Starship of Lust Ch. 06

Ravi

I looked up from my terminal and asked again to confirm. "So, the sergeant touched you inappropriately?"

The young woman in front of me, Private Kruze, nodded with a commendable lack of hesitation. Witnesses had corroborated her story, but victims in her position were often still ashamed or embarrassed to report when they had been sexually assaulted. "Yes, sir. I'd just finished extracting semen from a friend when Sergeant Dawson forcefully put his hands on my chest."

"I see. I'm... sorry to hear that." I knew firsthand how arousing it could be to watch a woman extracting semen, but that was no excuse for Dawson's behavior. He was a fool; had he simply asked Kruze for permission to donate his own semen, she'd have likely agreed and avoided this whole situation. However, we live in a society of laws, especially here in the military. Consent and personal boundaries are of the utmost importance.

And as HR officer of the Athens, it was my responsibility to enforce those boundaries. "Please rest assured, Private. The Sergeant's conduct was completely unacceptable. He will be confined to his quarters until we reach the next major port, at which point he will be transferred home for a tribunal."

Kruze was visibly relieved at my words. "Thank you, sir." Smiling warmly at her, I responded, "Just doing my job, Private. There's no place for sexual harassment of any kind aboard the Athens."

As I spoke, I secretly admitted that I could understand why Dawson had lost himself. Kruze was uncommonly "cute" for a soldier. She was quite short, and couldn't have been older than twenty. Her freckled face and girlish figure were the picture of youth. Some of our bulkier women frankly looked a bit silly in their uniforms, but the miniskirt and prominent cleavage of her jacket fit Kruze like a glove.

"Well, even so, I am grateful for the swift action. Have a pleasant evening, sir." Our business concluded, the private made for the door. She walked in those heels as if she was born in them, her skirt swishing with her gait to reveal the uppermost areas of her nubile thighs.

"Private Kruze." I called after her as she was about to depart. Naturally, she stopped and turned back to face me with a quizzical expression. Clearing my throat, I continued. "Before you leave, I was wondering if I could donate some of my semen to you?"

She paused for a moment, as if processing what I had said, before smiling happily. "Of course, sir!"

-------

For all intents and purposes, I had won.

I'd had sex with Catherine Locke - willingly at that, from her perspective. Going forward, the game had changed. Her old sense of self had been sufficiently torn down; it was time to build a new one in its place.

I sat in the mess hall at the moment, watching the great Admiral Locke shake her ass for all to see. Her distaste for me personally had made her conditioning a slow, methodical endeavor during my individual "processing", but conversely she'd completely embraced "crew-wide sexual processing". It just went to show how deeply she cared for this ship and her crew (certain Chief Engineers notwithstanding). After only a couple short weeks, her performance up there was indistinguishable from a genuine stripper. Gone was any of the awkwardness or uncertainty from that first night. Catherine (and most of the other processors for that matter) confidently danced around their poles, every part of their bodies shaking for the sole intent of male pleasure. It warmed my heart - and my cock.

As Catherine crouched low on the table, thrusting her sex towards the men around her, I shot her a wink. She subtly rolled her eyes, barely paying me mind. That was fine. Her attitude didn't change the fact that I'd be in her bed before long. Although, that did give me an idea of the "scene" I'd request for my "processing" tonight...

Roughly forty minutes later, I was waiting alone in the Admiral's room. Rather than sitting plainly in a chair or on her bed, I was pressed against the wall next to the door. If someone were to see me, it'd immediately raise red flags. My position was perfect to ambush someone as soon as they walked in - which was exactly my intention.

I felt into my pocket, triple-checking that I was ready to go. Then, the door opened and a figure stepped inside. Before they had any time to react, I grabbed their arm from behind and forced them to the floor.

"Who-?! Hmph. Chief Engineer Anthony Cooper. I should have known."

Obviously, it was Catherine. She'd just come back from "crew-wide processing" and was still dressed the part, nearly naked save for her stockings, golden thong and medal nipple tassels. Now that I think about it, this'll be the first time I fuck her in that getup.

