“Britana,” said Captain Edwards.
Britana’s eyes flew open. Somehow the idea that he would address her, the naked girl with the dildo in her pussy, hadn’t occurred to her.
“Did you dawdle?”
She felt her whole face crumple.
“No, sir,” she whispered.
“Nonsense,” said Sister Portia. For a moment, Britana thought she could hear the same something more in the head sister’s tone that had confused her on previous occasions—the intimation that perhaps the woman’s apparent severity didn’t tell the whole story of her nature. “But, as you know, Captain, the Sisters of Service wait at the right hand of the Royal Navy. If you must take her to her ship immediately, I will give her to you now.”
Everything seemed to happen very quickly, then: Sister Portia stepped back, and Britana heard the sound of Sister Remia helping her off with the punishment harness and on with the habit. To her mortification, Britana had let out an involuntary whimper at the withdrawal of the hardness inside her, and the hands of the captain on her as he unfastened the leather straps intensified the terribly confusing need between her thighs.
“That little whore will need further discipline, Captain,” the head sister said, her voice icy once more. “Mark my words.”
Captain Edwards had picked Britana up off the bench by then, and he held her close, nestled in his strong arms, the synth-wool of his uniform a little scratchy against her bare skin. She peered out from his embrace, to see Melora—and several of the other advanced girls—smiling back at her.
“Is that true, sweetheart?” Captain Edwards asked, his voice a little teasing. “Do you need further discipline?”
That made her close her eyes as the heat filled her face. “Please… don’t make me…” she whispered. “Don’t make me say.”
The captain laughed, the deep rumble of the sound moving so pleasantly through Britana’s body that she shivered with it, and bit her lip. The motion seemed to go again to the place down there where the sister had shafted her so cruelly, and… and…
Yes, justly. Dutifully.
Her captain had her though the door now, the other girls and the Sisters of Service left behind.
“Captain?” she whispered.
“Yes, ship girl?” he asked.
To her surprise and her heart-thudding embarrassment, he carried her straight through the door out of the building, toward what had been the president’s private shuttle pad. Britana got a glimpse of surprised technicians before she closed her eyes again so that she wouldn’t have to see their reactions to the officer with the naked girl in his arms.
“I do,” she breathed, just to him. “I do need… it.”
He laughed again, and now her need grew so great it made her moan a little.
“I know, sweetheart. I know. And you will have it.”
Chapter 21
Britana got it that night, from all the Indus’ officers.
“Britana Geran, of the planet Normeria,” said Captain Edwards as she knelt before him in the starship’s wardroom, “this is the naval cat. You will feel it whenever your faults require correction.”
He held the horrible thing out in front of her. Britana tried not to look at it very closely, but she knew she couldn’t shut her eyes, or the captain would use the cat on her—or, she thought with a shiver, would use it even more severely than he already intended to do.
She tried to slide her eyes a bit away from the terrible sight of those braided and knotted white tails of rope coming from the polished dark wooden handle. That only made her gaze encounter the front of Captain Edwards’ tall, muscular body, his green robe open, like those of his lieutenants, who stood one on each side of him, though.
Lieutenant Gordon and Lieutenant Erie, both of them a few years younger than their captain, but equally imposing in stature—and equally handsome. Lieutenant Gordon had blond hair and a beard like Captain Edwards’. Lieutenant Erie had light brown hair, and a clean-shaven, breathtakingly square chin.
The lieutenants both had, more troublingly for Britana, long, hard cocks that they held in their hands, pumping them gently as their captain presented them with the girl who must serve their lusts aboard the Indus, as well as his own. The captain’s cock, a few inches in front of her face with the frightening whip between them, made her face hot as she remembered her ordeal of discipline and pleasure in the hospitality suite. To her dismay, the sight of the thick shaft growing harder, as he showed her the implement with which he would punish her, made her mouth water shamefully.
