Meadowsweet, Season Finale

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. Violence.

Efe interrogated the surviving hijackers. Zdenko, to Moira’s relief, was smart enough to understand that torture as an interrogation technique has some significant… drawbacks. So Efe, friendly, shy, Efe with her plates of brownies and cups of tea, got chatty with the hijackers. At first, they hadn’t told her much of anything, insisting they were ‘just’ hired muscle.

Which was true, but as Efe got them relaxed and chatting, she managed to learn a bit more than that. Enough to know that turning them over to the local authorities would be a waste of time. And their employer was from out-system and smart enough to use cutouts. The pallet they’d been after had five different cargo containers on it from three shipments. Two of them had high priority seals: if Zdenko opened them, he’d lose the contract and possibly end up in an admiralty court.

Most likely, the crew agreed, a merchant feud had spilled over onto Meadowsweet. One of the hazards of being a free trader and as soon as they were rid of the shipments, they would be free of the whole mess. By and large, it was a far better outcome than they might have hoped for.

Though Ildar remained mystified and annoyed at how they’d managed to track down and identify Meadowsweet so far from any planet.

Moira stayed out of the way until Efe finished the interrogations and tucked the hijackers away where they couldn’t get into trouble. (Zdenko nearly shot them out of hand, but decided that would be going a bit far given that it was his crew who started the shooting.) Then she tracked down Zdenko.

“Five percent.”

“What?”

“Five percent,” she repeated. “Sitting emergency bridge watch and helping hunt down hijackers was not part of the job description.”

Zdenko blinked and tried to glare at her. “It’s not a job, and you do whatever the hell I tell you.”

“It’s not a job? What is it then?”

“It’s… You know what it is!”

She raised her eyebrows, “So? You’re paying me a percentage of profits for services rendered. That’s the definition of a job.”

“Moira,” he growled, “You are not crew, you are…” he trailed off. Not once since she’d boarded the ship had he actually said the word.

“Yes?” She put her hands on her hips, daring him to say it.

He couldn’t. He cursed and spun to punch the wall.

“You don’t like being a villain, captain. And I don’t see you as one. So stop trying.”

Zdenko glared at her. “I can’t let you be crew, Moira. I need you in my bed. I need to know you will never try to tell me no. If you do, one of these days, I’m going to hurt you.”

“You’ve hurt me already, trying to protect me. Have you heard of shunning? I can now tell you from experience that it is an absolutely miserable experience.”

“What? When?” He reached for her, stopped himself.

She laughed, and the bitterness in it took even her by surprise. “Verda parasite is a planet-sized bitch.” His jaw dropped, but she continued before he could say anything. “And I’ve never heard of anyone lasting as long as you without treatment. In the process, you saved me and several other women from the slave trade, so I can’t even complain about how you did it. I have no intention of telling you ‘no.’ Not only do we have a bargain, but I have no intention of being stuck on a flying tin can with a man gone Verda crazed.

“But for God’s sake, stop trying to play pop psychologist. Stockholm is a bloody myth. Keeping me separate from the rest of the crew while you treated me like an object and not a person was far more likely to start ‘brainwashing’ me than letting me be a part of this damn ship.”

Moira started quietly, but by the time she finished, she was screaming right in his face.

When she finished, Zdenko wiped his face clear of her spittle and stepped back a pace. He said, “No need to hold back, woman. Tell me how you really feel.”

Moira glared at him and, for some reason, that made him chuckle. And then he was giggling, and Moira was having trouble holding her glare because she was trying not to laugh, but she couldn’t hold it back any more than he could, and soon they were both laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

When they finished, Zdenko let himself flop down to sit on the floor, and Moira was leaning against the wall clutching her sides.

Zdenko looked up and asked, “You really don’t mind?”

“It might surprise you,” she said, gesturing to her body, “but in my prior life, I did not have people beating down my door to give me amazing orgasms. I don’t mind the sex at all. But it would be nice if you could treat me like a friend rather than a fuck.”

His jaw dropped again. “A friend? How could you… after everything… I mean…”

“No, we aren’t friends. But in spite of everything, I’m impressed by you, Zdenko. Maybe if we give it a chance, we could be friends.”

The shock was slowly replaced by a wide grin. Zdenko stood up and held out a hand to her. “Alright, let’s see where it goes. Welcome to the crew, Moira.”

Moira returned his grin and took his hand. “To a beautiful friendship.”

He laughed and used their clasped hands to pull her to him. The kiss started gentle but deepened, leaving them both panting. “Now get out of those damn clothes.”


