Sci Spanks (12 page)

Out on the roller derby track, Bomb’Shell Blue skated without mercy. She chucked opponents into the walls without caution. Alone, she softened and questioned. Rumor brushed aside Shell’s long, blonde hair, draping it over one shoulder. Hidden beneath lay her tattoo – a rich gold and Aztec blue sun god with its rays streaming out toward her muscular shoulders.

How often had Rumor watched her archrival’s ponytail bobbing and her tight ass sway when she raced after her on wheels? Too often she’d fantasized about this moment, being here with her crush.

Her gut clenched. Now was the moment.

“I forgive you. It’s all part of the game. But, you can’t live life regretting things you wish you hadn’t done,” Rumor whispered. “Regret those you never had the courage to try.”

She wrapped her arms under Shell’s breasts and drew closer, pressing her lips into the center of the tat, and then stroking her tongue along the path of the design.

Within her arms, Shell shivered and turned toward her, mouth against mouth. The kiss was electric, and Rumor lost herself in the sensations. She tasted sweet and tangy, like the tea, with an undercurrent of spice. As fae shifters, most were still very connected to their natural habitat, and it made her wonder what Shell did in her downtime.

“Is this my punishment?” Shell asked, breaking the connection, but keeping her mouth mere inches away.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later, after you’re back on your feet.”

“Good, because right now, I can go for more of those kisses.”

As their lips met again, naturally they shifted to the side, until they lay against the pillows. Shell trailed her fingertips along Rumor’s inner thigh, stopping right before she reached that sweet junction. She wanted to scoot down, encouraging her to make contact but control had transferred to the other woman.

“I hear the hitch in your breath,” Shell said, teasing with small circles against Rumor’s bare skin. “Aren’t you supposed to be commanding me?”

“Touch me.”

“I am.”

She rolled Rumor until her back against the floor, and Shell took the top position. Her hair hung over Rumor, sunlight streaming through the golden strands. From this viewpoint, it appeared as if Shell wore a halo of color around her head. Her wings stretched out, beating softly, bathing them both in a hue of raining shimmers.

When fairies get turned on, they glitter. Ever wonder why you find so much stray sparkles in your bed?

Author Bio

A Southern California native, Louisa Bacio can’t imagine living far away from the ocean. The multi-published author of erotic romance enjoys writing within all realms – from short stories to full-length novels.

Bacio shares her household with a supportive husband, two daughters growing “too fast,” and a multitude pet craziness: Two dogs, five fish tanks, an aviary, hamsters, rabbits and hermit crabs. In her other life, she teaches college classes in English, journalism and popular culture.

Visit her online at
www.LouisaBacio.blogspot.com
,
www.Facebook.com/LouisaBacio
and
www.Twitter.com/LouisaBacio

By

Leigh Ellwood

Andromeda watched her captain pace his ready room, his dark locks unmoving though he shook his head with perceived disappointment. “Lieutenant, you’ve put us in a rather precarious position.”

“I have apologized, Captain.” Had she ever. First shore leave for the
Allegiant
crew since departing Earth, and how does she impress the people of Carsus IV? Standing close enough to a flower to allow its pollen to float in a light breeze onto her uniform. She’d only wanted to admire the flora indigenous to the planet...how the devil was she to know she’d come upon a rare breed of plant this civilization sought to revive? How was she to know the flowers of the plant produced a nectar used in the majority of their medicines, and that with mass cultivation the Carsans would need no longer to depend on foreigners for aid?

How could she control the air patterns of an entire planet? She liked flowers and simply leaned in for a sniff. The wind did the rest.

“The Carsan government has charged you with trespassing and reckless endangerment,” the Captain admonished. “You had no authorization to enter that particular garden, Drommie.”

“There were no signs,” muttered Drommie, and knew immediately the Captain would find reason to argue. Of course there were signs. Carsus IV was full of blasted signs...written in the primary Carsan language. Drommie hadn’t thought to search for warnings, since most of the natives she’d met spoke the Earth languages.

