Military punishment goes wild for a female rookie soldier that made stupid things and endangered the whole operation.
Agnes stood in the cold corridor of the command center, her hands trembling, her heart hammering so violently it felt like everyone in the room could hear it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the metal door at the end of the hall, the one behind which, she was told, the general would appear. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she mentally battled herself, trying to calm the panic rising inside.
It had all started a few days ago. Agnes, a rookie in an elite reconnaissance unit, was full of enthusiasm but lacked an understanding of the strict security protocols. Her commanders had warned her: “No jokes. No deviations from procedure. One mistake could cost lives.” But she had thought she knew better. Her first mistake had been minor—leaving a tablet with encrypted data on a desk during a brief training exercise. Then, trying to impress her peers, she had made an even bigger error: attempting to connect an uncertified device to the communication system to speed up data transmission.
This time, the consequences had been catastrophic. The enemy intercepted part of the unit’s secret operational plans. The duty officers immediately raised the alarm. They had to relocate a whole base with several units because of her stupidity. Millions wasted and opportunities wasted, in the world of military, such failures don't go unnotices.
Her unit commander called Agnes in. She expected a strict reprimand, but she could not imagine how seriously her mistakes were regarded here, in a world where one wrong move could cost lives.
“Agnes,” the commander said, his voice cold and sharp as steel, when she entered, “you’ve violated security protocol. This isn’t just a mistake. It’s almost treason. Your actions have put dozens of people at risk.”
She tried to explain, but her words caught in her throat. Panic surged within her, her heart raced faster and faster, and her breathing became shallow. She could not meet the officer’s eyes—there was such disappointment there that just one glance made her stomach tighten.
“Now the general will be coming,” the commander continued. “He will discuss this with you. You have fucked up huge. Likely your are facing a tribunal and decades of jail time, that will be the end of your life. The General is the only person who can help you. Sometimes General can have a moment of kind heart, it is known of him. I suggest you listen very carefully, be very respectful and try to get yourself out of this if you will have a chance.”
Agnes felt her insides constrict. A shimmer of hope appeared in her dreadful realization. She wanted to run, scream, disappear—but the door behind which the general now waited was closed, and there was no escape.
She remembered all her mistakes, every detail, every moment of thoughtless action. How she had laughed when connecting the device, never considering the consequences. How she had thought she had everything under control. Now, that thought seemed absurd, almost insane. How could she be so stupid? She felt fear literally paralyze her body: her legs weak, her palms leaving wet marks on her uniform.
The corridor was silent. Only the faint hum of the air conditioning and the pounding of her own heart broke the stillness. She tried to focus, to take a breath—but her chest threatened to erupt in a panicked scream. She knew now that no excuses would save her.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Every step in the hallway echoed like a drumbeat of her fear. Then—a knock at the door. Agnes’s heart jumped into her throat. She heard the general’s heavy boots on the concrete floor.
“Agnes,” the general said, his voice low and gravelly, as if he were used to keeping everyone under constant pressure. “You know your actions have had consequences.”
She nodded, unable to speak. Her throat was dry, her eyes stinging with tears she dared not shed.
“I don’t want to hear excuses,” the general continued. “You violated security rules. You acted recklessly. In these conditions, a single misstep can cost the lives of your comrades.”
Agnes felt her hands shake, her muscles tighten with tension, her fear growing to fill every corner of her mind.
“I understand…” she whispered almost inaudibly, “that I’ve ruined everything…”
“Understanding comes too late, Agnes,” the general said.
The general remained silent for a few seconds, evaluating her reaction, before stepping closer. His gaze was impenetrable, cold as steel.
Agnes stood, paralyzed. She felt time slow to a crawl. Every breath was a struggle, every moment unbearable. She realized she could no longer act carelessly in this environment. Her inner conflict reached a peak: fear, shame, regret, the urge to flee—all tangled into one suffocating knot that gripped her chest.
