“That is the punishment strap, and this is the punishment shaft, Britana Geran. Someday soon you will feel both, I am certain, but it is proper that a little whore like you have her virginities taken by her master before she is shafted by her teachers.”
“Oh, no,” Britana whispered. “Please…” In her mind, she resisted the knowledge of what would happen now, though the lewd idea made her whole body seem to catch fire with the need the captain had awakened between her legs.
“Melora Bullen,” Sister Portia said, “prepare for shafting.”
Britana let out a sob of mingled shame and arousal as the blushing Melora obediently turned around on the cushion and began to bend over, to support her slim upper body, with those perfectly round, medium-sized breasts hanging sweetly down, on her open hands. The red-haired girl stayed that way only for a moment, though, before—much worse, for Melora’s own blush—lowering herself even further, onto her elbows, and bowing her head to place her face between her hands.
Before Melora hid her pink face completely, she turned to look at Britana for an instant. Britana could tell her new friend wanted to reassure her that what would happen now wasn’t so very terrible. But Melora certainly didn’t have a comforting smile on her face, even though she had perhaps wanted to assume that sort of sunny expression. No, Britana could tell from the lower lip Melora had caught between her teeth that though the punishment shaft did not perhaps inspire a great deal of fear, it nevertheless made Melora feel very thoroughly punished.
“Get that backside up, Melora Bullen,” commanded Sister Portia. “Raise it to me this instant, and spread those knees. I shall whip you, too, if I have to.”
Britana gave a little whimpering cry at the sight of Melora obeying the head sister’s instructions, and she thought she heard that her ambiguous noise did not represent the only such sound in the room. She didn’t dare try to turn her face again, still held as it was in Sister Portia’s grasp, but she couldn’t help wondering what the rest of the class looked like as they watched the two naked girls undergo the head sister’s shameful discipline.
“Watch carefully, Britana Geran,” Sister Portia said, her voice terribly hard. “Watch what happens to your classmate, because you are not ready for the shaft.”
“No, please,” Britana whispered as the terrifying woman let go of her chin and turned to face Melora’s raised, spread backside. Sister Portia put her right hand on the silken skin of Melora’s hip, and bent her knees to bring the huge red dildo, still brandished in her left, to bear on the pink furrow of Melora’s pussy. Britana, to her distress, could just make out the pout of her friend’s private lips, and she remembered very vividly now, despite her best efforts, looking at Melora’s bare slit in physical education class.
“Girls,” said the head sister to the whole class. “Melora Bullen is very wet—just as I am sure the rest of you are, watching her receive the shaft. Captain Edwards, do you smell the sluttishness in the air? I imagine you can even see the wantonness displayed openly on Britana Geran’s private part.”
Oh, no, Britana thought, as she forced herself not to turn around, not to look at the officer behind her in his splendid uniform.
“Certainly,” the captain said. “Her little quim is shining with it.”
Chapter 10
Vincent wondered if his rank would allow him somehow to end the classroom scene right then, and simply to carry Britana to the hospitality suite, where both their raging needs might find quick satisfaction.
Quick satisfaction… and then very, very lengthy satisfaction.
The idea of holding dark-haired, dark-eyed Britana Geran all night, of introducing her to the extended pleasures of true lovemaking as well as the sharper, swifter delights of dominant fucking, turned Vincent’s cock hard as iron. He felt considerable surprise that a teenager from a rebellious world could affect him that way—but he also felt very keenly his good fortune to have come to Normeria to help initiate her.
The notion of choosing her as the Indus’ ship girl and having her always available for the captain’s pleasure made his cock stir even more distractingly in his uniform trousers. He could indeed see a shining bead of Britana’s submissive desire peeping out between her sweetly pouting cunny lips.
Sister Portia kept her eyes on the center’s newest pupil as she placed the head of the red punishment phallus at the similarly wet entrance to Melora’s cunt. Melora gave a little cry, and rose up for a moment on her elbows, as if she couldn’t control the shameful pleasure her body felt.
