Naked Planet Ch. 01

He grabbed her by the root of the ponytail. She yelped as she pried unsuccessfully at his grasp with both hands, finding herself pulled in the direction of the commander's bunk. He was taking her to bed. She had already known it was happening, but the prospect of getting skewered by his huge cock scared her more than she first thought it would. Alarmed, she pressed her knees into the deck, planting herself with all the strength her thighs could muster, but it was not enough.

"No, wait!" she pleaded. "I'm not ready!"

Ellison simply chuckled before shoving her forward onto her hands. On all fours now, Gwen found herself presenting her rear rather indecently. He clicked his tongue appreciatively as he checked out her fine posterior. He ran his hand over her firm buttocks, giving one an affectionate squeeze before suddenly slapping it. She yelped. Her memory flashed back to the smack of Misha's hand on that same cheek. The report of the spank was sharp and thick, and it served as a stern command for her to get moving. She obeyed.

As Gwen crawled her way to the bunk, spit still hanging from her face and the commander holding her hair like a leash, she wondered just how she could have let this happen. She was a science officer! A sexy one, yes, but a qualified, trained expert! And here she was, essentially acting out a male wet dream; moreover, she was getting wet doing it. She had promised herself that her worth to the ship and the mission would be her brains, not her beauty, and certainly not her body. Now, as she was hauled onto Ellison's bunk, moments away from becoming his latest conquest, she doubted what she was doing.

"Please," she begged as her sleek shoulder blades sank into the silky sheets. "I'm not..."

Ready? Willing? Wet? The sentence just trailed off. She pushed against his chest with her hands as he eagerly positioned himself over her, forcing her knees apart as he prepared to penetrate her. He leered at her crotch; she looked away, reddening with embarrassment. A few glistening strands of female excitement webbed the space between her inner thighs. She arched up slightly, her big, round breasts jutting out alluringly from her hourglass frame, firm nipples confirming her arousal. She bit her lower lip as she braced for the inevitable.

Gwen felt his broad glans part the lips of her sex. Her breaths turned rapid and shallow as she steadied herself. Any trouble she had servicing the huge thing with her mouth seemed trivial compared to the task of taking it in her tight pussy, but her impatient body was already primed for action. Ellison grinned as his thick manhood pushed slowly but easily inside her. Gwen's breathing quickened almost to the point of hyperventilation as he filled her to the hilt. He gave a low chuckle, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on her.

"That's it, you nasty bitch... take it all!"

Bitch. Slut. Whore. She hated the names he leveled at her; they made her feel dirty and cheap. And yet it thrilled some small, secret part of her to be an object of pure male lust, that she inspired Ellison and the rest of the crew to pursue her with such animalistic desire. She clutched the bedsheets as he began to thrust in and out of her. She angled her hips to allow him better access, biting her lip to contain a cry of pleasure. He steadily increased his speed, aided by the slick walls of her pussy.

She whimpered helplessly, mouth clamped shut, as he fucked her at an energetic pace. He was so thick; she had never been stretched so fully by a man. She wanted so desperately to cry out, but she was ashamed to admit how much she was enjoying herself, and the bulkheads on the ship were so thin. She knew the men would hear. The commander smiled, seemingly having read her mind.

"Go ahead, Miss Fairfax," he taunted. "No point in holding back now. Moan. The whole ship knows you're in here anyway, getting turned out!"

He slowed down a moment. He leaned toward her, to deliver a kiss she thought; but instead slowly licked the side of her face, as if to mark his territory. She shuddered as his warm tongue ran up her cheek. He moved downward, using his lips to caress first her neck, then her collarbone. Squeezing her breast again, he latched his mouth to her nipple; he circled the nub with his tongue and lightly bit it, making her flinch. A moment later she was back to getting fucked, full bore.

Gwen could restrain herself no longer. Giving in, she released a moan that was sharp and high-pitched, at once sweet and desperate. That first cry was followed in quick succession by others, rhythmically matched with the movements of the man occupying her pussy. She felt his manhood rubbing ever more insistently against a spot near the base of her clit. She clasped her hands against his sweaty chest as she began emitting loud, vocal proof that she was near climax.

"That's it," he growled, "let everybody know how much you like getting screwed!"

