Ship's Whore Ch. 04: Doll

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

"So," Celeste murmured, her fingers brushing through my trimmed and patterned pubes, "what's it like being a respectable member of Minerva's science community?"

It was a delicious tease. I didn't need to check if I was wet - I was always wet, always aroused, but it was nice to have reason. "You tell me." Celeste was a real scientist, albeit a junior one; I was just playing at it.

"Don't be like that, Sam." She captured my nipple with her lips, biting almost hard enough to trigger the mood enhancer, but relented at the last moment. "Your connection with the Gnafr makes you unique."

"Perhaps, but think how much easier it would be if an actual scientist could talk to it. I feel like a talking parrot most of the time, desperately trying to translate concepts I barely understand. You should do it."

It wasn't the first time I'd suggested it. As usual, Celeste scrunched up her nose. Instead, she rolled on top of me, the strap-on she still wore trapped between us. "Ready for Round Two?"

"Sure you don't want me to do you?"

"I'm not untying you." She brought the tip of the dildo to my pussy, and pushed in. It was long and very thick, and stretched me wonderfully.

"I won't be staying forever, Celeste. I'm still a ship's whore with her heart set on the stars."

Celeste snatched up her abandoned thong, still damp from her earlier arousal, and pushed it into my mouth. "Be quiet, Sam," she said, and concentrated on thrusting her synthetic cock as deep as possible into my very welcoming cunt.

My moments of telepathic connection with the Gnafr gave me glimpses of the wider universe and made me long to see it for myself. It also forced me to confront a reality that I had been in denial of: space travel was slow. Not, ironically, the interstellar journeys themselves, which took shortcuts through whitespace, but the act of getting to interstellar space. Whichever route I took, the journey to Sol Station would last about a year.

Much as I love to have a thick cock fucking me, and I really do, the surest way to make me come has always been oral, but Celeste was more interested in tormenting me than satisfying me. "Mm mm-m-m mm," I said.

She laughed. "No." Instead she leaned on one hand and used the other to excite my nipples with a vibrator. I stopped caring, and let her do what she liked to me.

I wondered how I could possibly endure a whole year in transit. It was one thing to travel on a starship with fifty or more passengers and crew, there being plenty of variety and entertainment, but most of the ships heading out to Sol Station had everyone in suspended animation, bar a handful of space-hardened crew.

She was holding me so close to the precipice - the steady glide and impact of the strap-on cock, the teasing vibrator against my swollen nipples - but refused to let me come.

Suspended animation was great. I would go to sleep and wake up at my destination, feeling sick as a dog and considerably poorer, but I wouldn't age a day. Well, I would age a day, but only one. And my credit score, although still in the red, was healthy enough that I could just afford to pay...

Celeste moved the vibrator to my clit, thoroughly distracting me from thoughts of year-long sleep. "Come for me, Sam," she ordered, not really giving me choice. Between the cock stretching me so wonderfully and the vibrations so perfectly focussed, I was soon soaring into ecstasy, convulsing within my restraints.

Until at last Celeste pulled her thong from my mouth and bent to kiss me. "I adore watching you come," she murmured.

"Are you going to release me now?"

She chuckled. "No." Unbuckling the strap-on, she cast it aside and pressed the vibrator against her own clit, and as she worked herself to a long and obviously much enjoyed climax, we kissed like two young lovers lost in passion.

Afterwards I said, "I want to be in Space, and I don't want to be awake the whole time, but I don't want suspended animation either. Is there something in between?"

She thought for a minute. "Well, there is a hibernation optional, but it's expensive and only used by people who wouldn't survive suspended animation."

"Just how expensive are we talking?"

*

The answer was 'very' but not quite 'too'. The hibernation optional essentially enabled the body to enter a deep sleep for anything from a day to a week, after which it couldn't be used again for at least a day. It would make a year-long voyage feel like only a few weeks, and - and this was the clincher - would even let me work part-time.

It was exactly what I needed, and I used my credit to the limit to get it. My seventh optional. The concentration of nanotechnology in my blood was high enough to make my doctor scratch his head with worry. "Most people stop at four," he said.

But I, Sam Jones, ship's whore and medical experiment, brushed away his concern. "I'll be fine."

It helped that my base rate had just jumped considerably. I had been a professional ship's whore for one standard year, with experience of multiple habitats and even non-human lifeforms. It all counted. I might be utterly indebted to the Space Guild, but at least there was hope of clearing that debt eventually.

"And I found a ship," I added. It was my weekly meeting with Alexandra, and my last such. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"But we need you!" she protested. "You're the only one who talks to the Gnafr."

"Anyone can take my place," I said patiently. "Find someone young, open-minded and adventurous. Celeste will do it if you ask her nicely."

Two hours later Celeste was at my door, eyes wide with panic. "Alexandra wants me to - to -"

"I'm sure you and the Gnafr will make a lovely couple."

Her eyes narrowed with accusation. "I knew you did it! You told her I was willing!"

