Lady's Excuse Me: "Firefly" Fanfiction
Here’s how it is. The captain don’t take kindly to insubordination these days. You act like a bad girl, you get treated like a bad girl. And you, Kaylee, have been a very bad girl indeed.
Written in the second person (you are Kaylee), this is a short and very naughty piece set any time during Season 1. And yes, there is spanking. Enjoy!
USUAL DISCLAIMERS APPLY
Icon credit: frodolyn on LiveJournal
Lady’s Excuse-Me
He’s in full regalia when he calls you into his quarters.
Anyhow, that’s the way you see it. That outfit is nothing but high-falutin’ officers’ wear: tight beige pants with the darker stripe down the side, boots, braces, sweeping brown coat, gun belt slung in a diagonal across the hips with a little something in the holster. That red shirt. You love it when he wears that red shirt. He stands in the very centre of his cramped quarters, top of his head nearly brushing the ceiling, as you climb down the ladder. He’s staring at you. He don’t look too pleased.
I suppose you’re likewise in regulation Kaylee-wear: boots, jumpsuit, pink psychedelic top beneath. There’s probably a smudge on your nose, too. You rub at your face just in case. With your hands in your pockets, you swing your shoulders nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly. You know you’re in trouble and you’re overcompensating. “’Sup, Cap?” you say.
He tilts his head. “Now don’t you play coy with me, lil’ Kaylee. You know why you’re here.”
You find yourself staring at his boots, afraid to look up into his eyes. Gives you a crick in the back of your neck, anyways. “Well, sure, but I didn’t realise it’d be such a big deal.”
“Shi ma? You know I don’t stand for no insubordination no more. My crew ain’t no half-assed democracy. My word should be law, no questions asked. Yet you keep on askin’ them sassy questions. ‘What’s the point a takin’ this job?’ What’s the point?!!” He sounds incredulous. “Kaylee, sometimes I wonder if you enjoy bein’ reprimanded, seein’ as you drive me to it so often. Do you enjoy it, Kaylee?”
You shake your head a mite and shrug one shoulder. Best not to admit how any morsel of attention the captain throws your way thrills you, how you love to hear him say your name.
“Well, that ain’t no answer. I do believe you do not show the proper respect to your captain. Who’s your captain, girl? Say it.”
“You are.”
“Gorram right. Come here.”
He’s beckoning you. You take a couple of steps toward him but he don’t stop. It’s not until you’re no more than a couple of inches from him that he drops his hands and tucks both thumbs in his gun belt. Your face is level with his chest, with that tantalising glimpse of the well of his throat. You can feel the heat of his body. Yet you still daren’t look up at him. He makes you feel like you’re thirteen again with a crush on a handsome teacher, one who looks at you with a whole world of adult knowledge in his eyes. He makes your legs shake. You feel silly and moon-brained. You really, really like it.
“Get down on your knees,” he drawls.
You bite your bottom lip as you do as he says. Your thick chestnut hair falls forward and hides your blushing cheeks. His crotch looms before you, resplendent with the mysterious lumps and bumps the clothed male form is famous for. Something between your own legs stirs as your eyes trace the creases that delineate his cock. That’s what that curve pointed at the waist of his pants must be: his delicious ji ba.
“Now kiss it.”
Shy though you might be, your head jerks up at that and you look into his shadowed face.
He’s staring down his strong nose at you. He’s perfectly serious. His eyes are huge and stern.
You lean forward and place a trembling kiss on that curve. The flesh beneath your lips is firm and hot - engorged flesh.
“Again.”
You lift your chin and plant another full kiss upon him. There’s movement. You lick your lips.
After a long pause during which all you can hear is his stifled breathing, he says, “Again.”
That’s the head! You’ve located the ridge where the head of his cock begins. You lunge forward and press your open mouth against it, feeling the line against your bottom lip and the distinct softness of the head against the top. You’re kissing his cock, the captain’s cock! A squeal of joy suddenly feels appropriate and you throw your arms about his hips. You kiss him with abandonment, running them along the length of his shaft, ducking down to nuzzle his balls. His hips are moving even though you can tell he’s trying to suppress it. Every now and then, an involuntary high-pitched whimper escapes him.
It’s not enough. You reach for the waist of his pants and begin to unbutton them. Your hands are shaking. Your mouth’s hanging open. Any moment now, Captain Mal’s beautiful, merciless prick will be bouncing into your mouth, filling you with its musky warmth, and you’ll be able to suckle and suckle on it forever…
“Kaylee - no.” He taps you on the head.
You’re grinning and you’re reaching inside his pants like a child tearing open presents on Christmas morning.
