Meadowsweet (S1 E8)

Season Notes: This is essentially a heavy nonconsent/dubious consent story set in space that’s as close to erotica as I come. If you are uncomfortable with noncon, explicit sex and/or rape, or fictional slavery, skip this story entirely.

Zdenko wasn’t a fool. He knew what his crew was doing. What he wasn’t sure of was what to do about it.

He’d made the rules clear from day one. His girls needed to be able to walk off this ship free in all ways — including free of attachment to them. His other girls had shown no interest in spending time with him or the crew anyway. They kept their heads down, did what they were told, and got out as soon as they could.

And that was why he was stumped. Because it wasn’t the crew who were seeking out Moira, she was pushing herself on them. Not that they — Ezra and Skullfire especially, but Ildar too in his quiet way — weren’t enjoying her company. What was he supposed to do, confine her to his rooms? That was exactly the kind of asshole move he’d always tried to avoid. Order the crew to avoid her when she had herself planted in the middle of the common room?

So he’d been avoiding her. A week now without release, and the damn parasite wasn’t going to let him go much longer. He was walking around with a constant hard-on — literally — and his hand wasn’t doing it. Something about the parasite demanded a partner, the scent and feel, and perhaps most importantly fluids of another person. Why? Who the hell knew?

It wasn’t the worst he’d dealt with — hell, he usually went months between girls because he was too stubborn for his own good. But it was different with Moira right there, her scent in his room and all over his bed. He needed to talk with her, to figure out what the hell she was doing and how he could keep her from making a big damn mistake.

Should be easy, right? She was his slave and hadn’t once disobeyed him.

Yeah, right. She was obedient to a fault and still kept managing to get her own way. That was the whole reason he was avoiding her, after all.

Moira was surprised Zdenko hadn’t confronted her. Ezra and Skullfire were equally surprised he hadn’t yet cornered them. Ildar and Efe were still keeping their heads down but were starting to open up. Efe had even brought Moira a cup of tea and a warm brownie the other day. Moira wouldn’t have thought the second officer the type to be shy. Maybe she wasn’t one to talk if she didn’t need to.

Efe was actually curled up on the other side of the couch watching a vid when Moira found the answer she’d been looking for. “Ahh–!” She clamped a hand over her mouth a moment too late. “I can’t believe it,” she made herself whisper. “I can’t believe it. But it fits. It fits everything…”

Zdenko had been a puzzle to Moira since she met him. Sexual slavery wasn’t exactly unusual, and she knew most common personality types for people who bought sex slaves. Zdenko didn’t match any of them. Even stranger, she’d often noticed that he didn’t seem to enjoy the sex. Approached it as an obligation, even. Something he did because he had to, regardless of what he actually wanted. But here, when she wasn’t looking for it, buried in the ship’s log from nearly ten years ago was an unexpected clue.

Shortly after Zdenko purchased the Meadowsweet, he and the then-crew (only Skullfire was still with him from that trip, and she had a few guesses why) had landed on Verda.

Verda infection was nearly as mythic as Stolkholm, a legend within the psych and sociology fields that just happened to really exist. The parasite was one of the rare infections able to cross the blood/brain barrier and infect the brain. Moira wasn’t a neurologist, though any student of the human psyche needed to know at least a bit about the brain. The insula she recognized as being involved in sexual desire. Some of the other brain regions the parasite affected not so much. Regardless of the mechanics, what it did was well known — create an unending drive to have sex.

People — especially moralizing people — had been talking about and worried about ‘sex addiction’ since before Earth was destroyed. The Verda parasite created /actual/ sex addiction. A need for sex that got worse the longer it was denied. Stories of infected people fucking themselves to death were urban legends, but people had certainly caused harm under the parasite’s influence. As the captain had down when he’d fucked them both raw during her first few weeks on the Meadowsweet. A response to… how long without release? She didn’t think he’d ever said.

And he’d been avoiding her ever since she took her stand in the common area.

Moira sighed and closed up her datapad. Zdenko tried to be a hard-ass. Well, he was a hard-ass with everyone else. With her (and, she suspected his other ‘girls’), it was more of a bluff. Something — guilt she was betting — turned his stone to sand as soon as the parasite stopped riding him.