"You'll be fine. If you can handle me, you can handle the Gnafr. And speaking of handling me..."

For our last few hours together, we returned again to the cave behind the waterfall in the park beyond the bridge, and it was with the taste of Celeste still on my lips that I bid farewell to Minerva.

*

The Summer Holiday was a cylindrical rocket ship with tight quarters for up to six crew members, and additional space for freight and up to one hundred passengers, all of whom would need to be in suspended animation pods. On this particular voyage from Neptune to Sol Station, there were fifty-eight occupied pods, two crewmen (the captain and his co-pilot), and one ship's whore (part-time).

I didn't get to see Minerva and Neptune recede into the distance behind us. I was strapped down in a compression couch, given a terse run-through of ship and safety protocols, and then the thrusters engaged. For five long minutes I endured high-G acceleration of the same magnitude that had left me bruised and barely conscious on departure from Earth -

- and then we were weightless, the thrusters abruptly silent, and had I not been strapped down I would have bounced up off the couch. For five blessed minutes I rested, and then the cycle restarted: intense crushing weight for five minutes, followed by five minutes of relaxation.

Ten times more the cycle repeated, the most exhausting two hours of my life, and then the captain's voice over the intercom said, "Burn sequence complete. Starting rotation."

The compression couch reorientated itself so that my back was towards the hull instead of the thrusters, and bit by bit my weight returned, until I could easily have been in my cabin on Minerva. As gravity normalised, I unstrapped myself from the couch, and quickly unpacked and made the bed.

"Still alive in there?" the captain queried.

"Barely," I said, getting a chuckle in response. "I could sleep for a week..."

"Sweet dreams..."

*

It worked! It actually worked! I hadn't had time on Minerva to test the new hibernation optional properly, but I'd crawled into my bed on the Summer Holiday and set the wake-up for the maximum. There was a strangeness to it, moments when I was almost awake, almost aware, or just sufficiently awake and aware to adjust my position, but then I would be lost again to oblivion.

And then I woke up, and I was hyper-awake, as if my mind was determined to catch up on lost time. I was hungry, too - indeed, famished. I wrapped myself in a dressing gown, slipped my feet into my magnetic heels, and went in search of food.

There wasn't a canteen, only a galley, but I loaded a tray with what I could find, and took a seat by the window that looked forwards - towards Sol Station and Outer Space. Billions of stars, all rotating about the ship's axis.

"Hungry?" It was the co-pilot. Atkins.

"As a horse."

He stopped himself from making the too obvious joke, and instead said merely, "Mind if I join you?"

"Be my guest. Where's the captain?"

"Sleeping, probably."

"So, you've got me all to yourself..."

He blushed. "Done this run four times now. Never had a whore for company."

"First time for everything. Got any kinks?"

"I didn't think I did, but seeing you in those heels has sure got me hard."

I suppressed my amusement. This tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed officer was quite cute. If he liked me in heels, I had no problem with that. "Take a closer look if you like," I said.

Still blushing, he nodded, and crawled under the table, and while I continued my efforts to eat my own weight in ship's rations, I had the pleasure of the co-pilot's hands caressing my calves, and his lips on my feet. He even sucked on my toes one-by-one. "Is it bad," he asked eventually, peering up at me, "that I want to come all over them?"

"Not at all," I said cheerfully. I knew from past experience that the shoes were impervious to cum stains. "You can even lick them clean again afterwards, if you like."

He moaned audibly with lust, and quickly stripped out of his uniform. Back on his knees again, he worked his hard cock with determination, while I sipped my coffee and kept my feet still. For fun, I adjusted my skin colour to give the impression I was wearing stockings and suspenders. "Oh, yes," he said. "I love that."

Breathing heavily, he climaxed at last, and thick cum spurted out over my feet and heels. I must say, I was impressed with the way he cleaned them after.

*

After I had showered and gone through my usual morning routine, sorting my hair, adjusting my colours, I dressed French-maid style with real stockings and suspenders, and Atkins taught me to play chess. Which was certainly not what I expected, but we were two hundred million kilometres from civilisation and it was as good a way as any to pass the time.

For a while, anyway. Losing patience, I dragged Atkins into my room, and to my bed. "We've got all day to play chess," I said, "but right now I need you to fuck me." I lay down on my back, feet up, and pushed one long, sharp heel into his mouth.

Atkins sucked on the stem with a sigh of pleasure, his hands tugging his trousers down to reveal a cock that was usefully hard. I guided him into me, and he thrust deep. He held my shoes to his face, smelling my feet and kissing them, his hands caressing my stockings, as he pounded away enthusiastically.

"Yes!" I cried, "harder!" My fingers found my clit, and I drove myself to the point of orgasm. "I want your cum in me, Atkins! Do it!"

He came with a whine of effort, his deliciously pulsing cock triggering my own climax, and we convulsed together. "Thank you," I whispered. "I really needed that."

But it wasn't over yet. Atkins parted my legs and knelt between them, his mouth descending on my pussy, and as he once again lovingly cleaned me of his cum, I climaxed again, and again.