“No. Not yet, anyways.” His hands push your hands away.
“But I want to give you pleasure.”
“I said no.”
“Jus’ let me -“ You’re grappling with his pants again.
“This one never learns,” says Captain Mal, putting his hands in your armpits and hauling you to your feet. Before you can protest, he has turned you side on and with one hand on your shoulder to hold you in place, he uses the other to rain a series of stinging slaps on your behind. They punctuate his words. “Never defy your Captain.” He shoves you towards the bed. “Git yonder.”
But you stand frozen in place, bewildered, as you watch the captain stroll over to the other end of the bed, pull down his braces so they hang in semicircles on his hips and get himself comfortable. Upper body propped on pillows, lower half sprawled with long legs dangling over the edge, he raises his eyebrows at your motionless body and points to where you must go.
You lower your head in submission and move to the bed, perching yourself on the corner opposite him.
“Take off your boots.”
You do, slipping off your socks at the same time. Might as well be prepared.
“Kneel on the bed. And take off your clothes.”
Your lips move as you prepare to protest.
“Ma shong!”
You kneel, facing him. You unzip your jumpsuit to the crotch and pull it off your shoulders. That’s the easy part, not embarrassing at all. But pushing it off your legs, now… You have nothing on underneath except your panties.
There’s no point in hesitating. It’ll only make him angry. You run it off your hips, calves, feet and put it to one side. Then you pull off your tight pink top, daring a quick glance to gauge his reaction as you do so.
He’s lying there in splendour, like one of them Greek statues from Earth-That-Was, one knee raised with a lazy arm hanging from it. His nose is long and straight, lips firm, unsmiling, yet somehow luscious; straight eyebrows and eyes like wells, their pupils so dilated they almost obscure the blue. Classically humpin’ handsome. If only he’d smile.
There’s suppressed humour in his face, though, and you bite your lip as you realise it’s because your bra and panties don’t match. Tiny red strawberries on one - zebra stripes on the other. Very you. Then from nowhere, he comes out with, “Do you masturbate?”
“What?”
“Do you masturbate? Do you touch yourself when you’re alone?”
A wave of embarrassment passes over you. At least, blood rushes through your veins, you sheen with perspiration, your nipples grow hard. Embarrassment, right?
He flicks his head and you know what that means. His eyes are roaming over your body, the secret places that are revealed when you remove your bra and panties. You like your body but to have it appraised with such coolness is a new and disconcerting experience. No place to hide. ‘Specially since you shaved your pussy just this morning.
“Spread your knees,” he says.
You do, immediately.
“I can see your clit, little girl.” His eyes flick up to yours at the end of that sentence.
You’re not surprised. It’s swelling like summer fruit at his words.
“Do you know what happens when a wanton girl shows her clit to a fully-grown man? Oh, he’ll pay it some attention, alright. Rub it, lick it - suck it, more’n likely, if you tell him that’s the way you like it. But when he brings out his cock, there ain’t no tellin’ what he’ll do. You might jus’ end up in tears. You’re playin’ with fire, lil’ Kaylee.”
It’s true. But even as you quiver at the thought, you feel your gathering juices overwhelm your pussy and slide down your inner thigh. There’s no way he couldn’t notice.
Mal lies back against the pillows, looking at you with eyes turned to slits. “Masturbate yourself,” he says as he undoes the top few buttons of his red shirt.
“In front a you?” you whine, your eyes fixed on the newly-revealed flesh of his chest. Fine dusting of hair.
“In front a me.” He’s a stone.
Light touches at first. You drop your eyes and watch your own hand as your first two fingers rain delicate taps on your clitoris and labia. Reaching further down, you dip your fingers into your honeypot and find it overflowing. Taking that moisture back up to your clit, you circle it with wet fingertips, luxuriating in the sensation, that familiar sensation of the first lingering touches before the frenzy begins. You let your head drop back and you coo in the back of your throat as the trebly tingles begin to shoot up into your belly, awakening a deeper, more muscular ache.
You need more moisture. Okay - why not let him see how you would find that if you really were alone? You run your hand up your belly, between your breasts and put your fingers in your mouth. Yeah, you ain’t afraid to enjoy the taste of your own pussy! After you’ve thoroughly sucked and run your tongue around them, you take them back to their playground, laying your head on your shoulder and watching. The mound of your shaven pussy looks plump to your eyes, sweetly demure until you part your lips and expose the tender, throbbing flesh between. Just to make it even more exquisite, you pull back the hood of your clit and let the tiny berry emerge - shy, unused to the air and hot pink in colour. Gently you touch it - it’s so very sensitive - whimpering as you do so. If it’s turning you on so much to see it, what effect must it be having on him?
