Training Planet

by Tilton, Emily

  Britana and Vincent maintained eye contact through the whole of Sister Portia’s little speech. He watched emotions flit across her face. The color came and went, and he felt certain that the warmth between her thighs, doubtless skillfully evoked by the head sister’s preparation of the girl, had grown, too.

  “No, Sister. Not at all,” he said gently, still looking into Britana’s eyes.

  “Well, girl,” said the imperious sister, “it seems you will not be whipped for your failure to greet your master properly, at least. Can you not even thank him for his kindness in that regard?”

  Britana’s forehead creased, and she looked down at Vincent’s leather sandals.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “And…” She looked up into his face again, another surge of color showing the turmoil in her heart and mind. “Hello, sir.”

  Vincent’s warm smile in answer to the evident bravery in Britana’s little face couldn’t be suppressed, even if he had wanted to over-awe her further. Indeed, so strongly did that anxious-but-resolute expression on her lovely features affect him that he opened his arms and said, “Come here, Britana.”

  Sister Portia clucked. Hugs did not represent a usual part of a ship girl’s first night with an officer. Vincent tended to embrace his ship girls frequently this way—but nearly always in private; he didn’t think he had ever hugged a ship girl in the presence of a Sister of Service, certainly.

  Britana Geran attracted him greatly not merely with her beauty but with her spirit. The ineffable chemistry of bodies and personalities, which the millennia had brought the human species no closer to solving, had ordained something new. This Normerian girl’s repressed submission called out in the captain of the Indus a warmer sort of dominance than he had ever felt.

  At the moment, it meant that Vincent wanted to hug Britana in front of Sister Portia, despite the black-clad teacher’s evident disapproval of the kindness it demonstrated.

  Britana’s eyes went wide, and then went to the head sister first in apparent fear that the woman would forbid her to go to Vincent and then, for just a second, with a tiny smile of triumph when she saw that Sister Portia could do nothing. She turned back toward Vincent, and the smile got bigger, so full of gratitude that it smote his heart. She came through the door into his arms, and he wrapped her up in them, cradling her head against his chest with one hand and pressing the small of her back gently with the other.

  Her brown hair, long and loose down her back, smelled sweet and clean, and her skin felt wonderfully soft and smooth. He managed with effort not to let his erotic need for her take over; he kept his hand just above her punished bottom, for the moment, and merely rubbed the girl’s slender back soothingly.

  To his surprise, Britana gave a tiny sob and relaxed against him, her arms around his back to hold him tight in return. Vincent realized then that she must never have received that kind of masculine embrace, or perhaps not since the innocent hugs of childhood. Now, with her grownup needs fully awakened and their complexity made such a momentous matter by Sister Portia’s harsh tutelage, this embrace clearly meant a very great deal to her—not least because it hid her for a few seconds from the head sister’s censorious eyes and shielded her from the woman’s imperious commands.

  Vincent could certainly make that feeling of safety even stronger.

  “Thank you, Sister,” he said. “I’ll have Britana back with her group for her morning class, if that’s acceptable.”

  As if at the final confirmation that she would spend the night here in a captain’s room, Britana made another little noise. Her body stiffened slightly, and then, with a little pressure from his protecting hands, relaxed again.

  Sister Portia frowned. “It’s customary for me to ensure that the girl doesn’t need to be restrained for your enjoyment, Captain.”

  Those words made Britana cling tighter to Vincent.

  “I believe I can handle it, Sister,” he said firmly. “Would you please tell the kitchen that we’ll have breakfast at 800 hours?”

  He watched Sister Portia’s eyes travel down the back of the sweet young woman in his arms, and linger on Britana’s thoroughly whipped backside, as if verifying that the head sister had done all she could to make the importance of obedience clear.

  “Very well, Captain. I suggest you not treat this slut with much tenderness. A lazy girl like her shouldn’t be spoiled, especially on her first night with an officer.”

  “Thank you, Sister,” Vincent said, letting a little authority creep into his voice as he felt Britana tremble. “Britana, sweetheart, say good night to Sister Portia, and thank her for taking care of you.”

  He knew how difficult the expression of gratitude would be for the girl, when she had not yet truly begun to discover the many ways in which Sister Portia had in point of fact taken care of her. Britana would almost certainly look back at her terrible whipping someday soon as the moment she began to understand what she really needed. Now, as Vincent could feel by the tension in her limbs, she thought of the head sister as a cruel tyrant.

  From the shelter of his arms, though, he knew she could do it. She turned her head, and Vincent helped move her upper body around a little so that she could see Sister Portia.

  “Thank you, Sister,” she said, her voice quavering. “Good night.”

  With one hand still around Britana’s waist and her naked little body still against his, Vincent closed the door. With the head sister on the other side of that barrier, he tightened his embrace again. Britana heaved a deep breath, which became another little sob, and laid her cheek back against his chest.

  Softly, he said, bending down to kiss her hair among his words, “You need to know, sweetheart, that the sister wasn’t wrong. I’m not going to spoil you tonight. You have a good deal to learn, and I’m going to do my best to teach you, even when that means being strict with you.”

