I needed to speak with Saint Varrel. It was a matter of urgency, a course correction for the ship that required his immediate attention.
Honestly, I was sure he had no idea about any of these things, but changing course would delay our arrival, so I needed to inform him.
Steeling myself, I walked toward his private quarters, my boots clicking sharply on the polished deck in a rhythm that matched my professional resolve.
That resolve shattered the moment I drew near his door.
From within, I heard a loud, wanton moan, followed by the unmistakable, rhythmic sounds of passionate sex.
My feet froze. My breath hitched.
It was not the first time I was forced to hear these filthy men fucking, but it was getting worse and worse, my body burning.
An unstoppable heat flushed through my body. I told myself to walk away, to return to the bridge, but my body betrayed me. As if pulled by an invisible string, I found myself edging closer, my eye finding a small, fortuitous knothole in the heavy wood.
And I looked.
The scene inside stole the air from my lungs.
Sasha, her body gleaming with sweat, was riding him with a wild, abandoned grace I could never have imagined. Her face was filled with desire.
I couldn't understand why his sex slaves always looked so happy. Shouldn't they feel miserable, like every other unfortunate person that ended up as a Celestial Dragon's slave?
Maybe he was just that good at fucking? And the thought made my pussy throb.
I'm going crazy, I thought, even as my hand, seemingly of its own volition, drifted to the front of my trousers.
I felt the dampness there already, a humiliating preview of my own unraveling.
I practically fled to my private office, locking the door behind me with trembling hands. Leaning against it, I gasped for air, my body burning with a fire I had spent years suppressing.
At my limit, I tore off my pants and panties, desperate for relief. I hadn't even begun to touch myself, but I was crazily wet, to the point I was dripping onto the floor of my personal office.
If any of my men saw me in this pathetic state, they would think I was a whore, not the proud Marine captain they were sworn to respect.
Tentatively, I brought my fingers to my burning skin. I began touching myself, my body burning with need. I couldn't remember the last time I had indulged like this, the last time I had allowed myself to feel anything but disciplined control.
I'll just touch it a little... Just a little... I bargained with my own conscience. It's not masturbating as long as I don't cum, right?
"Fuck," I whispered into the empty room as my fingers found my clit. It felt so good. My head fell back against the door, my hips beginning to move with a faint, involuntary rhythm.
But soon after, the door was shoved open, its lock snapping under the force, and I tumbled backward onto the cold floor.
Arlo stood in the doorway, invading my space and my shame.
For the first time, I saw his face without the bubble helmet and mask; he was so devastatingly beautiful that it sent a gasp through my whole body.
My arousal, already a raging fire, burned even hotter, a confusing and infuriating response to a man I knew I should hate.
"Fuck!" I murmured, scrambling to cover myself, my mind racing for any excuse. "You just barged in here without even asking... asshole."
"And why would I need permission to get in?" he answered with supreme arrogance, his eyes raking over my exposed form. "I own everything on this ship."
"Do you have any self-awareness!? Get out!" I screamed, feeling a hot wave of shame at my perversion being so thoroughly exposed.
But he just approached. Of course, he would not leave. A terrifying mix of fear and excitement surged within me at the idea that he would rape me right there on the floor.
"As your traveling companion and future owner, I'm just concerned about you." He grabbed my huge breasts roughly, his touch branding my skin. "Look at these, they are so filled with desire. Have you been taking proper care of your needs? You seem ready to explode."
He kept toying with my breasts as if I were his personal plaything.
And the worst part was, I was actually loving it. His hands felt electric, and his gaze was so hot it seemed to scorch me.
"Look at the way they're poking out. You're way too sexy," he said in a joking tone, squeezing them even more to humiliate me. "They're so big that your nipples stand out, too. I can see them standing up through your shirt."
Then, his hand roamed down, past my stomach, to my dripping wetness.
I felt an absolute wave of pleasure that made my vision blur. Were these just his fingers? N...No way... It felt so much better than when I was doing it on my own. His fingers were skilled, reaching places they shouldn't, touching depths I couldn't.
They were just fingers, but...
The pressure built with impossible speed, a coil tightening deep within me. My back arched off the floor, my mouth falling open in a silent scream.
My mind went blank, white noise filling my ears as the world dissolved into pure, unadulterated sensation.
A violent, shuddering convulsion ripped through me, wave after wave of blinding pleasure erasing every thought, every inhibition, every memory of who I was supposed to be.
When I finally floated back to awareness, I was breathless and dazed.
"You really came hard, didn't you?" he said arrogantly. "Look at the mess you made on my hand."
"What was that…" I mumbled, my gaze unfocused as I looked up into his beautiful, cruel eyes.
His fingers were glistening, slick with my own sexual fluids.
"Now, lick it clean."
For some reason I couldn't comprehend, I obliged. I couldn't resist the lingering pleasure or the compelling command in his voice. I leaned forward and took his fingers into my mouth, the taste of my own submission salty and stark on my tongue.
He took the chance to fasten a cold leather collar around my neck, the buckle snapping shut with a decisive click.
As his touch lingered, he leaned close, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine.
"Enjoy it, because that was the first of ten. Even better orgasms are coming."