Mal is impassive. Except his lips are parted just a little now and there’s a strange tension in his face. That you interpret as a goad to further decadence.
Using two very wet fingers, you begin to frig yourself rapidly, your other hand coming up and rolling your left nipple. You might not have large breasts but you’ve been told many a time they have a pleasing shape and the nipples jut when given the right stimulation. You gaze at him with hooded eyes and something wicked washes over you, like an engine moving into a top gear you never knew it had. So you’re wanton, are you? You’re going to show him wanton and no mistake. Both hands now go to work on your pussy - rubbing it, probing it, deliciously torturing it, your straight arms squeezing your breasts between them so the nipples point in the same direction. Directly at your captain.
As sensation builds, you begin to move your hips, humping your fingers as much as they’re humping you. You use Mal like porn, running your eyes up and down his body, imagining it’s him who’s pumping you and communicating those thoughts to him. Snake hips and manly muscles, beautiful face that still manages to be ineffably masculine, it’s like he’s been created by some sex-cyborg designer. And he’s a masterpiece! “Hump me,” you whisper, “oh, hump me.” Eyes fixed on his now tented crotch, you let yourself come, hips bucking, gasping with each spasm. When you’re done - and it takes a long, long time to be done - you fall onto all fours to pant it out.
There’s movement in the periphery of your vision. A hand strokes your hair. You push into the sensation like a smug cat. A strong arm hooks under your waist and lifts you so you sit back on your knees. A huge, warm hand lifts yours and you feel your fingers entering his mouth. It feels hotter in there than your pussy! As he sucks your fingers clean, he brushes your chestnut locks back from your ear and his voice is hoarse as he whispers, “How dare you masturbate yourself in front a me? You’re nothin’ but a filthy minded lil’ whore. Now you’re really gonna get it.” That strong arm across your belly lifts and spins you, and now he has you on your back. Mal looms over you, soft brown hair falling over his forehead. You can’t help but smile though his expression is serious. Suddenly, he grasps your ankles and hikes your legs in the air. He’s so tall, he practically lifts your lower body from the bed. With the backs of your thighs and the pear of your behind now presenting a tempting target, he lands a rough slap on your pi gu.
“Ow!” You giggle.
There’s another. And another. His mouth is locked in that trenchant pout as his eyes appraise the effect his slaps are having on your pale skin. It’s starting to hurt, a rosy buzz building into something more uncomfortable. Sometimes, the slaps come down fast, one after the other and sometimes, he delivers them singly. Those times, his hand lingers and it burns you.
He alters his rhythm, hand slapping from the left then the right, abusing one cheek then the other. The blows are becoming more powerful, he’s swinging from the shoulder until you’re forced to cry out, “Please, Cap, please!” and he stops, breathing heavily as he fights to control himself. He looks down at you with world-swallowing eyes but when he sees your tears, his expression softens and he permits himself a wry smile. He lowers your legs, allowing them to fall on either side of him. “Maybes I ain’t been punishin’ the right part a you,” he says and he hunkers down between your thighs.
You take in a sharp breath - anticipation is the best part! - then he surprises you, running the fingers of his left hand up between your inner and outer pussy lips, isolating your clit and labia. With his face real close, he switches to that firm expression once again, though the pout has degenerated into something more libertine. His right hand hovers then snaps down. He spanks the tender flesh of your pussy.
Your whole body jumps and you let out a little shriek. It’s not that it’s so painful. It’s just new and strange. Frightening and thrilling. When you look down at him, you find he’s looking up at you, checking your reaction. But you don’t know how to react! You can’t even quantify what it is you’re feeling. Although there’s shock in your face, you ain’t saying no and you ain’t pulling away. Mal tries another. Then a couple more. Stinging, surprising, exciting. It’s like an electric shock each time and by the time he’s finished tormenting your puss, you’re whimpering like a kitten.
He copies your move, his hand on your clit, gently pulling back the hood and watching in fascination as the berry, now red and engorged from the punishment, pops out. “No, Cap,” you cry, “it’s gonna hurt too much!” But spanking it was never his intention. He smiles and closes his lips on it, giving it a sucking kiss before rising to his knees and beginning to undo his pants. No, he ain’t taking his shirt off for you. He’s gonna be in full captain’s regalia and you’re gonna be totally naked while he humps you.
