Seeing Stars

  “Good old-fashioned high heels,” he said, drawing out a pair of dangerous-looking pumps. “You know, all sorts of women used to wear these all the time, even on Earth.”

  “I know,” said Suka, having to exercise her chin muscles to get the words out over the top of the collar.

  “What did you just say?”

  Suka stiffened. Something had displeased him, but she wasn’t sure what. She gambled.

  “I said, I know, Sir.”

  “You didn’t,” said Paul sternly. “But you should have. Okay. I’ll overlook it. What size are you? I think these should fit.”

  He pushed Suka’s bare feet into the stilettos, giving her a few moments to stagger around in an attempt to accustom herself to her sudden height.

  “This is a punishment in itself,” she muttered to herself. The shoes were wildly uncomfortable, cramping her toes together at the pointed end. Had ordinary women really worn these? Wouldn’t their feet have evolved accordingly, so as to make them easier to walk in?

  “Prolonged wear damaged the foot,” noted Paul. “So they died out eventually. However, it has to be said, I can see why they were popular. They make your legs look sensational, and as for your arse…”

  He slapped her outthrust cheeks with relish.

  “Let’s see you parade your new look,” grinned Paul, almost openly salivating. “Up to that whipping bench and back.”

  Suka tottered along, her spine poker-straight and her head held high, conscious of how the shoes made her bottom wiggle with every step. She imagined Paul’s eyes on her hot-pink rear and tried to inject that extra bit of sass to her step. You will want me. You will not be able to resist me.

  By the time she turned to face him again, he had one hand discreetly hanging over his crotch, the other clamped to his upper arm, pretending a casual, natural posture. But Suka knew different, and the power this gave her probably did little for her efforts to appear meek and submissive.

  Confident on the heels now, she strode up to him, hands on swinging hips, lips pouting outward.

  “All right, the catwalk show’s over,” said Paul gruffly. “Take your disobedient backside over to those suspended cuffs. It’s time for your lesson.”

  Hanging low to the side of the room were some leather-lined metal wrist cuffs, attached to a chain. The thick metal rope disappeared upwards until it met a hook in the ceiling, then it travelled back down again, ending in a pulley a few feet away from the cuffs. Suka could see straightaway how this would work. Paul would literally be able to keep her on her toes.

  She held her wrists out for him, making no comment as he snapped the cuffs shut then stepped back to put the pulley into motion. Her arms swung upwards, slowly enough to make it seem like a ceremony of sorts. She felt the pull of tension against her corseted ribs, then her arms were vertical, reaching for the sky, up again, fractions of inches, so very slowly, until she was on tiptoe, struggling to keep upright. Now she knew that this was going to be a real test. Every nerve, every sense, was on alert. The tension of her body spread, inside and out, until she was one tightly-wound string, waiting to be plucked. The high collar prevented her from turning her head to try and locate Paul. All she could do was look ahead, at her own shadow, gigantically tethered and teetering, on the opposite wall.

  “Now then,” said Paul, fixing the pulley in position and sauntering over to Suka’s helpless form. “Let’s start with an inspection.”

  He ran a finger down her cheek, feather-light and caressing, making her want to sigh and lean into it. But he held the flushing cheek in his palm, using his thumb to part her lips and push inside her mouth. “Mmm, someone’s hungry?” he said as she tried to suck the thumb inside. “Dinner may be a while yet.”

  He laughed quietly and pressed down on her tongue while his free hand made a thorough inspection of Suka’s prominent breasts.

  “Nipples fully engorged,” he noted as if ticking off a checklist. “Those little clamps earlier made them sore, didn’t they? Ooh, ouch. Does that hurt?” His pinch was gentle, but it was still enough to make Suka flinch.

  “They’re sensitive, Sir,” she squeaked.

  “Good,” he said, leaning down and breathing warm vapour over them so they throbbed ticklishly. “So they should be.” The tip of his tongue danced a light circle around each in turn. Suka writhed in her bonds again, but this time her actions were motivated by pleasurable frustration. She was dampening below again, despite the recent and serious seeing-to Paul had given her in the temple. It occurred to her that the Commander could torment her in all kinds of ways while she was trussed up like this. A whipping would be the very least of it.