“Ship girl, you are kneeling now on what we call the defaulter’s desk,” the captain said. “Bend down, now, and grasp the handles. Offer your young bottom for correction.”
The defaulter’s desk had some resemblance to the sisters’ whipping benches and fucking benches, but it was of simpler construction, perhaps so the crew of a starship could easily stow it away. The small size of the Indus—or rather, of the living compartments of the Indus—had surprised Britana. Still more astonishment had she felt when she had learned that the captain and his lieutenants made up the entire crew of the heavy cruiser.
“There’s certainly enough space for the four of us,” Captain Edwards had said, when he had taken her through the gym and the entertainment room, and shown Britana her own, really quite spacious, quarters. “We spend a great deal of time aboard, so that’s a good thing. When I take you to Magisteria, though, you’ll see the kind of living a captain earns.”
She had looked up at him, and seen in his eyes that he didn’t mean her to be the sort of ship girl who truly serves a ship’s crew in common. In the time since he had taken her virginity, Britana had of course learned a great deal from the sisters about the life of ship girls in the Magisterian star fleet—even if Sister Gracilis and Sister Remia spoke only in euphemisms, about a ship girl’s service. Britana blushed at the thought, now, of what she had read concerning some captain’s demands.
When a commanding officer decides, one book had told her, that his vessel’s ship girl should serve him ‘closely,’ she must expect to be held accountable for her behavior very strictly. She must also expect that he will not stint in making her available for the use of his junior officers. Only thus can morale be maintained.
She may console herself, in general, with the idea that the captain may well contemplate bringing her home to Magisteria to make her one of his concubines, perhaps even his chief concubine—a rank most closely equivalent to what a girl from an egalitarian world might call a ‘wife’ or even a ‘partner.’
Now, Britana looked down at the defaulter’s desk, which comprised really just a frame of solid wood meant to support her knees and her upper body, and noticed the handles for the first time. Her hands, which had instinctively grasped the top corners of the desk when the captain had told her to take her place on the kneeler, clutched at the wood at the sight.
“Do you see that there are no straps to keep you in place, girl?” the captain asked.
Britana looked up at him. She had found that she could usually read his facial expressions, which seemed to her wonderfully open and frank. At this moment, though, Captain Edwards’ face seemed blank to her.
“Yes, sir?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Lieutenant Erie, please tell the ship girl why the defaulter’s desk has no straps. Lieutenant Gordon, you will assist.”
Immediately, the two lieutenants stepped forward from both sides of Britana. Strangely, for a moment she fixated not on what they intended to do, but on the viewport behind the captain, through which she could see Normeria, like a picture in a science book, but impossibly real now.
I’m a little whore who came to space to serve as a conqueror’s fuck toy. The thought floated through her mind even as the lieutenants grasped her arms firmly, though without violence, and bent her over the desk until they could place her hands on the worn wooden handles. Britana wondered how many young women had grasped them, awaiting the agony of the cat’s disciplinary claws.<
br />
“There are no straps, ship girl,” said Lieutenant Erie in a deep voice that seemed to rumble all the way through the defaulter’s desk and then reverberate back through Britana’s chest, “because we will hold you down if you cannot present yourself properly for discipline.”
“I told you, gentlemen,” said the captain, as Britana now could see only his sandaled feet and a little of the planet-filled viewport behind him, “that our new ship girl is a little dreamy. Dawdling is how the head sister of the training center put it. I don’t fully agree, but she herself has admitted that she needs firm discipline to reach her potential, here with us. Britana, you are being held down now because you failed to grasp the handles and present your backside when I asked you to do it.”
Britana watched his manly feet move to the side and begin to walk around her, carrying the dreadful cat.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, and she tried, without meaning it, to rise from the desk.
“Hold her tightly, gentlemen,” the captain said. “Don’t let her injure herself.”
