Training Planet by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Britana had expected that kind of command. She told herself as the heat surged in her face that of course she had expected to have to kneel down in front of him so that she could do that—the obscene thing he had just said.

You’re going to learn to suck my cock.

The image of Melora, kneeling, with Sister Portia in front of her, of the red phallus in Melora’s mouth after it had gone into Melora’s pussy… of the huge shaft itself, with its sculpted head and its prominent veins… of the head sister presenting the terrible thing for Britana to look at before thrusting it into the naked body of Britana’s new friend… all hovered in front of her mind’s eye, and made her shut out the real sight of Captain Edwards’ handsome, bearded face.

She felt her face crumple in hot confusion as, down below, the memory of his strong, skillful hand came back to her so strongly that she gave a tiny sob of wanton need. In front, where she felt the urgent warmth, the desperate tingle, she had only that memory. In back, that same hand held her whipped bottom, squeezing very gently and reminding her of the much less pleasant things his hands could do.

Would he really spank her if she refused to obey his lewd commands? Her bottom still ached so much from Sister Portia’s horrid strap. His touch there awakened such terribly ambiguous feelings, but the lingering pain made her feel she would have no choice, if the captain really did mean to be strict with her, like he had said.

But… she couldn’t. She couldn’t kneel like that. No matter what her government had done, Britana Geran shouldn’t have to pay with such shameful service; the wild thought came to her that she could show the captain she intended to serve the Magisterian Navy, but as a different sort of ship girl.

Britana could see now that the Magisterians, despite the sternness and degradation meted out by the Sisters of Service, intended, ultimately, the welfare and growth of the young women chosen for the training center. Having met the doctor and the captain, she couldn’t help but feel some excitement about seeing the galaxy as a valued crewmember of a starship—especially with Captain Edwards as her commanding officer.

She would… she would even have sex with him, but not like that. Not the way Sister Portia had made clear ship girls had to do. The captain would understand, and honor her spirit, wouldn’t he?

Her eyes opened, and she saw his kind but serious face bent toward her. For a moment she bit her lip as she looked into his blue eyes, just feeling the strength of his embrace, the way it held her safely in its compass, one hand on her back and the other on her bottom.

The idea that she wanted to please him came suddenly to her mind. Britana supposed she had felt it before, in the classroom and even in the shower, but only vaguely. Sister Portia’s demands, so clearly intended to produce the captain’s pleasure, had obscured Britana’s own thoughts and feelings about him.

“I want to… to obey,” she whispered, hardly thinking about the words. “I… think maybe I even want to be a ship girl.”

A smile curved the captain’s lips, but Britana could tell that he had heard the but coming: the smile had a firmness in it that made her heart jump.

She went on anyway, though her idea that she would escape the shameful things he would demand seemed to recede more before her with every word.

“But can’t I… do… something…”

She didn’t even manage to get the else out of her mouth. The expression on Captain Edwards’ face caused it to die in her throat.

“No, sweetheart,” he said softly but also with such emphasis that Britana quailed back against the clutch of his hands, and gave a little cry when she felt the answering squeeze of his right hand on her bottom.

“I’ll make this easier for you,” he said, looking into her eyes with any trace of a smile gone. The words seemed so unexpected that Britana frowned. Did the captain mean he would let her go? For an instant, Britana felt a strange, confusing, terribly dismaying emotion: disappointment.

Then she felt his grip tighten on her naked body, and shift, and she understood. He moved his right hand to her upper arm and took firm hold there, turning her toward the sitting area of the suite. She saw there not only the armchair to which he had referred, and a couch, but also a different kind of chair, wooden and high-backed with no armrest.

Britana cried out and tried to pull away, but just as Captain Edwards had marched her to the whipping bench in the schoolroom, he marched her toward the chair. She had no need for anyone to tell her the purpose of this apparently out-of-place piece of furniture in the hospitality suite of the Girls’ Training Center. A sob rose from her chest as the words formed in her mind: The chair for spanking naughty girls—that’s where I’m going.

It took only three steps. The disappointment Britana had felt a moment before had fled away entirely. Had she gone crazy, in that instant? To feel let down because she had supposed the captain might let her go entirely, or even let her do something else for him, other than what he had commanded?

She couldn’t have really felt it. Certainly, as she struggled desperately now, babbling protests, it seemed impossible that she had somehow, even for an instant, wanted him to… to do something like this.

“Please… Captain… Stop, please… I’ll… I’ll…” She swallowed hard, her brow creasing deeply. “I’ll suck it!”

Captain Edwards didn’t reply with words. He positioned her to the right of the chair, and then sat down, pulling Britana effortlessly over his lap and clamping down with his left arm to keep her in place. The softness of the cotton fabric of his pants made her sob at the contrast with the massive muscles she could feel in his thighs.