That’s it for this season of Meadowsweet. Thank you for your patience with me the past few weeks. Moira, Zdenko, and company will be back next year – maybe we’ll finally get a look Ezra’s fish.

But until then, there are more stories to tell. Next up is What You Will.

Viola is in love with Duke Orsino

Duke Orsino is in love with Countess Olivia

Countess Olivia is in love with Cesario

Cesario is really Viola in disguise…

or is he?

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night is a very queer play,

But what if you could make it queerer?

As usual, paid newsletter subscribers are 6 weeks ahead of the website. If you want to get the first six episodes of What You Will now, go sign up today.

Meadowsweet, S1 E11

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. Violence.

Moira, watching on her datapad, was shocked at how fast the fight had been. She had never seen a real fight before — brawls, teenaged dust ups, yes. Tournaments, many. But not this kind of life-and-death violence where nothing was for show and every move was calculated for maximum damage.

She was still grappling with how quickly everything had changed when Zdenko stuck his head back through the door.

“Stay here, I’m locking the door behind me. We need to take out the rest of them and find their ship.”

Moira nodded convulsively, staying safe behind a locked door sounded like the best idea she’d ever heard. Still… “Wait… how can I talk to you?”

Zdenko looked at her like she’d been talking an old Earth language — Mandarin maybe, or Thai, rather than galactic standard. “What?”

She waved the datapad at him. “I can see what they are doing. Shouldn’t I have a way to tell you?”

He blinked, then said, “We can monitor the security feeds through the bridge.”

Skullfire, able to hear better than most of the crew, shouted from the common room, “Don’t be a fool captain. We can’t leave anyone behind to monitor security, we need every claw we have.”

“But–”

“Lock her in the bridge instead. She’ll have full access to security there and if they try to take the bridge, she’ll be able to tell us.”

Zdenko looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment gave a curt nod. “Fine. Get in the bridge. But no funny business. You can use the ship’s intercom from there.”

It took a moment for everyone to realize there was no way she was getting herself to the bridge. So set up something like an old-fashioned bucket brigade, with Moira as the ‘bucket’ being tossed from one to the next until she was strapped into one of the bridge seats. Ildar gave her a 30 second class on using the ship’s intercom, and then she was alone and locked in an area of the ship she’d never before set foot in.

After a tentative attempt at controlling the security panel, she decided to continue relying on her datapad for everything except the intercom. Use what you know was the most common sense law of any combat.

She didn’t pay attention to the plans the crew were making, instead turning her attention to the cargo hold and eternal cameras. The two hijackers she and Zdenko had seen in the cargo area a few minutes ago were still there. But instead of searching for the crew, they were searching the cargo itself, reading off the numbers stenciled on various cargo containers. Carefully she flicked on the intercom, trying to activate it only in the crew common area. “They’re looking for something in the cargo.”

Apparently, she got it right, as the hijackers didn’t react to her words and the crew all looked toward the camera and Zdenko gave her a thumbs up.

On the externals, she didn’t see anything. Which made no sense — there had to be a ship somewhere. They weren’t in what the crew called the Deeps — the vast empty space between solar systems. They were, however, on the far edge of an Oort Cloud, which meant they had to be at least 10,000 AU from their destination. (Moira didn’t know much astrogation, but she knew that much at least.)

For the hijackers’ purposes, they might as well be in the Deeps — they had to have a ship somewhere nearby.

Of course, that raised the question of how another ship had found them. This wasn’t a random hijacking, not if they were looking for something specific in the cargo. Moira might not know anything about spaceships, but she knew enough history to be able to figure that much out for herself.

Moira didn’t stop to wonder why the ship had exterior cameras. Those with some knowledge of space ships and space navigation tended to assume that visual navigation would be useless to a space ship. What good was light detection when traveling faster than light? They were right, as far as it went. But to each task it’s tool. Video was useless, even at the best enhancements available to anything the size of a ship, for seeing much further than a couple dozen miles away even in the airlessness of space. But gravitonics and other sensors used to avoid asteroids, rogue comets, other ships, and the rare deep space hazard at high speed were completely useless for such critical (if low speed) tasks as aligning with a stations’ docking ring or zeroing in on a landing field.

And since they needed to have cameras anyway, and cameras were cheap, most ships had lots of them. If nothing else, it was easier to use the cameras to check for external damage than send someone out in a spacesuit.