She had received the strap from Sister Portia, and something in her mind knew that even if the naval cat could hurt a penitent more than the sisters’ school strap, Captain Edwards never would use it that way. But something about being here in the wardroom of a Magisterian warship, with two huge, almost naked men holding her down terrified her so much that Britana couldn’t help struggling.
The captain’s voice, stern but to Britana’s comfort without any apparent anger, announced behind her, “I’m going to whip you until you can hold the handles on your own, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. The implications of the word filled her chest even as she heard the frightening whistle of the braided ropes through the air. It sounded much higher in pitch than the strap, and when it struck her bottom its sting felt sharper. For a moment Britana, as she cried out in pain and alarm, and kept struggling despite herself against the restraining hands of the lieutenants, thought that Captain Edwards did mean to hurt her—perhaps even to harm her, to show her that he could punish her even more forcefully than the Sisters of Service.
Then she realized that the sting had begun to fade, and when the next lash of the cat fell, the deeper agony that the strap had brought didn’t build in her bottom the same way.
She cried out then with a mixture of relief and sudden, terrible arousal. The captain knew how to bend a ship girl like Britana Geran to his will. He even knew, somehow, the way her body had responded when Britana had read that she must be given to his junior officers.
A third lash stung her bottom, in the very center, and the scream Britana emitted sounded very ambiguous to her ears. The flash of pain made her writhe one final time in the grasp of Lieutenant Gordon and Lieutenant Erie. She took a deep breath in through her nose, and her whole body went hot for a moment as she caught the fragrance she knew now came very strongly from the fascinating, wrinkly scrotum of a muscular, handsome naval officer.
That scent made her relax, and it made her fingers find the well-worn handles. She cried out at the fourth cut of the cat. When her bottom squirmed, though, she moved it backward and upward as much as she could.
“There,” said Captain Edwards. “You may step away, gentlemen. Stand here next to me, and let us inspect our new ship girl.”
Britana gave a sob of humiliation, and she closed her eyes, glad at least that the officers couldn’t see her face.
“A fine job, Captain,” said Lieutenant Erie’s voice.
“Yes, indeed, sir,” agreed Lieutenant Gordon. “Her arse is just as pretty as you told us. And you’ve touched it up nicely.”
“Do you see the quim, gentlemen? Isn’t she as pretty as a picture with her cunny shaved?”
The lieutenants agreed that Britana’s pussy looked as pretty as a picture to them.
Britana opened her eyes, then, because the shame seemed to lift her out of herself. She looked out the viewport at her planet, now occupying only a quarter perhaps of the window. The dwindling before her eyes of everything she had ever known seemed to go along with the burning heat between her thighs at the way her new master spoke of her to his crew.
“Britana, sweetheart, we’re going to share you, now. I know you’ll learn to be as good a girl for Lieutenant Gordon and Lieutenant Erie as you were for me when I opened you up. Do you think you can learn to be a real ship girl, and give pleasure as you should?”
The question was like the handles on the defaulter’s desk, Britana understood. She grasped them harder, and she felt their solidity, the way her body interacted with them. She felt the warmth and wetness between her legs at the lewd idea of the sharing, and she let her ship girl need speak what she probably never could have as a Normerian woman.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Gordon,” said Captain Edwards. “You have the mouth first. Erie, you’re in the quim.”
Britana’s breathing became fast and ragged as she watched Lieutenant Gordon step around the desk to stand in front of her, blocking her sight of space even as Normeria continued to shrink in the viewport. She bit her lip at the way his long, hard cock looked as he pumped it slowly in his big left hand. He put his hand on her chin, and tilted her face up to look at him.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said, though he kept his eyes locked on Britana’s. “She’s lovely. Ship girl Geran, welcome to MS Indus. Open your mouth, now.”
Britana again grasped the handles of the defaulters’ desk, in order to reassure herself once again of their solidity, and of her shameful, whorish consent despite the fear that made her heart jump. She had her lower lip between her teeth, still, and she heard a little whine emerge as she tried to obey, knowing she would be whipped again if she did not, but not entirely certain she shouldn’t be whipped again.