Catherine squirmed against my grip, but was unable to break free. "What is the meaning of this, Cooper?" There was no panic in her voice, merely a quiet fury.

"Oh, not much, ma'am," I answered in a sarcastic tone, before pulling a pair of handcuffs from my pocket. As soon as she saw that, she struggled furiously, but couldn't escape before I cuffed her hands behind her back. Now, unable to use her arms for leverage, it would be extremely difficult to get away from me.

"You'd best consider your next actions carefully, Cooper," Catherine spat, her face half-pressed against the floor. "A dishonorable discharge will be the least of your concerns."

I chuckled softly as I unzipped my pants and my rock-hard cock sprang out. Calming reaching out to feel up Catherine's ass, I chided her, "I don't think you understand your position here, Admiral. It's in your best interests to play nice." As I finished my statement, my fingers tightly gripped one of her ass cheeks.

"Unhand me. Now." She was undeterred.

I chuckled again as I worked off her thong. "Hm... I wouldn't expect anything less. You've always been an arrogant bitch." I sat up a little straighter, putting my dick in line with her pussy. "I think someone needs to teach you some humility."

"Don't you da - agh..." Catherine moaned in pain, anger and maybe something else as I violently jabbed into her. She looked back at me as best she could, flames of hatred burning in her eyes. "As soon as I get out of here, your life is - oh!"

I'd slapped her ass. Hard. "You - oh! Oh!" Twice more. The last one left a vague red handprint.

Catherine took a deep breath, recovering from the unexpected pain, so I took the opportunity to speak instead. At the same time, I began to piston my cock in and out of her. "You've always had it out for me. And not because of my work, or because you caught me looking at porn of your sister. You just don't like me, do you?" Another slap. "Do you?"

She tried to protest. "I don't - ah!" Another. And another. "I -" And another. "Fine! I admit it!" She shrieked. "I despise you Cooper, as a person. You're lazy and rude and perverted and neverendingly frustrating. It's not any one thing; it's everything."

"Good." Another slap. "Say you're sorry."

"S-sorry?" She sounded bewildered.

"Sorry for treating me like dirt. Sorry for acting like you're better than me."

"Oh, fuck you, Cooper." Catherine had never sworn in my presence before. That felt like the most genuine thing she'd ever said to me.

It legitimately caught me off guard. I laughed, loudly, and fucked her harder. I was rewarded with a satisfying reciprocal moan from the woman herself. "Your body is going to learn obedience," I hissed at her. "After tonight, you answer to me, not the other way around." Catherine was growing wetter by the second. I'd given her (and all the other processors, since I can't discriminate) an "update" to get turned on by pain and submission. It was subtle - I didn't want to ruin my fun by turning her into a full-blown masochist - but on some level it would arouse her to lose control, for reasons she probably couldn't even pinpoint.

"Apologize, Catherine." I slapped her ass again and again. Her reactions became unrestrained as our sex continued, her painful yells noticeably tinged with pleasure.

"You're not a proud admiral anymore. You're just my little slut." I was careful with the pace of my thrusts; whenever it seemed she was starting to feel too good, I slowed down. The pain and pleasure would create an effective cocktail, but I couldn't allow one to overpower the other.

"Give in, and this can all be over.". Her ass turned bright red, and her pussy sopping wet, but still she did not give in. I did not relent in turn. I stayed firmly in control, letting this encounter stretch on and on, allowing neither of us to orgasm until she said what I wanted to hear.

Eventually...

"I..." Catherine muttered, finally interrupting the chorus of slaps and moans. "I'm sorry, Anthony."

"Louder." I didn't give her any time to think. My hand descended again.

"I'm sorry!" "Louder!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried, her self-control finally snapping under the constant barrage of pain and pleasure. "I was a stuck-up bitch who thought she was better than you! I was wrong! My rightful place is serving you and your wonderful cock!"

She moved her hips as best she could while she spoke, her body clearly craving orgasm. At long last, I had no reason to reject it. I erupted into the Admiral, her pussy clenching up around my dick at the same time. For a full minute, we said nothing, simply allowing the long-anticipated climax to wash over us.