Because Moira didn’t know that there ‘shouldn’t’ be cameras or why, she didn’t know about the other sensors any ship had as a matter of course, or how to check them. So she didn’t see the small high-speed cutter sitting with its lights out a short distance (in interplanetary terms) from Meadowsweet.

While Moira was searching the space for the ship that had to be there, the crew was zeroing in on the remaining hijackers. “Sneaking” wasn’t really possible in a cargo hold. Especially one with the gravity turned off. So they didn’t even try. Just spread out a bit and moved toward the noise the hijackers were making.

The fight itself … well, it would probably be a mistake to call it a fight. It ended up being more a complex game of hide and seek that ended when Efe got a clear shot at one of the hijackers and Skullfire pinned the other against one of the cargo pallets.

The two surviving hijackers were tied up in the crew’s common area. The bodies were searched and tossed out the airlock. Later, when Ildar reviewed the logs, he found the hidden ship. It started building acceleration immediately after the two bodies went out the airlock.

Meadowsweet, S1 E10

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. Violence.

On the bridge, Skullfire Aranya cursed silently to herself as she peered around into the common room. In their native environment, even the clumsiest of her people had some natural stealth. Under the humans’ yellow lights and against the dingy metal walls, the greatest of them had difficulty sneaking. In zero-G…

It had been pure luck that she’d been on the bridge when everything went to hell. But it was luck she was going to make use of.

Efe had still been in the break room when the hijackers came in. Actually, she’d fallen asleep while Moira was dealing with the captain. Like the captain and Moira, she’s woken up several feet above where she’d fallen asleep.

Unlike them, she’d been startled awake by the hijackers. The rest of the crew would never let her hear the end of her immediate, frightened shriek, but she was cunning enough to follow up on a good opening. Now she was a blubbering mess, cringing away every time the guns twitched, and inch by inch ‘swimming’ toward the hold-out gun stashed under the couch. One of these centuries, she thought, people would stop underestimating a pretty woman in tears. But for now, she got to have her freak out and kill them too.

Ezra was floating between the guns and Efe, using small swimming motions of his hands to keep himself in place. He liked to plan, Ezra did. He wasn’t a quick thinker like Efe or Zdenko. So, he thought long instead. When the hijacks rounded him up, he knew his role. He went right into belligerent mode. Get in their faces, get them on him. It came naturally to him, but the main point was it got the attention off the quick and cunning folks so they could unleash hell on whoever needed it. These assholes definitely needed it.

Ildar seemed to lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching. It was one of his parlor tricks, and right then, it was intimidating as hell. Anyone who could lean against a wall in zero-G and not go spinning off could fly rings around the average spacer.

He’d been on watch when a warning light went off, and he’d gone down to the engine room sure that it was the cooling system needing to be reset (again). They’d rounded him up and brought him here. He hadn’t given them a moment’s trouble, but they recognized his silent threat. What attention they had to spare from Ezra’s imitation berserker was centered on Ildar.

In the cargo hold, two more hijackers swept through the stacks, searching for any missing crew. A final hijacker guarded the engine room against any attempt to re-take it.

This was the scene, the moment of calm before chaos that Moira and Zdenko saw part of on Moira’s datapad. Zdenko wasn’t sure why the hijackers hadn’t checked the bridge or any of the crew cabins yet. They couldn’t have gotten this far and been that foolish.

But whatever the reason, it gave him and Skullfire an opportunity, and he was damn well going to use it.

Zdenko flung himself toward the door of the room, pausing only a moment to be sure of his handholds. “You hacked the cameras. What else you got?”

Moira fumbled, again, for the wall and data unit. “Ah… I think I figured out how to adjust the lights? I didn’t really try to dig deep; I didn’t need to and…”

“Fine. Blink the lights in here and on the bridge.”

Moira needed both hands, so she let go of the wall and let herself tumble, swallowing down nausea. It took her a few moments while Zdenko could only hope nothing in the crew area was changing. Then the lights started blinking.

One… two… thr–

Zdenko slammed the door open and got off two quick shots against the nearest hijacker. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Skullfire launch herself into the room. Chaos erupted and ended between one breath and the next.

When it was quiet again, Efe had the gun in her hand and held it on the remaining hijacker, who was pinned between Ezra and Aranya. Ildar was gone, already halfway down the corridor with a throwing knife in each hand. And, of course, the hijacker Zdenko shot was spiraling from the force of the darts, spewing blood and… other stuff.

Quiet, of course, was relative.

“Everyone okay?” Zdenko bellowed.

“Where the fuck did these assholes come from?” Ezra demanded.

