Starship of Lust Ch. 09

-------

Catherine

I slid my ass up the pole, bending forward to give the dozen masturbating ensigns before me a good show. The medals hanging from my star-shaped pasties lightly clanged against each other, drawing all eyes to my barely-covered tits. One of the men couldn't hold back any longer, arcing a powerful spray of semen which splattered across my cheek. Unsurprised (rather the opposite), I smiled at the ensign and cleaned my face with one hand. His cum gathered on my fingertips and - not breaking eye contact with him - I licked my fingers clean. Delicious.

The crowd went wild. More men came, some on me, others on the table or floor. It was endless. For every man who blew his load, it felt as if two more took his place. I was incredibly wet. My crew watching me, lusting after me... it was euphoric.

Dancing around the table, my fingers snaked down to the straps of my thong, teasing like I was about to remove it. It was a common tactic I'd use to spice up crew-wide processing, not something I actually intended to do. My standard outfit was already terribly skimpy, after all. Besides the golden thong and pasties, I wore only heels, stockings and an admiral's cap, but...

Could I do it? Need it only be a tease? I was so hot just thinking about it. They'd all seen me in worse positions, I reasoned, during Cooper's individual processing. There was no real reason to hesitate. The men would love it.

The noise began to dim as I slowly slid the thong down my legs. Was it truly getting quieter, my crew stunned into silence, or was it just the adrenaline of the moment? I wasn't sure. I didn't care.

Twirling the thong with my hand, I let it fly into the sea of my subordinates, blowing a kiss in its wake. It landed across a particularly lucky pilot's face - and sound returned. Deafening. Enthralled. Frenzied. Even the other processors atop their own tables were looking at me. Their eyes were easy to read; they were thrilled, inspired. I had proven once again that I was their dauntless captain, unafraid to go to the greatest lengths in the name of my duty as a sexual processor.

I sprawled across the table, spreading my legs and baring everything to my men. My cap fell to the floor. They cheered. A second later, my fingers reached for my pussy. "More! Give me more!" I heard myself shout. I sounded ecstatic.

-------

Catherine

I laid naked atop my bed, scrolling a tablet listing of our latest morale reports. Sexual processing, both crew-wide and individual, had never been better. I had never been better. Ironic to say, when there was still a saboteur on the loose, but it was the unvarnished truth.

It had taken me weeks, perhaps months, to realize that sexual processing was a two-way street. If I let it, processing improved not only the mental health of the processee, but also the processor. Sex was liberating. Humans were hardwired to enjoy it; the efficiency of sex as a tool for both pleasure and stress relief is something I can no longer deny.

"Mm..." There was no greater proof than the comfort I found in Samantha's warm embrace. My sister, also naked beside me on the bed, massaged my breasts as fervently as ever, alternating between hand and mouth every so often.

Returning to the tablet, I again pondered Cooper's sexual processing. The mental techniques to "become" my character were greater than I could have ever dreamed. Never would I have thought I could "enjoy" Cooper's processing, but the techniques allowed me to surpass my limits. By "forgetting" myself, I could truly embrace my role as a processor. There were all the usual benefits of processing Cooper, with virtually none of the negatives. Any doubts in the moment were nonexistent. Whenever I thought back on a processing session, it almost felt more like watching someone else perform the acts. The feeling was... joyous. I still loathed sex with the man on a fundamental level, so there was nothing better than divorcing myself from it entirely like this.

Unfortunately, when I'd eventually recommended the same techniques to Samantha, she reported that they'd been ineffective. Perhaps there were simply individual variances. Everyone's psychology was unique.

"Hah..." I sighed as Samantha's hand abruptly found my crotch. It was unexpected, though not unwelcome (frankly, I'd grown slightly wet contemplating the act of sexual processing). I opened my legs wider, allowing one, then two, of Samantha's fingers to slide into my vagina. All the while, her lips didn't leave my breast.

An uninformed observer may think we were crossing a forbidden line, but context and intent is everything. Countless cultures across the galaxy were comfortable being physically close with family. As long as we trusted each other (which we did, unquestionably), it was illogical to distinguish between body parts during a massage. In principle, massages were all the same, whether we caressed each other's backs, breasts, shoulders or vaginas. Obviously, there was no actual sexual desire between us. That would be absurd - we're sisters. However, if an optimal massage required direct sexual stimulation, it was an acceptable course of action between close siblings. Without lust between us, it was no different than a helpful back rub (or the numerous breast massages we'd already given each other).

