Happy New Years! It's been a small break from cosplay that has allowed me to keep up with my writing so much - starting in January I will be turning attention once again to cosplay. Not that I won't be writing, I just may not update as often.
I still have the rest of today though to hopefully bang out a new chapter (no pun intended).
For those who have not read Earning Her Stripes, this chapter deals a lot with Jasper's past including mentions of non-con. I realize this recap may prove repetitive to those who have read it, but it is necessary for those who haven't to understand where Jasper is coming from and who Jameela is.


Chapter 3 – Jameela Resurrected

"Any more luck on the dating front?" Garnet asked.

Jasper pulled off the top page of the day by day calendar and dropped the last day of January in the recycling bin. "No. I got asked out by a twenty-five-year-old, so that made me feel weird."

"Not ready to unleash your inner cougar?"

Jasper snickered. "No. If I have an inner cougar, she's staying caged. Is it so hard to find a nice, decent guy around my age? I got another message from a sixty-year-old and I'm not saying a guy has to have a perfect body but he had a substantial beer gut and I would have to be with someone who has an open mind where fitness is concerned and realizes it's an important part of my life. I'd probably be heavy too if I ate whatever I wanted and didn't work out."

The pair wandered into the weight room. Almost immediately someone called her name and she looked over to see a family friend around her age walking over. "Hi Tani."

He stood a few inches taller than her, his muscles visible through his tight shirt. "Your mom mentioned you been dating again. I'm single…you wanna take this bull on?"

"I…uh…haven't really considered..." Jasper raised an eyebrow as he made his pecs dance. "That's not…no."

"Aw c'mon…you too good for us since you married outside the community?" Tani asked. "I mean, consider this: I have full pe'a, like your dad."

"Comparing yourself to my father is not making this any better. Why don't you ask Amethyst? She's single."

"Naw, I prefer taller women…with muscles…and tattoos. You have malu?"

"No. I just have the one tattoo." The traditional design, which marked her as a warrior, stretched across her shoulder, just over her left breast and down to her elbow and was mostly visible with the tank top she wore. "But Amethyst has multiple tattoos…I mean, none with cultural significance, but she has a tramp stamp."

"Come on, Jasper. We're the same age, we both like working out…"

She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "If I go on a date with you, then will you leave me alone?"

"Well, if you go on a date with me, you'll be begging for more."

"Seriously doubt that. Fine, Friday night…sushi…you're paying."

"Then back to my place for…dessert?"

"You're lucky I'm going out with you; don't push it."


"You're going on a date with Tanielu Faasoo?" Amethyst asked at dinner that night.

"Yeah, what about it? And how did you know?"

Amethyst shrugged. "Mom told me."

"And how did she know?!"

"News travels fast. Anyway, I've never dated him, but I hear he always expects sex after a date."

Jasper looked between Crystal, who clearly didn't know what that was since she was still eating and Allie, who had a disgusted look on her face. "Ames…children."

"Mom, you're not really going to have sex with him…are you? Because I think sex is gross," Allie stated.

"I respect your eleven-year-old opinion, Allie, however, should I choose to do so – which I'm not – that is my decision to make as a responsible adult. Plus, if I did, it's not as if I would discuss it with you."

"Please don't 'cause I don't want to know. It should be outlawed."

Jasper nodded slowly. "I understand your revulsion at this point in your life, however if it weren't for…" she noticed Crystal watching her, "…that, you would not be here."

Allie scraped the last bit of food from her plate. "Well, I'm never doing it."

"I respect your decision, however, there is the very real possibility you will change your mind and should you, I would like you to come to me so we can go over that safety talk again."

"Like not sticking a fork in the light socket," Crystal said.

"Yes," Jasper agreed. "No sticking things in places where they don't go. Anyway, we're going out Friday."

"Dad is coming on Friday," Crystal told her. "Mom's gonna make dinner and maybe she'll make steak."

"No, I'm making something vegetarian because he won't eat meat unless it's halal and I've never seen a halal butcher around here. I might make eggplant parmesan or maybe lasagna."