Rookie mistake, she realized, to think all alien lands were like home.

Thankfully, the Captain showed enough mercy in his speech to lecture her on could haves and should haves. He glanced at her briefly as he paced, and smiled. “At ease, Lieutentant,” he said, and she relaxed her rigid stance. “It’s the least I can do for you, considering the punishment you face?”

“Punishment?” Everything from a short prison sentence to death haunted her in quick flashes. She hadn’t logged in as many travel hours as her fellow crew, but she’d researched the
Allegiant
’s accessible logs. Law enforcement in certain systems would blast you into oblivion rather than gather evidence for an informed decision. Drommie hoped the flower-loving, seemingly peaceful people of Carsus IV proved less spontaneous as they doled out sentences.

“Am I not entitled to a trial, or at least the opportunity to explain myself, Captain?”

The Captain’s face turned grim once again. “You forget we’re not on Earth anymore, and we’ve no diplomatic immunity here. We’re fortunate the Carsans have allowed you to return to the ship. We’re locked in a tractor beam as a show of good faith.” He stepped closer to Drommie, and in one movement brushed her shoulder with his arm. Even the slightest contact sent a shiver of excitement through her, odd considering her situation. Perhaps, she decided, she’d intentionally trespassed on the gardens as a show of rebellion, in order to receive punishment. She’d long courted danger in her life, before she enlisted. Of course, she preferred a touch of kink in coupling to possible execution.

The Captain’s intercom pinged and he strode to his desk when the communications officer announced that the Carsan governor wished to speak. Drommie listened to the gruff, foreign words grating through the speaker and cringed. It didn’t bode well, she assumed. The Captain’s reply, in deep and fluent Carsan, soothed her nerves.

He switched off and straightened, tugging at the hem of his dark blue tunic. After this pause, he signaled on the comm for the Chief of Security to arrange an away team to accompany. “We will transport to Carsus IV immediately.” With that, he gestured for Drommie to exit. “I’ll give the Carsans some credit,” he told her as they walked to Transport. “They are amenable to compromise.”

Drommie’s heart lifted. “I’ll get a trial?”

“No, you will receive punishment.”

Fear gripped her.

“But,” the Captain continued, “as your superior, I will administer it.”

****

Drommie stood with her captain and those in the
Allegiant
crew present, numbly listening to foreign tongues mete out her sentence. It seemed for every full minute a Carsan spoke the Captain offered a few seconds of rebuttal. Each time, his voice took on the language with a sensual melody that cause Drommie’s heart to throb. She’d feel embarrassed to admit aloud that her superior’s deep, accented voice touched her in other places, too.

She kept her gaze down to focus on something positive to get her through this ordeal. Centering on the Captain’s voice as he spoke, she allowed his words—though she didn’t understand them—to caress her. When she’d met the Captain of the
Allegiant
, a veteran with one intergalactic war under his belt, she hadn’t found him terribly attractive. Yet, he possessed a confidence and hidden sensuality that crept up on her.

Definitely, she’d take rolling around in the Captain’s bed over what the Carsans planned for her.

“Drommie?” he whispered, and she returned to the room. Her crewmates had disappeared, as had other witnesses to her brief sentencing. She remained in the hollow white room with the Captain and three Carsans, the presumed governing body of this region.

“Drommie, this woman will take you into another room to prepare. You will return here and we will finish this.” The Captain’s face hardened. “I’ll do my best to make it quick as possible, and we will transport you directly to the ship afterward.”

What?
She still didn’t know what this punishment involved. She tried the faces of the Carsan—really, she’d mistake them for Earth civilians on any given day—and saw no clues. The lone female of the trio stepped forward to take her arm and Drommie gave a weak cry.

“Drommie, I promise,” the Captain said. “You will survive. You might even not think it’s all that bad.”

****

The Carsan female handed Drommie something that looked like a unitard, only it felt heavy and shone like black silk. The alien offered one word that she did understand, “Skin.”

Skin
. When Drommie accepted the woman wasn’t going anywhere, she slowly removed her uniform and made to put on the skin when the Carsan clucked her tongue and motioned to her.

