Seeing Stars

  He took her face in his cupped hands and kissed her through the strongest orgasm of her life, plundering her with his tongue as she twisted and kicked beneath him, accepting her helpless screams into his own throat.

  Later, after his own powerful climax, filling her with his hot essence, he slumped on top of her, his face beside hers, damp and slippery. He was heavy—six-feet-two of solid muscle on Suka’s slight frame, and she gasped underneath him.

  “Sorry,” he said, sounding far away from her. The altar was not wide and it was not possible to lie side by side. “Like this.” He manoeuvred her on top of him. She sighed and untensed as her sore bum unpeeled from the damp fabric and felt the breath of cool air. She burrowed into Paul’s arms, letting herself fall into satiated exhaustion. He held her so well. Never had she felt so protected, so cherished. Just like it says in the vows.

  “The audience would be all over each other now,” said Paul softly. “And it would be one long orgy for the rest of the day and night. Some masters and mistresses liked lending their bond subjects. Others preferred exclusive rights over them. Either way, you would be leaving this place sore and used up.”

  “That’s how I feel already.”

  “You’ve learned a lot today.”

  “Thanks for…educating me.”

  “Thanks for being so…intellectually curious. I would teach you again, any time.”

  “I hope you will.”

  Chapter Three

  Paul lifted his head, peering down at Suka’s face where it lay, looking sidelong at him from his chest.

  “I know the stone has this effect,” he said, “so the High Council would excuse us what’s just happened. They would understand we had no choice. Don’t worry about getting into any trouble.”

  Suka bit her lip, hesitating to speak her mind.

  “No choice,” she said at last. “It was the stone that made us do it.”

  “That’s what the High Council will know.”

  “Is it true?”

  “What do you mean?” Paul’s grip on her tightened and he frowned.

  “Oh, nothing.” She buried her face in the rumpled material of his uniform top, which he had not bothered to take off for the ceremony. Was he able to disconnect, just like that? View what had passed between them as an occupational hazard? She could hear his heart beating next to her ear, hammering away, but she thought perhaps it was just a sound recording, standing in for a vacancy down there.

  Paul pulled at her tight braid. “Are you sulking?” he asked sternly.

  “Of course not.” She raised her head, chin up, mouth in a tight little line. “I am bloody starving, though. Should we eat an energy bar?”

  “Good idea.” Paul held Suka carefully by the shoulders while he sat up and swung around, vacating the altar. “We should get out of here. Come on.”

  The back entrance of the temple took them out to a garden, overgrown and untended, but still beautiful. They found a bench to sit on and took the energy bars from their waist packs, neither one of them speaking.

  Suka bit into the teeth-achingly sweet bar and chewed it silently, watching the birds that still inhabited the planet as if they hadn’t realised it was dead.

  Now what? Am I supposed to go back to a formal professional footing with a man I just lay beneath, in the throes of orgasm? Does he really expect that to happen?

  Her trousers, back up now, felt tacky and clingy, and a reminder of Commander Paul’s recent presence leaked out of her and stained the material at the crotch.

  He spoke first, just as the silence was at its heaviest.

  “Are you embarrassed?”

  “Should I be?” she replied quickly.

  “You know it wasn’t my intention to take advantage of you.”

  “Do you feel guilty?”

  “I suppose I do. I’ve gone well outside the boundaries of professionalism, let’s say.”

  “And the stone made you do it. It wasn’t the stone that made you pick up that whip, though, was it?”

  Paul turned, his eyes wide, flashing alarm signals at Suka, who shrank back instinctively.

  “No, that was you, Ensign. Because if you’re suggesting otherwise—”

  “I’m not,” she said quickly. She bit into the bar again, thinking about her next conversational move. “You’re just a plaything of the gods today, aren’t you? First your bad little ensign makes you do things, then the temple stone. Poor Commander Paul. It must be terrible, being so coerced all the time.”