For reasons incomprehensible, that demeaning taunt sent Gwen over the edge. She tapped frantically on his shoulder as she came, her open jaw twitching silently before issuing a squeal of mindless delight a second later. She arched up, quaking as the orgasm sent powerful waves of pleasure through her body, before collapsing back on the bed, still impaled on Ellison's hard shaft. She panted with exhaustion, waves of euphoria washing over her as she lay on the clammy sheets. After a while, he finally pulled out. But he was not done with her.

"Turn around," he ordered, patting her on the hip. "Face the bulkhead."

She inhaled deeply, but she complied. Protests and pleas would get her nowhere, she knew. Miss December was visible on the bulkhead just out the corner of her eye, and the busty pinup seemed to leer judgmentally at Gwen as she got on her hands and knees, fingers slipping underneath a pillow near the head of the bunk. This was not her favorite position; it lacked the intimacy of the face-to-face poses she normally preferred, but what could she do? Ellison inched up behind her, stroking his still-hard cock.

She fidgeted at his touch: one hand on the small of her back, another spreading her cheek to expose a freshly fucked pussy. She softly licked her lips in anticipation. Just then, the intercom chirped, making her jump. The terminal, its light now flashing, was on the nightstand just to her left. She stared at it wordlessly for a few moments.

"Well? Answer it, Miss Fairfax!"

Gwen twisted around to look at him in disbelief, but before she could speak, he penetrated her. She gasped in surprise. His manhood had lost none of its girth or stiffness in the short interlude, and her shapely buttocks flattened against his groin as she received the full length of it. Overwhelmed by the sensation, she buried her face in the pillow. The intercom chirped again. She slapped the button angrily without looking up.

"Ellison here."

"Oh, uh, hey skipper!" came Wade's voice, nasally and full of static, over the intercom. "Just, um, checking if everything's okay. You and Gwen have been in there for a while. I just—"

"We're fine," replied the commander curtly.

There was audible snickering in the background. Gwen shook her head into the pillow. Wade was calling in front of all the guys. She felt almost as embarrassed for him as she did for herself, but she then recalled all the erotic noises she had earlier been making. She was suddenly reminded that the crew had probably heard it all. This could not get any more humiliating, she thought.

"Well, that's, uh, that's great sir, but..." continued Wade undeterred, "I'd really like to hear it from Gwen too, if you don't mind?"

Ellison pulled her up roughly by the ponytail. Putting his other hand on her shoulder, he began to fuck her from behind. Gwen was certain the intercom was picking up the noise of his skin smacking sharply against hers, and she whipped her head back at him to mouth soundlessly, stop! He did not listen, however, and soon she was too overcome by the thrusts of his thick shaft to continue objecting.

"Sure thing, Thompson," he replied, making no attempt to disguise the exertion in his voice. "She's right here. Why don't you tell everyone how you're doing, Miss Fairfax?"

Gwen bared her teeth defiantly. His cock was again rubbing that sensitive spot in her, and it was all she could do to stay quiet. She shook her head rebelliously, but he simply shoved her face closer to the terminal. She took a deep breath, composing herself as best as could be expected of a woman getting pounded doggystyle.

"Um, hey Wade," she spoke into the terminal, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Gwen? Are you all right? You're not—"

"Uh! I'm fine," she said quickly.

"Are you sure? You know, I can come over there if you need—"

"No, don't! I mean..." She could barely think over the massive cock spearing her pussy, the distinct slapping on her butt, and the signs of another imminent orgasm. "I mean, um, don't worry about me. I'll be done soon, okay?"

"Hey, cut it out!" The men on the other end were making falsetto moaning sounds. "Well, okay, I guess. Just call me if—"

Gwen clicked off the intercom, too humiliated to go on. She knew she had utterly failed to hide from anyone what was happening to her. Even Wade was just in denial, too infatuated with his crush to admit that she was obviously getting banged by the boss. Ellison chortled as he continued to plow her forcefully from behind.

"Fuck you," she hissed.

"Well, that is what's happening right now."

He gave her couple firm spanks, first on one cheek, and then the other. He took hold of her hips, the wedding and Academy rings on either hand pressing into her skin, and sped up his thrusts. She resumed her passionate moaning, giving up any remaining pretense of dignity. They both knew what was ahead. Her pleasure had been steadily mounting, and it would soon be time to come a second time. Gwen was not accustomed to multiple orgasms in a single encounter; the thought that her commander would pull it off made her feel even more immodest on top of everything else.