Efe jammed her gun into her pocket and slammed out after Ildar, flashing a quick high sign at Zdenko as she went.

Skullfire tossed the remaining hijacker’s weapon to Zdenko, and Ezra used some of the cables he was never without to tie her up. The hijacker, wisely, kept her mouth shut. “There was nothing on the sensors until one of the engine lights started blinking. It was like they appeared out of nowhere.”


Another short one. Sorry folks, I wrote myself into a corner and family emergency is ongoing (though looking to resolve in the next week or so). Neither combat nor pantsing are my forte, put the two together and… Well, I’ll figure it out by next week. Promise.

Meadowsweet (S1, E9)

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.

Moira was floating in the afterglow of really good sex. There’d been more than a bit of angry-not-exactly-make-up-sex in it on both their parts, which made it better. They needed to talk, but she didn’t want to ruin the warm glow. So she snuggled down into the bed, determined to ignore the world for a few more minutes. Unfortunately, that made her bounce off the bed, which was when she realized she really was floating.

She shot upright — or tried to. Instead, she ended up in an uncontrolled spin. Something clamped onto her arm and pulled her. She nearly screamed, but a hand clamped over her mouth. Zdenko murmured in her ear, “not one goddamn sound.” He waited until she nodded, then released her mouth and grabbed a handhold next to the bed, stopping their spin.

“If we’re lucky,” Zdenko continued in that same quiet voice, “Ezra was doing some repairs and didn’t want to risk disturbing us. Might have screwed up somewhere, but Ezra doesn’t screw up.”

“And if we’re not lucky?” Moira somehow strangled her shriek down to a whisper, but they both heard the panic in it.

Zdenko made sure Moira’s hand was wrapped around the handhold, then let go himself, reached down, and turned on the magnetic soles of his boots. A moment later, his feet were clamped to the side of the wall as if was a floor. “Then we’re dealing with pirates. Or privateers.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Maybe. Pirates will take us and the ship and sell both. Privateers will take the ship and let us go somewhere with nothing but the clothes on our backs and their sincere apologies.”

Moira held the handhold until her knuckles turned white and tried not to hyperventilate. She was an academic, for god sake! She wasn’t supposed to travel the galaxy having exciting adventures. She was supposed to write case studies about other people having exciting adventures.

“And on that subject…” Zdenko rummaged in one of the bags hanging next to his bed, and Moira suddenly understood why he had bags hanging on the walls instead of a dresser. He pulled out a ball of fabric and threw it at her. She squeaked, grabbed at it, lost her grip on the handhold, realized she was spinning, squeaked again, grabbed for the handhold, and somehow managed to hold onto both the fabric and the wall. The fabric, she then realized, was a wad of clothing.

Zdenko barely seemed to notice. He walked down the wall, crossed the barrier between ‘wall’ and ‘floor’ in a single stride that left Moira feeling dizzy and reached under the bed. “Get that on. If we are unlucky enough to be stranded somewhere with nothing but the clothes on our back, you’d better have some clothes.”

Moira squeaked again, some distant still-logical part of her mind (the part that was in no way in control of her body) pointing out that while Zdenko’s had a point, she would have a hard time putting anything on with both hands wrapped around the handhold.

Then she noticed that what he’d pulled out from under the bed was a gun. Her brain, the brain that didn’t shut up even when she’d been looked on the 3P waiting to find out how she would die, immediately started up. “If you shoot that, won’t you put a hole in the side of the ship? Then we’d asphyxiate rather than whatever these… people have planned for us. And shouldn’t there be an alarm going off? This room isn’t soundproofed, so why is it so quiet?”

“Hush.”

She hushed

“You’re right, we should be hearing something, and the alarm should have gone off. But we don’t have any way to see what’s going on out there.”

Moira blinked, something about his words… “Wait!” She looked around for her datapad, left… somewhere when she’d come in the room. She saw it, floating near the other side of the room. “There! Get that.”

Looking at her oddly, Zdenko clumped across the room and brought back her datapad. Now she was juggling the clothing, pad, and handhold, and keeping a grip on none of them. Cursing, Zdenko pinned her against the wall, shoved her legs into the loose pants, grabbed the spinning tablet, and handed it back to her. “If we get out of this, I’m turning the gravity off for a week, so you can learn how to not kill yourself in it.”

Moira couldn’t exactly argue with that and wasn’t interested in trying. Instead, she pulled up the still-not-fixed hack she’d worked into the ship’s security systems. The video loaded, and she blinked in surprise, then turned the screen to show the captain.