Agnes’s chest heaved as the general leaned back slightly, his gaze cold and unyielding. The weight of authority in the room pressed down on her like steel. He spoke slowly, deliberately, letting every word land like a hammer.
“The situation you created is severe,” he said. “A tribunal. decates in prison, in the strictest facility. You’ll face isolation, constant surveillance, and a regimen designed to break you mentally and physically. There is no leniency there.”
Agnes felt as though the ground had vanished beneath her. Prison.. the thought alone made her stomach twist into knots. She imagined the relentless confinement, the cold concrete, the endless monotony, the total loss of control over her life.
"I'm so sorry" - she whispered, her voice trembling.
The general's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing and intense. "Lucky for you, you come from a respected family in the military. I might be able to pull some strings with the committee. In our world, we take care of our own. Your family name might just get you some privileges that others don't have.
But make no mistake, it won't be easy. I'll have to make some calls, do some favors. I can try to get you out of the tribunal, lessen the blow, but you need to understand—you won't walk away scot-free. Everyone has to face the music. If you go this route… you'll have to 'sit on the bottle.'"
Agnes's breath caught in her throat. Her mind spun, trying to wrap her head around what he was saying. "Sit… on the bottle?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper, laced with confusion and a growing sense of dread.
The general's expression remained stoic, his eyes cold and unyielding.
"It's a tradition in the army, a way to teach idiots like you a lesson. Many have sat on that bottle, and many more will. It's a rite of passage, a reminder of the consequences of your actions. That's how we do things here, Agnes. That's how you'll pay for your mistakes."
"But what does it mean?" - Agnes whined.
General rolled his eyes: "Oh you dont even know. What do they teach in bootcamps these days? It means exactly how it sounds - you will impale your fat idiot ass on a bottle. It's agonyzing, degrading, and designed to make you obey and submit. You'll have to endure it. That's the cost of avoiding the tribunal."
Agnes's heart pounded in her chest as the reality of her situation sank in. The general's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the power he held and the choices she had to make. The room felt colder, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her like a physical force. She knew she had to make a choice, one that would define her future and the extent of her suffering.
Agnes felt a wave of panic surge through her. Her hands trembled, her vision blurred, and tears threatened to spill. Her thoughts spiraled: *How could this exist? How could they do this?* Fear and shame collided in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She felt small, exposed, completely powerless.
Her emotions overwhelmed her, and she sank to the floor for a moment, covering her face with her hands. The thought of what the punishment entailed made her stomach churn violently. Every instinct screamed to flee, to reject it, to refuse. But deep down, she knew that refusing the second option meant the tribunal—the ten years in strict confinement. That thought alone extinguished any chance of rebellion.
The general's voice cuts through the silence with a sharp, unyielding edge. "Agnes, listen carefully. This is your choice, and you have two options. You can face the tribunal, which guarantees ten years of incarceration, or you can choose to endure a different form of discipline.
The tribunal offers certainty, but it also offers a sentence that will define your future. Choosing this alternative path gives you a chance to survive, to endure, and perhaps to reclaim some dignity later. You have the option to make this decision, but remember, the consequences of your actions are irreversible."
He leans forward, his gaze intensifying. "But let me be clear, Agnes. The bottle i have for you is not small. Taking into account your petite frame, it will stretch your tight little asshole beyond your limits. The pain will be agonizing, it is a self inflicted torture. It will test every ounce of your endurance. This is not a mere discomfort; it is a brutal, degrading experience that will push you to the very edge of your sanity. And you must chose this voluntarily, with full understanding of the horrors that await you."
Agnes has never experienced anal sex and nothing has ever penetrated her anus, not even a finger. Is she ready to sacrifice her anal virginity in such a brutal and extreme way?
The general's expression remains stern, his eyes unyielding. "You must plead for this chance, knowing that it will be not only humiliating but also insanely painful. It will stretch you, tear you, and leave you in agony. Are you prepared for that?"