“Down, girl,” commanded the head sister, moving her left hand from the dildo to Melora’s back, to push her back toward the floor. “Arch your back and take it in this whorish vagina.”
That made Melora whimper, and Britana gave an answering sob as she watched.
Sister Portia had turned her eyes to the girl she had begun to shaft for a moment, but now she turned back to the one bound to the whipping bench. She pressed the huge cock, shaped with a special hard compound that the Sisters of Service guarded as a secret, slowly into the redhead’s quim. Melora gave little whining sounds of mingled pleasure and discomfort. All the while, the head sister kept her attention on Britana, ensuring that the new girl saw and understood the nature of the discipline she, too, must receive.
Here in the beginners’ class, girls were always shafted this way, kneeling on a cushion and given a single deep thrust to remind them of their subservience. Melora, Britana, and their fellow ship girls must learn above all to please the dominant cocks of the officers who would possess them: the Sisters of Service used their punishment harnesses to reinforce both the more abstract lessons they gave, and the harsher ones—those delivered above all with their straps.
In the advanced class, as Vincent had observed that morning before he had shifted his attention to Britana’s arrival, shafting progressed in accordance with the pupils’ growing experience. A naughty girl had the modest school uniform she had earned by her promotion from Sister Gracilis’ class taken away. She lay naked over the whipping bench while her teacher gave her first a hard fucking and then a sound whipping, while the rest of the class watched.
The Sisters of Service carried out these shaftings without any sign of erotic pleasure. Indeed, as they disciplined the new ship girls, they reinforced the girls’ shame and modesty as much as possible. The order believed very firmly in the efficacy of the training given by the punishment harness. The sisters maintained that their curriculum rendered a ship girl happy in the end—happier than she could become by any other means available in a troubled galaxy, at any rate.
Vincent wished he could see Britana’s face, but he felt sure he knew what sort of expression it wore. Hadn’t she turned to him, even as Sister Portia commanded her to attend only to the shameful sight in front of the whipping bench? Her face as she watched Melora take the huge red dildo must look like that: pink cheeks, furrowed brow, wrinkled nose.
“Open those eyes, Britana Geran,” the head sister ordered. “Open them this instant.”
Again Melora tried to push up with a sob, and again Sister Portia pressed the girl back down. Vincent felt his eyes widen at the erotic power of the sight, as the last centimeter of the red phallus disappeared inside the lovely girl’s cunny. The head sister’s strong thighs, crossed by the suspenders of the corset, rested against Melora’s little bottom.
“There,” said Sister Portia, holding the shaft deep inside Melora for a long moment. She rubbed the girl’s back gently, showing tenderness for the very first time in Vincent’s limited experience—nearly identical, of course, to Britana’s own. “Good little slut. The navy will enjoy you, I am certain.”
Then she began to withdraw the artificial cock from Melora’s wet little quim, as Melora moaned with a note of what sounded to Vincent like frustration, as if the red-haired girl wouldn’t have minded a hard fucking even from a dildo, just then. At the sound—Vincent felt certain—Britana’s own little cunny clenched adorably, and her hips jerked inside the leat
her belt’s compass. The girl’s trim bottom squirmed so enticingly that Vincent had to clasp his hands tightly together to keep himself from reaching out to touch and to fondle.
“Watch, slut,” Sister Portia said to Britana, then, as she stepped around to the other side of Melora.
“What…?” Britana whispered. She had clearly thought the shafting over, but Vincent knew better. So did Melora: her face bright red now, she rose as soon as she felt Sister Portia’s slender hand on the back of her head, twining in her copper hair.
“Oh, no,” Britana sobbed, for the head sister didn’t hesitate: as Melora opened the pretty bud of her mouth, the teacher shoved the red dildo inside, making the girl taste the unsatisfied need it carried from her quim.