*

Captain Li had a very different and very specific fetish. "I need you to be completely still," he explained, "and let me move you. Don't make any sounds." In other words, he wanted me to be a posable sex doll.

He wasn't the first client ever to request this. It's not that they want an actual doll, because no matter how realistic a doll is it doesn't feel anything. What they want is a real woman they can manipulate and treat like a doll.

The captain and I nailed down what he was allowed to do to me, and then I retired to my cabin to prepare myself. I decided to be naked from the start, lying straight on the bed, and I made my skin white with dark lines that mimicked joints. He wanted to treat me like an object, so I made myself into one.

As scenarios go, it's not my favourite. It's too slow, and too passive. But it can be fun. Captain Li spent almost an hour moving me from one position to another, sometimes teasing my nipples or kissing my lips or breasts. This escalated to fingers brushing my clit and penetrating my pussy and my ass, and eventually to his positioning me on my knees so that he could fuck my throat. It took all my skill to accept this treatment without moving.

He put me on hands and knees and took me from behind, thrusting eagerly into my vagina and making me wish I could bring my fingers to my clit. Because all of this was a grand tease for me, a stimulation without a release. Even when he drove his cock into my ass instead, I could do nothing but play along. I kept absolutely still as his cum erupted within my rear passage.

He took his time leaving too, and I could feel that disobedient ring of muscle pulsing gently, and the wetness of his escaping cum running down my thighs.

But at last he was gone. I grabbed my strongest vibrator and rewarded myself with a series of intense orgasms.

*

My hyper-awakeness wore off at last. I showered and went to bed, and set my internal alarm for seven days. This was the pattern of the long voyage. Sleeping, waking, eating; indulging Atkins and his shoe fetish in between games of chess; acting the doll for Li.

The dreams began midway through. Dreams in which I was aware but not awake. Aware of hands positioning me doll-like, opening me up, fingers brushing my clit and penetrating. A mouth sucking on my breasts, teeth biting my niples - enough to trigger the mood enhancer.

In my dreams I would be burning with need, and yet lacking any volition. I was an unquestioning slave of the hands that controlled me.

Time was disjointed. Sometimes there was a cock in my mouth. Sometimes I was on my knees, my ass used as I drifted between waking and sleeping. Sometimes I could feel cum splashing across my breasts. Sometimes it was the rhythmic hammer of a hard fuck.

I would climax in these dreams, long, mild, seemingly endless orgasms, and of course I enjoyed them. I even looked forward to them, even after I began to suspect they were not the erotic imaginings of my sleeping mind.

It put me in something of a quandary. This was an extreme violation of my body, regardless of whether I enjoyed it. More significantly, perhaps, it broke a dozen Space Guild regulations. Even the fact of me suspecting Li and allowing him to continue was extremely problematic.

He never failed to treat me with respect - when I was awake, anyway - and I concealed my anger with him. Yet I felt sorry for him too. It was my job, my whole purpose in this new life of mine, to help people live out their erotic fantasies without judgement. My anger with Li was not his need to fuck people while they slept, but his doing it to me without my consent. Consent that I could never have given.

Did that excuse him? No. Should I have reported him - probably. Did I?

No. Instead, during my last week of hibernation, I recorded myself. (While I could not have recorded a client session without prior consent of all parties, there was nothing to stop me recording myself sleeping.)

Day after day, Captain Li overrode my cabin door's security and entered. After pulling the sheets away to reveal my naked sleeping form, he would spent an hour caressing me and posing me variously. It really was like watching a grown man play with a life-size doll.

Gradually his hands and mouth would grow more insistent, pinching, penetrating, his hard cock joining in the play.

I could almost understand. Watching the recordings, seeing my own sleeping body's participation in this, I found myself wishing he had gone further, somehow.

*

The long deceleration sequence mirrored our departure from Neptune: an end to the Summer Holiday's rotation followed by alternations of crushing weight and freefall.

"Sequence complete," Captain Li said. "Sol Station in fifteen minutes."

I had done it. I was officially outside the Solar System and into interstellar space. I floated out of my cabin and found a window that looked back at Sol, a star little brighter than any other. "Goodbye, Earth," I said.

"Strap in, please, Sam," the captain said, and I flew back to my compression couch for the last few minutes' adjustments - until a gentle reverberation of the hull announced our final docking with Sol Station.

In the airlock, I had a private word with the captain. "I thought you might like a recording of me asleep," I said, holding up a disc, and sensed him tense up. "I'm sure it's unimaginably dull," I added.

"Indeed," he said carefully.

"I've been thinking about breast enhancement." I looked down at mine. "I'd prefer them smaller, but many clients like them bigger."

Li relaxed and smiled, and in that moment I knew he knew I knew. "It has been a pleasure having you aboard," he said. "I'd like to give you something to remember the Summer Holiday. Perhaps even that breast enhancement?"

I handed him the disc. "That would be lovely."