing buttocks.

“Good girl. And stay off the fucking phone,” Bill helped Samantha to her feet and pulled down her skirt and kissed her softly then let her go.

She straightened her skirt as best she could, feeling Bill’s seed dribbling from her asshole and her saturated panties rubbing on her skirt. It didn’t matter. There were plenty more of the same skirts in her size in the store.

She picked up her pocketbook off the desk and gave the red emergency telephone a final glance before she turned and walked out of the office.

The phone call had been futile. A waste of time and she had been punished severely for it. For the thousandth time she thought to herself: How had it come to this?

Fort Leavenworth Kansas, 1959

In the 1950s in the grip of the Cold War the military were conducting secret tests at many different locations for a variety of reasons. There was nuclear weapon testing, biological agent testing, chemical warfare testing, psychochemical experimentation and many more studies conducted under the guise of enduring freedom. Soldiers, sailors and airmen were subject to physical and psychological experiments to see exactly what they could endure under controlled stressful conditions.

The US Navy had developed nuclear submarines that could effectively remain at sea indefinitely if they were resupplied at sea. NORAD had bunkers where men could be stationed indefinitely if needed should a nuclear threat loom. The Army was looking at stationing troops in secret locations for extended periods. The Department of Defense wanted specific data on what would happen to troops under condition where men were isolated for extended periods and had no certainty as to when they would return from duty.

A controversial study that explored the effects of authority on obedience had been conducted at Yale University which led to some surprising results. In the study, an authority figure ordered participants to deliver what they believed were dangerous electrical shocks to another person. These results suggested that people are highly influenced by authority and obedience.

The military wondered what might ensue if a small unit of servicemen was cut off from the chain of command but with unlimited resources at their disposal. Would anarchy ensue or would discipline and military structure prevail?

The experiment was to be conducted in complete secrecy at a remote location and would be left to run as long as the officer in charge of the study, one Colonel Johnathan Flagg, deemed necessary. The subjects would be given very little in the way of information or direction. They would be free to behave as the circumstances presented and in any manner they saw fit. The less they knew about the experiment the better the results would be.

Flagg needed a place to conduct his experiment and he found the ideal location in the remote rural town of Villawood Montana. The Excelsior Mining Company had a lease to mine copper and expected to make huge profits. Their business plan was simple: build a small town with all the amenities that a small workforce would need so that they would be happy to live in an isolated location and work long hours.

The idea was to induce miners to live and work in Villawood for extended periods without the need to leave town; the premise being that the high wages offset the isolation.

So Excelsior Mining built the town of Villawood and fully resourced it, including stocking the supermarket, the department store, the café, cinema and bar. Thirty houses had been built and furnished. Bulk fuel, groceries and necessities were stockpiled and a generator with backup was installed to provide power.

Literally days before Excelsior was scheduled to fly in the workers and their families, the government cancelled the mining lease. Excelsior Mining was compensated for their expenses and offered another mining lease elsewhere.

The Department of Defense compulsorily acquired the town of Villawood and the surrounding lands. They erected a twelve foot fence around the town which they electrified and posted warning signs. Not that the fence was really required to keep people out; Villawood was so remote that it was unlikely that anyone would just wonder in. The fence was erected more as a means to keep people in.

So what kind of people would be kept behind the fence?

Six servicemen were selected from numerous volunteers incarcerated at the United States Disciplinary Barracks Fort Leavenworth. Each was selected after extensive psychological testing to ensure there was a suitable range of subjects with varying psychological profiles ranging from alpha male to submissive follower from the Navy, Army and Air Force.

All of the candidates were keen to undertake any form of study that would free them from the confines of Leavenworth. Their crimes ranged from rape and assaulting a superior officer to fraud and insubordination and their ranks ranged from Staff Sergeant to Airman although as convicted felons none of them would be entitled to use the rank they had held before they were convicted.

That was all part of the experiment. Flagg had decided early on when developing the study that none of the subjects would be officers and that there would be no Marines. He wanted to see if those who had previously held rank would rise up and take charge or if a pecking order would develop based on people’s personality and disposition. Surely the meek would not inherit the world.

Staff Sergeant William Brody lay on the back seat of the olive drab bus as it rattled along the dirt road leading from the air field to the town of Villawood. He was fast asleep and appeared to care less about where he was being taken. The remaining inmates: Airman Samuel Steele, Petty Officer First Class Wesley Meakins, Private First Class Dale Snitterman, Senior Airman Buddy Flintock, Seaman Victor Benning, sat in separate seats and craned their necks to look out of the windows.

They had first met when they were transported from Fort Leavenworth to the airfield where they boarded the DC-3 for a destination unknown. All they knew was that they been selected to undertake a study that could possibly take years. Not that any of them were concerned about the amount of time the study would take – the longer the better so long as they were concerned. At least they were no longer incarcerated at Leavenworth.