“You certainly will,” the captain agreed, then. To Britana’s surprise, his voice didn’t sound angry. “But first, as I said, I’m going to make it easier for you. I’m going to teach you why from now on, tonight and in the future, you will do exactly as I tell you, even when I require the most shameful service you can imagine.”

Britana cried out, because Captain Edwards had accompanied his final clause with a movement of his right hand. His strong fingers found their way between her little bottom-cheeks, and touched her in the place Sister Portia had made her clean with the enema bulb.

She struggled over his lap, kicking out with her feet, but to her dismay the captain very clearly knew exactly how to keep a girl in place. He held her tightly with his left hand across her back, and he shifted his weight with such precision that every time Britana thought she might get free from his grip by twisting her body or flailing with her arms or legs she found herself restrained even more tightly.

His right hand through it all, to her hot-faced embarrassment, stayed in that very same, mortifying place, his middle finger pressing firmly against her bottom-hole. With a sob Britana had to stop struggling, because Captain Edwards had pressed the finger inside her anus, impaling her and making her feel pinned atop his strong right thigh.

“There,” he said, the satisfaction in his voice sending a wave of shame through Britana’s whole body. “Are you ready to kneel now, sweetheart?”

Britana felt her nose wrinkle, and tears came to her eyes. His all-too-apparent skill at putting a ship girl over his knee and controlling her there dismayed her greatly, yes—but not truly because it meant she would not escape, that she would have to do every lewd thing her new master asked of her. The dismay came from the way Captain Edwards knew not just how to keep a young woman atop his lap but how to make her feel that even a man’s finger in her bottom represented nothing more than what she needed and deserved.

Britana Geran is the kind of girl who has to have a finger up her backside.

The voice in her mind that seemed, despite Sister Portia’s horrid cruelty, to agree with the awful woman, rose from a whisper to a stern, commanding declaration.

Whipping Britana’s bottom isn’t enough. Britana is the kind of little slut who needs to learn the hard way that from now on she must kneel before an officer to suck his cock, whenever he decides to use her for his pleasure.

The tears in her eyes didn’t come from the feeling of helplessness, or even from the censorious voice in her mind. Britana wept because of how deeply her body cried out for more of it.

She sobbed, “No,” without knowing what she really meant to refuse or to deny. She shook her head wildly.

The captain, to Britana’s simultaneous hot mortification and wanton excitement, seemed to have anticipated exactly that response. His right hand left her bottom for a moment, and then it returned with a sharp spank that made her cry out at the renewal of the agony from Sister Portia’s strap.

Your master knows what you need.

She kicked at the thought, and at the pain. She writhed over his lap as he kept spanking her. Her tears flowed, but they didn’t seem to come from the discomfort as much as they came from the pure release of the physical sensations, and how they seemed to cleanse the shame of her wicked needs.

“Stop kicking, Britana,” the captain said very sternly. “This spanking will go on for a very long while if you keep resisting it.”

But she couldn’t obey yet; she kept kicking, until he shifted her from his right thigh to his left, maneuvering her so skillfully that Britana had no chance to twist away. He put his right knee across both of hers, and then he resumed the spanking. Britana screamed and threw her right arm back, but the captain simply pinned it behind her.

Her bottom felt like he had put burning coals there. She sobbed, “Please… please…” but the captain’s hand kept rising and falling, though he had gone completely silent and the only sound in the room was her screams and the sharp crack of his hand on her poor rear end.

Finally, feeling fully released at last, as if somehow the punishment had truly removed any choice she might have worried she had, Britana screamed, “I’ll do it! I… I want to… I want to… Please let me!”

Captain Edwards stopped spanking her. His hand rested gently atop her bottom.

“What do you want to do, sweetheart? You must learn to say it, and to ask for it by name.”

Britana never could have done it if she had had to look her master in the face. Since her head hung down over his leg, though, with her dark hair disheveled all around her face, she could whisper, “I want to kneel.”

At that moment the hand on her bottom moved further down, and Britana, whose knees the captain had spread a little before he pinioned them under his own leg, felt knowing fingers on her pussy. She cried out in a very different way than she had a moment before. The pain from the spanking had become something else, something needy and aching—something that somehow both proved the truth of everything Sister Portia had said and made it not a condemnation but a discovery.

“You want to kneel and do what?” the captain asked in a soft voice. “You were naughty, Britana, and you received the correction you needed. Now you must ask to be allowed to serve me.”

Britana heaved a sob from her chest. Little whores must beg, the voice in her mind said: not Sister Portia’s, but Britana’s own.

“Please, sir,” she whispered. “May I please kneel and learn to suck your cock?”