  Paul finished the final bite of his bar, scrunching up the biodegradable wrapper and discarding it in a neighbouring bush.

  “You think I don’t want to take responsibility for all this?” he said. “I accept it, Suka. I accept full responsibility. When I chose you to come down here, I thought you could handle it. I made a bad call. It won’t happen again.”

  Suka felt as if he had kicked her in her already tender crotch. The almost-irresistible urge to scream Fuck you! swept over her and she held her fists tightly clenched and counted to five while it passed.

  “What exactly have I done that was so wrong?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

  “You’re taking everything personally,” said Paul. “You seem to be blaming me for all this. You’re disrespectful and sullen now. Why?”

  Suka turned her face away. “Because I made a mistake,” she muttered. “I thought you…”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Paul took a quick breath. “Thought I what?” he said, also looking away.

  “Thought it meant something. Hoped it meant something.”

  He reached for her hand and took it, fidgeting with her fingers restlessly.

  “You still think that? Now we’re outside the temple?”

  “What should I think, Commander? We had intense, passionate sex. It felt like a real connection to me. You’re acting as if it was just a trick of the stone.”

  Paul was quiet for a moment. The long fronds of the abandoned plants blew and shushed in the soft breezes. Suka tried to tune out, to just enjoy the feel of real weather and unrecycled air. Screw Paul and his ethical hang-ups.

  “It doesn’t matter whether it was a trick of the stone or not,” he said quietly. “We can’t pursue this. You know that.”

  “Because of intergalactic protocol?”

  “Yes. Of course because of intergalactic protocol.”

  “Because it’s the rules.”

  “Suka—”

  “And the rules always rule. Right up there before humanity, or common sense, or love. Rules.”

  “You knew that, Suka, you’ve always known it.”

  “Yes, but that was before I knew I…” She stopped herself just in time. “Before I knew how I felt. About you.”

  Paul squeezed her fingers. “Suka, you’ve had a very powerful sexual experience. That can affect your reasoning—”

  “Don’t you dare patronise me, Commander. And don’t you dare tell me how I feel.”

  Commander Paul hauled her to her feet.

  “Okay, enough,” he said. “You’re going back up to the ship. I’ll complete this mission alone.” He moved to take his communicator from his belt, but drew the whip instead, having forgotten he had placed it there.

  This gave Suka enough time to slip free of his grasp and race out of his reach.

  “I’m not going back,” she called from behind a huge flowering shrub. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

  “Ensign!” he roared, but she was away, picking out the remnants of the path beneath the drying reeds and leaves, sure of only one thing, which was that this adventure was not ending yet. Not until she had made Commander Paul realise exactly how significant the emotional exchange between them had been.

  It was hard to run with her legs still weak from the sex and her bottom tingling and her whole groin area aching and swollen, but she managed to gain some ground, taking advantage of the obfuscatory foliage to foil Paul’s attempts at second-guessing her route. Th
rough the brown-greenery, she began to make out the wall of a building, looming ever closer, built of a dark, glittering brick, windowless and sinister in its appearance. Suka tried to find a door, but between running full-pelt and trying to place Paul’s location by the sound of his irate yelling, her senses were busy enough, and it wasn’t until she was almost smack-bang into the wall that she worked out how to get into the building.

  She vaulted over an iron balustrade and scampered down some steps to a basement door. Hoping against hope it would not be locked, she yanked at the handle. The door creaked aside and Suka found herself in pitch darkness. Good, she thought. He won’t be able to find me just by looking.

  She reached out, feeling for walls, and tiptoed rapidly along the side of the building, listening out for sounds of her master’s voice.

  Crackling of undergrowth from above, heavy footsteps on the stairs, then his voice.

  “Suka? Stop this now. You’re in more trouble than you can ever imagine, girl. When I get my hands on you…”

  Suka had to suppress a gasp, sure already he would be able to locate her by the deafening beating of her heart.