The muscles in her pussy and hindquarters tightened as Ellison rammed one final thrust into her. She arched up sharply as she came, breasts swept forward, crying out even more loudly this time than the first. She quivered as her body was rocked by the new orgasm. It felt like her virginity was being taken a second time, as if the floodgates to some trashy, previously unknown part of her were now broken wide open. Gwen collapsed face-first onto the pillow, wrecked. As Ellison withdrew from her pussy, however, she realized he was still rock-hard. He had not come yet.

"On your knees," he commanded. "No, down there. I'm going to come all over your face!"

She narrowed her eyes but did not argue. She had let him do just about everything else to her. What was one more degrading sex act to cap it off? She obediently assumed a kneeling position on the deck, hands on thighs, back against the side of the bunk. Ellison loomed over her. He hoisted up her braided ponytail one more time, immobilizing her as he furiously beat himself off right in front of her face. The familiar scent of her own pussy wafted in her nose.

He came. Grunting, he jerked a copious amount of semen onto Gwen's face, making her flinch as his seed splattered messily over her nose and eyelid. A second burst, even stronger than the first, looped over her hair and down her cheek. The third splashed over her lips and in her mouth. She had never tasted a man's cum before, and she recoiled at the salty stuff, spitting it out. Held by the hair and unable to turn away, she sighed in disgust as the hot, sticky loads kept flying.

Gwen was an utter mess when it was all done. Her beautiful face was covered in male fluid. Thick ropes of spunk hung off her nose and chin, stretching all the way down to her sternum. It glued one eye shut, and it was congealing in her dark hair and on her full lips. She panted shakily, having never felt so filthy in her life.

"Congratulations, Miss Fairfax," he said finally. "Your assignment request is approved!"

1.4

Gwen leaned back against the tiled wall as a warm spray poured over her body. She breathed a sigh of relief as she slid down, exhausted, onto her bare haunches. The young science officer had emerged from the commander's quarters in desperate need of a shower, smelling strongly of spit, semen, and sex. Her normally well-coiffed hair was soiled with cum and disheveled from all the rough pulling.

She let out a frustrated grunt as she undid her braided ponytail, shaking out the black tresses under the water. She took it as a minor consolation, at least, that the showers were vacant. Given that the Tempest had a single female crewmember, the designers could not justify building a separate bathroom for her, so they simply partitioned a stall from the group shower area to give her a modicum of privacy. Now sequestered in that tiny space, she shut her eyes and groaned.

Had this truly just happened? Had she willingly undressed for Ellison? Performed a blowjob? Crawled to his bunk and done all those... things? She cringed at the thought of how sinfully she had moaned as he pounded her from behind. And that awful intercom call! The whole ship knew about her tryst. She dreaded facing those leering men on Alpha Team, facing Misha and Danny Ransom. Facing Wade.

She was not sure why she felt especially regretful about the young engineer; he was nothing more than an acquaintance, and she owed him nothing when it came to sex, private or otherwise. And yet she imagined the devastated look on his face as he listened to her being taken by the commander, and she flushed with shame. The whole thing seemed like a strange, nightmarish wet dream... She half-consciously parted the lips of her pussy with her index and middle fingers.

At the same time, beyond the pangs of embarrassment, she realized that she was already coming to terms with what had happened. She felt like a different woman now from the one who had gone to visit Ellison less than an hour ago. The new Gwen was all right with a bit of transactional sex, could handle the indulgence of male desire in all its graphic, anatomical detail. Perhaps the men were right. Perhaps she was indeed a slut, a whore... a nasty bitch. She finally noticed that she was rubbing her clit.

She snapped back to reality. "What the fuck," she whispered, hurriedly cleaning herself up.

All of this, Gwen told herself soberly, she had done to guarantee her aspirations as a scientist. Everything she had done was to ensure that she would be on the mission to Inanna, nothing more. A mission, she reminded herself, that she was about to miss out on because she was too busy playing with herself in the shower!