Agnes, her face streaked with tears, nods resolutely. "Yes, sir. I understand. I am pleading for this chance. I am ready to endure the pain and humiliation. I voluntarily choose this despite the extreme nature of this act. But I am willing to face this agony to escape the tribunal. Please, allow me to do this. Let me prove my willingness to atone for my mistakes."
The general nods, a slight acknowledgment of her plea. "Very well, Agnes. You have made your choice. Remember, this is your path to redemption. You will walk it with unshakable determination, no matter the cost."
Agnes’s tears fell freely, her chest heaving with sobs. She understood the enormity of what lay ahead. The fear that had immobilized her moments ago had transformed into something sharper—a driving awareness that she must face this, endure it, survive it, or pay an even higher price.
The general stood up from his desk, his movements deliberate and precise. "You will do this now, Agnes," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "In this office. No delays, no excuses. You will face your punishment immediately."
He walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, his back to Agnes for a moment. When he turned around, he held a big champagne bottle. Agnes was prepared for humiliation but what she saw in his hands sent a fresh wave of dread crashing over her - the bottle was huge. This was real. This was happening. Right now.
He approached Agnes, his footsteps echoing in the silent office, each step a countdown to her inevitable humiliation.
Agnes looked up at him, her eyes wide with plea and fear, a silent supplication for mercy that went unanswered. With trembling hands, she reached out and took the bottle, the cold glass a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. The weight of it in her hands was a physical manifestation of the burden she was about to bear, a symbol of the punishment she must endure.
Her eyes widened in shock at the size of the bottle, the realization of its enormity sending a wave of dread through her as her petite hand couldn't even close fully around the neck of the bottle.
She turned to the general, her voice quivering with desperation and emotion. "Sir, I've never done anything like this. Please, I'm begging you, is there absolutely no other way? The bottle is so big, it just won't fit inside of me!"
The general's expression remained stern, his voice unyielding. "Agnes, you will just have to make it fit."
Agnes stares at the bottle with a mix of disbelief and dread, its weight and imposing size seeming impossible to comprehend. The reality of what she is about to endure sinks in, and a wave of nausea washes over her.
A storm of internal conflict rages within her. Will she go through with this? Can she bring herself to perform such a degrading and painful act? The thought of decades spent in a military prison looms over her like a dark cloud, a fate she desperately wants to avoid.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, her mind racing with the weight of her decision. The fear of the unknown and the humiliation she is about to endure battle against the desperate need to escape her impending sentence.
The general observes her closely.
With a final, decisive exhale, Agnes makes her choice. She must do this. She must endure the unimaginable to secure her freedom.
She places the bottle and the lube on the cold, hard floor, the clinking sound echoing ominously in the silent office. As she stands up, her body shakes with a combination of fear and resolve. Her hands, trembling and clammy, hover over the button of her jeans, hesitating for a moment that feels like an eternity.
Her fingers tremble as they fumble with the button of her black jeans, the simple task made difficult by the turmoil raging within her. The zipper slides down with a rasping sound that echoes in the silent office, a harsh reminder of the humiliation to come.
She pushes the jeans over her hips, the denim clinging to her skin as if reluctant to let go. As the jeans slide down her thighs, her ample curves are revealed, her big, meaty ass firm and round, a testament to her feminine allure.
The small black thong she wears is a stark contrast against her pale skin, a flimsy barrier that offers no protection from the impending degradation.
Agnes lowers her eyes from embarrasment and gulps loudly, hooks her fingers into the waistband of her thong, her breath catching in her throat as she prepares to bare herself completely.
She is extremely embarrased but she realizes she has no choice, this is the army and modesty and comfort is secondary to duty.
With trembling hands she pulls the thong down slowly, the fabric sliding over her hips and down her thighs with a deliberate, torturous slowness.
As the thong reveals her most intimate area, her black-trimmed pubes come into view, a dark, tantalizing contrast against her pale skin. The thong pools at her ankles, and she steps out of it, her heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and fear.
The cool air of the office brushes against her bare skin, heightening her awareness of her exposure. Agnes stands there, her big ass on full display, her body trembling with a mix of shame and anticipation. The general's unyielding gaze never leaves her, a constant reminder of the power he holds over her and the punishment she must endure.
