Chief Sec HFSS Orion

This is an informal report of the Chief Security Officer of the Heavy Freighter StarShip Orion's very eventful planet leave at Dexter-Barlow Eleven and McBrewski's Pleasure Palace. The Chief Sec soon discovers that things are not what they seem.

As with many of my Sci-Fi writings, this is more of a Sci-Fi story with heavy sexual overtones than it is a sexual story with Sci-Fi overtones. In other words, I wrote it for Geeks and Nerds with twisted minds like my own. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

WARNING! This full warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story.

All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2022 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Being Chief of Security for a Heavy Freighter StarShip like the Orion is actually a rather cushy job. Becoming Chief Sec is a bitch. It took many years walking the corridors of starships as a United Space Command StarShip Police officer, and way too many years breaking up fights in spaceport bars all over the galaxy. But those years are behind me now. Now I am the one who leans against the wall and nods to one of my subordinate officers or points to them and then to the troublemaker. I very seldom have to actually get into the messy parts of the job.

That doesn't mean that I don't make myself seen and available. When crew members are on planet, I am on planet. A heavy freighter never lands anywhere. Instead cargo is ferried up or down while we are in wide orbit. Same way with the crew. Those who have planet leave are shuttled down to the planet surface. For recreational shore leave, I maintain a one to seven ratio. For every seven crewmen in a shuttle, there is one security officer. That sounds like we have a huge security force on board the Orion, but most of my officers are dual-stationed. They have other duties while we are in flight, but become full security officers when it is time for planet leave.

Officer Shelly O'Donald is one of my best. She is a star navigator when we are between systems. But right now she is wearing the full uniform of an authorized StarShip Police Officer. The crew call her "The Lizard" behind her back because she isn't fully human. She looks like a standard Earther woman unless you have seen her naked. The skin on her abdomen and back has a slight pattern to it that, if she gets overheated or sexually aroused, looks exactly like the scales of a Horton lizard. I've seen her both. And I've seen some naked Horton lizards with which to compare her. Except for the face and feet, Horton's look amazingly human-like. And, to put it delicately, our equipment is mutually compatible.

Shelly refuses to say whether her grandmother or grandfather was a Horton, but she has inherited their strength... and sexual stamina. She only stands about a meter and a half tall, but I've seen her cold cock a three-meter tall drunken Franpian giant with just one punch. I've also shared her bed on more than one occasion. I would never do that with a true Earther crewwoman, since I would technically be their superior officer. But there is no way that anyone can ever say that I coerced Shelly into anything. Hell, cargo sergeant Timothy Carne slipped her some Bukarian mindbend once and she still didn't want anything to do with him. In fact, when she realized what he had done, she pinned him to a wall and wouldn't release him until I arrived.

At first he wasn't going to tell me how he managed to smuggle a level AA banned substance past the security scanners. Then I told him if he didn't tell me, I would give him back to Shelly. I got a commendation for discovering a flaw in our security system. This flaw would only apply to Heavy Freighter Starships, but it was still important. In space, weight doesn't mean much, but volume is important. So bulky, extremely heavy stuff like metal ores are run through a spacial compressor. I have no idea how they work, but they compress the space between the atoms or electrons or whatever and reduce the physical size of a container of ore down to about one-hundredth of what it originally was. Then that super heavy hunk of metal is put on a long rail accelerator and fired out into space where we catch it at the top of its arc. Usually they are taken to orbiting spacecraft manufacturing facilities, but sometimes they are sent down to a planet. Then the comp slugs are fired down into a decaying orbit where they are guided into a specific crash down area by remote drones. Some of the material burns off and they make one hell of a bang when they hit, but the cost of obtaining very critical metals is greatly reduced. Just run the molten blob through a decompressor and you have instant high-grade metal ore.

What Sergeant Carne had done was to conceal his contraband in the middle of an ore container before it was compressed. The metal around it became so dense that the scanners couldn't detect anything. On board, he decompressed that one container, removed his contraband, and recompressed it. He could have spent a life time at hard labor for what he pulled, but he and I... and Officer Shelly... came up with an alternative punishment. He was effectively put on parole with Shelly as his parole officer. My orders to him were simple, "If you screw up, you're all hers." He has been playing it pretty much straight and narrow ever since. He even tips me off if something is going past what I will allow down in the crew decks.

I run a tight ship by running a loose ship. It took years working under various Chief Secs to understand that was the best way to keep control on something like a heavy freighter with almost a thousand beings in the crew. I let the men... or women... or whatever... get away with a little... like bringing some authentic Amboria Ale aboard. But that gives them something to lose if they go over the line. A casual comment from me like, "Do you really want me to do a full sweep of the crew bunk areas?" and suddenly the gold pieces that went missing from a shipment are miraculously found under a pallet.

We were on planet leave at Dexter-Barlow Eleven on our way back to home planet for retrofit and crew rotation. DB 11 is a large planetoid that was discovered only a few years back. It has no natural value other than the fact that it is near the main transit lanes for ships such as the Orion coming back from far galaxy voyages and it has everything spacers on planet leave would want. That makes it the obvious place for a final planet leave before the last leg of the journey to the home world.

