The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Starship of Lust, Ch. 02


I was seated in my quarters, penning my regular report to headquarters informing them on our progress. It was currently late in the evening (while there is no day-night cycle in space, most ships operate on a simulated one for the sake of their human inhabitants).

Just as I had put the finishing touches on the report, my door beeped. I had a visitor.

“Come in.”

My guest entered as soon as I gave permission and saluted. “Ma’am.”

It was Lisa Gonzalez, and I smiled genuinely at the sight of her. “At ease. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

Gonzalez’s posture relaxed slightly, and her arm fell to her side. However, she maintained a firm, professional expression. “Ma’am, you have always told me to come to you if I identify actionable areas of improvement aboard the Athens.”

“Indeed,” I nodded. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well…” This was a rare sight. Gonzalez was tongue-tied; her usually strict face cracked for a moment and she looked slightly embarrassed. “It has to do with the engineers.”

“The engineers? Did Anthony Cooper do something?” At the mention of trouble, my mind immediately went to the Chief Engineer.

“No, ma’am.” However, Gonzalez denied my assumption. “This is actually something I’ve noticed with… all of them. Cooper included, I suppose, but it’s not an individual issue.”

I folded my arms and leaned closer. “I see. Then out with it, Lieutenant. What exactly is going on?”

Gonzalez pursed her lips, then spoke. “This may sound silly, but I feel the engineers have been… staring too aggressively. Whenever I am near them, their eyes are constantly upon my chest and legs. I may be mistaken, but once or twice I believe they have even rubbed their crotch in my presence. Furthermore, from talking to other women on the ship, it seems that they’ve all had similar experiences.”

Hm. While this was unexpected, it was important to take Gonzalez’s comments seriously. Sexual harassment was no laughing matter. By sheer coincidence, the fifteen engineers aboard the Athens were exclusively male. That had never caused any issues until now… but something may have changed.

“Has it gone beyond looking? Have any of them made disparaging remarks or touched you directly?” The details were key in this scenario. Military guidelines were harsh about punishing sexual harassment but, crucially, verbal or physical action was necessary to be technically considered harassment. Just a glance, or even multiple glances, wasn’t enough.

Gonzalez knew this as well, and she shook her head. “No… I haven’t experienced anything that I think could qualify as blatant sexual harassment. Actually, I partially bring this up because I do not feel that there is malicious intent among the engineers.”

Curious. “Explain, Lieutenant.”

“I do not wish to imply that the engineers are devoid of guilt; they should certainly be acting more appropriately. However, I do worry that our uniforms are exacerbating the issue and making it difficult for some to focus on their duties.”

I scanned Lieutenant Gonzalez from bottom to top. Her feet were nestled into black stiletto heels, her skirt was only just long enough to conceal her undergarments, and the top three buttons of her jacket were undone, exposing a generous amount of cleavage.

In other words, her uniform was perfectly up to code, just as expected of my adjutant. However, from an objective perspective, I had to admit that one could find her attire provocative, especially the amount of exposed skin.

“So what do you propose, Lieutenant?”

“Nothing in particular I’m afraid, ma’am. This is a difficult situation that I wanted to bring to your attention before it gets out of hand. We can’t exactly fault people just for having a sex drive.”

She’s right, which presents an interesting conundrum. An individual can’t help having a strong sex drive, and it’s only natural to seek release once you’ve been aroused. At the same time, as natural as it is, we can’t allow necessary ship functions to be impeded by our crews’ libido.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Leave me. I’d like to think on this matter.”

Gonzalez left my chambers with another salute, and I was left to contemplate in silence.

What was there to be done about this? Engineers are a ship’s lifeblood in our modern technological age. They need to be able to work free of distraction, lest we risk diminishing our combat potential.

Unfortunately, even as high-ranking as I am, it’s not within my jurisdiction to unilaterally enact new uniform standards aboard the Athens. Rather, it was important to follow military rule to the letter precisely because of who we are. The Athens is the flagship of the entire Unified Nations navy. We set the example for every other vessel to follow.

So, I should rule out changing our uniform. However, that means I’ll have to decide on a more creative solution instead.

The simplest approach would be to remove the distraction entirely and have the engineers work in isolation, without contact with female personnel. However, that was impractical, let alone inhumane. I enjoyed the thought of subjecting Cooper to an environment devoid of women, but the other engineers had done no wrong that I knew of.