  A narrow beam of light bisected the darkness. He was using his communicator torch. Luckily, the chamber was vast and full of strange corners and cubbyholes. If she used her sense of touch wisely, she could find a way out of here before he lit on her.

  Huge shapes, malevolent and fantastical, loomed in the greyness. Had Suka not been so focused on the chase, she might have wondered about their purpose, but only one imperative drove her. The beam of light swished around, sometimes coming close, but she was light-footed enough to keep her footsteps near-silent.

  She heard Commander Paul curse.

  “Suka! This isn’t going to help you. Come here now.”

  Her fingers closed around a metal ring in the wall. It might be the latch of some kind of portal. Feverishly she tried to turn it without making a noise. The light gained on her, advancing with Paul’s footsteps, closer and closer.

  Damn, she thought. I don’t have time to be subtle. She gave the ring a wrench and a door began to slide open. Now Paul would know where she was—as evidenced by his quickening pace and sudden, nearby roar of, “Suka!”

  Come on, door, open, open, quickly. But the grinding of the gears was infernally slow, and Suka was halfway through trying to insert her slim figure into the narrow opening when Paul’s hand landed on her elbow, closing around it like an iron band. Fuck. So much for that plan.

  Not that it had been much of a plan. More an anti-plan, a reaction against Paul’s unacceptable plan for her.

  “You’ve broken one rule too many, Ensign—” Paul was barking, when suddenly his torch caught the edge of something and he was silenced, flashing the beam slowly around the new chamber.

  “The punishment suite,” quavered Suka. “It must be.”

  “Yes.” Paul, forgetful of his wrath, used the communicator to light the room more fully, zapping the wall-mounted brackets until a flickering glow illuminated the scene.

  Suka’s legs buckled and she was momentarily grateful for Paul’s firm, if uncomfortable, hold on her elbow. This was incredible. She was reminded of an illustration in one of the anthropological texts she had studied for her dissertation. ‘Figure Two: Typical BDSM “Dungeon Club”.’ She had looked at that picture over and over, imagining herself restrained in some of the equipment, at the mercy of a heartless man or men, or maybe even a woman like the one in ‘Figure Three: A Professional Dominatrix.’

  “It’s like a dream,” she said softly, “all of this.”

  Paul jerked to attention, reminded of her company. He narrowed his eyes, frowning down at her.

  “Your worst nightmare?”

  “No. Leaving here. Leaving here without you is my worst nightmare.”

  “One you don’t have much choice about,” said Paul robustly, but Suka could see he was struggling to maintain his resolve.

  “We always have a choice,” she said. “Commander. Please don’t send me back.”

  “I have to.” There it was, palpable regret, almost anguish.

  Suka knew she had to build on this, drive home her advantage. She bumped her hip against his and raised entreating eyes.

  “Another punishment? Please? I know I deserve one. Anything you want. Just don’t send me away.”

  “Suka—”

  “Give me what I deserve, Commander. Make me take my punishment. Please discipline me as you see fit.”

  He groaned, trying to push her away, but the bulge of his crotch signalled her imminent victory and she pursued it relentlessly.

  She used her free hand to push the waistband of her trousers downwards, bringing her bottom, cooled now but still tender, out into the frigid air of the punishment chamber.

  “Use the whip, Sir,” she suggested feverishly. “I need it. I need to feel your dominance over me, or I’ll never learn, will I, Sir? Teach me the lesson. Make it a hard one, one I’ll never forget.” She rubbed her hand over the receding welts, pinching her flesh, moving in to press against the imprisoned erection.

  Paul’s hand smacked down hard on the rudely-exposed backside, and Suka’s cry was only partly of pain. Jubilation fizzed through her. He could not resist this opportunity. She had bought time, time to convince him this was no momentary aberration but a shared emotional experience on which they could build a happy partnership.

  “You’ll get it,” snarled Paul. “Believe me. You won’t forget this for a long time.” He pulled her roughly forward, taking her on a tour of the well-equipped suite. “The only question is, where shall I start?”