She picks up the tube of lube, her hands shaking so badly that it takes her several attempts to twist off the cap. The lube is cold and slick as she squeezes a generous amount onto her fingers. She looks at the bottle, her mind racing with a mix of fear, shame, and a desperate need to comply.
Agnes kneels before the bottle. Her fingers, coated in lube, grip the neck of the bottle, and she begins to rub the slick liquid over the tip of the bottle.
As she holds the neck of the bottle, fear shudders her petite shoulders, realizing how thick and hard it is. Her fingers can barely close around the thickness of the neck.
As she finishes lubricating the bottle, Agnes takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She knows what comes next, and the thought alone makes her stomach churn. She stands over the bottle, her heart pounding so loudly she fears it will burst from her chest.
Agnes hesitates, the weight of what she is about to do pressing down on her. She looks at the general, his unyielding gaze fixed on her, and she knows she has no choice.
Her hands shaking, she reaches back and puts her palms on her butt cheeks. A glance on the General, and his unyieling stare is enough for Agnes to hurry up with her task.
Slowly she squats down and spreads her massive buttcheeks with her arms. The cool air hits her most intimate places, and she shivers despite the warmth of the room.
She lowers herself slowly, positioining the bottle tip against her tight anus. The initial contact is jarring, a sharp, unfamiliar sensation that makes her flinch. She takes a deep breath and pushes down gently, feeling the bottle begin to obscenely push right at her asshole.
Agnes grunts as she feels the bottle press against her tight butthole. She tries to lower herself right onto the bottle tip, trying to impale her anus over the thick and solid glass, but her tight orifice doesnt yield a bit.
She pushes harder, trying to force the bottle inside - the discomfort is immediate and intense, a burning stretch that makes her voice into a pained gasp.
The pain is sharp and unyielding, and she feels a wave of panic as she realizes how difficult it will be to take the bottle neck inside her. Her asshole is just too tight, and the bottle is too thick for her, there is an obvious incompatibility in sizes.
After a split second of hesitation she tries again, slowly lowering herself, trying to impale her petite body with the bottle neck, but her tight orifice just doesnt yield.
The discomfort turns into excruciating pain, and she feels like she's being torn apart. Tears stream down her cheeks as she endures the agony, her body trembling with the effort to maintain control.
As she realized she is failing at her order, Agnes gasps - "Sir, its too big," - her voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation. "I can't do it." - she looks at the Genaral with tears in her eyes.
The general's gaze sharpens, his expression unyielding. "Failure is not an option." he says, his voice cold and commanding. "Remember the tribunal. Ten years of isolation, constant surveillance. Is that what you want?"
Agnes shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. The thought of the tribunal, of the relentless confinement and loss of control, is too much to bear. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she must do.
With a determined effort, Agnes forces herself lower onto the bottle, feeling the glass stretch her even further. The discomfort is intense, a sharp, burning sensation that makes her eyes water. She bites her lip to stifle a cry, her body trembling with the effort to maintain control.
The bottle is thick, and her anus is tight, creating intense resistance as she tries to impale herself onto the bottle. Her tight orifice burns like a ring of fire. Agnes feels a wave of panic as she realizes how difficult it is to take the bottle inside her. The glass seems to press against every nerve ending, sending jolts of pain through her body. She breathes deep and slow, trying to relax her tight round muscle, but the effort only seems to make it more painful.
"How much longer will you whine soldier?" the general asks, his voice devoid of emotion: "Are you disobeying me?"
"Agh no sir!" - Agnes squels through tears: "I am trying!"
"Trying is not enough, you must execute the orders. See, this is your problem. This is what got you into this." - General scolds her. - "Such idiots have no place in the army, maybe you really should spend the rest of your life behind bars?"
"No, Sir, i will do it! Please, give me a chance!" - Agnes doubles her efforts.