Maybe I should consider this from a different angle. Ogling women was a symptom, but not the root cause. So what was the root cause? That should be obvious: pent-up sexual desire. Based on what I’d observed, none of our engineering cohort was in a relationship — at least, not with someone stationed aboard the Athens. Some had wives or girlfriends back home, I’m sure, but we were currently many lightyears away.

I imagine many of them resorted to masturbation to relieve their urges. There was an unspoken understanding among a ship’s crew that whatever you did in your own quarters was your own business. We could be deployed for years at a time, after all.

However, masturbation was clearly insufficient. Otherwise, this problem would have solved itself without my intervention.

It is the duty of command staff to ensure the rest of the crew perform optimally. Even if I must endure personal discomfort, that is the burden of being a leader.

With that thought in mind, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. Then, I sighed. There are guidelines in place for circumstances like this. Although seldom-used, the process is clear. I had been hoping to avoid going this far… but it appears there’s no way around it.

* * *


Every once in a while, I’ll go for a short run in the early morning. The Athens is equipped with a small circular track, separate from the main training room, to accommodate such activities. It’s a luxury that most naval vessels can’t afford, but the Athens was hardly “most vessels”.

After some stretches, I started my run around the track. This early, I was usually the only one here, and today was no different. However, after only a few laps, I found myself feeling immensely dissatisfied. I’d gotten so used to starting my workouts with one of Cooper’s semen shakes that it felt somehow bizarre to be exercising without one.

I tried to ignore the feeling of emptiness as best I could, but as minute after minute ticked by, my discomfort only grew. I’d come to realize something over the past few days, which I hadn’t been willing to admit to myself until now: I needed semen for my workouts to be effective.

Logically, I knew that there had once been a time when I exercised without that extra shot of protein. But now, the thought of exerting myself for even another moment without first drinking a man’s semen was excruciating.

A small part of me couldn’t help thinking: why? Were the semen shakes really so potent? I don’t believe there had been a dramatic improvement in my strength or performance since I started drinking Cooper’s shakes, and yet —

“Good morning, Major.”

A male voice interrupted my train of thought. Like me, he was wearing our standard jumpsuit. It was another soldier who had just stepped onto the track, Corporal Eric Vonce. He was a young man, early 20s at most. Despite our disparity in rank, Vonce and I were somewhat acquainted; we both tended to run the track at odd hours, and had exchanged a few words here and there.

“Morning, Corporal.”

I returned his greeting automatically, and glanced at his crotch in spite of myself. Whatever I had been thinking about before he entered the room, it didn’t matter. There was now something much more important.

I ran up alongside Vonce and matched his pace.

“Corporal Vonce? Could you assist me with something?”

He looked surprised — I practically never initiated conversation — but nodded his head. “Of course, Major. How can I help?”

“I…” It was unlike me, but I faltered. How silly; there was nothing to be embarrassed about. “I am in need of semen. May I have some of yours?”

Vonce’s eyes widened. “C-come again, Major?”

“I require semen as a protein supplement and I am asking for yours, Corporal.”

Vonce stopped running and swallowed. Naturally, I stopped as well. “O-oh. If you’re alright with mine, Major,” he said. His voice quivered slightly, but I did not sense any genuine hesitation in his words. I gathered that he was more nervous due to who I was than the nature of my request itself. We both understood that this was not a sexual proposition. Since semen is an important protein for women’s exercise, it’s simply most efficient to gather semen as needed from nearby comrades.

Nonetheless, Vonce looked nervous. “H-how exactly is this going to work, Major? Should I head to the bathroom with a cup or…?”

It was kind of him to offer to handle this discreetly, but I was the one imposing on him with this request. It’s my responsibility to make this as easy and comfortable as possible for him.

I guided Vonce to a nearby bench and had him take a seat. He still seemed anxious, so I made sure to reassure him. “Just sit back and relax. I’ll take care of everything.”

He nodded wordlessly and gulped again. I crouched in front of him and, as he looked down at me, the fabric of his jumpsuit began to swell between his legs. Good, that would make this easier.

“Your timing was impeccable, Corporal Vonce. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do before you arrived.” As I spoke, my hands reached for his crotch. All of our jumpsuits had a built-in opening over the genitals, to allow soldiers to urinate without the hassle of removing the entire suit. This morning, however, that opening would have a decidedly different purpose.

I worked my fingers into his suit and pulled Vonce’s penis through. He trembled as I touched him, and as his member was exposed to the open air. He was only partially erect for now, but I felt him slowly growing larger and harder in my hand’s embrace.

“M-Major Adams? You’re sure this is ok?” I couldn’t blame him for being unsure; this was the first time I’d be ingesting semen directly, too. But I knew from experience that as long as I acted confidently, he would calm down.