"Harder, Samantha." "Yes, ma'am." Feeling any remaining muscular tension ebb out of me as new pleasure radiated up from Samantha's fingers, I flicked to a different screen on my tablet. It would still be a few days before we could definitively say if the network buoys were a bust, but it was starting to look that way. I'd think about the implications of that only once it was confirmed. In the meantime, I'd begun to map out a timeline of the unauthorized network access. I was only just starting, but initial findings were-

"Catherine." At some point, Samantha's face has risen in front of me, blocking my view. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, pressing her lips against mine. Just as the tips of our tongues made contact, she pulled back, looking me in the eye. "You need to relax. Work can come later."

"I-" She was right. My pussy ached after only a couple minutes of her massage, and arousal is the bane of good judgment. Once I got aroused, the best course of action was to orgasm and clear my head. Those were words I'd always lived by, but recently they'd meant that I was orgasming two or three times a day, even discounting sexual processing. I was so horny, all the time lately. I tried to tell myself anyone in my position would be, devoting so many hours to sex every single day.

"Alright." I put the tablet down, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "Come here, Samantha." Nearly before the words had left my mouth, she was on top of me, our tongues each thoroughly massaging the other. Her fingers again crept down to my sex, and mine to hers for the first time tonight. She was just as wet as I was. It might require multiple orgasms to get everything out of our systems. The thought aroused me even further.

-------

Cat̶̮̮͐̈h̸̝̃ė̴̖r̴͙̼͛̏i̴̲̬͑n̸̤͆e̴̪̽͝

Clasping my hands before the modest shrine, I knelt upon the floor, offering a silent prayer to our Lord. I remained that way for what felt like some time, when suddenly I heard the door slide open behind me.

"Sister! Come quickly."

I turned to face the source of the voice. In a different life, the woman before me, Samantha, would have turned heads. Even now, anyone meeting her would surely notice her comely face, toned body and extremely large bust. However, much of her skin and hair was covered by a nun's habit, revealing only her face and hands. We were, after all, sisters of the church - as well as sisters in blood.

"Has He graced us with His presence?" I questioned. I could scarcely think of another reason for her excitement, and her reply confirmed my assumption. "Yes, Catherine. He awaits our prayer in the adjoining room."

"Excellent." I smiled widely. "Let's not keep him waiting another moment, then. Shall we?" Samantha nodded, stepping aside to let me take the lead. I glided past her into the room from which she had just come. She followed behind me until we stopped before a naked man in the center of the chamber.

At least, it was a being with the appearance of a man. While his assumed form was somewhat stout, I knew immediately that it was Him in the flesh. "My Lord!" I dropped to my knees, though not by intention. Rather, I was overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his presence. Behind me, I heard my sister do the same. We had waited our whole lives for this. Tears began to form in my eyes, mirrored by a warmth accumulating in my privates. Both were natural, unavoidable reactions to our Lord's splendor.

He turned to face me, his divine member pointed directly at my face. While he said nothing, I knew what was expected of me - of us. We had drilled this moment every day for decades. Clasping my hands again, not taking my eyes off of his form, I uttered the customary prayer. "Dear Lord, we thank you for this gift. We are but your humble servants, forever grateful to receive you in this moment." Samantha parroted the same words, appropriate reverence in her voice. "We shall now commence the ceremony of satiation, wherein my sister and myself will milk your cock dry, starting with our slutty mouths. Again, we thank you, Lord. Thank you. Thank you." I repeated the final thanks a few more times, genuinely grateful to be here in this moment. If only my mother could have lived to see it.

The words of the ceremony were a bit vulgar, but legend has it that this serves to excite the Lord. Indeed, My Lord's penis twitched in response. Otherwise, He said nothing, but this was expected. His role was to exist, and ours was to worship. In a dim recess of my mind, I chuckled. Something about the whole scene abruptly struck me as childish, but I hastily discarded such impure thoughts.

My sister and I approached, not raising ourselves off the floor. Samantha positioned herself to his front, and I his back. Eagerly but respectfully, Samantha leaned forward, ready to serve Him. With one last silent prayer of gratitude, I did the same, happily inserting my tongue into his anus.