“Well, fuck,” he said.


Sorry for the short episode and the cliffhanger. Family emergency has me scrambling, but I promise we’ll be back next week to learn what they are seeing and how they’ll respond.

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, E4

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. Sexism

After three weeks, Zdenko finally felt his ‘libido’ start to ease off and breathed a huge sigh of relief. The parasite hadn’t ridden him this hard since he’d bought his first girl. Or course, he’d been stubborn this time, waited longer than he should have, hoping he could find another option.

So now his dick was so sore he could barely stand wearing clothing, never mind put it in anything. Moira wasn’t quite as bad off — once she started insisting on giving him oral, she got to switch holes whenever she started getting too sore. She still winced when she sat down and was a bit hoarse most mornings.

She’s also taken to avoiding the captain as much as possible, not that Zdenko blamed her. He kept things as clinical as possible. No reason to fool himself — or worse, her — into thinking she was more than a set of holes for him to use. He took enough away from his girls. No way would he make them fall in love with him into the bargain…

Moira, for her part, wasn’t avoiding the captain so much as trying to pin down the other crew. Granted, it wasn’t like she needed to avoid the captain. He was either in his room or the bridge.

The rest of the crew seemed to be everywhere — else. If she walked into a room with someone, a few minutes later, they’d be walking out. If she started a conversation, she’d get a couple of awkward replies, and then they’d make excuses.

The problem was that the times she had one of them trapped — at the medic station — Ezra and Efe had both been relaxed and talkative. Until suddenly, they weren’t. In a split second, they’d go from cheerfully chatting to awkward — she’d swear /embarrassed/ — silence and (again) escape as quickly as possible.

At first, she hadn’t paid it much mind. The captain had kept her too occupied to really notice. But as his demands lessened, her curiosity increased.

When they landed on Barrett’s World, she still hadn’t found any answers.

Zdenko didn’t think much of it when Moira asked for permission to visit the planet. After being trapped in a flying tin can for a month, most people wanted off. She hadn’t gotten paid yet — none of them had. But she had that bit of starting cash Vanessa had left her. Even on Barrett’s World, there would be something to buy.

So once their old cargo was unloaded, Zdenko asked Ildar to guard Moira while she explored a bit. What happened next was food for gossip and speculation from Barret’s World to Plendine.

“She what?”

“Spent the day at the library,” Ildar repeated.

Efe shook her head and took a drink of moonshine. “I didn’t know Barrett’s World /had/ a library.”

“Apparently, they do. Or they call it that. One room with hundred old-fashioned pulp books and a data reader older than the /Meadowsweet/.”

Ezra chuckled. “My sister was like that. No matter where we were, made a straight run for the library.”

“How’d she even find it?” Zdenko couldn’t wrap his head around it. At all.

“She went right up to the first person she saw and asked for the nearest town hall. Went there and asked for the library.” Ildar shook his head. “Wearing nothing but those boy shorts you gave her and enough determination to bowl over three government officials on her way there.

“I swear she had some kind of passcode because after getting blocked every inch of the way when we actually got to the library, she whispered something to the librarian, and suddenly all doors were open to her.”

“Damn.”

“What’d she do there?”

“What do you think? She read. Well, and copied. I swear she scanned a half dozen books into that little datapad you gave her. Probably tucked up in your room reading them right now. I took a look at some of it, weird stuff. History of the colony, records of births and deaths, some priest type pontificating on a plague that happened after landing and it made the holy rollers holier.”

“Who is she?”

Zdenko cut the conversation off. “She’s mine now. Nothing else matters. She wants to read up on weird colony plagues from 200 years ago, let her. Keeps her out of trouble.”

Of course, they didn’t stop talking about it. Space is boring. Living with the same people in a tin can in space gets old. Moira had been another stranger they had to put up with. Now she was a /mystery/.

But they were careful not to talk too much when Zdenko was around. And they still tried to stay out of Moira’s way. None of them would think of asking for services yet — those who’d be interested. She needed more time to heal. And Zdenko had firm rules about non-sexual fraternizing with the girls. Foolish rules, if you asked the rest of the crew. Ildar would go on at length about it if given a chance. But Zdenko’s rules. So they abided as best they could.

Moira had a mystery of her own to solve. Well, two, but priorities.

By the time they were two weeks out of Barrett’s World, the captain had settled into a reasonable twice-a-day schedule. That left Moira plenty of time for reading. That their first stop had been Barrett’s World had been a bit of luck for her. You wouldn’t think it, but the ‘holy rollers’ were a great source of certain kinds of information. If there was anything known that could make a man have sex a dozen times a day (whether he wanted to or not), the rollers would know it and condemn it. At length.