“Learn modesty, girls,” Sister Portia said to both of them. “Learn what happens to little whores like you. Taste it now, Melora Bullen.”
Holding the kneeling girl’s head, the head sister pressed the artificial cock deep, right to the point where Melora’s gag reflex triggered, and then swiftly withdrew it, using the same motion to press Melora’s head back down to the floor.
“Bottom high, now,” the head sister said, stepping back around.
Now Britana clearly couldn’t stop herself: she turned her head to look back at Vincent. In her wild eyes, he saw the desperate question: She can’t, can she? and, even further down in the girl’s gaze, You won’t, will you?
Vincent could discern the wonderful understanding that made her bare quim so visibly warm and wet: the man who had spanked her over her desk, who had fondled her punished bottom and her needy young cunt, would claim her completely before the day was out. Britana, he could see, understood even the fundamental importance of the shameful thing Sister Portia would now do to Melora’s little bottom—understood despite her pleading that yes, it would happen to her, tonight, on Vincent’s cock.
“Britana Geran,” the head sister said in an icy voice. “I shall not warn you again. Look here. Look what your world has earned for its young whores.”
Vincent inclined his head, putting into his expression as much of the growing affection he felt for Britana as he could. He told her with his eyes that he understood more even than she did about what she truly wanted and needed. He told her that when the time came for her own bottom to receive a man’s hardness, he would break in that tiny flower gently, and teach her with kindness to enjoy her most difficult service as much as a ship girl could.
The color surged in Britana’s cheeks, and she turned back, as if the feelings stirred by Vincent’s face had proven more mortifying even than the sight that awaited her in the other direction: Sister Portia had paused with the tip of the red phallus, its shaft glistening from Melora’s mouth, just inside the parting of the girl’s little cheeks.
When the head sister saw that her newest pupil had returned her attention to Melora’s shafting, she grasped the red-haired girl by the hips and began to push the dildo inside Melora’s most private place. Melora cried out in discomfort, and Britana whimpered in sympathy mingled with desperate, helpless arousal.
The Sisters of Service had designed their most renowned tool of discipline to exude its own advanced lubricant that did away with the risk of injury, but the order intended a ship girl’s shafting always to represent an act of discipline, of course. Both Melora and Britana must learn from what Sister Portia did in the redhead’s little bottom, the stern woman’s blue eyes said, very clearly.
The artificial phallus impaled Melora’s backside centimeter by centimeter. The dildo stretched the girl’s anus wide on its unforgiving, rigid length. Britana shook her head slowly, dark hair swaying gently back and forth as the girl seemed to deny both the reality and the rightness of the shameful ordeal her friend must suffer on her behalf.
Vincent knew, too, the other, even more powerful part of the experience Britana wanted to refuse: the need the sight awakened in her pussy. His eyes roamed over her sweet, spread quim and her parted bottom-cheeks, still rosy from his correcting hand. Her hips twitched against the leather belt that bound her to the bench, as if her aroused clit sought some place, some protrusion to press against.
The Sisters of Service had provided no such relief on their whipping benches, however. The order dedicated itself to preparing ship girls for the pleasure of the naval officer corps. Men like Vincent had the pleasant task of deciding if and when a girl under their command should have her sexual needs gratified. He had little doubt that after this session Britana would prove a good girl for him, and earn her second climax, and perhaps her third and fourth as well. He felt sure at any rate that she would not dawdle when he summoned her, after she received the whipping that drew ever closer now.
Melora tried to rise again, as if to ease the discomfort of the enormous thing in her little bottom.
“No,” Sister Portia said simply, and pressed her back down with a hand on the girl’s back.
“Please,” Britana whispered, the sound of the word barely audible over Melora’s whimpers. “Please, take it out.”
The head sister’s lap touched the raised, rounded cheeks, skin against skin. Melora gave a tiny wail at the thoroughness of her mastering.
“Count to three, Britana Geran,” said Sister Portia. “Slowly.”