Vincent helped Britana slide off his knee and onto the thickly carpeted floor in front of the spanking chair. He kept his legs spread, so that she could kneel up in front of him, and with his right hand on her shoulder he guided into her that wonderfully submissive position.

Britana’s eyes had fixed themselves on the floor, and her lovely brown hair spilled all around her face. Vincent smoothed it back behind her shoulder first on the right and then on the left, letting the tension of the moment slacken just a little, as the sweet naked girl before him calmed after the intensity of her latest taste of old-fashioned discipline.

Gradually her rapid breathing quieted a little. With his left hand Vincent stroked her hot cheek, using the backs of his knuckles to rub gently along the jawline of her lovely face.

Britana kept her sweetly pointed chin lowered, but her dark eyes flicked up suddenly, as if she didn’t think she wanted to know what expression her master’s face wore, but couldn’t resist the temptation to see. Vincent, who had waited for exactly that sort of glance, smiled and moved his thumb just under her chin, with the slightest bit of upward pressure, letting the girl know that he would raise her face to look at him when it suited him to do so.

The inquisitive eyes lowered their gaze, apparently abashed, and Vincent thought he could feel a bit more heat in the pretty face he caressed. He moved his hand again, over her silky cheek, under her adorable ear, to the back of her neck. Britana’s whole body gave a tiny shudder, and to his great satisfaction Vincent saw her hips give a little jerk, her pink bottom squirming as if he had just delivered another little spank.

He had learned in his experience as an officer exactly how to give a spanking over a girl’s existing welts. Britana had gratified him very fully in her responses to the discipline, and he had no doubt that she had found the experience agonizing to the proper degree—though Vincent had of course taken great care to keep her backside from any further lasting harm.

Sister Portia had accomplished her purpose of making the girl wince when she sat or even walked for the next day or so, and of making her punished bottom an edifying spectacle for other girls and for herself in the mirror. Vincent’s intention lay in a different direction: the special intimacy that a bare-handed, bare-bottom, over-the-knee spanking created.

Britana’s shudder left him in no doubt that she expected her new master to bend her face down toward the darkness at the joining of his tree-trunk thighs. Still less did he worry that her own loins had not warmed lewdly at the idea even of being made to look at a man’s hard penis closely for the first time, let alone being made to take it into her innocent little mouth.

Instead, Vincent used his light grip upon the back of her head to raise her face so that her widening eyes met his.

“I know this is difficult for you, Britana,” he said gently.

Her mouth twitched sweetly to the side for an instant, and her eyes flicked downward with such enticing modesty that Vincent’s cock leaped against his thigh. Then, to his surprise, she looked him in the eye again without being commanded to, and said in a voice that seemed to mix confusion with defiance.

“Then… why are you going to make me do it? Why did you…” Her words fell to a whisper, her face reddening even further. “Why did you spank me?”

Vincent nodded his chin, making the smile on his face remain reassuring so that he could keep at bay the bit of amusement he naturally felt at Britana’s sweet innocence, her slowly growing understanding of what a dominant man likes, and what he does to get it.

“Sweetheart, it’s time you know that the most important reason I spanked you is that officers like to spank pretty girls.”

Britana’s eyes went much wider as she took this in: he could see in her face what a conflict it caused in her mind and body as she came face to face for the first time with this stark truth, and found that instead of repelling her it aroused her instead.

“But I also spanked you, just as I said, to make it easier for you to do what you must. I said a moment ago that I know it is difficult. You are still going to do it.”

“But… but that’s mean,” she protested, her brow creasing deeply. She spoke the word mean as if it represented the highest condemnation her culture could pronounce.

Vincent let his smile fade a little. “Is it, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

Britana’s lips parted, and her breathing became instantly more labored. He could see in her shocked face that his words had gone straight to her quim, just as he had intended.

Slowly but firmly Vincent began to lower Britana’s face toward the front of his black synth-cotton pants. She let out a little whining whimper, and resisted a bit at first, but he didn’t allow it: he kept her in place and kept moving her mouth downward.

“You’re going to kiss me over my trousers, now,” he said. “Remember what you asked to do, just a little while ago. It’s time to learn how to show me the respect a ship girl from a rebel world shows the captain of her starship.”

With a tiny sob, Britana lowered her face all the way. Vincent’s hardness grew instantly under the little whimpering pecks she bestowed with her pretty mouth. The dark-haired girl must have felt it, for she gave an ambiguous little cry, half shame and half need.

“Put your hand between your legs,” Vincent commanded. “Play with your little cunny for me.”

Britana let out the same sort of cry again, but louder and more obviously aroused. Vincent’s cock stirred anew at the sound, and the girl between his thighs thrust her right hand downward, moaning softly and kissing her master’s lap over and over.

