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“And so now onto the pain and pleasure part?” she asked with a casual smile.
This was better. This was good. She was getting ahold of herself. She’d lost it for a while there, entertaining girlish fantasies about this male. Where had those come from, she wondered? The Silent Falcon was fueled and ready. The great dark void awaited with the promise of precious loneliness. She was here to endure this. Not enjoy it.
“And so now onto the pain and pleasure part,” he said, his voice flat.
Her belly trembled at the way he looked at her. A long, brooding stare into her eyes before his gaze wandered over her expression like he was trying to make out exactly what she was thinking.
“Kindly turn around and place your palms flat on the table,” he ordered.
The drone hummed down to her eye level, the blue light scanning her face. It followed her, turning with her and keeping its eye trained on her expression as she turned her rear toward Torian.
“And now if you would step apart with your feet. About an arm’s length,” he said.
A brief swell of humiliation welled through her. It was gone in a moment, though, replaced by a dangerous and frightening excitement, the source of which she could not pinpoint.
Torian walked to the desk and removed an item from the drawer. A hand-sized, thin, round tube that, when gently flicked forward, extended much in the same way as High Mother’s morning wand. He slowly walked back to where she had assumed his desired position, and stood behind her.
“One of the reasons his Excellency decided not to do away entirely with this archaic and, frankly, garish ritual was that he realized there is valuable information to be distilled by measuring a person’s reaction to pain and pleasure stimuli.” He tapped the wand against his other palm.
“Is there?” Quaia said, trying to mask with the flippant question the strange excitement bubbling inside her. Her ears were keenly attuned to the sound of the wand smacking the skin of the captain’s palm. The fleshy smack plucked a chord inside her.
“We believe there is,” Torian answered, his voice tight.
“If that is the case, at what age will the males be enduring their Ripening?” she asked. The question, as well as her tone, came out more pointed than she’d meant. She prepared herself for an inevitable correction.
He took a step toward her. Drawing the rod between her legs, he tapped it gently against the inside of each of her thighs, igniting the heat between them again. Where the instrument touched her flesh, a delicious tingling remained. Already the promise of pain, as she was bent over on the table, had begun to make her sex dampen.
“A little farther apart, please,” Torian said quietly.
Her face flushed as she obeyed his order, the heat that stained her cheeks coming from seemingly nowhere. She spread her legs further apart, her pussy feeling so wet again that she feared it would drip onto the floor. She glanced down as she felt him draw the rod up her thigh.
When it grazed against the petals of her sex, cool and commanding like the tone of the captain, she gasped.
“Do not be alarmed,” he said, leaning over her so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “You can rest assured that you are in competent, capable hands.”
She shuddered as he drew the rod side to side against her entrance. As he pulled it away she couldn’t resist another glance over her shoulder. She watched as he raised the rod over her bottom. He caught her eye and arched his brow. “You would prefer to watch our experiment?” he asked.
“I… uh… just… I didn’t…” she stammered.
He marched around the table and waved his hand over the wall of the compartment opposite her. The coating on the wall flickered, and in an instant turned reflective, creating a giant wall-sized mirror.
A deep, boiling heat rose to the skin of her face when he did the same to the walls on either side of her. She was surrounded with visions of herself, bent over, compromised, submissive. The image of her own naked body, legs apart, hands flat on the table, seared into her mind, so she couldn’t think of anything else even if she closed her eyes.
“Is that better?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t help thinking that he was goading her with the question. Something in his eyes made it seem like his excitement was growing with her own.
After standing behind her, leaving her to contemplate her submissive position in the many mirrors, he brought the rod down on her bottom.
It was a light tap, not at all what she expected. It stung a bit, and she drew in a quick breath, but a hollow disappointment rang in her chest. Something inside her cried out for more; she couldn’t be sure where the call came from. Her skin, itching to burn with pain? Her tender insides, longing to twist again in humiliation?
The pain dissipated quickly—too quickly, she thought in wonderment—leaving only a feverish excitement crackling through her. She was the last person to believe it, but the feeling that crawled inside her was a feeling of longing: she wanted more.
The drone hovering in front of her scanned her face with its blue eye, then clicked as it snapped an image of her expression.
Torian took his time walking around the table. He tapped a few commands on the drone’s readout and read the output, then rounded the table to stand behind her again.
“It appears your body reacts to corporal punishment in a most surprising way.”