Out comes the captain’s ji ba but before you have time to take in the full measure of him, he’s grasped your hips and flipped you over for a rear penetration. There’s a moment of disappointment as the sight of that delicious dessert is snatched from you but it’s instantly replaced by delight as you feel a long rod push inside, right up to the hilt. He begins to hump you, hard and steady. It’s not rough per se - you’re so well-lubricated, it slides smoothly and the rear entry position allows for depth of penetration without discomfort. But it is unrelenting and he is big. The pounding inside you begins to build into a sensation that could run away with itself. Hell, but the captain knows how to work that thing! His hips circle and probe and shake like he wants each and every part of your peach to rub up against him.
Mal leans forward, covering your back. The friction of his rough clothes against your bare skin titillates you more than you imagined - a sensory reminder that the man in the room is in charge. Lao tien fu but he’s tall! You realise you must’ve been in the habit of sleeping with short men when Mal’s head appears at your shoulder, his cheek rubbing against yours. His arms come down in front of you, his hands touching yours. Any time he liked, he could gather you up in his arms like a devouring spider. A sexy devouring spider, like. With big muscles.
He presses his lips to your ear so you’re forced to listen to his heavy breaths and every single husky grunt. And it’s like you have no control over your body. You know your face is twisted in ecstasy, your body writhing in response to his every move. Do you look whoreish, mad, ridiculous? You just don’t care.
A hand tangles itself in your hair and another lifts your chin, settling on your throat. Mal’s face hovers above yours, upside down. He kisses you, and like the pussy-spanking, it’s strange and new but shiny. The sensation of his mouth closing over yours makes you feel chosen and somehow safe. His tongue is skilful. He puts it in your mouth and lays it flat against yours - they undulate against one another. When he breaks the kiss, you can tell he’s smiling though your position turns it into a frown.
He pounds you in earnest now, hands on your haunches. “Hump me, Cap. Hump me, Mal!” you cry, pushing back on him, taking the ride like he’s the best rollercoaster in the ‘Verse. He’s set every soft part of you a-jiggling and he’s enjoying it. You feel him reach under you and run a light hand over your swinging breasts, moving from one to the other. Then his hand runs down to that perfect place, the secret berry, and he vibrates it while he’s humping you and he just don’t stop.
Your second orgasm is building and some part of you is comparing it with the first. That one, delivered by the cleverness of your own fingers, was perfectly pitched, as only those from self-pleasuring can be. The second will be meaty and strong, easier to lose yourself in, instigated as it is by the imposition of another’s rhythms on yours. But before you can reach it, Mal is crying out, his hips pistoning like some machine gone loco. Then all is still and you feel something hot filling you.
It’s enough to send you over the edge. You come, hard, the contraction of your walls milking the last of Mal’s cum from him.
He’s still inside you. You put back your head, feeling your thick hair brush over your bare shoulders, and enjoy the last sweet moments of being united.
Still breathing heavily, Mal utters one of his quizzical, “Huh”s, parts your thighs and withdraws from you. There’s a heavy thud as an exhausted captain lands on the bed beside you.
Little whore that you are, you clamp your hands over your pussy while you ride the aftershocks. His semen runs into your hand and you can’t help but rub it around your folds. Another of nature’s naughty lubricants.
“You startin’ again?” asks Mal, incredulity making his voice go high.
“Not really,” you laugh. “Jus’ enjoyin’ the moment.” You sit back on your haunches and watch as he puts himself away. He grabs a corner of his bedsheets and dabs half-heartedly at the stains on his pants. There’s a sheen of sweat on his chest and that thick, soft neck of his. Someday, when you’ve got him all of a lather again, you’re going to lick that salty sweat from his whole body.
Mal looks up at you, almost sad, like. Or maybes it’s just the way his eyes turn down at the corner, giving him a Pierrot expression. “Well, I hope the moment was everything you requested. Is that really how you see me, though? As some domineering punisher?”
“Oh, what, and you didn’t jus’ enjoy that? Anyhoo, you didn’t punish all of me. Just my ass. And my pussy.” You rub your ass and make an ‘Oooh’ face.
“Okay but I thought I’d been pretty tender with you before now. Didn’t catch on you thought I was a monster.”
You bend down, grinning as you kiss his doubting lips. “The scenario might’ve been my idea but I didn’t put no words in your mouth. It was you what came up with all that dirty stuff. ‘I can see your clit, little girl.’ Ooh, makes me shiver just to think about it.”
“Sure but…”
“Don’t fret, O Captain, my Captain. Put yourself in the big boss role, people’re gonna fantasize ‘bout you tellin’ ‘em to do naughty things. It’s human nature.” There’s a twinkle in your eye as you just put it out there. “Maybes next time, I’ll call you Daddy.”