Vincent stroked her head gently with his right hand, using his left to brush her hair back from her face so that he could enjoy the wonderfully wicked sight of a naked girl nuzzling lewdly at the tented front of a man’s trousers. When he put his hand on Britana’s shoulder, he could feel the unseen, naughty movements of her hand down below. In her sweet, submissive sounds, he could hear that the word for which he waited would soon emerge.

“Please,” she breathed. “Please, sir.”

He had no need now to make her beg in explicit terms; indeed, his pleasure would find its fulfillment much more readily in action than in words now. Magisterian trousers, whether of the formal sort that made part of an officer’s uniform or of the casual style he wore now, had always opened readily at the fly for exactly the purpose Vincent now commanded of his new ship girl.

With a deft motion of his hand, he freed his cock so that its long, hard shaft sprang up from his lap. It stood tall, jutting arrogantly out of his underwear, which for a Magisterian had a similar construction to his pants, as Britana drew her pink face back with a little cry of mingled alarm and arousal.

For a long moment he let her merely look at the penis, his hand on her shoulder as he watched her mobile brow work in a show of the many thoughts and feelings—some clearly modest, others clearly very wanton—that must occupy her mind. She bit her lip, and her breath puffed through her nose in a rapid cadence, as her fingers played lewdly between her thighs.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” Vincent said softly. “It’s time.”

Her eyes rose from his hardness to his eyes for a moment, a sort of beseeching in them, though she still seemed unsure of what she truly wanted.

Vincent took firm hold of her head again now, though, his left hand twining in Britana’s long dark hair. “Open your mouth,” he repeated, hearing the urgent thickness of his need in his voice. “Or you’ll go right back over my knee.”

Britana gave a little cry, and her lips parted. Her right hand moved more and more quickly, and her body shuddered in time with its fingers’ naughtiness, invisible to Vincent, as she put the tip of her tongue out just a little. He felt the tension in her neck relax a bit, and he guided her face downward firmly but without any real force.

She gave another sobbing little cry, and opened her mouth wider, so that he could at last put the head of his cock inside his new ship girl’s lovely body for the first time. With his hand he held her mouth in place, now, and he lifted his hips to thrust himself a little deeper inside the velvet recesses of her pretty face—not enough to tax her fledgling skill as a young fellatrix but rather to begin her training in earnest.

“That’s it,” he murmured, still holding her firmly as she whimpered around the shaft that filled her mouth. “Just like that. In a moment I’ll let you be in control, and please me that way, but right now you need to learn to have your face fucked like your quim will be in a little while.”

A shudder went through Britana’s whole nubile, naked body as she gave a little cry of shame around the thrusting shaft of his manhood. Her right shoulder moved almost frantically as her fingers worked their unseen magic in her wet cunny. The arousing noises of a naughty young lady playing with her needy pussy came up from between the girl’s thighs to join the soft, moist sounds of a gentle face-fucking.

“Someday,” Vincent said softly, his voice dropping to the soothing, taming murmur in which he liked to speak with a new ship girl, “I’ll use your mouth much more deeply.” His hips found a slow, steady rhythm as the ecstasy built in his lower back and in his thighs. His penis moved in and out, in and out of her virgin mouth. Her cheeks, pink with her violated modesty, bulged a little as his cock came and went. “Oh, that’s so nice, Britana. You’re doing so well. Just take it now, sweetheart. It feels so good.”

Britana’s own hips now moved visibly with the caress of her hand on her needy quim. Her moans around Vincent’s gently moving hardness grew more intense. Long experience told him precisely what to do now, to ensure that the girl learn to look forward to this essential duty, which she would perform again and again aboard the Indus.

“Are you going to come, Britana?” he said. “You may go ahead. You’re always allowed to come, when you have the cock inside you.”

At that moment he let go of her head and moved his hands to her shoulders so that he could feel the delicious tremors of her climax. His words, with their implications about how her pleasure would receive regulation as his ship girl, sent Britana right over the edge into orgasm.

For a moment, as her upper body jerked with the first spasm of her pleasure, she started back with her head, as if she would remove her mouth from the rigid length of Vincent’s penis. Then, remembering the same words that had brought on such ecstasy, she seemed to fight against her instinct, and to win the battle: instead of lifting her head, she lowered it with a submissive sob that nearly brought on Vincent’s own climax.

Now, as Britana kept coming, she did her best to learn without any instructions how to please a man’s cock. She imitated Vincent’s thrusts, or perhaps she knew about this part of a girl’s oral service from the naughty conversations to which she had alluded. Either way, she bobbed her head up and down, taking him as deeply as she could, crying out as her hips bucked with spasm after spasm of pleasure.