Plus, she had a paper to work on. “Case study of the social dynamics of an intersystem freighter” had a nice ring to it.

Unethical as hell, since she hadn’t asked any of their permission to do a case study. But under the circumstances, she really didn’t care. And it wasn’t like any of them had stayed still long enough for her to ask.

Maybe when she was done, she’d tell them about the problems with the ship security. Some of her undergrads would have hacked their system in a split second. It took her a bit longer to get in, but she only needed access to the internal cameras.

Meadowsweet (S1 E3) — Too Much of a Good Thing

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. Sexism

It was a week before Moira finished the medical inventory. Not, unfortunately, because there was a lot to inventory. Luckily for her, among the few supplies available were some creams and spray-on analgesics. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to sit down. As it was, she sat… gingerly.

She was, bluntly, sick of sex. Sick of the feelings, sick of the smells, sick of the tastes. She was nearly sick of orgasms, which once upon a time she would have sworn was impossible.

She was pretty sure the captain was sick of it too. But that didn’t seem to stop him. In the moments between waking and sleep, she wondered what kind of psych case study he might make. What drove him to this constant sexual activity that he really didn’t want…

As she worked up a list of the minimum necessities for a medic station, she thanked the skies that her homeworld viewed sex work as a respectable profession. If she had the hangups of some of the core worlds, she might have be having a breakdown. Instead, she was ‘just’ sore, annoyed, sick, and dreaming about science papers.

She was also thankful that the captain wasn’t a complete ass. When she’d told him she was getting sores on the third day, he let her take the toys out. Now she kept a big bottle of lube in her pocket.

“Yo, is the medic in?”

She turned to see Ezra standing in the doorway. “For the moment, what can I do for you?”

He rolled up a sleeve to reveal a poorly bandaged burn. “I’d wait and get it seen next landing, but we’re going to Burnet’s Planet, and no one in their right mind sees a doctor from the holy rollers.

Moira had medic experience; she wasn’t a doctor. Well, not a medical doctor. But this didn’t look like it needed debriding. She stripped off the old bandage, slathered one of the few topicals on hand that would treat burns, and re-bandaged it.

“I’ll need to change the bandage every day, as long as the supply holds out. Don’t get it wet. Who are the holy rollers?”

“Thanks.” Ezra flexed his arm and smiled. “The holy rollers are–” He cut himself off and shook his head. “Thanks.”

Then he was gone.

Before Moira could wonder, the captain was calling her.

“Guess that break’s over,” she muttered.

 

She shuffled into the captain’s room, wincing. Without waiting for him to say anything, she bent over the bed. Then she froze. He’d fucked her brains right out of her — and likely fucked his own out as well. She stood up, bumping him back.

“Moira…” He growled.

“Why don’t you use my mouth?” She turned around and barely stopped herself from glaring at him.

“What?”

“I’m so sore St. Casanova couldn’t ‘make this good for me’ right now or anytime in the past two days. For whatever reason — and don’t think I’m not grateful — you haven’t tried the back door yet which, like I said, please don’t. But I have a mouth. It works. And it isn’t ready to break out in bleeding sores at the slightest bit of friction.”

He blinked at her. It was the expression she had started thinking of as ‘brain flew south for the winter.’

With a sigh, she nudged him back another step. Grabbing a pillow off the bed for her knees, she knelt down in front of him. It took only a moment to finish opening his pants and pull out his cock.

That seemed to startle him out of his brain funk. He pushed her hands away. “Don’t…”

This time she did glare at him. “Why not? It’s not like you want to hurt me, right?”

“But you’re… you’re a lady.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I mean, you…”

“Are you seriously going to tell me that you’ve never had any of your other… girls suck you off?”

“No, but you aren’t–”

“Oh dear fuck. You’re from one of those planets.

“If you say I’m ‘not like them’ or anything similar, I will find a way to sneak in here one night and cut your dick off, don’t think I won’t. I think I could even stitch it back on so it would work after.”

He gaped at her.

“I hate the universe.”

He blinked, and she watched as his brain started drifting south again. The shock of a ‘good girl’ or whatever crap being willing to suck cock was fading. Better get this over with.