As the bus approached the gates to the security fence that surrounded the town of Villawood, William Brody roused from his slumber as the road changed from rough dirt to smooth blacktop. He studied the fence as they passed through it as did the other prisoners. Fences were nothing new to them. Wherever they were going, it was just another prison.

The bus pulled up in a small town square which was just a lawn faced by an administrative building which had the words Villawood Montana - Excelsior Mining Company painted on a shingle above the entry doors. A full-bird Colonel in immaculately pressed fatigues and spit-shined boots stood at parade rest and watched the men disembark.

As they were military men they immediately fell in as a squad in front of Flagg without being told to do so. One of Flagg’s aides observed this and scribbled furiously in a note book.

“Gentlemen, welcome to Villawood Montana, your home for the foreseeable future. This town is brand new and pristine. It is well provisioned and will be re-provisioned as necessary. It is your job to keep this town running and maintain it to the best of your abilities,” Flagg began his short speech.

“You have been selected for a number of reasons and one of those reasons is that you all have different Military Occupational Specialties. You will for all intents and purposes be left alone to accomplish this task as outside interference will contaminate the study results,” Flagg went on, looking each man in the eye as he spoke.

“I’m not going to tell you much else; there is an Administrative Instruction inside this building. You’re all smart men you’ll figure it out. Specialist Monroe is going to give each of you a diary. You are to complete the diary every day and every Monday you are to deposit the diary in the box at the front gate and it will be returned the next day. All correspondence with me and my team will be via messages left in that box. There is an emergency telephone inside if the shit hits the fan but that is unlikely,” Flagg wrapped up his welcome speech.

The bus had already left and Flagg and his two lackeys jumped into a jeep and started it up.

“Sir! Sir! Just one thing. Who is in charge?” Buddy Flintock asked.

Flagg just gave him a wicked smile and sniggered.

“That’s for you all to sort out son,” he tapped his driver on the shoulder and the men were left standing in a cloud of diesel fumes.

William Brody turned to face the other five men.

“Ok. Let’s get inside the building and find out what this shit show is all about,” he said, picking up his duffle.

“Who put you in charge Brody. There ain’t no rank here. We’re all inmates; we aint got no rank,” Senior Airman Buddy Flintock snarled at William Brody.

Brody walked over to Buddy and put his arm around him convivially.

“You’re right Flintock. Ain’t no rank here,” he smiled viciously.

Then he punched Buddy Flintock in the stomach and Buddy fell into the dust. Brody kicked him in the midriff three times and Buddy lay on the ground trying to breathe.

“Anybody else wondering who’s in charge?” Brody glared at the other young men.

The men filed meekly into the Administrative building following Brody. Airman Samuel Steele knelt down and assessed that Buddy Flintock was just winded and helped him to his feet.

The building smelled of new paint and was spartanly furnished with office equipment; just two offices and a conference room. In the main office a folder lay opened on the desk at the title page Villawood Rules & Regulations. Sitting in one corner of the desk was red telephone on a wooden box with the words For Emergency Use Only painted in bold letters.

“I guess we know what that’s for. As the person in charge here I’m going to say up front that no one except me is going to use that phone, unless of course I’m incapacitated and need help,” Brody patted the phone and sat down in the chair behind the desk.

“You all tell me who you are and what your MOS is,” Brody began to open drawers to see what was in them but he was listening.

“Airman Samuel Steele, Medical Corps,” Steele said in his high-pitched almost effeminate voice.

“Well there’s our nurse boys. What you in Leavenworth for?” Brody studied Steel’s slight build and meek composure.

“I was caught stealing drugs and other medical supplies,” Steele said blushing with guilt.

“Ok. I’m guessing a town as isolated as this shithole has its own infirmary. You’ll check that out,” Brody began to flick idly through the Rules and Regulations.

“Private Dale Snitterman, Army catering corps,” Snitterman said, stepping forward.

“Well I hope you know how to cook something better than shit-on-shingle brother because your MOS speaks for itself. What you in for?” Brody stopped at random pages in the folder as the contents caught his interest.

“I was fudging the victualing orders at Camp Grohn in Germany. I was in cahoots with the civilian providore and we split the profits,” Snitterman shrugged his shoulders.

“I did a stint in Germany too kid. As you can see it didn’t do me any good either,” Brody sniggered.

“Petty Officer First Class Wesley Meakins, Disbursing Clerk United States Navy,” Wesley said in a voice that was almost camp, his demeanour was epicene.

“Let me guess ... you had your hand in the cookie jar?” Brody raised his brows questioningly.

“Yes sir. I was convicted of fraud and theft. I stole cash from the Pursers safe and doctored the books,” Wesley blushed bright red and Brody suspected he was lying but he let it go.

“Don’t call me sir Meakins; I work for a living. You’re the second ranking NCO here and your MOS ideally suits the task of being my clerk and Girl Friday,” Brody chuckled and Snitterman and Benning laughed with him.