Agnes tries again and again, her body shaking with the effort and the pain. She grinds her teeth, her face contorted in agony as she forces herself down onto the bottle. Yet her tight orifice is not yielding, offering intense resistance. She pushes with all her might, feeling the glass stretch her beyond her limits.
With a desperate and pained grunt the bottle finally slips into her asshole. Her body drops down as the bottle fills her fully.
Agnes lets out a pained cry, her body trembling in agony. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of excruciating pain and a strange, disorienting pleasure that leaves her confused and vulnerable.
"Good girl, maybe there is decency in you after all!" - general is pleased.
Tears stream down her cheeks as she endures the unbearable stretching of her tight asshole, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She thinks of her mistakes, of the carelessness that led her to this point, and a fresh wave of shame washes over her. The salt from her tears stings her eyes, but she does not wipe them away, too focused on maintaining her position and obeying the general's orders.
Agnes sobs and looks up at the general, her vision blurred by tears. "Please... i feel it... its too big ...Is this enough?" she asks, her voice a hoarse whisper, barely audible. Her body shakes with the effort to hold the position, her legs trembling from the strain and the pain. She grips her butt cheeks with her fingers, spreading them wide, her nails biting into her skin. Her fingers are white from the tension, the knuckles standing out in stark relief against her pale flesh. Her anus is burning red hot with pins and needles.
The general's gaze is unyielding, his expression giving nothing away. "You will remain in this position," he orders, his voice cold and commanding. "Do not move until I tell you to."
Agnes is in agony and barely able to respond in gasps: "Sir... this is .... unbearable..." - tears rolling down her cheeks.
General is silent to her please, with stricness he observes how she will handle herself.
She knows that this is her punishment, her penance for her mistakes. Each second feels like an eternity, she is stretched past her limits, the pain intense and unrelenting.
Thick, unyielding and brutal stretching in her asshole makes her body shake, her legs shake, her muscles aching from the effort to maintain the position.
Her tight asshole is spasming from the brutal stretching, clenching around the thick neck of the bottle. Her eyes are rolled up and she grinds her teeth, trying to suppress the moans and groans of pain.
Between her pained moans and groans she desperately whines: "Please .... mercy... it is .... tearing me .... i can't take it!"
"Did you have mercy to all the lives you endangered with your stupidity? You will take it as ordered!" - general is untouched by her suffering.
The room is silent except for her ragged gasping and the occasional whimper or a growl that escapes her lips. The general watches her impassively, his gaze never wavering, a constant reminder of the power he holds over her. Agnes focuses on his face, drawing strength from the knowledge that she is doing what is required of her, that she is proving her obedience and her willingness to accept her punishment.
As the minutes stretch, Agnes's body trembles with the effort to maintain control. The pain is a constant, searing presence, a reminder of her submission and the power the general holds over her.
Her body urges her to escape the agony that consumes her, but she forces herself to endure it, to obey the general's commands. She clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together and saliva splashes from her mouth when she exhales, as she fights the instinct to move, to relieve the intense discomfort.
"You are doing good, this is the discipline and will that i want to see!" - General approves her efforts - "Discipline is going beyong the needs and wants of your body, that what makes a good soldier!"
Despite the approval, her mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a chaotic mix of regret, shame, and a desperate desire to prove her worth. The struggle is intense, both physical and mental, as she battles against the obscene stretching presense between her meaty ass cheeks.
Her fingers dig deeper into her ass cheeks, the sharp pain a distraction from the intense agony of her rectum being stretched open beyond a diameter that it was meant for.
The general's voice cuts through the gasping and growling, cold and unyielding. "Do you understand why this is happening, Agnes?" he asks, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that makes her shiver.
Agnes nods, between pained gasps her voice barely a whisper as she responds, "Yes, sir. I understand. It's because I was stupid and didn't follow the rules. I deserve this punishment. What ever happens i will endure it."