He looks away but you saw that twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. Ain’t no denyin’ it.
Written in the second person (you are Kaylee), this is a short and very naughty piece set any time during Season 1. And yes, there is spanking. Enjoy!
USUAL DISCLAIMERS APPLY
Icon credit: frodolyn on LiveJournal
Lady’s Excuse-Me
He’s in full regalia when he calls you into his quarters.
Anyhow, that’s the way you see it. That outfit is nothing but high-falutin’ officers’ wear: tight beige pants with the darker stripe down the side, boots, braces, sweeping brown coat, gun belt slung in a diagonal across the hips with a little something in the holster. That red shirt. You love it when he wears that red shirt. He stands in the very centre of his cramped quarters, top of his head nearly brushing the ceiling, as you climb down the ladder. He’s staring at you. He don’t look too pleased.
I suppose you’re likewise in regulation Kaylee-wear: boots, jumpsuit, pink psychedelic top beneath. There’s probably a smudge on your nose, too. You rub at your face just in case. With your hands in your pockets, you swing your shoulders nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly. You know you’re in trouble and you’re overcompensating. “’Sup, Cap?” you say.
He tilts his head. “Now don’t you play coy with me, lil’ Kaylee. You know why you’re here.”
You find yourself staring at his boots, afraid to look up into his eyes. Gives you a crick in the back of your neck, anyways. “Well, sure, but I didn’t realise it’d be such a big deal.”
“Shi ma? You know I don’t stand for no insubordination no more. My crew ain’t no half-assed democracy. My word should be law, no questions asked. Yet you keep on askin’ them sassy questions. ‘What’s the point a takin’ this job?’ What’s the point?!!” He sounds incredulous. “Kaylee, sometimes I wonder if you enjoy bein’ reprimanded, seein’ as you drive me to it so often. Do you enjoy it, Kaylee?”
You shake your head a mite and shrug one shoulder. Best not to admit how any morsel of attention the captain throws your way thrills you, how you love to hear him say your name.
“Well, that ain’t no answer. I do believe you do not show the proper respect to your captain. Who’s your captain, girl? Say it.”
“You are.”
“Gorram right. Come here.”
He’s beckoning you. You take a couple of steps toward him but he don’t stop. It’s not until you’re no more than a couple of inches from him that he drops his hands and tucks both thumbs in his gun belt. Your face is level with his chest, with that tantalising glimpse of the well of his throat. You can feel the heat of his body. Yet you still daren’t look up at him. He makes you feel like you’re thirteen again with a crush on a handsome teacher, one who looks at you with a whole world of adult knowledge in his eyes. He makes your legs shake. You feel silly and moon-brained. You really, really like it.
“Get down on your knees,” he drawls.
You bite your bottom lip as you do as he says. Your thick chestnut hair falls forward and hides your blushing cheeks. His crotch looms before you, resplendent with the mysterious lumps and bumps the clothed male form is famous for. Something between your own legs stirs as your eyes trace the creases that delineate his cock. That’s what that curve pointed at the waist of his pants must be: his delicious ji ba.
“Now kiss it.”
Shy though you might be, your head jerks up at that and you look into his shadowed face.
He’s staring down his strong nose at you. He’s perfectly serious. His eyes are huge and stern.
You lean forward and place a trembling kiss on that curve. The flesh beneath your lips is firm and hot - engorged flesh.
“Again.”
You lift your chin and plant another full kiss upon him. There’s movement. You lick your lips.
After a long pause during which all you can hear is his stifled breathing, he says, “Again.”
That’s the head! You’ve located the ridge where the head of his cock begins. You lunge forward and press your open mouth against it, feeling the line against your bottom lip and the distinct softness of the head against the top. You’re kissing his cock, the captain’s cock! A squeal of joy suddenly feels appropriate and you throw your arms about his hips. You kiss him with abandonment, running them along the length of his shaft, ducking down to nuzzle his balls. His hips are moving even though you can tell he’s trying to suppress it. Every now and then, an involuntary high-pitched whimper escapes him.
It’s not enough. You reach for the waist of his pants and begin to unbutton them. Your hands are shaking. Your mouth’s hanging open. Any moment now, Captain Mal’s beautiful, merciless prick will be bouncing into your mouth, filling you with its musky warmth, and you’ll be able to suckle and suckle on it forever…
“Kaylee - no.” He taps you on the head.
You’re grinning and you’re reaching inside his pants like a child tearing open presents on Christmas morning.
“No. Not yet, anyways.” His hands push your hands away.