  He moved his hands to her shoulders, holding her still so she wasn’t tempted to waver and wheel about on her toes, and began to attend to her breasts in earnest, bathing them with his tongue and sucking at them for all he was worth. Deep sounds of throaty relish made Suka want to push them further into his mouth, prolonging the feast, while she tried as hard as she could to urge her pelvis forward into contact with his. He had her fixed in position, though, and her poor needy pussy had to wait.

  “I think they’ll do,” he said finally, releasing the oversensitised nubs to the now-warm air. His hands followed the artificially-enhanced curves of her waist and hips, dropping below the corset to land on her bottom.

  “The whip marks are fading,” he said, using his hands to make this observation. “Your skin is almost smooth again, and cooler than it was in the temple.”

  “It still feels a little sore, Sir,” Suka told him.

  “That won’t make any difference to the severity of your punishment,” Paul said, and she bit her lip. “Well, you should have thought of that before you went running off, shouldn’t you? Ensigns with sore bottoms should know to behave themselves. By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll know the meaning of the word sore.” He pushed a finger between the cheeks, which Suka tensed shut immediately. “Don’t you resist me, Ensign,” he scolded. The finger pad seated itself firmly at the hidden twist of her arsehole. “There are all sorts of ways to discipline a rebel. As you will see.”

  Suka tried to squirm away from him, but he had her too highly-strung. Any attempt to elude him could only end with her spinning and lurching out of control. He took pity—for the moment—and concentrated on her front prospect, lightly slapping the insides of her thighs to make her stand with her feet wider apart. This was a struggle, bringing her almost off the floor, but she persevered and managed to hold her stance somehow. All those years of military-type parades at the Academy had paid off at last.

  “And down here…” murmured Paul, spreading her cunt lips and crouching to peer into the dark valley. “Aha. Haven’t you been fucked enough for one day?” He grinned up at her, all white teeth and blazing blue eyes. She rolled her hips, desperate for his firm touch to move in and find her clit, or poke a finger or three up inside. He had used her there, but she was far from used up.

  He dipped his fingers in her juices, mixing and swirling, coating them luxuriantly before the cruel withdrawal. Standing straight, he offered his sex-scented digits to her mouth. She lapped at them greedily, sighing, wanting them back down there.

  “Taste yourself,” he whispered. “You love it, don’t you? You love to be tied up and used.”

  “Mmm,” she confirmed, mouth filled with his strong, large fingers.

  “Let’s see if you’ll still love it when I’m done.”

  He moved swiftly out of her line of sight and she watched his shadow recede, back to the treasure chest.

  What next? Her throat tightened and her stomach lurched as the reality of the situation sunk in. She could only get out of this by surrendering. And if she surrendered that would be her chance to live this life with this man scuppered. Whatever he was going to do to her, she was going to take as much of it as she could. She was going to win this.

  She felt his body behind her again, then she gasped as a hand reached rudely between her legs and appeared to sn
atch at her pussy. It took a few seconds for Suka to realise he was attaching something—two somethings—on the inner wall of her labia, just where they made contact with her puffy, swollen clitoris.

  “What’s…that, Sir?” she panted. A mild buzzing sensation began to fill that wet, slick channel, and there was a constant pressure on her clit from both sides.

  “Stimulant patches,” said Paul. “They’ll keep you coming. And coming. Until you can come no more.”

  “Oh God.” Suka could already feel the first tremor building. Punishing me with pleasure. You’re even smarter than I thought.

  “They’re not the strongest,” he said with satisfaction. “I could attach the real super-strength version if you’d prefer.”

  “I think…these are strong enough.” She wanted to rotate her hips violently, to reach down and rub, and fill her cunt with something long and thick and hold it there. It would take less than a minute for her to start climaxing, she thought. Then her thoughts were stopped in their tracks by a sharp smack to her bum.