That final planet leave is a necessary, but always very dangerous, time because the crew has been in space for a long time and are looking to blow off some steam before returning to home and family. The full security force was on duty. About 80% of us were planet side to keep order among the one-third of the crew that was allowed planet leave at any one time. I was at McBrewski's Pleasure Palace with about half of the crew that was on-planet. McBrewski's was exactly what its name implied. If it was pleasure, it could be bought there. I was leaning up against the wall of the main hall where I could see the whole room. It had what was supposed to be an old earther wild west motif. I don't think they had that much stainless steel and transparent aluminum back in the Old West on Earth, but very few of these men, women, and other beings, have ever been on Old Earth. Besides, everyone was watching the floorshow, not the wall coverings and furniture.

When I first arrived there were some holographic girls dressed in old earther cowboy hats and chaps-- and nothing else-- standing in the middle of the stage singing what was supposed to be old earther west songs. They looked very realistic, and their bodies were fantastic, but their singing was off in some way. It surprised me that the technology capable of projecting such a life-like solid looking image couldn't also provide an equally realistic sound track.

Before I could make up my mind as to what was wrong with the singing, the holograms faded away and the live show began. There was a lot more to watch in the live show. The show was two Alurian females having a fucking contest. They were lying on their backs... or fronts... or on hands and knees or whatever as they took on one volunteer after another. The line for each of them stretched off the stage and down the side steps where the staff were taking bets.

A big man dressed in a sparkling black outfit with the McBrewski's emblem on the back of it explained that you had to place a bet to get in line, and the minimum bet was fifteen credits. That's not an insignificant amount, but how many men can brag that they fucked an Alurian.

For 100 credits, you could place a group bet with three other men. That allowed for a full five-some with one man getting her cunt, one her ass, one her mouth, and one her pouch. The pouch wasn't exactly a cunt, but it felt like one-- and then some. It was located on her back just below the shoulder blades. It has nothing to do with reproduction. It's there just to pleasure a male.

I've seen the old-fashioned king's crown with an earther woman taking a man in her cunt and ass and mouth all at the same time. But very few people have seen an Alurian horse, which is what they call it when four males take an Alurian female all at the same time.

Both females on stage were now getting ready to do the horse. One of McBrewski's staff people was standing in the middle of the stage saying, "Wait. Start on my command."

He held one hand up in the air as the four men got into position with each female. Then he loudly shouted, "Go!" and all four men started thrusting. The man on the back of each Alurian quickly started crying out and their eyes got very big. It was obvious they were totally unprepared for the milking action of the pouch. I've never tried it myself, but I've been told it is like having everything in your balls sucked out.

Soon the other men were moaning and grunting. I don't know if it was faked or real, but the female on the left suddenly began keening louder and louder and more and more shrill. Suddenly she thrashed violently and all four men yelled in pain. Alurian females have very strong muscles in their openings and if you are fortunate-- or unfortunate-- enough to be inside her when she orgasms, it is as if your prick were caught in a matter compressor.

"Angelina is our winner," the big man in the center of the stage called out, pointing to the female on the right. "And that means," he said pointing to the female still thrashing in orgasm, "that Wulvia is our loser."

He sort of laughed and then said, "For those of you who didn't read your betting slips, that means that Angelina gets one fourth of the betting pool; the house gets one fourth; and the remaining half is divided among the winning bettors." I also laughed because I quickly did the math on that in my head. It means that the winners basically get their money back, that isn't much of a win. But on the other hand, they got to fuck an Alurian for free.

"Our loser, Wulvia," the big man continued, "will pay the price for losing."

Several men dressed in black pants and black McBrewski's t-shirts ran out onto the stage dragging a large, square metal frame. Wulvia stood up and let them lead her over into the center of the frame. She put her arms into the air and let them tie her to the upper corners of the frame. Then she spread her feet as they started to tie her ankles to the lower corners. Evidently she didn't spread her legs far enough because two of the men pulled hard on the rope holding her left leg and moved it over so that it was almost touching the frame. When two other men did the same with the right leg, her body dropped slightly and she was suddenly tied in a very tight, naked X in the center of the frame.

The big MC looked out at the audience and said loudly, "For those of you who paid the extra credits to be part of the punishment drawing, check your ticket stubs because we are going to draw the lucky five right now."

A petite, naked earther girl ran out onto the stage carrying a clear spacer helmet filled with torn pieces of thin, purple cardboard. I noticed that several of the men in a nearby table were holding similar pieces. These were evidently their ticket stubs.

The MC pulled a ticket out of the helmet and read off the number. A yelp from a distant table indicated the winning stub. He did that three more times and then there was a drum roll through the speakers of the sound system.

"And our grand prize winner in the punishment drawing," the MC intoned, "the one who gets to do the final strikes, is.... 117283."