"Ew!" Allie exclaimed. "Eggplant is gross!"

"I'm with you on that one," Jasper agreed. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to be around to eat it. Later on, after Crystal had gone to bed and Allie was asleep in her room and Amethyst was doing God only knew what, Jasper sat cross-legged on her bed, looking at the photos Bismuth had taken for her. He had been the last one she'd been with…the last person she'd physically loved. She chuckled at the one of him in a sexy pose wearing a thong and a plaid shirt, stroking a prop axe seductively. Admittedly, while the photos had, at first, been funny, she had taken them out and thought about him during her deployment, quietly pleasing herself until she could be with him again. Now she believed that would be weird considering he was dead, but it did help to remember how silly he could be.

There was a time she'd enjoyed sex…thoroughly and almost without condition (protection was always a must). Well…she enjoyed it as long as the guy was good. There was a reason she didn't date within the Samoan community and it had to do with her first and only experience with one of them when she was eighteen. He'd been big, muscular and handsome, but when they got down to it, he kissed her as though he were trying to eat her face. His part had been tiny and he had a hard time keeping it up and the condom kept slipping off. She'd lost interest halfway through and he said he couldn't get it in because she was too tight. Frustrated and no longer turned on, she'd told him plainly: "No, you're too small!" She'd left and told her mother she did not want to be set up with any more of the men from her community.

While on both her first and second deployment, she'd become a 'woman of loose morals' as her mother would have put it. Reserving kissing, cuddling and caressing for relationships, she had a new set of rules for some of her male friends who wanted to relieve their sexual frustration. She'd fuck them, but on her terms: nothing romantic – no kissing, touching with hands or the like, single men only, use a condom – and it worked. Usually, she'd be on top or he'd do it from behind, both positions she came to enjoy. She cared little what anyone said about her, knowing full well some thought she was a slut…and maybe she was. She didn't even mind that there were rumors going around that she was being paid for it (she wasn't). As far as the Army was concerned, there weren't really rules against it, so she couldn't get in trouble. In their eyes, staying sexually active 'improved morale'. They'd just tell her not to get pregnant…hence the condom rule. Plus, she really didn't want to be exposed to whatever these guys might have going on down there.

It couldn't have lasted forever. At twenty-two, shortly after achieving the rank of corporal, her sergeant's eye fell on her. She knew this weeks before he ever asked her, that Sergeant McCoy wanted her, like so many of the men did, but she was selective about who she was with. She plainly told her married sergeant that she would not, under any circumstances, sleep with him. He wore her down, with his constant asking throughout that day when he saw her, pulling her to the side and making her feel about two inches tall. Finally, she agreed and he'd immediately taken her to a private area of base and pressed his lips against hers before she could tell him her rules. Surprised, Jasper had pushed him away, telling him she didn't allow that. How dare he steal a kiss from her!

"Oh, come on, Tiger," Sergeant McCoy said, using her nickname. "I want the real deal here."

He'd tried to kiss her again, but she'd dropped to her knees and he'd ended up with his face pressed against the wall.

"So long as you're down there…" She heard his zipper open.

"Hey, everyone here has a mouth, buddy. I don't do that."

"Then what do I get?" He asked in an agitated tone.

"What everyone else gets – you get to fuck me and that's it." She'd pulled a wrapped condom out of her pocket. "Here, if you don't have one, I do."

Sergeant McCoy scoffed, took it and flung it across the room. "I don't think so. I don't like how they feel."

And Jasper, who up until this moment, had respected and looked up to him, shook her head. "No…no, absolutely not." It was one thing to maybe let him touch her, but protection was non-negotiable.

"C'mon." When she'd tried to leave, he'd grabbed her arm and for the first time in her life, she was afraid of a man. "I'll even pay you."