She grabbed his cock again and wrapped her lips around the tip before he could protest. It had been a long time since she’d had cock in her mouth, but she hadn’t forgotten how it was done. With how primed he was, she didn’t need to remember much anyway. A few quick stroked with her tongue and fingers, then suck him in, deep into the back of her mouth, just touching her throat.

He came, thrusting against her. She held on until he was finished, then swallowed. With another sweep of her tongue, she cleaned the last drops from his head and stood up.

“Are we done here?”

“A… yeah… I… Yeah.”

Shaking her head, she went back to her improvised medic station. She needed that list finished before the next planetfall, ‘holy rollers’ or not.

 

Zdenko watched her go and tried to get his brain back online. He didn’t know who Moira had been, and he really didn’t want to. He knew enough. From her competence with the medical stuff and the bit of reading he’d seen her do, he knew she was educated. Like, summa cum loud educated or whatever they called it. Normally, he wouldn’t even meet a woman like that; never mind get to fuck her. The truth was, he didn’t want anything to do with those types. Too full of themselves and thought they could learn everything they needed out of a book.

But he’d always tried to treat his slaves decent. Respectful, in a sense. As long as they behaved and kept him grounded. He would never have asked a woman like Moira to… to…

He looked down. Fuck. He was getting hard again. Already.

Return to:
Meadowsweet S1 E2

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.”

Meadowsweet (S1 E1)

Season Notes: This is essentially a nonconsent/dubious consent D/s story set in space. If you are uncomfortable with noncon, explicit sex and/or rape, or fictional slavery, skip this story entirely.

The 3Ps (‘Personnel Processing Platforms’) in the outer rim were not places anyone wanted to be. Not the overseers, for whom it was (hopefully short) rotation at a shitty job. Not the buyers, for whom it was a necessary evil. And most especially not the ‘Personnel,’ slaves really, who came to the platforms from a number of sources but mostly went two places: the gas mines and ‘entertainment’ facilities. Debating which was a worse fate was a common pastime. Those condemned to the mines had a shorter life expectancy, but the highest cause of death among the entertainers was suicide. So long life expectancy wasn’t much of a selling point.

Captain Zdenko of the Meadowsweet was one of those who sometimes came to the 3Ps to offer a third choice. In Zdenko’s case, he /did/ offer a choice — if a slave didn’t want to come with him, he’d send them back and pick another. But he was honest enough to admit that under the circumstances, it wasn’t exactly what you’d call ‘freely chosen.’ And he wasn’t surprised that on his three prior visits, his purchases hadn’t been at all interested in telling him ‘no.’

Now Zdenko and the Meadowsweet were back for the fourth time. As usual, he’d spent the trip hating himself for giving in to his weakness and cursing the day he’d landed on Verda. He hated that he couldn’t afford to throw enough money around to buy everyone free and get the hell out of there.

Or maybe stage a jailbreak. Ezra would get behind that. Bust down the doors, kill some shitheads, load up everyone they could on the Meadowsweet…

But ‘everyone they could’ would be maybe ten folks tops before the life support gave out. Then they’d be hunted down by governments, corporations, /and/ pirates and he’d end up right back here… on the inside of the cells.

So instead, he was one of the shitheads.

He gave his usual requirements to the overseer who met him, turned down the pro-forma offer of a beverage, and waited with as much patience as he could manage.

A few minutes later, the shithead return leading a naked woman. Redhead (natural), who squinted like she needed glasses, carried at least 50 extra pounds, and jug-handle ears. She had a limp, but nothing so bad it would interfere with her ‘duties.’ Her name was Moira.

Moira wasn’t in hell. She knew that. Hell was what came next. But that didn’t keep it from feeling like hell. Still, she kept her head up and her stride steady as she followed the overseer into the small room where Zdenko waited.

She hated him immediately, like she hated all of them. But she knew he might be her ticket out of hell. So she bit her tongue, kept her eyes off him, and waited with as much patience as she could manage.

Zdenko sent the overseer out of the room, introduced himself, and asked her name.

“Moira.” He rolled her name over his tongue, liking the feel of it. “Here’s the deal, Moira. Anytime you want, you can tell me ‘no,’ walk out the door, and I’ll tell the shithead out there you don’t suit, and you can go back to your cell. If you don’t, then you belong to me until you can buy yourself free.”

Moira started at that and Zdenko grinned. “Thought that would get your attention. I run a small freighter, the Meadowsweet. You will be, being blunt about it, my sex slave.”

“Me?” she was startled into exclaiming. He, correctly, figured it was because of her looks.

“Not to be crude, hon, but one hole is much like another.