  She swung forward in her bonds, surprised, but Paul’s hand kept falling, heavy and hard, over and over, while the furious whirligig of sensation continued to fill her pussy. The swats seemed to intensify the action of the stimulants and Paul had barely delivered a dozen before the first orgasm spent her spinning on her wire, round and round. Paul spanked her all the way through it, showing no quarter, just laying handprint after handprint on her burning arse.

  “That’s one,” he said. “Now let’s add a little something.”

  Seconds later, Suka moaned as a long, thick object with a rounded head nudged at the entrance to her still-spasming vagina. The clit buzzers hummed away, accompanying the slow progress of the dildo—for presumably that was what it was—inside Suka’s wet, tight channel. It was quite wide, and she had to stretch to accommodate its girth. She thought it was about the same size as Paul’s cock, from the way it made her work to accept it. She puffed and gasped at each extra inch of incursion, wanting to bend over to make it easier but not having that option.

  “How does that feel?” asked Paul, one hand holding her still on her hip while he continued to feed the dildo to her hungry pussy.

  “Oh…I’m full…really full…and I’m going to come again in a minute…those darn buzzy things…oh, oh, oh.” The fat fake cock made its way to the end, and she came again, so quickly it took her by surprise, a warm wave of pleasure rippling outwards while her muscles clenched around the invasive presence.

  Paul smacked her bottom again before retreating to the chest and returning with something he laid against her tingling cheeks, something flat and rectangular and made of a cold, smooth material, maybe wood.

  “Now for that paddling you’ve earned,” he promised.

  Suka wished she had a gag. She knew she was going to howl, all dignity long gone. Just the memory of the whip was enough to make her wince.

  The paddle met her flesh with a substantial whap, and at the same time as her yell of pain filled the room, the dildo inside her began to thrum, joining in with its clitoral equivalents.

  The pain and the pleasure were so close, yet so different, and yet one seemed to set off the other. Suka’s mind began to disintegrate, it was all too confusing. Which was pain? Which was pleasure? What was making her say ‘ouch’ and what was making her say ‘ooh’? It all seemed the same, one giant sensation made up of these conflicting parts—the deep, shocking jolt of the paddle, the insistent vibrations around and inside her pussy, the straining of her muscles, the clenching of her jaw.

  She came again after twenty hard strokes of the paddle, knowing her bottom must be deep, deep red and would likely be bruised for a while. Paul certainly didn’t hold back, but somehow this was good, this was right. If he’d gone easy on her, she would have been disappointed. This might be their last chance to do this—if so, she wanted her marks of memento.

  Paul wielded the paddle through her climax, concentrating on the overhang of her buttocks and the tops of her thighs. “I want you to feel this when you sit,” he told her. “I want you to remember this and learn from it.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed to say between smacks. Not much chance of ever forgetting this. And I’ve learned from it all right. I’ve learned that this is what I want. This is how I want to live.

  It wasn’t until he put the paddle down that she realised her whole body was trembling and her chest heaving fit to burst. The storm between her legs and on her behind had completely focused her, to the exclusion of lesser events, like the increasing soreness of her wrists and the discomfort of her feet in the high heels.

  “Don’t want to numb these cheeks,” said Paul, stroking her raging rear. “I’m a long way from finished yet.”

  Suka made an inarticulate sound that she didn’t even understand herself. Her own feelings were slipping away from her, becoming cloudy and unidentifiable. She did not know anything except that she wanted this to go on and on, even though her pussy was starting to feel wrung out and her whole body ached. She was falling through a wide dark sky of inner bliss. A word from her Academy project flew through her mind. Subspace. Was this it?

  “Are you feeling this, Suka?” asked Paul gently, behind her shoulder, massaging it. “Are you feeling punished yet?”

  “Mmm,” was all she could say, pushing back into him, inviting him. Her bottom pressed into his rock hard thighs, and the vibrating dildo met the resistance of his firm flesh, increasing its potency. Rocking back against him, Suka came again, and he bent his lips to her neck and sucked through the orgasm.