She waved to Efe, who smiled then went back to her vid. Then Moira strode into the captain’s rooms. “Zdenko.” She had, almost from the moment she found her feet on the Meadowsweet, been thinking of herself more as a high-priced sex worker than a slave. Time to clock in, that much-needed argument with her ‘client’ could wait.

“Zdenko.”

He started at his name. Zdenko could count on one hand the number of times Moira had called him by his name rather than ‘captain.’

She didn’t give him long to wonder about it, walking right up to him, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and pulling him in for a bruising kiss. He was stunned and confused, so full of need he responded immediately anyway.

After an eternity, she broke the kiss and stepped back — still holding his shirt. She pulled him to his feet and started dragging him to his bed. He wanted to stop her, to ask what was going on. But he needed too much, and she wasn’t given him a moment to think, to get control of himself. She twisted until he was in front of her, then pushed him down on the bed and climbed on top of him.

He found enough brain cells still under his control to say, “Moira, what…” then ran out of words as she bent over him and kissed him again.

This kiss was shorter. When she pulled away, Moira said, “You make a shitty slave owner, you know that? But I’m starting to think under all that bluff, you might be a halfway decent man. Now get your clothes off because I’m not in the mood to do it for you.”

She slid over to lie next to him. He immediately started working his pants off — probably proving her point. But hell, ‘shitty slave owner’ wasn’t exactly an insult when you came down to it.

Moira was already naked, of course, and used her hands and mouth to distract him and slow him down. He groaned as she slipped her hand under his briefs and began fondling him. “Fuck, girl…”

“That is the idea, yes.”

He was supposed to be angry with her. And this was too good to be true, that she sought him out, wanted him… she wasn’t ever supposed to want him…

But she had his briefs out of the way now, and her tongue was flicking his slit, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t remember why, didn’t care, as long as she didn’t stop.

She did, eventually. But by then, he was too worn out to complain about anything.


One of the fun things about writing stories is how they don’t always stay on track. One of the fun and frustrated things about serials is how they go off track and I need to fix it on the fly because y’all are waiting for the next installment.

This started as a Master/slave M/f and I expected it to stay that way for at least the first season or two. Moira (as usual) had her own ideas.

Meadowsweet (S1, E5)

Season Notes: This is essentially a heavy nonconsent/dubious consent D/s story set in space that’s as close to erotica as I come. If you are uncomfortable with noncon, explicit sex and/or rape, or fictional slavery, skip this story entirely.

“Moira,” the captain called.

Following the expected summons, Moira headed for the captain’s room. Since she wasn’t wearing the toys, he’d taken away the shorts and she was almost used to being naked all the time. Almost.

Still, when she walked into the bedroom and saw Efe leaning against the wall, she instinctively tried to cover herself.

“None of that.” The captain came up behind her and pinned her hands behind her back. He kissed the curve of her neck, and she jumped. She couldn’t remember a single time that he’d kissed her.

“Efe’s here to watch. She likes watching, likes it a lot. So you let her see, hear me?”

“Yes.” Moira swallowed. She’d done threesomes. Even a few more-somes. But exhibitionism… definitely not her thing.

This time she didn’t have any choice.

The captain — she’d finally learned his name by spying on the crew but still thought of him as ‘the captain’ — guided her to the bed. Moira kept glancing back at Efe, wondering what the other woman would do, what she thought… But Efe didn’t give anything away. Just stood there, watching. Didn’t even have a hand down her pants.

The captain kept kissing her. Down her neck. Along her spine. Little quick pecks, there and gone so fast she could have imagined them, except that each quick touch added to the warmth building inside her. Sucked her deeper into the world where thought didn’t exist, only sensation.

She tried to hold onto herself, her awareness. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t how the captain did things. These slow, sweet touches. He turned her around and laid her on the bed, and looked at her. Really looked at her, and for the first time since the pirates boarded her passenger shuttle, she felt seen. Really seen.

It made her vulnerable in a way being naked never had. She wanted to curl up, to hide, but he leaned in, cupped her chin, and kissed her. A long, deep kiss, and the fear was swept away by the need. The need to be seen. To be touched. To be held.

So she opened herself to him, knowing she was being a fool but not strong enough to resist. She returned his kiss, pulling him to her. She undid the buttons on his shirt. This time… /this/ time, she would see him, touch him. They broke apart long enough for him to lose his shirt and pull off his pants. His hands caressed her sides, and she played with the hair on his chest, following the trail of it down to the one part of him she had come to know so very well.

