He shook his head. “Oh, no. But maybe if we’d been allowed to explore those feelings, we might have fallen in love.”
Chapter Seven
Jade laid all the components on the workbench and tut-tutted. The food processor unit needed new parts and there were none on the ship. She’d have to improvise until they reached the space station. For the time being, any improvement to the quality of food it churned out had to be an improvement.
She worked methodically, trying out different spares or fashioning something using the tools she had. Over the days she’d become accustomed to thinking on her feet and making do with what little was available. Something to be proud of—her versatility. Mason seemed pleased, too.
It was happening again and she squeezed her eyes shut, allowing herself the indulgence of daydreaming. Whenever Mason appeared in her thoughts, she conjured up a ludicrous fantasy, each darker than the previous one.
She’s working with her back to the door and she hears him enter—the purposeful footfalls—just as she had done all those days ago when he boarded Stealth. Her heartbeats thump against her ribs; she drops the wrench, knowing any second he’s going to reach her.
He kisses the nape of her neck and at the same time, pulls her flimsy clothing off her shoulders. She’s not wearing underwear and he bares her breasts, her belly, which churns with trepidation, and rips off the rest of her clothes. Coiling his fingers around her neck, he pushes her down, bending her over the bench and pinning her there as he enters her. One mighty thrust. Perpetually wet, she takes him easily and holds still as he drives deeper. Except for his grunts, he says nothing as he fucks her hard, ramming her into the bench. How she wants this—his dominance. No holding back, no pandering to niceties.
He growls, “Come,” and she does instantly, feeling him respond in kind. He withdraws, turns and walks away, leaving his cum spilling down her thighs. Her legs shake. She’s breathless, needy for more.
Jade opened her eyes and inhaled. Only two elements of her little dream had come true: he’d forbidden her underwear and she was constantly wet. Even so, Mason’s regime, far from discouraging her submission, had placed in her a tranquil place where she needn’t worry about anything other than her assigned tasks. He controlled the day-to-day activities and kept her busy. When he wasn’t on the flight desk or in his quarters, he kept her company, playing as her assistant, passing her tools and asking her to explain what she was doing, so he might learn. It was an illusion of compromise, because the moment he wanted something from her, she dropped everything and obeyed him.
The routine of the day was centered on a pattern. Breakfast, followed by the pair of them running around the cargo bay, during which she was permitted to wear a brassiere. They would finish covered in fresh perspiration and mutually admire the way the fabric clung to their respective chests. His accentuated his pectorals, hers two pert nipples. The ogling would last all the way to the bathroom where they’d wash away the sweat.
She bathed him in the shower. Sometimes, if he felt inclined, he would ask her to suck his cock to completion, which she eagerly did. She’d follow him into the shower and he’d treat her to an orgasm, fingering her into a state of wantonness by plunging his fingers, sometimes three or four of them, deep into her pussy. If she had been late to bed, which had happened or he’d warned her about tardiness for duties, he would deny her the pleasure of that finger fuck as punishment. Strangely, this incentive worked. It amazed her how miserable and disappointed she felt if she failed to receive that first orgasm of the day.
There was usually more than one climax, if she was good.
After a few hours of work, they would meet up again for lunch. They’d chat about mundane things for the most part—she’d explain what was wrong with the ship and how she was fixing it. He kept quiet about his work as a marshal, but had regaled her with some of his exploits as a soldier—all men from Ixzar, and many other planets including her own, underwent a period conscription to the Federal army. He admitted he hated it.
“Why?” she’d asked. “I thought you liked orders.”
“I like giving them,” he’d grinned. “I was young, so it was necessary to learn to obey, but I knew in my heart, I like to be in control of situations.”
Eating the dreadful food, she’d complained about the food processor and he’d given her permission to fix it, adding it to her list of tasks.
When he left her to her duties, she missed him. Why she yearned for him was odd because there were just the two of them, nobody else and in the past spending so much time with one person would have suffocated her—she liked to mix with groups and was not taken to exclusivity when it came to her friends. With Mason, it felt so different, and in a good way, so much so she looked forward every day to the rest period in his quarters when she undressed, kept herself naked and ready for him. Every night, he equipped himself with an erect
ion and fucked her, then when both of them were spent, he held her in his arms and slept. She loved those hours lying next to him, listening to him breathe and the occasional soft snores as he slumbered.
She reassembled the last few pieces of the food processor. The ugly machine, which slotted into a compartment in the wall of the mess, didn’t incite much of an appetite for food given what went in it, but it would have to do.
Job done, she hit the intercom button.
“Mason,” he replied, which amused her since he was the only other person on the ship.
“Sir. I’ve finished mending the food defiler, I mean processor.” She smirked at her little joke, wondering if Mason was smiling too. He quite liked her sense of humor, as long as she kept it respectful. “I’ve done my best.”
“Thanks,” he said. “It was worth a try.”
When it came to gratitude, she couldn’t fault Mason. He always complimented her on her efforts, even if she failed. Trying was important, he’d told her during one of her routine spankings. When he tipped her over his lap and smacked away at her ass, he’d typically chat about his ‘expectations’ or rules as she saw them, reminding her of this or that, warning her about slip-ups in her attitude. Those sessions worked, to her chagrin, because they had become less daunting, although not as fun or as sexy as when he did them as foreplay, and more important, afterwards he cuddled her on his lap and told her all the good things she’d done. He never left her feeling disappointed or upset. If this was what made them compatible, it was okay. No, more than okay; she was starting to enjoy those intimate spells and the carefully warmed ass that came with them.
“It will need shifting back to the mess,” she pointed out. The unit was too heavy for her to carry, but Mason would pick it up as if it were a bird’s feather.
“Later,” he growled softly. “Come and join me on the flight deck.”
“Sir.” A wave of tiny shivers shot along her spine. The flight deck was the power base where the commander wielded control over all the ship’s operations. The fastest route he’d mapped to the space station took Titan through an asteroid field. Mason’s faith in the autopilot was put to the test and he’d taken to sitting on the flight deck for long hours, ensuring the navigation system was functioning correctly and if necessary he made adjustments to the course.
The flight deck was the uppermost part of the ship and possessed a panoramic window. Underneath it was a bank of consoles and positioned before the central section was the commander’s chair. The marshal was semi-sprawled on the generous seat, fingers drumming on the armrests and legs stretched out before him. Neither tense nor relaxed, he seemed to be fired up, almost impatient, staring out to space, watching the pitted spheres of the asteroids spin and occasionally collide with each other. The Titan dodged and weaved its way through the field. The ship’s stabilizers were in good working order—she didn’t feel the ship bank or swerve. She’d done an excellent job of overhauling the system.
Mason spun the chair around and looked at her, catching her by surprise. He pierced her with his beady eyes. She’d hesitated too long. Swiftly, she dropped to her knees, head bowed and hands tucked behind her back.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Come here,” he added softly.