“But I want to give you pleasure.”
“I said no.”
“Jus’ let me -“ You’re grappling with his pants again.
“This one never learns,” says Captain Mal, putting his hands in your armpits and hauling you to your feet. Before you can protest, he has turned you side on and with one hand on your shoulder to hold you in place, he uses the other to rain a series of stinging slaps on your behind. They punctuate his words. “Never defy your Captain.” He shoves you towards the bed. “Git yonder.”
But you stand frozen in place, bewildered, as you watch the captain stroll over to the other end of the bed, pull down his braces so they hang in semicircles on his hips and get himself comfortable. Upper body propped on pillows, lower half sprawled with long legs dangling over the edge, he raises his eyebrows at your motionless body and points to where you must go.
You lower your head in submission and move to the bed, perching yourself on the corner opposite him.
“Take off your boots.”
You do, slipping off your socks at the same time. Might as well be prepared.
“Kneel on the bed. And take off your clothes.”
Your lips move as you prepare to protest.
“Ma shong!”
You kneel, facing him. You unzip your jumpsuit to the crotch and pull it off your shoulders. That’s the easy part, not embarrassing at all. But pushing it off your legs, now… You have nothing on underneath except your panties.
There’s no point in hesitating. It’ll only make him angry. You run it off your hips, calves, feet and put it to one side. Then you pull off your tight pink top, daring a quick glance to gauge his reaction as you do so.
He’s lying there in splendour, like one of them Greek statues from Earth-That-Was, one knee raised with a lazy arm hanging from it. His nose is long and straight, lips firm, unsmiling, yet somehow luscious; straight eyebrows and eyes like wells, their pupils so dilated they almost obscure the blue. Classically humpin’ handsome. If only he’d smile.
There’s suppressed humour in his face, though, and you bite your lip as you realise it’s because your bra and panties don’t match. Tiny red strawberries on one - zebra stripes on the other. Very you. Then from nowhere, he comes out with, “Do you masturbate?”
“What?”
“Do you masturbate? Do you touch yourself when you’re alone?”
A wave of embarrassment passes over you. At least, blood rushes through your veins, you sheen with perspiration, your nipples grow hard. Embarrassment, right?
He flicks his head and you know what that means. His eyes are roaming over your body, the secret places that are revealed when you remove your bra and panties. You like your body but to have it appraised with such coolness is a new and disconcerting experience. No place to hide. ‘Specially since you shaved your pussy just this morning.
“Spread your knees,” he says.
You do, immediately.
“I can see your clit, little girl.” His eyes flick up to yours at the end of that sentence.
You’re not surprised. It’s swelling like summer fruit at his words.
“Do you know what happens when a wanton girl shows her clit to a fully-grown man? Oh, he’ll pay it some attention, alright. Rub it, lick it - suck it, more’n likely, if you tell him that’s the way you like it. But when he brings out his cock, there ain’t no tellin’ what he’ll do. You might jus’ end up in tears. You’re playin’ with fire, lil’ Kaylee.”
It’s true. But even as you quiver at the thought, you feel your gathering juices overwhelm your pussy and slide down your inner thigh. There’s no way he couldn’t notice.
Mal lies back against the pillows, looking at you with eyes turned to slits. “Masturbate yourself,” he says as he undoes the top few buttons of his red shirt.
“In front a you?” you whine, your eyes fixed on the newly-revealed flesh of his chest. Fine dusting of hair.
“In front a me.” He’s a stone.
Light touches at first. You drop your eyes and watch your own hand as your first two fingers rain delicate taps on your clitoris and labia. Reaching further down, you dip your fingers into your honeypot and find it overflowing. Taking that moisture back up to your clit, you circle it with wet fingertips, luxuriating in the sensation, that familiar sensation of the first lingering touches before the frenzy begins. You let your head drop back and you coo in the back of your throat as the trebly tingles begin to shoot up into your belly, awakening a deeper, more muscular ache.
You need more moisture. Okay - why not let him see how you would find that if you really were alone? You run your hand up your belly, between your breasts and put your fingers in your mouth. Yeah, you ain’t afraid to enjoy the taste of your own pussy! After you’ve thoroughly sucked and run your tongue around them, you take them back to their playground, laying your head on your shoulder and watching. The mound of your shaven pussy looks plump to your eyes, sweetly demure until you part your lips and expose the tender, throbbing flesh between. Just to make it even more exquisite, you pull back the hood of your clit and let the tiny berry emerge - shy, unused to the air and hot pink in colour. Gently you touch it - it’s so very sensitive - whimpering as you do so. If it’s turning you on so much to see it, what effect must it be having on him?