“One,” Britana sobbed, the sound echoed in Melora’s muffled whimpers, as the head sister stroked the redhead’s back gently, almost soothingly, but much more as if she were taming a pet than as if she comforted a young woman.
“Two…” Vincent could hear in the monosyllable Britana’s worry that she might count too fast and make Melora’s ordeal last even longer. Her waist bucked against the belt, and Vincent’s cock jumped against his thigh as he watched the girl’s cunny clench helplessly at her own wanton arousal.
“Three,” she sobbed, as if giving voice to the lewd contraction between her thighs.
Sister Portia drew the phallus out of Melora’s little bottom in one swift motion. The red-haired girl sobbed in relief.
“Kneel and thank me,” the head sister commanded.
Britana gave a little whine between closed lips as Melora obeyed, rising and turning around to face Sister Portia, still on the cushion.
“Thank you for shafting me, Sister,” she said, her face very red.
“Put me to rights, girl,” the head sister commanded. “The harness and then my habit.”
As Melora helped the teacher off with the harness, and on with her shapeless black dress, Vincent watched Britana’s head turn toward the little table where the punishment strap still rested. When Sister Portia reached down to take it into her right hand, a shudder went through the girl’s lovely naked body.
The head sister stood before the whipping bench now, fully dressed again as if she had never revealed the terrible undergarments of a Sister of Service. Britana raised her head to gaze up at the woman who towered over her.
“And now, you little whore, you will learn why Melora obeyed so readily, though her shafting caused such shame and discomfort, as you saw. Melora Bullen, why did you accept the punishment shaft so submissively?”
Melora had placed the punishment harness in a bin at the side of the classroom, for cleaning, then returned to kneel on the cushion once again. Her brow furrowed deeply before she spoke her answer quietly, to the floor.
“Because I knew what would happen if I didn’t, Sister.”
“And what was that, girl?” Sister Portia’s lips curved up in a mocking smile, and she did not move her eyes from Britana’s face.
“The strap, Sister,” Melora whispered.
Chapter 11
Britana cried out in fear, then, though Sister Portia had made no truly threatening movement at all. The woman’s change back into her black habit, as if she had never taken it off at all—as if the head sister didn’t have underneath it the high heels and the corset and the stockings and… and no panties at all… the covering back over of all of that made Britana feel so strange that she could hardly have named what she felt.
/> Suddenly she imagined Captain Edwards bending over her, asking in his low, calm voice about the thoughts that lay deep in her heart. The mental picture made her crease her brow and bite her lip even as she looked up into the cold face of Sister Portia.
If Captain Edwards asked me, I would say…
She would say that the strap in Sister Portia’s hand terrified her, but the knowledge that under the sisters’ habits they had on that wicked lingerie frightened her even more, because…
Somehow the scrap of a fantasy, of the captain asking her gently about her feelings, calmed Britana just enough to keep looking into the head sister’s eyes. Knowing that he stood behind her, and had seen how her body responded to Melora’s shafting, had made her nearly faint with embarrassment, just a moment before.
Now the idea that he still stood there seemed to reassure her, to comfort her in the face of Sister Portia’s terrifying severity. He so obviously understood about everything that still mystified Britana: the sense-memory of his hands on her, spanking her, fondling her, seemed to tell her that beyond any doubt.
She had entered so deeply into this awful ordeal that she lay bound naked over a whipping bench. But Britana still felt very keenly how little of it she knew about, how little she understood. The man who stood erect behind her, splendid in his green uniform, held the rank of captain in the Magisterian Royal Navy. That meant he knew it all: he knew even more than the doctor, because the doctor didn’t have a ship, the way a captain did.
Captain Edwards knew about the sisters, the harness, above all what it meant to serve as a ship girl. Captain Edwards knew about her, though she had seen him for the first time only a few minutes before. Somehow he understood about how a girl like Britana Geran responded to his bending her over her desk and spanking her, just as he clearly understood everything else.
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