“Oh, sorry,” Drommie muttered. The suit meant to serve as her skin. She removed her undergarments and the black skin fit easily on her. It molded to her every curve, tingling as touched various points. It intrigued her—apparently the skin intended to magnify how she responded to touch.

Which means what the Captain does to me, I’ll
really
feel it.

The Carsan led her back into the main room, where the only difference Drommie saw was a long metal bar suspended in air near the Captain, chest high. It resembled a pull-up bar in the
Allegiant’s
small gymnasium. Drommie managed the requisite number of pull-ups during her initial fitness exam when she entered Academy, and had hoped never to see such a thing again. This would teach her to sniff flowers on strange planets.

“Grasp either the bar with both hands, leaving about an inch at either end,” the Captain told her and she complied. Instantly her grip fused the bar—it felt as though the metal enveloped her fingers and palms.

Then it levitated, taking her with it until she stood on the balls of her feet with her heels raised. Did they mean to stretch her to death as in medieval Earth times? The “skin” moved with her, enhancing the prickling sensation tightening her nipples. She watched her Captain study her with great interest, and realized the skin likely left nothing to his imagination.

She heard a rumbling and the Carsan female came into view rolling a small table on which sat three objects. The Captain picked up the first, a feather, and approached.

“This will test the effectiveness of the skin,” he explained. “If you are unable to feel anything, you are to let me know immediately. I’ll advise you not to pretend any emotions during your punishment. The Carsans are very perceptive and unforgiving.”

“Yes, Captain.” The feather swept under her chin and across her collarbone, where the skin ended on top. It felt soft and lovely, not sadistic unless the Carsans intended for the Captain to tickle torture her. She could contain herself, but the feather glided over one nipple and she let out a moan. The skin over her breasts heightened the pleasure given to her. She kept her breathing as normal as possible when he covered every inch of her—down her back to her buttocks and around to her pussy. He brushed her mound and her clit throbbed for more. Under the skin, the sensation brought delicious pain.

The Captain returned the feather and next picked up what Drommie saw was two sticks bundled together. He undid the tie and held them like drumsticks. “This is to warm you up a bit,” he said, “rather, warm up the skin. It’s the prelude to your actual punishment.”

He walked around her, and Drommie didn’t like that she couldn’t see him. The Carsans stood together and watched the scene silently, their faces like stone. If they understood the Captain, they didn’t let on, but Drommie doubted he did anything but play by their rules.

The first light tap landed on her left buttock and she let out a whoop. He hadn’t hit hard, but the skin radiated the touch down her legs and through her pussy. She tried to press her legs together but that only made her feel more. More taps rained down over her ass and the fleshy backs of her thighs, and Drommie reveled in the rising heat.

This action resembled something she’d read in books, older stories from twenty-first century archives on human sexuality. She’d wondered about certain behaviors, why people would enjoy this type of discipline, but now she understood. Her Captain seemed to have mastered the dominant role.

She’d love to have him do this to her again, in private.

“How are you, Lieutenant?”

“Fine, Captain.” She didn’t miss how he moved from informal address. Surely the Carsans might expect he’d be lenient if he called her Drommie. She took a deep breath and waited for the final stage of this act, one that involved the large paddle the Captain weighed in his palm.

“Your sentence is ten, with the paddle,” the Captain told her. “You will mark each one aloud, and bear in mind everybody is paying attention and will know if you’ve miscounted.”

“Yes, Captain.” Her thighs quivered, and no doubt she soaked the crotch of this skin. The Captain disappeared around her again and her heart leaped, anticipating the first blow. Would it hurt? How would the skin project the sensation through her?

She sensed the Captain’s practice swing before he aimed. The short burst of air cooled her heated backside, and when the first spank landed on her buttocks she barely got out the “One!” The force of the swing set the skin on fire and took her close to the edge. Agonizing seconds passed before the second blow. “Two!” she called out on a moan. The Captain hadn’t touched her pussy, but it squeezed and tingled all the same.