Mal is impassive. Except his lips are parted just a little now and there’s a strange tension in his face. That you interpret as a goad to further decadence.
Using two very wet fingers, you begin to frig yourself rapidly, your other hand coming up and rolling your left nipple. You might not have large breasts but you’ve been told many a time they have a pleasing shape and the nipples jut when given the right stimulation. You gaze at him with hooded eyes and something wicked washes over you, like an engine moving into a top gear you never knew it had. So you’re wanton, are you? You’re going to show him wanton and no mistake. Both hands now go to work on your pussy - rubbing it, probing it, deliciously torturing it, your straight arms squeezing your breasts between them so the nipples point in the same direction. Directly at your captain.
As sensation builds, you begin to move your hips, humping your fingers as much as they’re humping you. You use Mal like porn, running your eyes up and down his body, imagining it’s him who’s pumping you and communicating those thoughts to him. Snake hips and manly muscles, beautiful face that still manages to be ineffably masculine, it’s like he’s been created by some sex-cyborg designer. And he’s a masterpiece! “Hump me,” you whisper, “oh, hump me.” Eyes fixed on his now tented crotch, you let yourself come, hips bucking, gasping with each spasm. When you’re done - and it takes a long, long time to be done - you fall onto all fours to pant it out.
There’s movement in the periphery of your vision. A hand strokes your hair. You push into the sensation like a smug cat. A strong arm hooks under your waist and lifts you so you sit back on your knees. A huge, warm hand lifts yours and you feel your fingers entering his mouth. It feels hotter in there than your pussy! As he sucks your fingers clean, he brushes your chestnut locks back from your ear and his voice is hoarse as he whispers, “How dare you masturbate yourself in front a me? You’re nothin’ but a filthy minded lil’ whore. Now you’re really gonna get it.” That strong arm across your belly lifts and spins you, and now he has you on your back. Mal looms over you, soft brown hair falling over his forehead. You can’t help but smile though his expression is serious. Suddenly, he grasps your ankles and hikes your legs in the air. He’s so tall, he practically lifts your lower body from the bed. With the backs of your thighs and the pear of your behind now presenting a tempting target, he lands a rough slap on your pi gu.
“Ow!” You giggle.
There’s another. And another. His mouth is locked in that trenchant pout as his eyes appraise the effect his slaps are having on your pale skin. It’s starting to hurt, a rosy buzz building into something more uncomfortable. Sometimes, the slaps come down fast, one after the other and sometimes, he delivers them singly. Those times, his hand lingers and it burns you.
He alters his rhythm, hand slapping from the left then the right, abusing one cheek then the other. The blows are becoming more powerful, he’s swinging from the shoulder until you’re forced to cry out, “Please, Cap, please!” and he stops, breathing heavily as he fights to control himself. He looks down at you with world-swallowing eyes but when he sees your tears, his expression softens and he permits himself a wry smile. He lowers your legs, allowing them to fall on either side of him. “Maybes I ain’t been punishin’ the right part a you,” he says and he hunkers down between your thighs.
You take in a sharp breath - anticipation is the best part! - then he surprises you, running the fingers of his left hand up between your inner and outer pussy lips, isolating your clit and labia. With his face real close, he switches to that firm expression once again, though the pout has degenerated into something more libertine. His right hand hovers then snaps down. He spanks the tender flesh of your pussy.
Your whole body jumps and you let out a little shriek. It’s not that it’s so painful. It’s just new and strange. Frightening and thrilling. When you look down at him, you find he’s looking up at you, checking your reaction. But you don’t know how to react! You can’t even quantify what it is you’re feeling. Although there’s shock in your face, you ain’t saying no and you ain’t pulling away. Mal tries another. Then a couple more. Stinging, surprising, exciting. It’s like an electric shock each time and by the time he’s finished tormenting your puss, you’re whimpering like a kitten.
He copies your move, his hand on your clit, gently pulling back the hood and watching in fascination as the berry, now red and engorged from the punishment, pops out. “No, Cap,” you cry, “it’s gonna hurt too much!” But spanking it was never his intention. He smiles and closes his lips on it, giving it a sucking kiss before rising to his knees and beginning to undo his pants. No, he ain’t taking his shirt off for you. He’s gonna be in full captain’s regalia and you’re gonna be totally naked while he humps you.
