*** The staff sergeant for our newly assembled PCorps was a woman. She told me
that evening that tomorrow's party, after a few hours of work, was going to be 
styled a "Punishment Party." There were about 20 of us in PCorps, in our own,
hastily-rehabbed building

"Well, I don't like the name," I said. "Whatever happened to 'Good Boys and Bad
Girls?' "That's the name of the party," she answered. She was very beautiful for
A staff sergeant, a tall, big-bosomed redhead. But she had a fierceness about
her that scared me sometimes. "The type of party that it is a punishment party.
Don't worry, just do what I tell you. You'll have a lot of fun. I can see you've 
never been to one before." She grinned at me, cat-like

"Well, I could use a break from all this work," I mused. I fingered the hem of
my dress.

"Don't be such a goody-goody girl," the staff sergeant, whose name was Linda,
replied. "It's a bad girl party, and I expect you to be a little bad, at least."
The next morning I got up early.

I thanked God when I found the shower to be giving hot water. I did my hair
After bathing, brushing it until it had a luster and sheen I hadn't bothered to 
give it in many days of relentless work here in Sarajevo. I pinned it up, 
loosely, to give it a slightly more formal appearance. Then I applied my makeup 
and lipstick as carefully as I could. Time was short, there was a big pile of 
logistics work that had to be gotten through before we could have our party. I 
left for the office, escorted by two servicemen who walked with me the short 
distance from my flat to the building where we all worked.

About noontime a tiny tangle of fabric was deposited on my desk. I looked up,
and saw Linda.

"What's this?" I asked. My thoughts were far away, on some gasoline drums that
were stuck in Croatia.

"It's what you'll be wearing to the party," she answered. "Put it on." "What?" I
gasped. I picked up the little pile of strings and looked at it. It was a teensy 
bikini panty, smaller even than the naughty undies the Colonel had caught me 
wearing.

"I'm not sure I want to wear this under my dress. It looks so small that it 
might be uncomfortable." Linda laughed. Her breasts heaved with her laughter and 
I saw that today she wasn't wearing any bra under her green army uniform. "Go to 
the ladies room and take everything off," she said. "Come back wearing that, 
nothing else. There's a hamper in there for your clothes. Sorry, but there 
aren't really any hangers around here to hang things up. Anyway, I want to make 
sure all the girls' clothes are put away. We're going to lock the hamper 
afterwards, to make sure." I didn't know what to say. I just stared at the  
panties. Then the Colonel walked by. He stopped at my desk. There was a knowing 
look on his face.

"I at least need a bra," I said in a half-whisper to Linda.

"No you don't, dear. It's a punishment party. What better way to show your
vulnerability to the men by greeting them with your breasts bare, and your 
tender nipples stiff? If they find you unpleasant, or unwilling, they can always 
tweak them for you, to improve your behavior."

I watched the Colonel walk on to his office. "What will the men be wearing?" I 
Asked.

"Their best uniforms, of course," she answered. "Now march your ass into the
bathroom and be back here on the double." She rounded the corner of my desk,
hefted me from my seat, and gave me an all-too-friendly slap on my fanny. I 
looked at her accusingly. "Sue me for sexual harassment, sister," she answered. 
I saw that I had no choice but to go change, or go run home to my flat and spend 
Christmas by myself. I gulped, and headed for the bathroom.

Several other girls were already there.

"I can barely get this thing on!" one girl complained. She was nude, standing on 
the tiled floor in her best heels, and trying to adjust the mischievous bits of 
fabric so they at least left something to the imagination.

"At least the back isn't a thong," a second girl said. She glanced over her 
shoulder and carefully pulled the material of her panties as wide as she could, 
managing to cover a good two-thirds of her heinie.

"Try walking in them. They'll bunch up in your ass-crack in no time," a third 
girl said ruefully.

"Lisa! Get your things off, dear. The party's almost ready to start!" she urged 
me.