  Vincent drew her away from him a little, and used his gentle grip on her head to make her look up at him. Britana’s mouth, pursed into a tense little moue, twisted to the side, and her forehead became very troubled. Vincent moved his right hand further down her back, so that he could at last take the whole of her sweet, round bottom into his grasp. Britana’s eyes showed she understood his meaning. The reminder of the discipline she had received made her tremble in his arms.

  “Please…” she whispered, the furrow in her brow deepening. “Please, sir. Be… be gentle with me?”

  Vincent looked down at her with all the considerable seriousness he could muster. “I intend to be very gentle, Britana, as long as you obey me.”

  She lowered her dark eyes from his, taking her lower lip into her teeth.

  “I… I want to,” she breathed, “but… I don’t know…”

  “You don’t know what I will ask of you,” Vincent finished for her.

  Britana looked quickly up at him and gave an adorable little nod. Then, to Vincent’s delight, a quick, almost mischievous smile played across her lips. “I mean, I… I kind of do… I mean…” Both her mouth and her eyes went to the side for a moment, as a blush rose in her cheeks. Her gaze returned to his. “I know… some things.”

  Vincent nodded. “From school,” he said.

  Britana nodded again. “And, you know… you hear things, too. About older girls.” She lowered her eyes again, as the color in her face darkened. “But not… very much.”

  Vincent smiled. The girl’s first day had clearly begun to bring her sweetly submissive nature to her conscious awareness, where it vied now with her modesty and the independence her egalitarian world’s culture had instilled.

  “I’ll make it as easy and as clear for you as I can,” he said softly, bending down to kiss her, before he broke their mouths’ contact to give his first command. “Go ahead and kneel in front of the armchair over there, Britana. You’re going to learn to suck my cock.”

  Chapter 15

  Britana had expected that kind of command. She told herself as the heat surged in her face that of course she had exp
ected to have to kneel down in front of him so that she could do that—the obscene thing he had just said.

  You’re going to learn to suck my cock.

  The image of Melora, kneeling, with Sister Portia in front of her, of the red phallus in Melora’s mouth after it had gone into Melora’s pussy… of the huge shaft itself, with its sculpted head and its prominent veins… of the head sister presenting the terrible thing for Britana to look at before thrusting it into the naked body of Britana’s new friend… all hovered in front of her mind’s eye, and made her shut out the real sight of Captain Edwards’ handsome, bearded face.

  She felt her face crumple in hot confusion as, down below, the memory of his strong, skillful hand came back to her so strongly that she gave a tiny sob of wanton need. In front, where she felt the urgent warmth, the desperate tingle, she had only that memory. In back, that same hand held her whipped bottom, squeezing very gently and reminding her of the much less pleasant things his hands could do.

  Would he really spank her if she refused to obey his lewd commands? Her bottom still ached so much from Sister Portia’s horrid strap. His touch there awakened such terribly ambiguous feelings, but the lingering pain made her feel she would have no choice, if the captain really did mean to be strict with her, like he had said.

  But… she couldn’t. She couldn’t kneel like that. No matter what her government had done, Britana Geran shouldn’t have to pay with such shameful service; the wild thought came to her that she could show the captain she intended to serve the Magisterian Navy, but as a different sort of ship girl.

  Britana could see now that the Magisterians, despite the sternness and degradation meted out by the Sisters of Service, intended, ultimately, the welfare and growth of the young women chosen for the training center. Having met the doctor and the captain, she couldn’t help but feel some excitement about seeing the galaxy as a valued crewmember of a starship—especially with Captain Edwards as her commanding officer.

  She would… she would even have sex with him, but not like that. Not the way Sister Portia had made clear ship girls had to do. The captain would understand, and honor her spirit, wouldn’t he?

  Her eyes opened, and she saw his kind but serious face bent toward her. For a moment she bit her lip as she looked into his blue eyes, just feeling the strength of his embrace, the way it held her safely in its compass, one hand on her back and the other on her bottom.

  The idea that she wanted to please him came suddenly to her mind. Britana supposed she had felt it before, in the classroom and even in the shower, but only vaguely. Sister Portia’s demands, so clearly intended to produce the captain’s pleasure, had obscured Britana’s own thoughts and feelings about him.

  “I want to… to obey,” she whispered, hardly thinking about the words. “I… think maybe I even want to be a ship girl.”

  A smile curved the captain’s lips, but Britana could tell that he had heard the but coming: the smile had a firmness in it that made her heart jump.

  She went on anyway, though her idea that she would escape the shameful things he would demand seemed to recede more before her with every word.

  “But can’t I… do… something…”

  She didn’t even manage to get the else out of her mouth. The expression on Captain Edwards’ face caused it to die in her throat.

  “No, sweetheart,” he said softly but also with such emphasis that Britana quailed back against the clutch of his hands, and gave a little cry when she felt the answering squeeze of his right hand on her bottom.

  “I’ll make this easier for you,” he said, looking into her eyes with any trace of a smile gone. The words seemed so unexpected that Britana frowned. Did the captain mean he would let her go? For an instant, Britana felt a strange, confusing, terribly dismaying emotion: disappointment.