“Why wouldn’t it be, Corporal? You’re just providing me a semen supplement to aid my workout.”

“Right… right…” His penis twitched slightly as he spoke. It was now standing at full mast.

I glanced up from his crotch to look him in the eyes. “May I begin?” I asked Vonce. Again, I was the one burdening him here, so I had to make it a pleasant experience. That started with complete consent.

“Yes, I — please go ahead, Major.” Although he stumbled on his words, he seemed to have gotten over any remaining hesitation.

With his permission granted, I leaned down and began to fellate Corporal Vonce.

His penis was a comfortable size. He wasn’t small, but he was small enough that I could fit most of him inside my mouth without straining. While there was a mildly sweaty and unpleasant taste, especially near his testicles, it was nothing I couldn’t tolerate. I wasn’t doing this for the fun of it, after all.

I sucked upon his manhood like a popsicle, slathering the shaft with saliva while doing my best to provide ample stimulation with my tongue. I held nothing back, and a series of moans from Vonce was my reward. I’m sure he had better things to do than provide me with semen; it’s best to mitigate that inconvenience by making him ejaculate as quickly as possible.

With that thought in mind, I momentarily pulled myself off of his penis. “Does it feel good, Corporal?”

“Yes… very much, ma’am. It feels great, even.” From the pleasure in his voice, that was clearly no lie.

“Excellent. Let me know if there’s anything I can be doing better.” And I returned to my task.

Just as with any battlefield technique, sexual skills will often atrophy from disuse — thus my question. While this wasn’t the first time I’d performed oral sex on a man, it wouldn’t be accurate to say that I was truly experienced either. Especially since I received the moniker of “Scarlet Hunter”, my frequency of intimate encounters with the opposite sex had essentially dropped to zero. Thankfully, Vonce’s feedback was positive, so my concerns were apparently for naught.

“Actually…” Vonce spoke up, just as I’d finished that thought. Perhaps my performance was indeed subpar? He continued, “Could you… let down your hair?”

Ah. I had forgotten that physical pleasure was only partially effective. Many men were also aroused by visual stimuli. I was not about to demean myself in front of the Corporal, but his request was quite innocuous, so I was willing to oblige him.

My long hair had been in a ponytail for the sake of my run. Nodding to acknowledge Vonce’s words — his penis still in my mouth — I reached up with one hand to pull off my hair tie. Numerous blonde strands immediately fell around my face, cutting off much of my peripheral vision.

As soon as I undid my ponytail, Vonce’s penis felt even hotter against my lips, growing ever so slightly thicker as well. I was no mind-reader, but perhaps in Vonce’s eyes, my current appearance was more attractive, more feminine. This was worth remembering if I ever needed another man’s semen — although I also had to bear in mind that different men enjoy different things.

In some ways, this is why I preferred the battlefield. It was a much simpler environment than the nuances of human socialization.

“Major — I —“ Vonce abruptly gripped my hair, holding me in a position with the tip of his penis prodding the entrance to my throat.

I understood what he was attempting to convey and was fully prepared when he ejaculated a moment later.

When I first tried Cooper’s semen shakes, the flavor had been somewhat off-putting. Not outright unappetizing, but hardly something I would drink for my own enjoyment. However, with each passing day, I found the shakes easier and easier to stomach. Semen must be what they call an “acquired taste”. It was now at the point that the taste of semen did not bother me in the slightest. I’d even heard that some of our female soldiers had come to enjoy it (I was not one of them).

Corporal Vonce spurted repeatedly. Each time, I readily swallowed the new serving of his seed. With every drop that slid down my throat, the discomfort that plagued my body slowly dissipated. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that, if I wanted to optimize my exercise routines, semen was a necessity.

Vonce’s orgasm eventually ceased and he removed his hands from my hair, allowing me to raise my head off his penis. I took a moment to lick it clean, ensuring that I had not missed a single speck of his ejaculate.

“Thank you, Corporal,” I said to him, as I stood up and tied my hair back into its original ponytail. “My apologies for interrupting your run.”

“Not at all, ma’am!” His expression and tone of voice were uncharacteristically energetic. “Please let me know if you’ll need my help again in the future!”