-------

Catherine

On my sixth revolution around the pole, I nearly tripped across an unexpected protrusion. While my back was turned, someone had planted a pink dildo on the tabletop behind me. It was thick and tall, with its tip pointed straight at the ceiling.

I smirked at the crowd, unsure what to think. No one said anything, perhaps scared of a scolding. Crew-wide processing had very clear rules. While this wasn't a flagrant violation, it toed the line and interfered with my "stage". But even so... what was the harm? It wasn't particularly disruptive to my dance. Rather the opposite, really; this was a perfect processing enhancement tool.

I planted my feet on either side of the dildo, hooking a finger under my thong and shifting it sideways. My subordinates hooted and hollered as I lowered myself. Crouching as low as I could, I took the dildo into my pussy. It goes without saying that I was wet enough to do this in one smooth, uninterrupted motion.

Pushing my tits together with my arms, making myself even sexier for my crew, I immediately transitioned into riding the dildo. They'd seen me masturbate before, but this was on another level. More men came to watch, surrounding me and stroking themselves, more than there had ever been before. As I rode the dildo harder, for their sake and for my own, I felt fulfilled. This was right. This was good. This was the role of a female admiral. This was sexual processing.

Then I came, and so did they. Countless tendrils of semen coated every part of me - my lips, my tits, my glasses, my hair, my belly, my mind, my heels, my thighs, my tongue, my pussy, my soul. I had never known greater joy.

-------

C̸̭͑ä̷̯́͆t̶̮̮͐̈h̸̝̃ė̴̖r̴͙̼͛̏i̴̲̬͑n̸̤͆e̴̪̽͝

The patient's penis was completely turgid. "What are my odds, Doc?" He looked up at me with a hint of shame.

"Hmm..." I examined his genitalia from all angles, prodding it once or twice. It twitched, but otherwise held its shape. Standing back up to adjust my glasses, I smiled warmly at the man. "It's good you came when you did. If we act now, it's treatable with a full course of sexual therapy."

The patient looked exasperated, but relieved. "Thank you, Dr. Locke."

"Don't mention it. It's my job," I told him, already unbuttoning my lab coat. As I removed my bra, I called out to my secretary in the next room. "Samantha! Cancel the rest of today's appointments! This requires my full attention."

-------

Catherine

"Oh..." Samantha nestled her face against my breasts, her tongue flitting between my nipples and her sex grinding against mine. The massage was pleasant, if surface-level. My body's warmth overlapping with my sister's was innately comforting in some indescribable way. I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her close in a tight embrace. She wiggled downward, her tongue never leaving my body, winding across my belly only to wander at my thighs. Then - "A-are you sure, Samantha?"

The simple response came but a moment later. "Yes." I gasped in pleasure as her tongue began to massage my clitoris.

-------

C̸̭͑ä̷̯́͆t̶̮̮͐̈h̸̝̃ė̴̖r̴͙̼͛̏i̴̲̬͑n̸̤͆e̴̪̽͝

"You are getting very sleepy." The weirdo dangled a locket in front of me as he spoke. "Very sleepy."

I yawned in spite of myself. I suppose I was tired. It had been a long week at the office.

"When I snap my fingers, you will fall into a deep sleep. No matter what happens, you won't wake up until I snap my fingers again."

How ridiculous. I rolled my eyes as he snapped his fingers. Almost immediately, to my surprise, my eyelids began to droop. It wasn't because of what he'd said, of course, but... it's true I could use a nap. What was the harm in indulging this loser?

-------

C̸̭͑ä̷̯́͆t̶̮̮͐̈h̸̝̃ė̴̖r̴͙̼͛̏i̴̲̬͑n̸̤͆e̴̪̽͝

"Thank you for the purchase of Locke-Bot 3000. I am a fully featured sex android developed with state-of-the-art synthetic fluid and tissue to mimic an organic human female. How may I serve you today, esteemed customer?"

...

"Locke-Bot, initiate blowjob."

...

"Complying."

-------

Catherine

Somehow, I'd lost every scrap of clothing I'd had on. I paraded myself before my men, naked save for my heels and sticky from their buckets of cum. My medals were lost somewhere amidst the crowd, assuredly drowned in semen. I suppose I'd have to clean them later.

-------

C̸̭͑ä̷̯́͆t̶̮̮͐̈h̸̝̃ė̴̖r̴͙̼͛̏i̴̲̬͑n̸̤͆e̴̪̽͝

"I am the queen! This affront will not stand!" My assailant either wasn't daunted or didn't care. With a silent grin, he roughly shoved his cock into my ass. I screamed.