"I need a break," the first girl said. She'd finally made her peace with the 
panties. She smoothed her hands across her flat belly. "Maybe I can get pregnant 
and get out of this war." "Don't tell the colonel," the second girl replied. 
"He'll make sure you only get fucked up the ass if you let on you want out." 
"I'm getting it right up my cunt," the third girl announced. She turned to the 
bathroom mirror and gave her hair a quick brush. Her nude boobs bounced 
springily. She was no more than 20, a new enlistee. Rumor had it she'd slipped 
through boot camp as effortlessly as a knife slicing butter, thanks to a 
friendship that kept her 'tied up' in office training, away from the rigors of 
the parade ground. I think there were a few girls in our unit who'd gotten
special passes through boot camp, for their arms were a slim as their breasts 
were big, and they couldn't lift anything more than I could

"Well, I'm not so sure about all this," a smaller girl answered.

She leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. Her name was Chantra, an
Indian name

It matched her dark hair, though her skin was as white as mine

"Okay," I answered. Neatly I folded my clothes and then plopped them in the 
hamper. I found Sally's hairbrush, quickly repaired my own locks, and departed

The thing about wearing such small panties is that they didn't quite cover the
whiteness of my skin that usually lay beneath my bathing suit

As I entered the special office reserved for our party, I felt self-conscious at 
how my Florida suntan contrasted so noticeably with my semi-visible bunny-tail 
bottom.

"I see you didn't get a large enough size again," the colonel said laughingly to 
me. I saw him, blushed, tugged at the back of my panties.


Already they had snuck partway into the furrow of my bottom, making me even more
visible in behind. He reached down and traced a finger over my white skin that 
was on display in front, where my beach bikini would havemore modestly covered 
me.

"I'm doing my best, sir," I answered. "This party wasn't my idea, you know.
In fact, if I had my way, I'd take off these danged panties right now, they're 
such a nuisance." 

"Yes," he grinned. I blushed again.

"I mean, to put my skirt back ON," I added hastily.

"Given your poor choice of panty sizes, I guess it's just as well you didn't try 
for a matching bra," the colonel mused. As freely as if I were his wife he put 
his hands to my breasts and rolled my tense nipples between his fingers.

I raised my hand to slap him for his forwardness. Linda, stepping up onto a desk 
in her heels, interrupted my intention by ringing a little bell. Her uniform was 
gone, she wore only the de rigueur panties, her own as small and useless as mine 
were. I saw the cupping of her snatch where her panties made themselves useful 
on her otherwise nude body. Linda's bounteous breasts shook with her ringing of 
the bell. Her red hair bounced gaily, she seemed in an exceptionally good mood.

"Girls, and gentlemen. Don't feel too smug, guys. You're forbidden to take out 
your equipment in the party room, which I'm sure will make you quite 
uncomfortable. It's intended to. This is a punishment party for both sexes, not 
just us females. We're going to celebrate Christmas the old fashioned way, like 
back in the 1800's, when Santa's purpose wasn't just to bring toys for good 
children. He also brought a switch for bad children, and used it, so they'd be 
good next year." The little crowd of men in uniforms and almost-naked girls 
gathered around Linda as she spoke.

The room was large, festooned with ornaments from the U.S., with a big Christmas
tree in one corner, that had yet to be decorated. "We'll be trimming the tree
together," Linda continued. "We girls who surreptitiously decked out this room 
during the last few days didn't have time to get to everything, so we saved the 
tree as a special party treat. I hope you men don't mind giving us a hand on 
this. We'll need your help if we're to get all those trimmings right up to the 
top of the tree, not to mention putting a star atop it. And since we're bad 
girls, we'll be rubbing your crotches whenever we can, right through until the 
tree is trimmed, which should take some time, I'm sure. You'll probably cream in 
your pants, men, so don't fight it. It's a punishment party, after all. I just 
hope you can re-fill for the favors that you'll want to give us later in the 
evening. I've ordered lots of eggnog, to help out. Drink and be merry." She rang 
the bell again, as if to bring her remarks to a formal conclusion. A kind of 
stunned silence reigned over the men a moment, shocked that they would be put in 
the predicament of sperming their own uniforms. And then somebody turned up the 
music, and the festivities began.