His enthusiasm was a relief. I had been mildly concerned that it would be difficult to obtain semen for each of my workouts, but upon further consideration that was a baseless worry. We were all comrades aboard the Athens, here to help each other in any way we can. I had full faith that many, if not all, of our soldiers would be just as accommodating as Vonce had been this morning. Perhaps I should even tell Cooper that there’s no need to go through the hassle of preparing his semen shakes everyday…

* * *

It was getting near the time that I’d usually be heading to bed, but instead I was staring at the door to my cabin with rapt attention. I had made great strides with my neural implant “updates” over the past few weeks, and tonight was going to be an important milestone.

Without warning, my door opened and Admiral Catherine Locke strode in—alone. She hadn’t knocked or rang the bell; part of me wanted to chastise her on the value of personal privacy, but I’m sure this was some kind of power play from her. She was emphasizing both that this was her ship and how little respect she felt I warranted. Ironic, considering what was about to happen.

“Good evening, Chief Engineer Anthony Cooper.” She made no effort to disguise the scorn in her voice.

“Good evening, Admiral. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Locke and I had not spoken face-to-face since she’d had me write that fateful R&D report. She’d given me some additional assignments via proxies in the intervening time, but the Athens is currently in a lull, en route to new battlegrounds. We’re not expected to see any real action for potentially months, so there’s been little need for the two of us to interact directly.

I hadn’t just sat silently since then. No, not at all. While making sure to complete the bare minimum of my professional duties, the majority of my time otherwise was spent coding and refining new “updates” for the crew’s neural implants.

A low-hanging fruit had been to further adjust the female uniform. On top of the extremely short skirt, I now had our ship’s women walking around in high heels and showing off substantial cleavage. Both were a simple matter of gradually changing what was considered the required work-appropriate uniform, just as I had with the skirt. (Obviously, under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have that many pairs of heels floating around, but most Unified Nations warships are equipped with devices that can generate virtually any inorganic household item out of thin air. It operates on essentially the same technology as the armor stations in our hangar.)

It goes without saying that Catherine Locke was included among the affected women. She currently stood before me, looking closer to a stripper dressed as an admiral than the actual admiral that she was. Nonetheless, her demeanor was as self-important as ever.

Naturally, I had bigger plans than adjusting the ship’s dress code. In fact, if everything went smoothly, tonight was going to be a major turning point for the Athens.

“Are… you not aware of why I am here? Do you not keep up to date with your personal messages?” She looked taken aback, as if she couldn’t fathom such a thing. That was a reasonable reaction; our ship-wide messaging software is used to communicate important memos to specific personnel. It is a serious dereliction of duty for one in my position to ignore those messages.

“I’m afraid I’ve had a busy time performing maintenance on our armor and shielding these last couple days, ma’am. I must have missed it.” In actuality, I knew exactly why she was here—not just because I’d read the message, but because her actions were being dictated by my latest “updates”. However, I wanted to hear Admiral Locke herself explain why she had come to visit me tonight.

“... Very well. Allow me to educate you, Chief Engineer.” She was irritated, but didn’t appear surprised at my apparent incompetence. “Based upon recent observations, I feel that your engineering cohort has had difficulty staying focused on their work, specifically in the presence of female crewmates. We have witnesses that would attest to multiple instances of inappropriate staring from members of your department. Do you deny this?”

“No,” I responded simply. Her accusations were correct. In tandem with my alterations to the female uniform, I had loosened the engineers’ understanding of certain social norms. They weren’t about to start jacking off when they saw a pretty lady, but they didn’t see much problem with gawking at her body for a solid ten seconds. This was intentional, to make the women of the ship feel uncomfortable interacting with the engineers, and provoke leadership (that is, Locke) to take corrective action

Locke continued. “Therefore, in accordance with Unified Nations naval code in the event of uninhibited sexual desire, the Athens will be enacting sexual processing for its engineers.”

“‘Sexual processing’? I’m sorry, I’m not fully up to date on the specifics of our code. What does that entail, exactly?” I kept up the act. We were just getting to the good part.

The Admiral sighed at my feigned ignorance, but answered me nonetheless. “To maintain productivity, it is necessary to offer an outlet of release for crewmates with excessive libido. In such a scenario, it is incumbent upon the command staff of the vessel in question to provide sexual relief to the afflicted individuals.”

“Meaning?” It was dressed up in formal language, but Locke had just said something absolutely ridiculous—without realizing as much, of course.

“Meaning, in our case, the command staff of the Athens will provide sexual relief to its engineers.”

“So, you are here because…?” I kept pushing. Every word she spoke was equally wonderful and hilarious.

“I am here to facilitate your sexual processing, Chief Engineer.” She did not look embarrassed in the slightest. Truly a model soldier.