At that moment, though, she cried out, with an open mouth, because Lieutenant Erie had taken hold of her right hip and guided the head of his penis just where she needed it the most.
They entered her at the same time, and Britana sobbed around the hardness in her mouth at the way the cock in her pussy filled her up, and she tried to give her face to the fucking the way the captain had taught her.
“Oh, she’s tight,” Erie said. “That’s so nice. Thank you, Captain.”
“How is she taking you, Gordon?” Captain Edwards asked. “Looks like you’re going pretty deep.”
“She’s good,” the lieutenant said. “Good girl, Britana. Keep taking it. I think we’ll go balls deep in here before too long.”
Britana’s hands clutched the handles. She closed her eyes and heard the wet sounds the cock made in her mouth. The thrusting in her pussy made her cry out with every driving surge, and she felt a climax building in the way Erie’s hips awakened the smart from the cat. The release lay just out of reach, though, and Britana began to sob with need as she had her pussy and her mouth fucked by the tall men in front and behind, towering over her and enjoying her with their cocks.
“Switch places, gentlemen,” Captain Edwards said from somewhere nearby, though it also sounded as distant to Britana as her own faraway world. His voice seemed to make the need even greater, but it also caused the penises to depart, and she cried out forlornly—like a little whore, she heard Sister Portia’s voice say in her mind, bringing a clench of her pussy and a jolt in her hips.
Then again she moaned, as the cock that had filled her mouth now entered her pussy, hard and fast, and Erie’s hand on her chin opened her mouth to make her taste her own whorish arousal. For a moment she thought she might not be able to reach her climax, the way the knob on the fucking bench had helped her do—the way the captain’s knowing fingers had brought about. The junior officers kept fucking her, and Britana’s orgasm stayed just out of sight.
The captain spoke again, though. “I think she’s earned the penitent’s reward,” he said. “Don’t you, gentlemen?”
“Yes, sir,” answered both lieutenants, not pausing a moment in their thrusting.
Vaguely Britana heard a cu
pboard open, and then she became conscious of the captain standing beside the defaulter’s desk, reaching under the frame, fitting something there.
“Oh, no,” Britana moaned around Erie’s thrusting cock, but that wasn’t what she meant at all.
A soft but firm knob came up under her clit. A click from somewhere sounded softly, and then a buzz, right where she could rub against it.
Then Britana began to cry out with pleasure as she came, and she came over and over, ridden hard by the junior officers, until they too came inside her only a few moments later.
“I’ll have the arse now, gentlemen,” the captain said, from somewhere out in space—as it seemed to Britana, at any rate. “Reach back and offer it, sweetheart. It’s my prerogative.”
Britana remembered the other thing—the thing she had almost tried to forget—from that book at the center.
When a captain has a girl serve him closely, he will often reserve her anus for his private use. This practice is usually called ‘the captain’s prerogative.’
She whimpered as she took her punished bottom cheeks in her hands, and showed the junior officers with the strangest possible mixture of pride and shame how she had learned to give her bottom to her master. The lieutenants, their cocks still seeming huge to Britana even as they grew softer, took a stand in front of her, and between them she could still see Normeria, now only a slightly bigger star, as it looked to her eyes.
The lube on her anus made her moan, and it still hurt when the enormous shaft began to enter her tightest place for only the second time. But the penitent’s reward buzzed against her clit, and she cried out into another climax as her master lodged himself firmly inside her and began to fuck her anus with authority.
“Hold it nice and open,” he growled. Then, to his men, “She gives good arse. Wish I wanted to share it.”
Long after he had come inside her smallest place, and the crew had returned to duty, the captain held Britana in his spacious bunk, kissing her and praising her. Britana couldn’t help thinking, with a good deal of triumph, of Sister Portia.
Training Planet Page 14