It goes without saying, but (disregarding my "updates" in general) I had not in fact just raped Catherine Locke. The entire encounter was simply a roleplay scene for tonight's "sexual processing". We had agreed upon it beforehand.

There were logical fallacies with the scene, to be sure, but the emotion in our words felt surprisingly real. I suppose this let her tap into feelings of hate and anger towards me that she'd never been able to voice. Well, the same was true on my end.

However, there was one exception to our pre-planned arrangement. When I explained to Catherine that she would profusely apologize to me, she confidently retorted, "Your processing will be over before it gets to that point." And yet, I had broken that resolve, forcing the apology out of her anyway. There was nothing sweeter than the sense of conquest I felt at that moment.

-------

Freya

I traced my finger along the hull of the projected diagram, narrating the important data points. "As you can see, while rarely deployed for this reason, the Imperial T-48 fighter has a slight structural weakness just above its rightmost thruster. However, in contrast, it lacks the typical defensive weaknesses of the T-49. An energy missile impacting from a forward direction, even directly against the cockpit, is unlikely to do serious damage."

The Athens was currently near enemy lines, so we pilots didn't have the luxury of performing practice maneuvers in open space. The next best thing was simulation training but, even before that, it was important to thoroughly understand the enemy's assets and capabilities. Intelligence briefings like this were common as a result.

A male voice spoke up as soon as I had finished my thought. "Captain Laurier, I have a question."

I turned to face the room, taking stock of the relatively small group of pilots seated around the conference table. Discounting myself, there were four men and five women present.

The pilot who'd spoken up was near the back, Second Officer Richards. Two female comrades were seated closely on either side of him; while only their upper bodies were directly visible, I could tell from the womens' arm movements that they were busily stroking Richards' penis under the table.

Not that that was an issue. Unless it was an extreme impediment to urgent tasks, a man's request for semen extraction should be honored at any time or place. I had full confidence that these three were paying attention and absorbing this briefing's information in addition to their sexual diversion.

Although Richards' question slightly shook that confidence. "Ma'am, would you object to removing your top for the remainder of the briefing?"

I understood the motivation for the ask. It would improve his environment for semen extraction. However...

My gaze found my girlfriend, Captain Allison Abbott. She was near the front, sharing her chair with a male pilot. Specifically, she was on top of him in a sitting "reverse cowgirl" position. They both faced forward while she sat in his lap, his penis in her vagina. They'd paired up at the start of the briefing and she had been slowly but consistently riding him ever since.

Allison immediately understood why I was looking at her and gave a subtle nod. As a lesbian couple, the realities of semen extraction had presented certain challenges. The practice was inherently sexual, but we were obviously unable to extract semen from each other. Unfortunately, it also wasn't possible to abstain from semen extraction entirely. So, we mutually agreed to always seek the other's permission before any sexual act. Furthermore, as much as possible we tried to be in the same room (ideally even extracting from the same man at the same time). That was how we preserved our committed relationship to each other.

Of course, we didn't enjoy servicing men, but that was simply the way of things. Admittedly, it helped that the taste of semen was incredible.

With Allison's approval, I took off my jacket and draped it over an empty chair. It wasn't the first time any of them had seen me half-naked, but the men in the room were clearly excited nonetheless.

Just as I was about to continue the briefing - "Your bra too, please, ma'am." Richards spoke up again.

Unconsciously gritting my teeth at the repeated interruption, I reached behind and let my bra fall to the floor. My breasts were average in size, but perky and well-shaped. Richards and the rest gawked for several seconds.

Sensing they needed to be brought to attention, I asked in a firm voice, "May I continue?" Semen extraction was vital, but so was this briefing.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."

With a sigh, I turned back to the diagram of the T-48, concluding the remainder of my presentation in only skirt and heels. Most of the men spent that time staring at my chest rather than the display. Once I had finished, three of the four requested oral semen extraction, to which I grudgingly agreed.

-------

Day after day, I fucked Catherine Locke. There was no doubt that she'd fully internalized the mountain of "updates" which had brought her to this point. She never objected or argued anymore, letting me have my way with her body however I pleased, in whatever clothing or roleplay I desired. She even allowed herself to get wet and orgasm during the act. I'd made sure to strongly emphasize with my "updates" that it would turn me on to see her turned on.