  Suka’s beady eyes worked hard at taking it all in. There were hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling with adjustable pulleys. There was a large wooden cross on a platform. There were medical gurneys with arrangements of straps. As they advanced through the room, Suka began to have misgivings. Some of these items were proper, fully-fledged torture devices. She screwed up her eyes and clamped her legs instinctively, praying she had not let herself in for anything too physically gruelling.

  Paul stopped in front of a horrifying-looking bed of nails.

  “What do you deserve, Suka?”

  She squeaked, trembling, wanting at once to hide in his arms, and run away. Which was the best option?

  He took pity, patting her shoulder.

  “I’m not a true sadist,” he told her, and she let the balloon of air that had been constricting her chest out again. “I don’t like hurting people who aren’t enjoying it. But this is my quandary, Suka. I want to punish you. But I don’t want you to enjoy every moment. I want to test you, stretch you, take you to a limit. What’s your limit?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Suka, her voice uneven. “Never been there.”

  “We’ll find it,” promised Paul. “And it will be painful. Don’t think it won’t. You need to feel it. But when you’re sure you can’t take any more, you must tell me. Say the word ‘surrender’ and I’ll stop. And you can go back to the ship, alone.”

  Suka pouted. He was still talking about making her return.

  “What if I never surrender?”

  Paul sighed pleasurably. “If you never surrender…I’ll have to rethink, won’t I? I have my limits too. I couldn’t damage you, couldn’t draw blood. I wonder whose boundary will be reached first?”

  Suka felt there was nothing in the whole wide universe she wanted to find out more.

  Chapter Four

  “Strip,” said Commander Paul suddenly, and Suka froze for a moment, gathering her wits and her nerve, before leaning down to remove her left boot. She was going to view this as a test. A test of obedience, a test of endurance, a test of courage. And if she passed it, she told herself her prize would be Commander Paul as her master, in her personal life as well as the professional sphere.

  Standing barefoot on the cold smooth floor, she finished the job of lowering and removing her trousers until only her top half was clothed. She wondered, with a hot flash
of embarrassment, if Paul could see the dried crust of his own semen clinging to her inner thighs, but she banished the thought by lifting her crew jersey over her head, pulling stray blonde curls from the severe plait.

  Now naked, Suka could not help hugging herself under her ribcage, shivering in the frigid air. Luckily, the wall lights seemed also to generate heat. A bearable temperature would take a little while to establish itself, but it was on the way.

  For now, though, Suka’s nipples stood out like hard pink pearls, painfully tight and still slightly raw from Paul’s earlier treatment. She was not sure what to do with her eyes—if she looked at him, was that too bold? But she didn’t want him to think she was scared of him, even though she was, a little. She settled for tilting her head down and regarding him from beneath lowered lashes. He seemed to approve, feet planted wide, arms folded across his chest, letting his eyes travel from her toes to the crown of her tousled head.

  “What shall we do with Suka?” he asked the shadowed walls, looking around him. “What does she deserve?”

  He found a large storage chest and opened it up, exclaiming delightedly at its contents. Suka watched him retrieve a glossy black thing and hold it up.

  “She needs to be dressed and prepared for punishment,” said Paul. “Lift your arms.”

  Suka obediently raised her arms above her head and allowed him to wrap the item around her middle torso. It was a cupless corset-type affair, strictly boned, cinching in her waist and supporting her breasts, which stood pertly above the shiny fabric. Paul drew the back-lacing as tight as he could without making her squeal, restricting her so she had to breathe with care. He put his hands on her hips and traced their outline, apparently pleased with the way the garment made her bottom swell underneath its rigid busk.

  “You should wear one of these all the time,” he said conversationally. “It would keep you in check, I think. Now, next…”

  He returned to the chest, and this time he bore a wide collar of a dark, leather-like material, which he buckled around her neck, forcing Suka to keep her chin up. The final item made Paul laugh as he rummaged in the box of tormenting treasure.