Disgust filled her and she found her head shaking of its own accord. Jasper had turned and looked at him with disbelief. "I am not a whore, sir!" She'd jerked her arm away and walked out. The rest of the day she'd reflected on how the men in her life had always treated her with love and respect. She'd never had to endure the inappropriate touch of a family member or friend. She'd sailed through her childhood fortunate to have been spared such suffering in a world where one in four women were sexually assaulted in their lifetime.

In the present, she recalled her conversation with Garnet after telling her about the man who had wanted pictures of Allie and telling her she hadn't experienced that trauma as a child.

As a child, her mind repeated.

Jasper never could remember what she'd been dreaming of that night when she was seemingly safe in her bed. Whatever it had been, she hoped it was good…she hoped she was smiling in her sleep, perhaps dreaming of her home half a world away. She knew she'd woken up when it was hard to breathe…something was pressing down on her and her tired mind took a moment to realize it was another person. She wanted to ask what they hell they were doing, but a hand was placed firmly over her mouth. Still half-asleep, confusion reigned in her brain…something wasn't right…this wasn't right! It had to be the enemy; they were under attack and she needed to stop this – now!

Something metal clinked against her chin just as she had been about to move her arm and shove this man away. In the dim light, her eyes focused on the uniform…but…it was American camouflage. She remembered her mind clearing as he shifted and pushed inside her. Wide awake now, with full realization of what was happening, she focused on the name patch: McCoy.

This could not be happening. She waited for the dream to end…for the nightmare to be over…to reach between her legs and realize he had never been there. Jasper would later think about how she should have punched him or at least shoved him off…how she could have moved his hand and screamed. Her eyes flickered to Private Diaz…Ruby…asleep in her bed, unaware this was going on right next to her. Disbelief overtook her completely and she was unable to move. He was really there…he was really doing this…without protection…without her consent! Jasper had looked up at his face – into his eyes – as if to say how DARE he do this to her! His eyes showed no remorse as he smiled smugly and leaned in, his breath on her ear. "You can't give it to everyone else and deny me…"

That's when it had sunk in: she'd acted like a slut and now she was paying for her actions. This was HER fault. She'd stayed frozen in place as his hands touched her wherever he wanted, as he finished and as he forced another kiss on her. He whispered: "If you say anything, there will be consequences…" before he'd left her, discarded her like a ruined toy he no longer wanted…that no one would ever want…

And just like that, she'd become a statistic. Sex lost its joy for her, but she did it anyway…if they wanted it, why not? She thought about going to her command, telling them what happened, but she had a reputation. It would be her word against his and it was not uncommon for woman who reported these things to be discharged from the service for stupid reasons. The Army was all she knew…she loved what she did. She couldn't risk it. It took her over two months to say anything to anyone…she'd waited until she was home again before she'd told her best friend…because she'd needed a ride to the clinic. She couldn't drive herself after being put into a twilight sleep so a doctor could undo what had been started in her that night she'd been…she still hadn't been able to label it at that point. Jasper had considered it a horrible dream, denying even to herself it had ever happened, but dreams didn't get a person pregnant. She'd hit bottom after that…she'd considered getting out of the Army but had no idea what she would do. Any free days she had, she could be found at the bar, slamming back her sorrows with copious amounts of whiskey until she couldn't feel feelings. If men wanted her, they got her. There had been no rules at that time…what was the point? They'd only break them anyway. In retrospect, she was very lucky she didn't end up with a disease.

So, how had she pulled herself out of that despair? Well, she recalled one night when she and her best friend had gone out so she could get plastered and laid again…and her friend plainly told her she was not going to enable this anymore. Jasper had ended up passed out in an alley behind the club, heaped on some garbage bags. In her mind, this was exactly where she'd belonged…she was trash…dirty, filthy, trash.

Except…someone hadn't thought so...a young man she'd met that night – the one who had been on stage, playing guitar and singing a song about comets or something. She couldn't remember exactly – she'd been three double-whiskeys deep at that point. He'd given her a spot in the back of his van to sleep off her drink. Now, with anyone else, this may have been creepy and she'd have been a little concerned about being murdered. However, this guy seemed different – caring – and before the night was over, she'd allowed him to kiss her, to caress her…to gently make love to her. The next day, she'd called her friend to apologize and ask for the number of the counselor she'd seen when she'd come home injured in combat.