The general's expression remains impassive, but there is a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good," he says. "Remember this moment, Agnes. Remember the pain and the humiliation. Let it be a lesson to you. Your actions have consequences, and you will face them head-on. You will remain in this position until I say otherwise. Do you understand?"
Agnes nods again, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, sir. I understand," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. The weight of her actions presses down on her, a physical and emotional burden that she must bear.
The general leans forward, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "And remember, Agnes, if you fuck up again, I won't be able to help you. You will face the tribunal, and that will be the end of you. You should be grateful for this punishment, for the chance to learn from your mistakes. Many would not be so fortunate."
Agnes looks up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I am grateful, sir," she says, her voice steady despite the tears. "Thank you..."
The general nods, a slight softening in his expression. "You're welcome, Agnes. Now, hold that position. You will remain there until I tell you otherwise. This is your penance, and you will accept it. And i want complete silence. You will hold this position untill you learn discipline. I don't want any more incidents from you, do you understand?"
Agnes nods, her body shaking with the effort to maintain the position. She grips her butt cheeks tighter, her fingers turning white from the tension. The nails dig deeper into her skin, the sharp pain a stark contrast to the agonyzing pain in her ass. Her butthole clenches around the bottle trying to hold balance on her tired out legs.
She focuses on the general's face, drawing strength from the knowledge that she is doing what is required of her, that she is proving her obedience and her willingness to accept her punishment.
Agnes's mind races with thoughts of her past actions, the mistakes that led her to this point. The general's words echo in her head, a constant reminder of the cause of her suffering and the gravity of her situation. She forces herself to remain still, to endure the agony, her fingers digging deeper into her flesh, the nails leaving fresh marks with each passing moment. The pain is a constant, searing presence, a reminder of her submission and the power the general holds over her, a physical and emotional torment that she must endure to prove her worth and her obedience.
The general opens today's newspaper and starts reading it, his expression impassive as he absorbs the day's news. The room is almost silent except for Agnes's ragged breathing and the occasional growl that escapes her lips, a stark contrast to the general's calm demeanor. Agnes's body trembles with the effort to maintain her position, her muscles aching from the strain and the pain of the bottle stretching her tight asshole that is spasming around the thick bottle neck.
The door creaks open, and a messenger steps into the room, his eyes widening in disbelief as he takes in the unusual sight before him. At first, he sees a bottomless woman squatting on the floor, her body trembling with visible strain and emotion. Black jeans and a thong lies in a pile on the floor. As his gaze sharpens, he notices something peculiar between her legs — a bottle standing upright. The realization sends a jolt of shock through him, his mind struggling to process the scene.
As if to confirm his worst suspicions, the messenger's gaze shifts to the mirror across the room, reflecting the woman's back and her big ass that she holds spread with her arms.
There, between her meaty ass cheeks plain as day, he sees the bottle's neck protruding from her anus, a stark and humiliating image that leaves him speechless.
The thickness of the bottle's neck astonishes him as he clearly sees her asshole stretched white around its diameter. It must be as thick as his wrist - he thinks. He understands why the woman is trembling and why there are tears on her eyes.
The general, seated calmly at his desk, appears unfazed by the bizarre and degrading spectacle, his attention focused on the newspaper in his hands as if the room were completely ordinary. The messenger swallows hard, trying to comprehend the surreal and disturbing scene unfolding before him.
The messenger's puzzlement is palpable, his gaze darting between Agnes,the general, and the obscene reflection of the bottle penetrating her petite frame, unsure of how to react. He swallows hard, trying to find his voice. "Sir, I have a message for you," he manages to say, his words coming out in a rush.
The general nods, a slight gesture of acknowledgment. "Deliver it," he orders, his attention returning to the newspaper.
As the messenger advances into the room, Agnes is so embarrased of another person, her balance wavers, causing her to shift her weight and move her feet. Unfortunately she steps into a puddle of her tears and her leg slips and Agnes looses her support.
As her leg slides to the side, her body slides down onto the bottle with all her weight, driving it deeper into her with a force that leaves her screaming in excruciating pain. The sound of her agony rips through the room, a guttural and primal cry that speaks volumes about the intensity of her suffering.