While that was true, the main intent was to erode her resistance through arousal. It was a vicious cycle. The less she resisted, the better she felt, and in turn the less she was able to resist it. As a soldier, her training had prepared her to endure pain, but not pleasure. Most days lately, she came before I did. Her body had learned to enjoy sex with me, even if her mind tried to pretend otherwise.

But crucially, all these "updates" had been built upon the framework of "sexual processing". In that regard, Catherine maintained commendable self-control. As soon as I ejaculated, the frigid bitch I knew would return, as if nothing had ever happened. Until our rendezvous the next night, she would go back to treating me like a nobody.

In a way, one could say there were currently "two" Catherines: the proud officer who led the Athens during the day and the lecherous woman who lived to please me during "sexual processing". My next task would be to adjust the balance of the two. Eventually, her "normal" persona will exist for only an hour or two a day, just as her "sexual processing" persona does right now - and maybe one day, it wouldn't exist at all.

I'd already planted the perfect seed to facilitate that change via "crew-wide sexual processing". While she despised me in particular, Catherine fully believed in the efficacy of "sexual processing" as a whole and was completely comfortable being a sex object for the masses. Who's to say that should be limited to the Athens?

So...

"I'd like to record my sexual processing tonight."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. Without even a greeting, that was the first thing I'd said to her when she walked through the door.

She crossed her arms. "Explain." Her tone was firm, but not necessarily hostile. She was a bright woman; perhaps she had already deduced my rationale and just wanted to hear me say it.

Tonight, in a rare turn, I had asked Catherine to dress formally, such as she would wear to a press conference or medal ceremony. My "updates" had never altered that specific case, so she showed up in a truly normal, full white uniform consisting of jacket, cap and pants. Her many medals and commendations were pinned to her chest, and no skin was exposed other than her hands and face. It was the antithesis of her entire wardrobe since my "updates" began.

Which is why I had her wear it. I enjoyed the thought of Catherine wearing such dignified attire for what was assured to be a very undignified evening.

"Well, crew-wide sexual processing has been extremely effective. Do you disagree?"

"No," she replied curtly. She had no room to disagree. Morale on the Athens was at an all-time high. Not hard when everyone was having sex all the time.

"Glad we're on the same page. So, I started to think 'why stop there?'. We can improve the mental health of so many more people beyond the Athens." Catherine didn't interject, so I continued.

"You're such a good processor, Catherine," I said, appealing to whatever sense of pride she still had. "It's a waste for only a few dozen men to see you. If we record your processor duties and upload them to the web, we could make hundreds, maybe even thousands or millions, of people happier."

Catherine stared at me after I'd finished, her emotions hard to read. A moment passed as she ruminated on my suggestion. I'd in effect asked her to become an amateur porn star. The fact that she wasn't immediately outraged showed how far she had fallen... and the next words out of her mouth cemented that fact. "I see. Truth be told, Cooper, I had already been considering something similar. I accept your proposal."

I was pleasantly surprised to hear that she'd been proactively thinking about the same thing. She was frighteningly dedicated to improving the lives of Unified Nations citizens, and pornography was thus a logical successor to the concept of "crew-wide sexual processing" - although she likely didn't perceive it as "pornography". I'm sure if I asked, she'd label it as some new form of "sexual processing" instead.

There was no thought given to the fact that this would be video proof of her infidelity, nor that it was severely inappropriate for an Admiral to be having intercourse with a subordinate. She was a "sexual processor". There was nothing to be ashamed of.

With our mutual agreement, I set up the room's terminal to begin recording. While I worked, I moved on to the second half of tonight's plans. "People won't find this recording especially stimulating if it's over too quickly." I finished the last of the setup and turned to face Catherine, currently standing in the center of the room.

"To ensure the video is long enough, is it alright if I cum twice tonight?"

Her eyebrow twitched. Her common sense had been warped, but she wasn't oblivious. She knew the real reason behind the question was my own selfish lust. I didn't care at all about the well-being of strangers jacking off to this.