It took hours…months…over a year of therapy for her PTSD to go from a roaring lion that took over her life to a small housecat that occasionally looked at her with a soft 'meow' before retreating to some other corner of her mind. The year she turned twenty-five, she was granted the rank of sergeant and was off on her third deployment, stronger than she'd been before with the past behind her. She wasn't anticipating falling in love…especially with a man the same race as Sergeant McCoy had been…but Bismuth had slowly torn down the walls and she'd gently placed her heart in his hands where he'd take care not to break it until the day he was taken down in battle. She'd told herself no more sex…especially not casual sex…but fourteen months into her deployment, while kissing him, she'd almost given in. In fact, if it hadn't been for an explosion near the base, she would have.

The fighting picked up and during a battle in the third week of June that summer, she found herself captured by the enemy along with three other soldiers. This would have been bad enough news, but as soon as they realized she was a woman, she'd known…she'd have to face it again, especially when a man entered and she recognized him as a wanted terrorist – Akhram Abadi – the commander of this particular terrorist prison, held in high regard by the leaders of the organization. He had to be close to forty, his hair still mostly dark with just a hint of gray, his beard neatly trimmed; he was not bad to look at, honestly, but that did not mean she wanted to sleep with him. "Scream a lot," the young interpreter told her. "He likes that."

Jasper had no intention of going down kicking and screaming. Instead, she realized why men did this – it was about power and control, so she would take it away. When led to Akhram's room, she kissed him and while he tried to threaten her, she insisted, as she stripped away her uniform, that he was not forcing her into anything. She thought she'd be there a few days until she was rescued, so she'd make this as easy on herself as possible.

She hadn't counted on being there for two months – sixty-five days to be exact. The terrorists took everything from her – her uniform, her freedom, even her name. Whether it was their mind games or Akhram simply found 'Jasper' too hard to pronounce, she really didn't know, but he had called her Jameela, meaning 'beautiful'. She wanted to tell him she had rules, but he spoke barely any English and she didn't know Arabic yet. So, she ignored his horrible breath when he kissed her, tried to push down her revulsion when he held her…as his hands traveled her body…as he lifted the plain, black dress he'd given her. She'd been warned if she didn't behave, she'd be given to his men for them to do whatever they wanted. However, Jasper – the soldier – wanted nothing to do with this. However, Jameela was pulled in by his charms, by the way he held her, explored her body – reminded her that she was all woman and wanted this, right here, right now, more than anything. Jameela was Jasper's alter ego over those two months – her inner slut who had no rules, no boundaries. Akhram's idea of sex was very vanilla – he was always on top, no exceptions and Jameela went with it. Sometimes he was in a bad mood and held her down – Jameela convinced herself that she liked this, while Jasper seemed to watch from the table in the room as her body was dominated, but she was not there. He'd hit Jameela, but thankfully Jasper did not have to deal with that as she shut it out. When she was allowed to bathe, Akhram's guard watched her and Jameela was silently pleased he found her beautiful. He wanted a blow job? She was on her knees immediately. They were two separate people, but the same person…sharing the same body. It was Jasper who would have to wash the sticky shame away when Jameela was done in bed.

It should not have surprised her that she ended up pregnant and the moment she realized the nausea had not been caused by a virus or something she ate, she was forced to remember that she and Jameela were one in the same. She had been violated by the guard; she wasn't even sure this child was Akhram's. She had to escape and she begged the young interpreter to help her. "We are friends aren't we?"

He promised he'd help but days passed with no news. "Be patient," he'd tell her.

Every day she was patient had been another day her pregnancy progressed. Akhram was 'overjoyed' convinced she would give him the son he desired. She knew if she was there until she delivered and the child was a girl…they'd probably both be killed. Then in a moment when she was Jasper – the soldier – the guard did it to her again. Anger had overtaken her and she realized he'd left his gun – an AK-47 – propped up against the table. He'd just wronged her and left her with a means to pay him back. She'd checked the ammo – plenty – then kicked open the door to the bathroom, causing him to turn, surprised mid-leak. He turned to her. "You don't know how to use that!"

