Michael's hand hovered in front of the Admiral's door, unsure whether to proceed. Why had he come here? He'd come because she'd ordered him to of course, but why had he obeyed? Was it simply habit? Years in the navy will do that to you. He was just lowering his hand to reconsider when the door swung inward.
"There you are, right on time."
Too late.
She stood aside to give him room. "Well, in you come." His legs betrayed him, obeying her command all on their own while his mind struggled to come up with a countermand.
The door clicked shut behind him, the sound of the bolt sliding home prompting a nervous sweat to break out on his brow. He was trapped now, trapped with this woman.
He eyed her nervously. The white officer's jacket with the stars of an admiral, one empty sleeve folded and pinned neatly in half. Her boots tapping softly on the planks as she strode leisurely round in front of him, and surely those pants shouldn't be that tight?
"Eyes forward Lamon."
His gaze snapped upward to end up looking her right in the eyes. Hers is the gaze of a seasoned commander, confident in her authority, but not complacent. The faintest quirk of her mouth warms her eyes and sets a swarm of butterflies loose in his stomach.
"Well, are you just going to stand there?" One eyebrow arcs halfway up to her bob cut as she poses the question.
His racing mind comes to a crashing halt as he attempts to comprehend her meaning. She lets out a mock sigh and her eyes roll before swivelling back around to pin him in place once more. She takes a step forward, bringing her close enough he can catch the smell of juniper on her.
"Strip".
One word, uttered with the same tone she'd request an engine reading. As if complying was the only possible response.
"Strip Michael, I want to see what I get to have fun with."
He can feel his face heat up and the butterflies form a tornado. He says a silent prayer of thanks that his well tanned skin will hide most of the blush.
The eyebrow arcs again when he continues to stare dumbly at her. Finally, mercifully, he manages to stammer out the beginnings of a sentence. "I- I th-".
"Ah-ah-ah", she moves even closer and presses a slender finger to his lips, gently sealing them closed. "You speak only when spoken to. Now, let me make this easier for you." The slightly condescending tone of her purr sets yet more confusing feelings loose in his head, the growing stampede making it impossible to form coherent thoughts.
"Engineer Lamon," she speaks now with her battle commander voice, the sound washing away the stampede as his training takes over. "Take off your coveralls."
He complies.
Oh sweet goodness what am I doing screams a tiny voice in the back of his mind as he unbuttons the red coveralls and steps out them, noticing in the process that he's more than a little hard.
Septima murmurs her approval, and he feels her eyes roaming up and down the muscles of his bare arms, before lingering on what must now be an incredibly obvious bulge in the front of his underwear.
"Good boy, now take off your shirt."
His face burns, and his underwear is strained even further. He slowly complies, exposing his well toned torso as his shirt joins his coveralls on the floor. She speaks so condescendingly, but instead of stoking irritation he finds it fills him with a burning lust. He's finally forced to accept this is turning him on, and that just stokes the flames even higher.
"Now lose those, and then keep your eyes ahead."
He hits full hardness as he bends to pull his underwear down, cock briefly catching on the fabric before springing free. With his last scrap of clothes discarded he straightens up and stares at the wall in front of him, his whole body standing at attention.
She steps out of his field of view, one that's slightly clouded by lust, but he remains acutely aware of her as she moves. Slowly, casually, she begins a full circle, admiring her prize. Listening to her footfalls, and her gentle purr of admiration it takes all his willpower not to turn around. He remains fixed in place by, not fear, desire? A desire to please, to be as good as she wants him to be. His cock twitches as that thought is slotted into place. The picture of what's happening to him is becoming clearer.
Her circle is completed, and she steps in closer, the smell of juniper returning as she draws close enough to touch. And touch she does, her hand lightly brushing his arm. He jumps a little, and she lets out a low chuckle, "Easy boy. It'll be your turn to move soon enough, for now be a good boy and stay still."
She leans in close enough he can feel the warmth of her breath on his ear when she whispers, "The correct response, is Aye Ma'am."
"Aye Ma'am," he repeats back immediately, the thrill of the word leaving his lips stoking his lust to heights he hadn't thought possible. A phrase he's uttered countless times suddenly takes on a new meaning.
"Good boy," she purrs into his ear, and resumes gently touching him as he stands trembling in place. She takes her time as her fingers slide softly up and down his arms and his back, tracing the muscles back and forth. She slips lower, her hand sliding up one leg to gently grasp his butt. That purr, that sexy purr, grows louder as she gives him a squeeze.
The anticipation has him sweating and shaking as she moves, agonisingly slowly, returning to his front. Her fingers run across his pecs, one then the other, then down to his abs. She traces each of them one by one, top to bottom. He barely holds in a whimper as she goes lower and lower, pausing at the last.
One finger lightly traces a line along the top of his cock, base to tip, and he can't help but gasp. Her response is another chuckle, and to run some more fingers up and down his length. The fingers go lower still, giving his balls a gentle stroke, and he can feel it when he leaks.
It doesn't go unnoticed by Septima, who looks him right in the eye as she gently cups his balls in her hand. "You like when I touch you?"
"Aye Ma'am," his response is a lusty gasp, his mind lost to the pleasure of her touch.
And then her hand goes away.
It's too much, his own hand flies to grip his achingly hard cock and begins to stroke. A split second later a painful slap across his face knocks him from his daze. When his vision clears he can take in Septima's hand as she brings it back around to slap him the other way. Her eyes are narrowed as she grabs a rough handful of his hair and tugs downwards, "Kneel!"
His knees crumple at the order, this time unable to keep from whimpering as he looks up at the angry woman still clutching his hair.
"I did not give you permission to touch yourself." He whimpers again, cheeks stinging, cock twitching, thoughts stampeding once more.
"You're here to follow my orders, that's why you came to me, isn't it Michael?"
He stares dumbly up at her. He tries and fails to form words, torn between conflicting thoughts.
"You want me to use you. To own and control you, that's why you came here."
She leans down, hand pulling his head back so he's staring straight up at her face, only inches from his own.
"Tell me what you want Michael".
His mouth is dry, and after licking his lips it's still a struggle to form the words. "I- I want you- to use me." The words finally leave his lips and it's like a wildfire breaking free.
"I want you to use me, Ma'am".
She smiles down at him, her eyes hungry.
"Beg for it slut."
The fire burns out of control, the degradation only adding more fuel. "Please Ma'am, please use me. I need it."
"Good boy. From now on, you belong to me. I'll use you for my pleasure, and if you're good, I might let you get off as well. Does that sound good slut?"
It does, nothing has ever sounded so good in his life. "Yes Ma'am, please do what you want with me."