This was the result of applying my implant “updates” in a slightly novel way. Typically, I had to slowly adjust existing common sense. If you lived years wearing a certain uniform, and then it completely changed the next day, the brain would unconsciously notice too many discrepancies. That’s why I couldn’t use my “updates” for immediate, drastic changes.

However, it’s somewhat easier to make larger alterations if you focus away from aspects of the subject’s everyday life. Human memory is already fickle. We can’t recall every facet of our lives with crystal clarity. If you saw a movie only once, years ago, chances are you don’t remember every little detail. If someone insisted that a certain character said a certain minor line in a certain scene, you’d probably agree, just because you don’t remember one way or the other.

This operates on a similar principle. Our naval code is a long, massive document, impossible for even someone like Catherine Locke to fully memorize. So, if I “update” her brain’s recollection of the code — an area of her memory she doesn’t usually access — I have more wiggle room than usual to insert something absurd. I still can’t make her believe something completely nonsensical, but as long as it’s wrapped up in just enough “rational” logic, her brain would accept it as reasonable. So, over the course of only a few days, I successfully constructed this idea of “sexual processing” in Locke’s mind (as well as everyone else aboard the Athens).

To make this work, I also had to set up a fake digital version of the naval code on our ship’s network, since someone would inevitably try to access the document electronically. Thankfully, that was relatively easy to do. The security was far simpler to bypass than our implant database, which I’d already hacked into to apply my “updates” in the first place.

“So… what should I do?” I asked the Admiral.

She grit her teeth, but maintained a relatively cordial expression. “… Please take off your pants and underwear.”

I followed her instructions. Now naked from the waist down, I moved to sit on the side of my bed.

“Aren’t you going to undress, too?” I prodded.

“No,” Locke flatly refused. “You are already sufficiently aroused for your processing.”

She wasn’t wrong; my cock stood tall, pointing right at her face. Knowing what was coming, I couldn’t help myself from getting hard as soon as she walked in.

Locke walked over to me, her microskirt fluttering ever so slightly. With a monotone delivery, she told me, “For your sexual processing, I am going to make you orgasm with my hand, Chief Engineer.”

Still standing, and without waiting for any kind of response, she placed her hand onto my penis and began to stroke. Her movements were slow and robotic, and she stared at the wall without directly facing me. It seemed she had no inclination to treat this as anything more than a formal procedure.

To an extent, that was expected. Under my current “updates”, the only stipulation to “sexual processing” is that she has to make me cum with her body. She’s not forced to fuck me or anything — based on my simulations, her brain would’ve rejected the “update” if I went that far right off the bat. I fully intended to get there eventually, but it will take time. Catherine Locke is strong; she has to be broken down before she can be built back up.

Still, this lackluster effort won’t do, Admiral. “If you want to make me cum, we’ll be here for an hour at this rate.”

For the first time since she started touching me, Locke looked at me. Behind her glasses, her eyes were filled with disgust and revulsion. On a personal level, she loathed me. However, that’s why “sexual processing” was perfect for her. She was the type to prioritize her “duty” above her feelings.

“What would you suggest, Cooper?”, she growled.

“It might get me going if you told me how my cock compared to your husband’s,” I proposed.

She scowled. “Absolutely not. This is only sexual processing. Don’t think you can use it to intrude on my personal life.”

“Hm…” I figured as much. “Then I think I’ll need more physical stimulation. Can I touch your boobs?”

Locke looked like she was about to yell at me, but held her tongue. She knew that I wasn’t really exaggerating; it would take a while for me to cum with a lousy handjob like this, especially if I was actively trying not to.

“… Go ahead.” She eventually spat.

With her express permission, I reached up and groped her tits. She was still wearing her jacket (and presumably a bra underneath), so there were a couple layers between her flesh and mine, but it was still a fantastic experience.

On paper, for “sexual processing”, each engineer was randomly assigned a single female member of the Athens’ administrative staff. Right now, every engineer on the ship was in a similar position as myself. However, it obviously wasn’t chance that I lucked out and got paired with Locke. I’d preemptively inserted a bug into our ship’s randomization software, to ensure that this outcome would occur.

Before Locke could react, I undid a couple of her jacket buttons, fully revealing her large underwear-clad breasts. Her bra was jet-black, incidentally. Its design was extremely simple, prioritizing pure functionality. It was her normal bra, after all, not a set of lingerie.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could do that!” Unsurprisingly, she was furious.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but wouldn’t you prefer to get this over with as soon as possible? These tits are marvelous… I’m sure I’d cum in no time if you let me play with them.” I tried to entice her with the idea that this could be over in the blink of an eye, and frankly, I was mostly being serious.