“Your job will be to be available anytime, anyplace, anyway. The word ‘no’ will have no place in your vocabulary.

“When I feel like it, I’ll share you with my crew. We’ll all try to make it good for you; blood and screaming aren’t exactly arousing. But that’s the most I’ll promise.

“If you do your job and keep us from tearing each other apart, you’ll get a percentage — /small/ percentage — of our trades. You spend that on what you want or save it to buy yourself free. Your buyout is what I spend on you today plus 5%.”

Moira wasn’t one to rush into things. Even less so now, when rushing in had gotten her into this mess. But… “I have no reason to believe you are telling me the truth.”

Zdenko grinned. “Nope. But what are your alternatives? You aren’t pretty enough to get snapped up by the entertainers, so that means the mines. If you take a chance with me, you can be free in five years. In the mines…”

In the mines, she’d likely be dead in five years, and they both knew it.

“I accept… Sir.”

“Good, that’s good. ‘Sir’ or ‘Captain’ is how you call me. Now turn around, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

She did as she was told, bracing herself for whatever he’d do. Inspect ‘the goods,’ she assumed. To distract herself, she quipped, “At least you didn’t say touch your toes.”

He chuckled. “Got a sense of humor, nice. You hold onto that Moira, and I think we’ll do okay.”

He opened up his supply bag and applied lube to both her holes. She shivered and bit her lip but otherwise didn’t move. Then he inserted a stacked-ball dildo into her vagina and slowly-but-steadily inserted a thin anal plug. She gasped and whimpered, not liking the burn of the plug.

“Not used to using the back door, are you?”

“No, Sir.”

“Well, you’ll get used to it. Now stand up.”

She obeyed, muscles twitching as the movement changed the way the insertables sat inside her.

“Here, put these on.” He handed her a pair of tight boy shorts. “Eventually, you’ll learn to hold that dildo in yourself, but for now, you get a bit of help.”

Already, the sensation of those toys was making her warm, making it hard to think, but she caught the meaning behind that. “Sir… am I to have these… all the time?”

“Unless I tell you to take them out or you need to use the head. You take them out, you wash them, you put them right back in. I got those just for you, so you don’t need to worry about anyone else’s gunk on them.”

“… thank you, Sir. Can I ask… why?”

“You can always ask,” he assured her as he repacked his bag. “Rather have you ask, just be polite about it.

“I told you, you’re going to be available to me anytime I want you. That dildo and plug will make sure you are always wet and always stretched… well, not /that/ plug. I’ve got some bigger ones on the ship but figured we’d start slowly. And for the most part, they’ll also keep you eager. Like I said, trying to make it good for you.”

“Oh… thank you, sir.”

He opened the door and walked out. She followed behind without prompting. Each step brought another burst of sensation, another wave of arousal. She shuddered, trying to imagine spending the next several years like this… and likely more and worse (better?) when the captain was actually trying. And she believed he would try. There was a note of pride in his voice when he spoke of ‘making it good for you.’

Thinking of what he might come up with when he was paying attention to her brought up a memory so sharp she froze. Cold fear wiped out every bit of arousal the toys had pulled out of her.

“Sir… sir, you can’t–”

He whipped around and grabbed her upper arm. “What did I say about the word ‘no’?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry, I just–”

“No ‘just,’ no ‘buts.’ Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir. Please, sir,” questions. Questions were allowed. Make it a question. “Please, sir, would you please not use vibrators on me?”

He blinked, surprised. “You don’t like vibes?”

She swallowed. “I… they don’t feel good, sir. The last time I tried, I had a panic attack. I’m going to be good, sir, I promise. I want my life back, and you’re the only one who has offered me even a chance at that.” Now that she had started talking, the words tumbled out beyond her control. “I’m not trying to make trouble, and I’ll remember to never say ‘no,’ and I’ll not cause trouble with your crew. But if you want to ‘make it good’ for me, I need to be able to tell you things. Things like this.”

She started out pleading, but by the end, she’d stiffened up, got some steel in her spine. Impressed, he nodded. “You’re right. And I never would have thought that vibes would be a problem like that. But this isn’t a conversation to have here.

“Once we’re back on ship, I’m going to take a chance to get to know you,” he palmed himself, “Because I’m not sure how much longer I can wait. Just straightforward sex with no extras. Then we’ll talk.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Relieved, she continued following him through the passages of the 3P. Each step once again increasing her arousal. She wanted to rip out the dildo and plug, to stop feeling when she needed to think.

Since she couldn’t… stars. She hoped they reached the ship soon.