He nosed her breast, teased her nipple with his lips. Tender. Gentle. She could have cried for the joy of it. He took her nipple in his mouth, laved it with his tongue, and she did cry out. Wrapped herself around him. One hand on his neck, holding him to her breast. The other on his hip, pulling him toward her, guiding him into her. Seeking the long, slow love-making his tenderness promised.

But as soon as he slid inside her, everything changed.

He released her breast and pulled back. His hand sought her sex, worked her clit, trying to push her over an edge that she didn’t want, wasn’t ready for. His eyes… he stared straight ahead, at the wall behind him. No longer looking at her. No longer seeing her.

He pumped himself within her as he always did. Mechanically. Clinically. A man with a job to do, and her only the tool.

She didn’t resist the orgasm he pulled from her body. What was the point? It would only prolong the task…

Finally, with a last pump, the captain finished spilling into her, pulled out, and walked away.

Stunned, Moira nearly called out after him. How had he done that? Kissed, touched, intimacy for once, instead of just sex, then just… gotten off and walked away?

A shift of fabric, and she was reminded that Efe was in the rooming. Moira twisted around to see the other woman. But Efe was looking at the floor now. As if feeling Moira watching her, she hunched in on herself and muttered “Thank you,” before following the captain out.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Moira burrowed under the blanket and hugged herself.

She knew she was just a tool for the captain. A living fuck doll. If that was all it was, she wouldn’t have minded. But the entire crew had been avoiding her since she came on board two months ago.

Moira was lonely. Lonely and touch starved, and to be offered that slice of intimacy, of caring, only for it to be yanked away…

And only for Efe, she suddenly realized. The captain always ‘wanted to make it good.’ He’d try to ‘make it good’ for Efe as well. For Moira, ‘making it good’ meant orgasms. And he was good at them, she couldn’t deny. If Efe’s voyeur streak was for lovemaking, not sex… the captain would give her the illusion of that.

Just an illusion.

They were four weeks out from Barrett’s World and approaching their third landing — apparently, long hauls like the one to Barrett’s World were unusual. Ever since Barrett’s World, Moira had done her best to bury herself in her work. She’d been able to raid a library on Plendine as well — a proper university library that time! She had plenty to keep herself busy and one month to finish up a new submission for the university journal or lose her sabbatical. If she lost the sabbatical, she’d either need to reveal the truth of her situation (and possibly ruin her career) or lose her teaching position (and probably lose her career). So she’d worked and ignored her isolation. Her shunning.

But shunning, as she knew well, was one of the most destructive things a human could face. It destroyed the psyche like nothing else. She could use her work as a shield, a distraction — but only so far. Then… Well, then.

She sighed and pulled herself up.

She’d get a shower. If she had to be miserable, at least she could be clean rather than sticky.

Meadowsweet (S1 E2)

Season Notes: This is essentially a heavy nonconsent/dubious consent D/s story set in space that’s as close to erotica as I come. If you are uncomfortable with noncon, explicit sex and/or rape, or fictional slavery, skip this story entirely.

When they reached the ship, Zdenko did as he promised — brought Moira to his cabin, bent her over the bed, pulled the dildo out, and slipped himself into her. Already panting, she arched back against him. She knew that she would feel conflicted later, but right then, she needed to be filled and fucked before she exploded.

“Good girl, Moira,” he said, “just like that,” as he pumped slowly and steadily into her. He kept that steady pace until she was almost frantic, whining and begging. His own breathing heavy, he twisted a hand in her curls and pulled her back against him. With his other hand, he reached around her and tweaked her nipple. She moaned and pushed back against him, that little touch nearly pushing her over the edge.

Letting go of her hair, he grabbed both her nipples and squeezed. She exploded; a moment later, he followed her over the edge, spending himself in her, then laying them on the bed while they caught their breath.

After a minute, Zdenko stood and went to get a wet cloth. He wiped himself down, then tossed the cloth to Moira so she could clean herself. When she was done, he shoved the dildo towards her and watched while she reinserted it, wincing a bit at the stimulation so soon after orgasm.

So clinical, she thought. The sex had been good. She’d always orgasmed more easily than most women she knew, and he had decent technique. But that was all it was. Technique, a moment to rest, then clean yourself up.