-------

C̸̭͑ä̷̯́͆t̶̮̮͐̈h̸̝̃ė̴̖r̴͙̼͛̏i̴̲̬͑n̸̤͆e̴̪̽͝

"Please, be gentle." "Of course, darling." My new husband took his hand in mine, drawing me in for a kiss.

-------

C̸̭͑ä̷̯́͆t̶̮̮͐̈h̸̝̃ė̴̖r̴͙̼͛̏i̴̲̬͑n̸̤͆e̴̪̽͝

Moo... Moo moo moo. Moo! Moo!

-------

Catherine

I sagged in my chair, alone in my quarters, needing a moment to simply breathe. It felt as if my time was dominated by sex as of late, but I'd finally found a spare moment to myself. It was a double-edged sword to include Samantha in my deliberations these days. She was an invaluable source of trust and comfort, but we'd found ourselves in something of a feedback loop. We both knew that serious discussions merited mid-conversation massages, for concentration purposes. However, the anticipation of said massage typically led to mutual arousal, which in turn merited deeper massages, with a focus on provoking ourselves to orgasm. It was almost becoming a problem; I'd have to consult her on possible solutions at some point. Feeling my heart rate quicken at the thought of my sister, I swiftly put her out of my mind. I didn't have time to masturbate right now.

I pulled up a series of data charts, bracing myself for whatever was to come. At last, we had completed distribution of the dummy network buoys across our entire route. As of yesterday morning, I can say with absolute certainty that we were monitoring any outbound communications originating from the Athens. Then, it had been a matter of waiting for another occurrence of unauthorized network access, verified by our shipboard data logs. Now, all the pieces were in place.

I filtered the charts down to the same general time frame as the access log. Frowning, I widened the time frame a bit, then widened it further. For good measure, I repeated the process from start to finish, making sure to clear any caches. Unfortunately, no matter what I did, the result didn't change.

There was nothing. Our buoys detected no unusual traffic whatsoever, either at or around the same timestamp as the access.

I stretched my neck, looking at the ceiling. "Great..." I was annoyed, but not terribly so. While it would have been far more convenient for the buoys to pick something up, a lack of data is still illuminating in its own way. There was only one reasonable conclusion to be drawn from this: our saboteur wasn't communicating with any external parties. Any data they beamed out was being disseminated within the Athens itself.

This realization posed more questions than answers, but it was a step forward nonetheless. I'd made an incorrect assumption by assuming that the culprit was a spy leaking intel to the enemy, but now that I knew this wasn't the case, I could examine other, formerly unlikely possibilities.

I closed out of the blank charts and opened a different document. As my eyes scanned the screen, my left hand reached into my jacket and gripped my breast. Without Samantha around, I would have to massage myself. I needed every ounce of mental acuity I could muster if I had any chance of putting this puzzle together.

This new document was the timeline of events I'd been working on, as soon as it was starting to look probable that the buoys were a dead end. Now, more than ever, this was my only lead. The timeline was massive, including everything from local shipside events up to broader changes in the galaxy-wide war and politics. However, now that I knew our saboteur wasn't in contact with the outside world, that dramatically reduced the spectrum of possibilities. I slashed through the timeline, removing anything that didn't have a direct connection to the Athens.

"Hm..." The timeline was now extremely sparse. The network access had begun shortly after our operation on Zixue. Did someone sneak aboard as we retrieved the troops? That seemed unlikely given the complexity of our security protocols. Regardless, there wasn't a hint of unauthorized log access for over a year prior to that point, so I felt confident in marking Zixue as the "beginning" of this anomaly.

However, beyond that point, there wasn't much to go on. We'd taken part in a handful of raids and offensives since then, but they didn't seem to coincide with the network access in any meaningful way. I stared at the timeline in silence, both hands rubbing and squeezing my breasts as I contemplated one possibility after another.

"Could it be...?" After several minutes, a curiosity caught my eye. It was subtle, but the frequency of network access increased, before slightly tapering off, at multiple points in the timeline. Some of these spikes were stranded in a no man's land, not in close proximity to any events in particular. However, two of the spikes perfectly aligned with a pair of shipboard milestones: the commencement of individual and crew-wide sexual processing.