Out comes the captain’s ji ba but before you have time to take in the full measure of him, he’s grasped your hips and flipped you over for a rear penetration. There’s a moment of disappointment as the sight of that delicious dessert is snatched from you but it’s instantly replaced by delight as you feel a long rod push inside, right up to the hilt. He begins to hump you, hard and steady. It’s not rough per se - you’re so well-lubricated, it slides smoothly and the rear entry position allows for depth of penetration without discomfort. But it is unrelenting and he is big. The pounding inside you begins to build into a sensation that could run away with itself. Hell, but the captain knows how to work that thing! His hips circle and probe and shake like he wants each and every part of your peach to rub up against him.
Mal leans forward, covering your back. The friction of his rough clothes against your bare skin titillates you more than you imagined - a sensory reminder that the man in the room is in charge. Lao tien fu but he’s tall! You realise you must’ve been in the habit of sleeping with short men when Mal’s head appears at your shoulder, his cheek rubbing against yours. His arms come down in front of you, his hands touching yours. Any time he liked, he could gather you up in his arms like a devouring spider. A sexy devouring spider, like. With big muscles.
He presses his lips to your ear so you’re forced to listen to his heavy breaths and every single husky grunt. And it’s like you have no control over your body. You know your face is twisted in ecstasy, your body writhing in response to his every move. Do you look whoreish, mad, ridiculous? You just don’t care.
A hand tangles itself in your hair and another lifts your chin, settling on your throat. Mal’s face hovers above yours, upside down. He kisses you, and like the pussy-spanking, it’s strange and new but shiny. The sensation of his mouth closing over yours makes you feel chosen and somehow safe. His tongue is skilful. He puts it in your mouth and lays it flat against yours - they undulate against one another. When he breaks the kiss, you can tell he’s smiling though your position turns it into a frown.
He pounds you in earnest now, hands on your haunches. “Hump me, Cap. Hump me, Mal!” you cry, pushing back on him, taking the ride like he’s the best rollercoaster in the ‘Verse. He’s set every soft part of you a-jiggling and he’s enjoying it. You feel him reach under you and run a light hand over your swinging breasts, moving from one to the other. Then his hand runs down to that perfect place, the secret berry, and he vibrates it while he’s humping you and he just don’t stop.
Your second orgasm is building and some part of you is comparing it with the first. That one, delivered by the cleverness of your own fingers, was perfectly pitched, as only those from self-pleasuring can be. The second will be meaty and strong, easier to lose yourself in, instigated as it is by the imposition of another’s rhythms on yours. But before you can reach it, Mal is crying out, his hips pistoning like some machine gone loco. Then all is still and you feel something hot filling you.
It’s enough to send you over the edge. You come, hard, the contraction of your walls milking the last of Mal’s cum from him.
He’s still inside you. You put back your head, feeling your thick hair brush over your bare shoulders, and enjoy the last sweet moments of being united.
Still breathing heavily, Mal utters one of his quizzical, “Huh”s, parts your thighs and withdraws from you. There’s a heavy thud as an exhausted captain lands on the bed beside you.
Little whore that you are, you clamp your hands over your pussy while you ride the aftershocks. His semen runs into your hand and you can’t help but rub it around your folds. Another of nature’s naughty lubricants.
“You startin’ again?” asks Mal, incredulity making his voice go high.
“Not really,” you laugh. “Jus’ enjoyin’ the moment.” You sit back on your haunches and watch as he puts himself away. He grabs a corner of his bedsheets and dabs half-heartedly at the stains on his pants. There’s a sheen of sweat on his chest and that thick, soft neck of his. Someday, when you’ve got him all of a lather again, you’re going to lick that salty sweat from his whole body.
Mal looks up at you, almost sad, like. Or maybes it’s just the way his eyes turn down at the corner, giving him a Pierrot expression. “Well, I hope the moment was everything you requested. Is that really how you see me, though? As some domineering punisher?”
“Oh, what, and you didn’t jus’ enjoy that? Anyhoo, you didn’t punish all of me. Just my ass. And my pussy.” You rub your ass and make an ‘Oooh’ face.
“Okay but I thought I’d been pretty tender with you before now. Didn’t catch on you thought I was a monster.”
You bend down, grinning as you kiss his doubting lips. “The scenario might’ve been my idea but I didn’t put no words in your mouth. It was you what came up with all that dirty stuff. ‘I can see your clit, little girl.’ Ooh, makes me shiver just to think about it.”
“Sure but…”
“Don’t fret, O Captain, my Captain. Put yourself in the big boss role, people’re gonna fantasize ‘bout you tellin’ ‘em to do naughty things. It’s human nature.” There’s a twinkle in your eye as you just put it out there. “Maybes next time, I’ll call you Daddy.”
He looks away but you saw that twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. Ain’t no denyin’ it.