When she had the shorts back on, Zdenko sat across the bed from her. “So, rules. You mostly have free roam forward of the cargo area. Don’t touch anything on the bridge. Make yourself useful if you can — cook, clean, give Ezra a hand in the mechanic shop. As long as you don’t cause trouble and don’t try to escape, you’ll get a decent bed, food, and 3% of our profits. Last girl I had bought herself out in 5 years, but she spent a lot on entertainment vids and fancy food. If you try to escape or cause problems on the ship–” he pointed to a corner of the room. Unable to see what he was pointing at, Moira got up and walked over. She bit her lip to keep from gasping. A cage, barely hip-high on her. Next to it a section of the wall with hand and ankle cuffs bolted to it. She looked back at Zdenko, who was fuzzy without her glasses.

“I don’t like locking you up. Not good for you, and a pain for me. But if I have to, then you’ll be locked up any time I, or one of the crew, can’t be keeping an eye on you. Which will be most of the time.”

“I understand. I don’t want to cause trouble, and as long as you are telling the truth, I won’t try to escape.”

“Good.” He reached into the pouch on the wall that served him as a ‘nightstand’ and pulled out a small personal data unit. He tossed the PDU to Moira, who fumbled the catch. “My last girl, Vivian, she was smart enough to save some. Had enough left over to set herself up okay. She left that for you, along with 50 credits in a secure account. You can play with it later.”

Moira hugged the PDU to herself like it was a liferaft. In a way, it was. “Thank you.”

“Alright, so vibes make you panic. What other problems?”

She licked her lips. “Ah… I’m allergic to most oil-based lubes. My ten-year implant is due to be replaced in 2 years. I think. I don’t know how long I was…”

“Yeah, that happens.”

“I haven’t tried much… creative, so there’s probably problems I don’t know about. I don’t like missionary, and my leg gives me trouble if I stand too long, so, like against the wall or whatever doesn’t work well.”

He nodded as she spoke, making a mental list. “All pretty reasonable. Don’t think we’ll have problems. Anything else I should know? What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Old injury that never healed right. You know how it goes; doctors charge an arm and a leg. I’ve got persistent anemia — I’m supposed to get a B12 shot every month. If I don’t, I’ve got about 6 months of feeling like I’ve got the flu — achy and tired. And then things get bad.” She licked her lips again. “I, ah, It feels like I’m about two months without it.” She paused. “And I don’t drink.”

“Bad how?”

“Worst I ever let it get was 2 years. Couldn’t think, could barely get out of bed, my hands didn’t do what I told them, and the doc I finally managed to get to said if went on longer I could have had permanent nerve damage.”

“Ouch.”

For a moment, neither said anything.

“I’ll try to round up about a years’ worth of your B12 at our next port. The ship will cover 50%; the rest gets added to your buyout. We’ll get you a new implant as soon as possible, covered by the ship.

“Now come on, I’ll introduce you to the crew.”

Zdenko’s introductions were like his sex — got the job done, but no feeling to it. The navigator and second officer was a petite Black woman with short hair named Efe. She seemed friendly but kept her distance after Zdenko glared at her. Ezra, a squat troll of a man with vampire-pale skin, was mechanic and cook. The signals office and third watch was Ildar, red-brown skin, blond hair, and a smile a mile wide. The last member of the crew was Skullfire Aranya, who wasn’t entirely human. She wore no covering but her pale yellow fur, her ears were slightly pointed. Skullfire was cargo master and handled the paperwork at every port.

After Zdenko’s cursory introduction, Moira was half breathless from the constant teasing of the toys. But she was starting to be able to think past the constant arousal. She decided it was time to test the waters. “You said I get a percentage of each run. What is it?”

“One and a half.”

“You don’t have a medic. Make it four and a half, and I’ll make sure none of you loses a limb between ports.”

“What, you a doctor or something?”

“Or something.”

“Two, if we needed a medic, we’d already have one.”

“Four. A medic is like a fire extinguisher. You don’t need one until you do.”

“Three, and that’s final.”

“Deal.” Moira stuck out a fist and Zdenko bumped it. “Where are the medical supplies? I need to take an inventory.”

“We’ve got a box in the common area. But you’ll need to do your inventory later.” Zdenko grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss.

“Oh.” Moira didn’t resist and found the man’s technique with his tongue was as good as otherwise. “Of course.”