At the colonel's encouragement I circulated as freely in the room as the other 
girls did. The men fondled me as I stood exchanging small talk with them, or 
with other girls. And, like the other females, I took the liberty of massaging 
each man's crotch. It was more fun that I could imagine, knowing he couldn't 
unzip himself, and was scared to death of cumming in his pants. Every time a man 
came he was given a celebratory splash of eggnog in the face. When I got back to 
the colonel he was trembling on the brink of his own ejaculation.

Missy was working his crotch, absently, a finger in her mouth.

"Well, I liked the Little Mermaid movie best when I was little..." she was 
saying absently, pursuing some train of thought that held no interest for me but 
apparently captivated the colonel.

"Missy," I said to her. "Go get some eggnog. I think our friend here is about to 
cum in his pants." "Okay," she answered naively. She did not realize that while 
she was getting the eggnog I would have the pleasure of finishing him off. She 
turned and headed off for the drinks table. I saw that her panties were 
completely wedged inside her cute little ass. The colonel watched her retreating 
bottom with awestruck eyes.

"It's time I bring you off before you get the idea of porking an underage 
minor," I told him. I grasped his bulging crotch and squeezed it hard.

"I already have it," he answered.

"What? You've cum already?" I asked. There was disappointment in my voice.

"No, I mean I want to fuck that adorable bottom of hers," he said. His loins 
surged toward me as he felt my hand work him, his eyes still pasted on Missy's 
behind.

"Well, let me see if I can fix that," I said. I rubbed his bulge with vigor.

"Oh, God, don't make me do it in my pants," he said, turning his eyes tome. "I'm 
a 40-year-old man. It would be totally humiliating. What if we get a visit from 
the general, or get called outside? I haven't cum in my pants since I was 13." I 
massaged him relentlessly, unmoved. "Didn't you know this was going to be called 
a 'punishment party?'" I asked him.

"Yes, but, I thought --" "That only us girls would get punished, hmmm?" I asked 
him.

"Yes," he croaked. I could see he was truly just moments from spurting now, 
unless I quickly unhanded him. I did not.

"Does this make me a bad girl?" I asked him. I felt his loins stir with a 
special urgency, and suddenly I sensed wetness within his trousers.

"Yes, it definitely does," he answered me. Our eyes met. As I continued to work 
him our lips came together, me rising on tiptoe, he leaning down.

We kissed passionately as he jetted into his uniform pants.

Taking me by the hand, he led me to a private office. Carefully I'd kept my 
panties pretty well covering my behind, but now he turned me around.

He pushed me toward the desk in the small office. "Take down your panties and
climb up on the desk," he said. His voice was uncompromising in its tone. I 
heard him unbuckle his belt behind me.

"Oh, even my father never spanked me!" I pleaded suddenly. I tugged at the 
bottom of my panties.

"I promised you that it would be private, not that it wouldn't be done," he 
replied. I heard his belt slither out of its belt loops. There was no need for 
him to undress. He was soft at the moment, thanks to my wickedness.

I looked back over my shoulder at him. I ran my fingers over my seat, grateful
suddenly for the fabric, however small, that covered it. "Can't it be done with
my panties on?" I asked. "It will hurt even more if I take them off."

"You heard what Linda said," he replied. "Santa bringing the switch, and using 
it. Jacking off your colonel is not behavior the old boy would approve of, I'm 
sure.

"Oh, my!" I sighed. I yanked at my panties. They popped down off my bottom as
effortlessly as if I'd pulled at cellophane. Only the bit caught in my cunt 
remained.

"Gracefully, like a lady," the colonel ordered. "You're eighteen, not 16 like 
Missy."

Slowly, trying to be as civilized as possible, chic even, I stripped my last 
remnant of modesty down my impeccably long legs. I had model's legs, and men 
loved them, no less the colonel for being able to see my fat little ass atop 
them, in all its white nudity.

"I was so careful to keep my bottom white when I lay in the sun," I said, 
stepping remorsefully out of my panties as I sensed his belt swishing behind me.

"I'm glad," he answered. "I love strapping a white bottom. It lets me see most 
clearly my handiwork, after I'm finished. And show it off to my friends." 

"But you said," I began.

"You'll be whipped in private, it doesn't mean I won't show you off a bit 
later," he answered. "Don't worry, I'll be discreet about it. Now hand me your 
panties. Don't just leave them on the floor like some child would.