  Then she felt his grip tighten on her naked body, and shift, and she understood. He moved his right hand to her upper arm and took firm hold there, turning her toward the sitting area of the suite. She saw there not only the armchair to which he had referred, and a couch, but also a different kind of chair, wooden and high-backed with no armrest.

  Britana cried out and tried to pull away, but just as Captain Edwards had marched her to the whipping bench in the schoolroom, he marched her toward the chair. She had no need for anyone to tell her the purpose of this apparently out-of-place piece of furniture in the hospitality suite of the Girls’ Training Center. A sob rose from her chest as the words formed in her mind: The chair for spanking naughty girls—that’s where I’m going.

  It took only three steps. The disappointment Britana had felt a moment before had fled away entirely. Had she gone crazy, in that instant? To feel let down because she had supposed the captain might let her go entirely, or even let her do something else for him, other than what he had commanded?

  She couldn’t have really felt it. Certainly, as she struggled desperately now, babbling protests, it seemed impossible that she had somehow, even for an instant, wanted him to… to do something like this.

  “Please… Captain… Stop, please… I’ll… I’ll…” She swallowed hard, her brow creasing deeply. “I’ll suck it!”

  Captain Edwards didn’t reply with words. He positioned her to the right of the chair, and then sat down, pulling Britana effortlessly over his lap and clamping down with his left arm to keep her in place. The softness of the cotton fabric of his pants made her sob at the contrast with the massive muscles she could feel in his thighs.

  “You certainly will,” the captain agreed, then. To Britana’s surprise, his voice didn’t sound angry. “But first, as I said, I’m going to make it easier for you. I’m going to teach you why from now on, tonight and in the future, you will do exactly as I tell you, even when I require the most shameful service you can imagine.”

  Britana cried out, because Captain Edwards had accompanied his final clause with a movement of his right hand. His strong fingers found their way between her little bottom-cheeks, and touched her in the place Sister Portia had made her clean with the enema bulb.

  She struggled over his lap, kicking out with her feet, but to her dismay the captain very clearly knew exactly how to keep a girl in place. He held her tightly with his left hand across her back, and he shifted his weight with such precision that every time Britana thought she might get free from his grip by twisting her body or flailing with her arms or legs she found herself restrained even more tightly.

  His right hand through it all, to her hot-faced embarrassment, stayed in that very same, mortifying place, his middle finger pressing firmly against her bottom-hole. With a sob Britana had to stop struggling, because Captain Edwards had pressed the finger inside her anus, impaling her and making her feel pinned atop his strong right thigh.

  “There,” he said, the satisfaction in his voice sending a wave of shame through Britana’s whole body. “Are you ready to kneel now, sweetheart?”

  Britana felt her nose wrinkle, and tears came to her eyes. His all-too-apparent skill at putting a ship girl over his knee and controlling her there dismayed her greatly, yes—but not truly because it meant she would not escape, that she would have to do every lewd thing her new master asked of her. The dismay came from the way Captain Edwards knew not just how to keep a young woman atop his lap but how to make her feel that even a man’s finger in her bottom represented nothing more than what she needed and deserved.

  Britana Geran is the kind of girl who has to have a finger up her backside.

  The voice in her mind that seemed, despite Sister Portia’s horrid cruelty, to agree with the awful woman, rose from a whisper to a stern, commanding declaration.

  Whipping Britana’s bottom isn’t enough. Britana is the kind of little slut who needs to learn the hard way that from now on she must kneel before an officer to suck his cock, whenever he decides to use her for his pleasure.

  The tears in her eyes didn’t come from the feeling of helplessness, or even from the censorious voice in her mind. Britana wept bec
ause of how deeply her body cried out for more of it.

  She sobbed, “No,” without knowing what she really meant to refuse or to deny. She shook her head wildly.

  The captain, to Britana’s simultaneous hot mortification and wanton excitement, seemed to have anticipated exactly that response. His right hand left her bottom for a moment, and then it returned with a sharp spank that made her cry out at the renewal of the agony from Sister Portia’s strap.

  Your master knows what you need.

  She kicked at the thought, and at the pain. She writhed over his lap as he kept spanking her. Her tears flowed, but they didn’t seem to come from the discomfort as much as they came from the pure release of the physical sensations, and how they seemed to cleanse the shame of her wicked needs.

  “Stop kicking, Britana,” the captain said very sternly. “This spanking will go on for a very long while if you keep resisting it.”

  But she couldn’t obey yet; she kept kicking, until he shifted her from his right thigh to his left, maneuvering her so skillfully that Britana had no chance to twist away. He put his right knee across both of hers, and then he resumed the spanking. Britana screamed and threw her right arm back, but the captain simply pinned it behind her.

  Her bottom felt like he had put burning coals there. She sobbed, “Please… please…” but the captain’s hand kept rising and falling, though he had gone completely silent and the only sound in the room was her screams and the sharp crack of his hand on her poor rear end.

  Finally, feeling fully released at last, as if somehow the punishment had truly removed any choice she might have worried she had, Britana screamed, “I’ll do it! I… I want to… I want to… Please let me!”