Season Notes: This is essentially a heavy nonconsent/dubious consent D/s story set in space that’s as close to erotica as I come. If you are uncomfortable with noncon, explicit sex and/or rape, or fictional slavery, skip this story entirely.
“Moira,” the captain called.
Following the expected summons, Moira headed for the captain’s room. Since she wasn’t wearing the toys, he’d taken away the shorts and she was almost used to being naked all the time. Almost.
Still, when she walked into the bedroom and saw Efe leaning against the wall, she instinctively tried to cover herself.
“None of that.” The captain came up behind her and pinned her hands behind her back. He kissed the curve of her neck, and she jumped. She couldn’t remember a single time that he’d kissed her.
“Efe’s here to watch. She likes watching, likes it a lot. So you let her see, hear me?”
“Yes.” Moira swallowed. She’d done threesomes. Even a few more-somes. But exhibitionism… definitely not her thing.
This time she didn’t have any choice.
The captain — she’d finally learned his name by spying on the crew but still thought of him as ‘the captain’ — guided her to the bed. Moira kept glancing back at Efe, wondering what the other woman would do, what she thought… But Efe didn’t give anything away. Just stood there, watching. Didn’t even have a hand down her pants.
The captain kept kissing her. Down her neck. Along her spine. Little quick pecks, there and gone so fast she could have imagined them, except that each quick touch added to the warmth building inside her. Sucked her deeper into the world where thought didn’t exist, only sensation.
She tried to hold onto herself, her awareness. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t how the captain did things. These slow, sweet touches. He turned her around and laid her on the bed, and looked at her. Really looked at her, and for the first time since the pirates boarded her passenger shuttle, she felt seen. Really seen.
It made her vulnerable in a way being naked never had. She wanted to curl up, to hide, but he leaned in, cupped her chin, and kissed her. A long, deep kiss, and the fear was swept away by the need. The need to be seen. To be touched. To be held.
So she opened herself to him, knowing she was being a fool but not strong enough to resist. She returned his kiss, pulling him to her. She undid the buttons on his shirt. This time… /this/ time, she would see him, touch him. They broke apart long enough for him to lose his shirt and pull off his pants. His hands caressed her sides, and she played with the hair on his chest, following the trail of it down to the one part of him she had come to know so very well.
He nosed her breast, teased her nipple with his lips. Tender. Gentle. She could have cried for the joy of it. He took her nipple in his mouth, laved it with his tongue, and she did cry out. Wrapped herself around him. One hand on his neck, holding him to her breast. The other on his hip, pulling him toward her, guiding him into her. Seeking the long, slow love-making his tenderness promised.
But as soon as he slid inside her, everything changed.
He released her breast and pulled back. His hand sought her sex, worked her clit, trying to push her over an edge that she didn’t want, wasn’t ready for. His eyes… he stared straight ahead, at the wall behind him. No longer looking at her. No longer seeing her.
He pumped himself within her as he always did. Mechanically. Clinically. A man with a job to do, and her only the tool.
She didn’t resist the orgasm he pulled from her body. What was the point? It would only prolong the task…
Finally, with a last pump, the captain finished spilling into her, pulled out, and walked away.
Stunned, Moira nearly called out after him. How had he done that? Kissed, touched, intimacy for once, instead of just sex, then just… gotten off and walked away?
A shift of fabric, and she was reminded that Efe was in the rooming. Moira twisted around to see the other woman. But Efe was looking at the floor now. As if feeling Moira watching her, she hunched in on herself and muttered “Thank you,” before following the captain out.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Moira burrowed under the blanket and hugged herself.
She knew she was just a tool for the captain. A living fuck doll. If that was all it was, she wouldn’t have minded. But the entire crew had been avoiding her since she came on board two months ago.
Moira was lonely. Lonely and touch starved, and to be offered that slice of intimacy, of caring, only for it to be yanked away…
And only for Efe, she suddenly realized. The captain always ‘wanted to make it good.’ He’d try to ‘make it good’ for Efe as well. For Moira, ‘making it good’ meant orgasms. And he was good at them, she couldn’t deny. If Efe’s voyeur streak was for lovemaking, not sex… the captain would give her the illusion of that.
Just an illusion.
They were four weeks out from Barrett’s World and approaching their third landing — apparently, long hauls like the one to Barrett’s World were unusual. Ever since Barrett’s World, Moira had done her best to bury herself in her work. She’d been able to raid a library on Plendine as well — a proper university library that time! She had plenty to keep herself busy and one month to finish up a new submission for the university journal or lose her sabbatical. If she lost the sabbatical, she’d either need to reveal the truth of her situation (and possibly ruin her career) or lose her teaching position (and probably lose her career). So she’d worked and ignored her isolation. Her shunning.
But shunning, as she knew well, was one of the most destructive things a human could face. It destroyed the psyche like nothing else. She could use her work as a shield, a distraction — but only so far. Then… Well, then.
She sighed and pulled herself up.
She’d get a shower. If she had to be miserable, at least she could be clean rather than sticky.
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