Meakins just blushed a brighter red and hung his head.

“Seaman Victor Benning, Electricians Mate USN. AWOL, insubordination, drunk on duty and just about every other fucked up charge that Uncle Sam could throw at me,” Benning snarled.

He was a wiry angry young man with a quick temper but proud of being one of the few black men in the USN with a technical trade.

“Well you’ll be useful,” Brody dismissed him.

“Senior Airman Buddy Flintock, Mechanic, US Air Force,” the resentment in Flintock’s voice was still evident.

“We going to have a problem Flintock?” Brody glared at the Airman.

“No Staff Sergeant,” Flintock said through gritted teeth.

“Well good because this place has its own generator. Says so here in this file, so were going to need you to keep the lights on son,” Brody stood up and closed the file.

“There’s no rank here so we can use first names. That said I’m running the show unless someone wants to challenge. I got twenty years in and have combat and organisational experience and I doubt that there is anyone more qualified than me to lead this rag-tag bunch,” Brody looked each of the inmates in the eye.

“It’s early days yet but looks like we might be on easy street here boys and girls. Let’s fan out in pairs and check this place out and meet up here in two hours,” Brody pointed to a position on a map of Villawood mounted on the wall.

Brody had found a stack of town plans in one of the drawers and he handed them out.

The men divided themselves up in twos: Steele and Snitterman, Flintock and Benning, Brody and Meakins.

They were heading out the front door when Flintock stopped and turned to Brody.

“What did you do Sergeant Brody?” he looked William in the eyes.

“Shit don’t stand on ceremony son; just call me Bill. I’m in for rape and assaulting a superior officer. She had it coming but they threw the book at me. Now let’s get going people; we’re burning daylight,” Bill stepped out into the brilliant sunlight.

Berlin Germany – American Sector, 1947

During the post-war occupation of Germany the US Army maintained a military installation in Steglitz-Zehlendorf, Berlin. In 1947 then Corporal William Brody was stationed at Andrews Barracks as part of the military security force. Male and female GIs were stationed there as part of the occupying forces and the barracks was well supplied and included a church, barber shop, movie theatre, service club, and a restaurant for soldiers use and spacious living quarters and public spaces.

The barracks mess hall walls had murals depicting military scenes and regimental insignia and American soldiers ate at tables which the civilian waitresses had decorated with flowers. One of those waitresses was thirty year old Heidi Baumgartner. She was an attractive buxom lass with creamy-white skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. Her fluency in English had landed her the job.

The civilian population were living just above the poverty line and any job working for the US occupation forces was considered a blessing. Even though Heidi was well paid relative to most of the population everything was rationed so she had to hand over exorbitant sums to black marketeers to pay for essentials and luxuries so that she and her young son could live a decent life. Heidi supplemented her income by offering herself to American servicemen who traded money and gifts for her company. Corporal ‘Bill’ Brody singled Heidi out not long after he arrived.

Heidi had caught Bill’s eye in the mess hall and she had returned his smile and went over to bus his table ensuring he was treated to a view of her ample cleavage. Her last lover, a supply Sergeant had shipped home a couple of weeks earlier and she needed a replacement. She slipped Bill her address on a napkin before he left the mess hall and crossed her fingers.

Bill arrived at Heidi’s apartment later that evening as she had hoped. Bill was still getting used to the desolation of Berlin. The German civilian population were living in squalor while they tried to rebuild their war-torn city. Heidi’s second floor apartment was at the top of a rickety staircase in a bombed out building where temporary repairs had been made to make it just about suitable for human occupation.

Heidi was wearing a black dress, battered high heels, heavy makeup and her blonde hair was coiffed as best she could, given the conditions in which she lived. The dress was nice but old and threadbare in places. A toddler lay sleeping in an iron drop-sided crib.

“I’m sorry, there is no one to take the child while I entertain you,” Heidi pulled a makeshift curtain across the room to isolate the infant.

Heidi’s eyes were big and beautiful and filled with hope and hunger, constantly drawn to the carrybag that Bill was carrying. Nylon and silk supplies during the war had been directed towards the war effort and stockings were in very short supply. Nylon stockings became increasingly popular on the black market, and sold for up to $20 per pair. Women who could not get their hands on nylons resorted to lotions, creams, stick cakes and painting seam lines down their legs to give the illusion of nylons.

There were riots in America as women scrambled to acquire the much sought after product when DuPont eventually began to release stockings onto the market after the war and in war-torn Europe they were still a rare commodity.

Bill noticed that Heidi had painted seams up the back of her legs and darkened the tops of her thighs with cosmetics to imitate the welts.

“That’s fine Heidi I understand things are tough,” Bill handed Heidi the carry bag and she almost snatched it from his grasp.

There were small quantities of chocolates, coffee, sugar, cigarettes, cosmetics and powdered milk in the bag and Heidi placed the items one at a time on the old wooden table, admiring each one like it was a Christmas present.