She emerged from the stall in a white towel, hair still wet, and headed to her locker. Her crewmates had charmingly decorated the exterior with crude graffiti of a naked girl, presumably her, engaged in various sex acts with men, little green aliens, and apparently an eggplant. She punched in the four-digit combination and opened it. Inside, sealed in a plastic wrapper, was her olive-drab jumpsuit. Tucked tightly into their respective compartments were various items and accessories: shower and hygiene supplies, underwear, a pair of utility boots, and a portable audio log from her sister that she had not yet listened to.

After a pause, Gwen played the log as she pulled out her clothes.

A familiar voice, a tad higher-pitched than her own, resonated from the locker: "Gwen, by the time you get this, you'll probably already be at the spaceport. I won't lecture you, because I know you wouldn't listen anyway, but seriously—are you out of your mind? You're really going halfway across the galaxy, alone, with a bunch of horny guys who'd like nothing more than to get their hands on a pretty thing like you?"

Gwen caught herself rolling her eyes as the recording continued: "Look, I get it. You want to make your mark as a trailblazer on the frontier and all, but this is crazy! I know I'd never talk you out of something like this, but do me a favor: take care of yourself, okay? Take it from me: to most guys, you're just another piece of ass. Don't prove them right. And write me when you get to Inanna! You don't get off the hook just cause you're a bazillion light years away! I love you, sis."

The audio log clicked off. She shook her head. Don't prove them right. If only her sister knew, Gwen thought as she removed her towel and put on a pair of black panties. They were slightly sheer and sported a thong back: though not exactly regulation wear, being the only woman around did have occasional perks. As she tugged the skimpy article over her buttocks and snapped the sidebands against her hips, she felt sleek and sexy.

"God... damn, piece of ass is right, sis!" remarked Ransom.

Gwen gave a startled shriek. "Fuck!" she cried angrily, turning around with arms folded over her breasts. "How long were you watching me, you creep?"

Ransom laughed, enjoying the view. "Hey, I didn't know I'd wandered into the ladies' room!" he drawled. "I'd have at least put some cologne on if I knew I was meeting an onboard celebrity!" He thrust his hips at her, exaggerating his motions in case the insinuation was not clear.

"Ugh, what do you want?" she asked, exasperated.

"Misha sent me to tell you that we are all waiting on you! If you don't get that fine ass over to Shuttle Two in ten mikes, Alpha Team is launching without it!"

"All right, all right, tell him I'll be there in a minute! Now would you please get out and let me get dressed?"

"Shit, to think even in space we gotta wait on bitches getting ready..." He stopped, expression turning serious. "Oh, one more thing. The guys needed to know, you know, for the shuttle ride: do you want us to take turns banging you, or are you cool with just getting railed all at once?"

She flung a bottle of shampoo at him. "Get... out!"

Ransom retreated, cackling. Gwen slammed the hatch behind him, letting out a frustrated growl between her teeth. She quickly put on her black undershirt, a fitted, midriff-baring garment that doubled as a sports bra. Next, she zipped into her jumpsuit and laced up her boots. Even this decidedly utilitarian outfit managed to look sensuous on the young science officer. Although not meant to be formfitting, her curves naturally filled out the uniform, giving a pleasing suggestion of her shapely physique. She flipped her drying hair over the back of it.

As she finished zipping up, she heard a rough knock on the hatch. "I swear to God, Danny," she sighed as she moved toward the sound, "just leave me—"

The moment she unsealed the hatch, it blew wide open with an explosive roar.

1.5

Gwen stumbled out of the locker room, coughing from the thick smoke emanating from the aft sections of the ship. The passageway was awash in red emergency lighting, and an urgent, deafening alarm pierced her ears. Instinct told her to retreat forward, toward the command center, but her training took hold as she yanked a fire extinguisher off its mount and marched in the direction of the fire.

She found Ellison at an intersection, shouting indistinct orders to crewmen further down the passageway. They were separated by twisted metal from a collapsed bulkhead. He was close to the flames. She shouted out to him at the top of her lungs. He turned toward her, his sweating skin illuminated by the fire. She could not quite decipher his expression—perhaps a mixture of fear, stress, and anger. He stared at her, seemingly about to say her name.

And then he was engulfed in a fireball.

The explosion knocked Gwen on her butt. "Commander!" she screamed, rushing toward the mangled debris between them, extinguisher in hand, only for someone to grab her by the arm.