  “That’s four, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Though I think you’re a bit beyond keeping count. I’m working you hard. And it isn’t over. Not by a long way.”

  He stepped away and she fell back, as far as her tight leash would allow, soon righting her posture, keeping her legs apart, rolling her hips in time with the vibrators, trying to keep another orgasm away.

  Then his hands were on her again, parting her red hot butt cheeks, stroking their tender insides before placing a lubricated fingertip against that tight pucker.

  “Ah!” she exclaimed, tensing her sphincter.

  “No,” he admonished, wiggling the finger, making her feel the pressure. “This is all part of your punishment. You don’t get to pick and choose. Don’t forget, let me know when you reach your limit. You can still speak, can’t you?”

  “Just…about…” she gasped, shimmying violently as his fingertip made it through the tiny ring, opening up her most private space to his intrusions.

  “Are we at your limit, Suka? Do you want to stop now?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, relaxing into the odd sensation, revelling in how utterly owned and surrendered it made her feel. This was another dream realised, never mind the discomfort his prodding and poking around in her bum was causing her. He had that right. He held all rights over her. She belonged to him, in every respect now.

  Another finger spread her wider. She struggled to retain a semblance of composure, but the buzzers defeated her and she wailed aloud, sure that another unwanted climax couldn’t be far off. This felt so uniquely sinful, so decadent.

  “You can take this, Suka,” he said, softly, keeping her calm, tamping down her rising panic. His fingers scissored inside her, then they met the solid resistance of the dildo, just a thin stretch of flesh separating them. He pulled out and Suka released a long exhalation, only to yelp anew as a larger, wider, colder substitute took the place of Paul’s fingers.

  “You know about butt plugs, don’t you, Suka?” he asked, easing it carefully between her cheeks and into the circular aperture. “They are especially necessary for bad little ensigns like you. They keep them in their place. You won’t be able to forget you are wearing one of these. I’d like to take one of these back to the ship. It would be nice to know you were squirming in your seat on the bridge with one of these stuffed inside your tight pants every time you broke a rule. Beats loss of Association Time privileges. Bending you over an
d spanking your arse, then filling it up with one of these would work wonders on you, I think. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she moaned, twisting her hips as the widest part of the plug tested her endurance.

  “I think we’d soon have one very obedient, very well-behaved little ensign, wouldn’t we?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The plug seated itself fully and then, to Suka’s mingled ecstasy and despair, it began to buzz in unison with its pussy-bound counterparts.

  “Ohh.” Suka’s moans were low and throaty. The vibrator in her arse added a mind-blowing power to the fifth orgasm and she crumpled in the bonds, a boneless doll, taken over the edge of heavenly darkness.

  “Stand straight,” commanded Paul.

  Somehow, she obeyed. Somehow, though her knees no longer existed and she was no more than a sticky mess of lust and exhaustion and submission.

  “I’m going to give you six. Count them.”

  “Can’t…”

  “This is your limit?”

  He put aside whatever he was holding and made to release her wrists.

  “Yes, I can!” she cried, delirious with the power her submission had given her. No amount of drilling on the Academy quadrangle had ever tested her tolerance levels like this, but, in the very kernel of her being, Suka knew she could take more. She could take as much as he could give. “Give it to me! Give me what I need!”

  “Since you put it that way…”

  She heard a low swish through the air behind her. It must be a cane.

  Fear and exhilaration coursed through her. This, she knew from her studies, was the most severe of implements. If Paul gave her this, he must think she could handle it. She had won! She had won his hand, the hand that would hold her in check.

  You have to take the caning first, Suka, she cautioned herself, realising a victory celebration might be pre-emptive. Marshal your strength. Ignore the vibrations. Breathe through it. Take it. It’s only six strokes.

  The slender rod tapped against the apple of her backside. She had had time to recover from the paddling and her bottom was no longer anywhere near numb, though the heat and sting were still very much in evidence. Her thighs were soaked with her own chilling juices, her clit fat and overworked, her cunt and arse straining to keep up with the relentless stimulation.