From her expression, Locke was clearly repulsed by the thought, but she silently mulled it over even so. I supposed it was a tough decision. She didn’t want this to become anything approaching a legitimate sexual encounter, but she didn’t want to be rubbing my dick all night either. Only one thing was immutable: she had to make me cum. The details were entirely up to her.

Very well,” she relented, with a noticeable bitterness in her voice. “But only my chest, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” I reacted only a split-second after she gave consent, practically ripping off her bra. Her hand stopped stroking my cock for a beat, perhaps needing a moment to come to terms with this. Unperturbed, I eagerly admired the bare breasts of Admiral Catherine Locke, hero of the Unified Nations. They were perky and well-shaped, with immaculate blemishless skin and small pink nipples. Upon close inspection, her boobs were a little smaller than her sister’s, Major Adams, but in the same way that a large mountain is technically smaller than Mount Everest. They’re both huge, on an objective scale.

The Admiral resumed her handjob and, I have to say, it actually did feel better with these two funbags in front of my face. However, I obviously wasn’t content to just watch. I reached up to enjoy those tremendous tits, cupping one in each hand. They were hefty and firm; a perfect set. Unable to restrain myself, I thrust my face forward, sandwiching my head between her massive melons. Out of the corner of my eye, I detected her frown deepen — but she didn’t object.

Without removing my face from Locke’s bosom, my hands went to work, ceaselessly squeezing and squishing. Somewhat inadvertently, my fingers eventually grazed the tips of her nipples. She began to shy away by reflex, but caught herself and refused to retreat from my touch. Emboldened, I began to tease and prod her nipples in earnest.

“Hmph…” My only feedback was a slight grunt of disdain. This wasn’t a porno; she wouldn’t start moaning and salivating just because I mildly stimulated a sensitive area. Catherine Locke was a fiercely disciplined woman.

Still, that wouldn’t stop me from going further. I raised one of her tits to my lips and latched onto the nipple.

“You —!” Locke almost lashed out at me, but seemed to reconsider. It’s true that this was on the edge of what she said she’d allow, but I was keeping myself to her chest. My hands and tongue never ventured to any other part of her person.

Her body did shudder slightly as I sucked at her udders, and her nipples grew a little stiffer, but she never gave me the satisfaction of overtly acknowledging that she felt any pleasure from my actions. Her face was a stone mask, and had returned to staring at the wall. Her handjob was essentially unchanged from how she’d started, still slow and indifferent. She was determined to keep my “sexual processing” as businesslike as possible.

I didn’t mind. The act of giving me a handjob alone was a brilliant starting point. With my “updates”, it wouldn’t be hard to turn that starting point into something even more extraordinary.

After at least twenty minutes, I finally came. There were no words exchanged between us for that duration. For my part, I was engrossed in her tits the whole time, whereas Locke had no reason to try and converse with me in the first place.

She let me cum across my own floor, perhaps as some small act of rebellion. Then, she stepped back, her hand momentarily sticking to my cock due to a combination of sweat and precum.

“Ah… thank you, Admiral.” I grinned at her devilishly, making no effort to hide how much I enjoyed that.

“… You are welcome, Chief Engineer. Now that your sexual processing is complete, I expect you will focus on your responsibilities with renewed vigor tomorrow,” she responded stiffly. Her voice maintained a level tone, but her eyes held only contempt.

“When will I see you again?” I asked.

“Sexual processing is a nightly task. I will be here again tomorrow at approximately the same time.” Sounding as far from thrilled as one could be, Locke repositioned her bra and rebuttoned her jacket — well, just enough to return to her usual state of cleavage, that is.

“Sounds lovely. Have a good night.”

Not dignifying me with a reply, Catherine Locke left through the door, leaving my semen still spread across the metal floor.

Wow, she really hates me. That truly was only the bare minimum of the “sexual processing” definition I’d encoded into my “updates”. However, rather than being dejected by her hostility, I was invigorated. Knowing that she’s starting from a place of such extreme animosity will only make her sweeter to conquer.

I had to admit, I was pleased with myself. A month ago, tonight would have been a total fantasy. But now, thanks to my neural implant “updates”, one of the most beautiful and powerful women in the galaxy — a married woman, no less — had willingly served as my personal masturbator. This was only the beginning. Before long, I was going to enjoy every inch of Admiral Locke’s body — and somewhere along the way, I’d make sure she begged me to do it.