The general's voice, cold and authoritative, pierces the chaos. "Remain still, Agnes," he commands, his words brooking no argument. "You will not budge from that position, regardless of what transpires."
Her body trembling with the effort to obey, her foot finds a dry spot and she regains her pose.
Finally being able to support her weight with her legs instead of the bottle impaling her body under her weight.
As she struggles to maintain her position, she becomes acutely aware of the hissing sound emanating from the bottle, a sound that sends a fresh wave of dread washing over her.
The weight of her body, falling right onto the cork of the bottle, has initiated a dangerous chain reaction within the champagne, a situation that threatens to spiral out of control at any moment.
Agnes's pleading turns into a whine, her voice rising with panic. "The bottle, sir, it's hissing. It's going to explode!" Her eyes are wide with terror, and tears stream down her face.
The general, however, remains impassive, his gaze never leaving his newspaper. "If it explodes, you will endure it," he says, his voice cold and dismissive. "You will not move from that position, no matter what happens. Is that clear?"
"Sir, please, have mercy, it will tear me!" she begs, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.
The general finally looks up from his newspaper, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Agnes," he says, his raised voice hits her like ice, "you are in a situation of your own making. This is a lesson in discipline, a test of your will and your ability to combat your fears. You must learn to endure, to push past the pain and the humiliation. This moment, right here, is when you prove your worth. Show me that you can face your fears head-on, that you can overcome the physical and emotional torment. Or i will have you under tribunal. Did you forget? Now, hold your position and prepare to endure whatever comes next. This is the life of a soldier. This is your path to redemption, and you will walk it no matter what happens."
Agnes's eyes are full of fear as she stares blankly into space, her body shaking with a mix of fear and resignation. The hissing sound from the bottle continues, a constant reminder of the impending danger. She isn't breathing but gasping and panting from fear.
The messenger stares at the scene - the bubbles rise in the bottle and the hissing becomes louder, it is obvious that the bottle will pop any second now.
Agnes digs her nails into her meaty ass cheeks. She squeezes her eyes from fear and grits her teeth, trying to brace herself for what's about to come, with her gasping saliva splashes out of her mouth.
Suddenly, with a loud pop, the champagne bottle explodes inside her, the force of the cork shooting deep into her ass. Agnes lets out a scream of pain, a raw, primal sound that echoes through the room. The champagne begins to pour out of her, a frothy, bubbling mess that spills onto the floor, creating a sticky, wet puddle around her feet.
The general looks up from his newspaper, his expression unreadable. "Hold your pose, Agnes," he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You will endure this as you have endured everything else."
The messenger stands shocked with wide eyes. In the mirror he sees how chapagne is gushing out of her asshole, despite it being tighly stretched around the bottle's neck, so big is the pressure.
Agnes isn't breathing but growling like an animal, trying to endure the explosive pressure in her insides. Her body shakes with the effort to maintain her position, the pain of the bottle's cork shooting inside still blinds her with agony and the pressure of the champagne pouring out of her almost too much to bear. She grits her teeth, her face contorted in agony, but she refuses to move, refusing to disobey the general's orders.
The messenger stands frozen, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He has never witnessed such a scene, such a brutal and degrading punishment. He swallows hard, trying to find his voice again. "Sir, the message," he manages to say, his words barely audible over the sound of Agnes's ragged breathing and the bubbling of the champagne.
The general nods, a slight gesture of acknowledgment. "Go ahead," he says, his attention still on Agnes, ensuring she maintains her position.
The messenger clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Sir, it's just an update on the barracks," he says, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding before him. "Everything is in order, and the new recruits have been assigned their duties. There are no issues to report."
The general nods, a slight acknowledgment of the message. "Very well," he says, his voice calm and collected. "You may go."
The messenger hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering to Agnes one last time before he turns and exits the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The room is once again silent, except for Agnes's ragged breathing and the occasional growl of pain that escapes her lips.