Well, the American Army had far more advanced weapons, but a gun was a gun and in two shots the contents of his chest and head were splattered on the bathroom walls. He was the only person she had no remorse over killing. Her victory had been short lived, however, as Akhram came in, saw what she had done and screamed at her. She was still holding the gun; she could have killed him and then demanded the interpreter help her get out – with the other soldiers. However, Jameela spoke in her mind: "Please don't…I still love him."

Akhram had beaten her, cut her hair and demanded the young man take her away to await her punishment. She knew she'd be killed, but how she was unsure. The interpreter came to her the next morning to tell her she was going to be beaten to death…and that American troops were coming that night to free her. He was risking his own life, defying his commander and the organization he worked for to help the enemy. He'd left her with Akhram's dagger and hope that she was close…so close to freedom.

In the end, twelve of his men lay either dead or unconscious on the ground and she had stabbed him in the heart with his own weapon, but not before she'd been injured so badly she knew from the blood between her legs that she'd lost the baby.

It had been Bismuth who had picked her up off the ground and carried her outside where she felt the cool night air against her face. She was later told she had been dangerously close to death, that the injuries to her uterus meant she might never have a child…she was admitted to a psychiatric ward once home where she was diagnosed with PTSD (again), signs of a split personality disorder and Stockholm syndrome. She'd had to undergo an unbelievable amount of therapy and convince them she no longer had feelings for any of the terrorists. She'd had to silence Jameela who still screamed in the back of her mind that Akhram had been her husband and she loved him. Jasper, herself, had to admit that the interpreter was not her friend and never had been. It hurt to lie, but she figured she'd never see him again…until the day Amethyst brought home the father of her child to meet the family. She had hugged Tubaz, crying, and thanked him for his help. She was happy to see he'd turned his life around and now had a good job and was the good person she knew he'd been inside almost a decade ago.

And, as for Jameela, she stayed locked away in Jasper's mind. There was no reason to let her out. She was comfortable there as Jasper imagined her lounging back on a scarlet, plush couch, clad in a crimson harem outfit, a sheer veil covering the lower half of her face, just waiting to accept another lover in her life. Jameela oozed confidence and would jump at the chance to sleep with a man. This was the side of her that gave her the push she needed with Bismuth, although being that she'd trusted him completely, it wasn't hard to lose herself…to do with him the things she'd denied herself when she was younger and to feel comfortable with it. She didn't think she'd be able to do that with anyone else, but if she didn't try, she'd never feel physical pleasure again. Jameela, are you awake, she asked.

Yes, came the reply. Jameela shifted on the couch, her tame, long hair wavy and full. She was a beautified version of Jasper, looking very similar, but idealized.

Jasper loved and hated her. If I do this…if I sleep with other men…we need rules. YOU need rules.

Jameela laughed breathily. I don't do rules.

Like it or not, there are a few things we will be telling them, Jasper told her. Protection is a must.

Well, of course.

No holding me down or covering my mouth.

But I like that…

Of course you do; you're a coping mechanism to avoid trauma – you like everything.

Point taken. Anything else.

Jasper thought for a moment and considered the one thing she'd never allow…and the one thing even Jameela hated. Yes, the backdoor is an exit only.

I'm with you there, girl.

This was probably unhealthy on some level to give into her other personality, but necessary if she was even thinking about sex again…and she was. The idea was exciting and terrifying at the same time, but if she never took this step, she might never feel that rush of pleasure again.

As scared as she might be…she was ready.

Get ready for some consensual NSFW next chapter. ;)

Pe'a refers to traditional tattoos for Samoan men - covering a large portion of the lower body (many will also tattoo their arms and shoulders), Malu is the female equivalent, usually only on the upper thighs and much more delicate in design.