A man at the table directly in front of me jumped to his feet yelling, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

All five men were now up on stage with the MC. The petite little earther woman ran out and retrieved the helmet. Then one of the men with the black t-shirts walked onto the stage with a large, black bullwhip. The MC took the whip from the man and lashed the whip out over the crowd several times, causing it to snap loudly each time.

"This looks like a bullwhip from the old earther west," he said with a sneering smile, "but it is actually an Alurian pain whip. It releases a charge of energy whenever it strikes the skin. An Alurian female craves this energy after she has orgasmed. That's why they normally don't let themselves go. But the price of the energy is the pain.... And tonight you will see why Wulvia willingly got into the punishment frame."

He handed the whip to the man whose ticket was drawn first. "You have five strikes across the back and ass," the MC said as he stepped out of the way.

The man looked unsure of how to use the whip, but drew back and lashed it out at the tautly-stretched Wulvia. The strike was rather soft, but as the whip wrapped around Wulvia's back and onto her breasts, it suddenly glowed blue-white and cracked with a loud "Snap!"

After her screams died down, the MC said sarcastically, "I thought someone from the Orion could do better than that."

In response, the crewman pulled back the whip and again lashed it at Wulvia. This time he moved his arm and wrist properly and the whip curled, then straightened out and landed across her ass with a loud "Thwack!' followed by the "Snap!" and then her screams. He rapidly lashed out three more times.

The next man knew how to use the whip. His lashings curled to gain speed and then uncurled to land with the tip exactly on the center of Wulvia's left or right asscheek. When the whip glowed this time the sound was more of a sizzle than a crack and she continued to writhe and scream between the five strokes.

"Back or front, your choice," the MC said as he handed the whip to the third man. He chose front and lashed out at Wulvia's tits. He was totally inept with the whip, however, and three of his five lashes curled around her abdomen. None of them hit with any force. Even the crack of the energy transfer seemed less intense.

The fourth man also chose to lash out at her tits. He was a little better with the whip itself and was at least able to land each stroke across her breasts. There wasn't much force to the blows, however, and the "Snap!" of the energy transfer was louder than the sound of the whip actually striking her skin.

Then it was time for the fifth man. He was smiling broadly as the MC handed him the whip. He turned and lashed it out over the crowd like the MC had done. The crack of the whip as he snapped it in the air was, if anything, louder than when the MC had done it.

"Anywhere on the body," the MC said, almost laughing, "and from any angle."

The man stood behind Wulvia and with his hand held low began moving the whip so that it almost looked like a serpent moving through the air. Then after the crowd became almost silent, he suddenly flipped his wrist so the whip swung forward and up between Wulvia's legs. The tip of the whip slammed against her skin directly between her breasts while the rest of the top half of the whip lodged tightly against the skin of her abdomen as well as forcing itself into the opening of her cunt.

Her screams were shrill and frantic as the energy transferred to her skin.

He again made the whip move like a serpent and again swung it up through her tightly-stretched legs.

Her screams were even more shrill and more frantic both from the strike of the whip and the discharge of the energy.

Twice more he did that, then he stood for a long time snaking the whip in the air. Finally he pulled his arm back well behind himself and flipped the whip forward. This time it stayed well behind the Alurian woman. Only the very tip of the whip went between her legs and that tip curled upward and struck her right at the top of her cunt, directly on her clit.

This time she didn't scream. Instead, she groaned deeply as her entire body suddenly glowed with the energy that had been imparted by the whip. She thrashed in her bonds for several seconds and then hung unconscious in the frame.

"That is a true Alurian orgasm," the MC said smiling. "Had she been fucked by a male Alurian, she would be pregnant right now." He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Who knows? Maybe she is anyway."

He looked around and said, "Our live shows will return in just a little while. In the meantime our Cowgirl Chorus will entertain you with a little old earth western music. And your shipmates up on the Orion and the Mict Dao will also be getting the same projected concert." He laughed and said, "But of course, they will have to wait until they come down to McBrewski's to see any of the live show." He paused and said in a very even voice just before the spotlight went out, "Time to refill your drinks and order food. We will be back with the next show in a little while."

As the waitresses scurried among the tables I took a moment to evaluate the situation. Maybe it was because the floor show was so captivating, but things were going pretty well. There had been a couple of loud arguments which quickly settled down when one of my officers asked, "Is there a problem here?" Security officers from our small contingent of non-earther crew would ask a similar question in languages I have no way of understanding, but the transcorder built into my artificial ears gave me the general gist of what they said.

My implanted artificial ears were the result of a design flaw in an older version of the USC Sec Suit combined with my own stupidity early in my career. When patrolling known dangerous areas, security teams wear security suits which offer protection against most known weapons and provide an appropriate internal atmosphere if you have to go into environments not designed for an earther... or whatever species the suit was adjusted to. The design error was a flexible membrane over the ear area which was supposed to allow the sec officer to hear some of the "natural sounds" in addition to what the sound system provided. My mistake was trying to physically detain a drunk Iomonian.