To The Moon And Back Ch 05

Suddenly alone in the men's wing of the base, I lingered a moment to enjoy the masculine scents left wafting around after the men hurried away for breakfast. The mixture of deodorants and freshly showered man flesh was a pleasant indulgence that I had not, before this jaunt to the moon, previously appreciated.

I picked up a carelessly discarded towel, still damp with that same enticing scent, and used it to wipe away the remaining globs of Tiny's enjoyment from my face and neck. My hair had caught some, but it didn't matter. I put it back up, this time in a loose ponytail, and that concealed the sticky parts. All I needed was to keep it functional so I could do my gym session and then I would luxuriate in a shower to get properly clean. Maybe, I though, I might even get to setting up my research this morning or, failing that, this afternoon.

I skipped happily back to my cabin to fetch my gym towel and water bottle.

As I reached my room, I noticed the door was ajar. That was peculiar, and it caught my attention. I had been careful always to close it over, because I was doing laundry every day (for reasons you might be able to imagine), so I had a range of intimates hanging up to dry, more or less constantly. My mother always told me men don't want to see that sort of thing, so even though they don't tend to come over this side of the circular base, I always closed the door as a courtesy to them.

It's strange how the mind works. Instinctively, I wondered if there was an intruder. We were literally 400,000kms from the nearest potential intruder, but still, my adrenaline kicked in, and my pulse rate surged. Still debating with myself about the feasibility of an intruder traveling 400,000kms just to break into my moon crib, and not ready to completely dispel the possibility, I nevertheless crept to the door and snuck a peek in. It was pretty dark inside, and my eyes would need time to adjust. I couldn't see a thing.

After a couple of seconds, a small feminine voice spoke softly, "Professor Kingston?" Of course! It was the captain. I relaxed, and moved wholly into the room.

Although it was much darker than the modestly lit hallway, there was a small stream of light across the floor from the bathroom door, partially open, allowing the bright down-lighting to escape in a stripe diagonally across the floor. With the soft illumination of that reflected light, I was able to make out just the silhouette of the captain standing at the foot of my bed.

She most certainly was not wearing her customary coveralls. As my eyes adjusted I could make out better and better the contours of her body, surrounded by an almost transparent A-line nightie.

"I... I'm sorry Professor Kingston, but I couldn't resist your beautiful nighties. I tried one on. Is that naughty? I may need to be punished...," she spoke in an innocent, soft voice that was completely uncharacteristic of the bold, confident leader.

"My dear girl," I began sternly, leaving the light off, since this appeared to be how she wanted to play the game. "That's a very serious intrusion into my personal belongings. I'm afraid you absolutely will need to be punished for this, and quite soundly, too."

"I understand, Professor. What must I do?" she stepped forward and I caught her perfume scent, more powerfully this time, swirling around her graceful form, its invisible tendrils imperceptibly seeking to draw me towards her, into their erotic embrace.

I didn't know if the captain was going to let me give her a spanking. It seemed like the game was heading that way, but was that going too far? I didn't know, and I couldn't just start hitting her. She was still the captain. Besides, I didn't want to make her mad and ruin her fantasy! I had to think fast.

"You will choose your own punishment," I came up with on the spot. "Either you will touch your toes and receive a good spanking, or you will walk around the base twice in that scandalous outfit for all the wor... for all the Moon to see."

She drew very close to me, her breasts touching mine just ever so lightly, and her hands moving up my arms in an understated caress. Her scent was not just the perfume. It was also her own arousal. Her breathing was open-mouthed and uneven. "Oh, Professor Kingston, I can't bear the thought of being seen like this. I'd be too ashamed. Please spank me, Professor," she begged, and then added breathlessly, "Please."

"Well, all right, since you insist, you devious little delinquent, you shall be spanked. Bend over immediately," I demanded. Without delay she bent over double.

"Shall I remove the panties, Professor Kingston?" she asked, from her inverted position.

She was wearing the matching netting knickers for the nightie. They were powder pink to match the main garment, but in the half light the color was imperceptible. I reached out to her now prominently displayed bottom and slid my hand down and around her cheek to find the spot where, in a decent garment there would be a gusset. This, however, was not designed as practical sleepwear. Rather, it was a flimsy feminine decoration, designed to be torn off within moments of being seen. But we weren't going to be tearing it off. We would be taking our time.

I ran a fingernail down the damp crease of the mound of her sex, causing her knees to give way momentarily, and eliciting an audible gasp. "These ones?" I teased, running the fingernail back in the other direction again, the friction of my nail scraping over the netted material generating a vibration that even I could feel, and I knew it was amplified tenfold for her.

"Ahh huh, hmmf," she struggled to answer, her legs quivering awkwardly.

I scraped up and down slowly twice more and continued, "No, I think you should keep them on. After all, they're part of your crime, aren't they?"

"Yes, Professor Kingston," she inevitably replied, a breathless whimper.

"The crime of," I drew my hand back and landed a sharp smack on the nearest cheek. "Sneaking!... into my room..."

She made a fascinating sound. It started out like a squeal of pain, but ended up a gasp of pleasure.

"Stealing!" I continued, landing another good, solid smack on the other cheek. "... from my clothing..."

"Hnnnn," she wordlessly responded.

"Impersonating!" I smacked the first cheek again, a little harder this time, and making sure my fingers landed somewhere in the cleft of her bottom, as inadequately protected as it was by the flimsy material. "... me, by wearing my clothes."

"Embarrassing!" I landed the hardest one yet on the other cheek, eliciting a groan, but no complaint. "... me by looking sexier and hotter than I do in my own nightie. Stand up!"

She obediently stood, her face flushed, partly from bending over, although that's less of a problem in low gravity, and mainly from her aroused state. Being taller than me, and with her larger bust, I saw that whereas this nighty wafted around the base of my bottom with the knickers peeking out, on her the nightie barely came further than the waistband of the knickers at the back, and was hoisted higher still in front by her bust. It had more of a midriff affect, which was positively stunning. She was extraordinary.

"Look at you!" I demanded, in a withering tone. "You're so excruciatingly pretty," I accused her sharply in a tone of disgust. "Your breasts are magnificent. Your legs are superb. You're build like some sort of goddess, aren't you," I peppered her with these aggressive superlatives, throwing her off balance with the contradiction between the form and the function of my remarks, the tone and the meanings. "How dare you dress your immaculate body in my nightie? How do you suppose that makes me feel, to look at your perfect body like that, hmmm? I'm a plain, ordinary woman, you illicit interloper, and I can't possibly compete with your intolerably attractive body," I figured I would just drive home the complements and affirmations with a little self deprecation.

"I..., I...," she was teetering with arousal, but also with something else. She stopped, leaned forward and said quickly in a whisper, "Doc, are we ok?" She broke character to check in with me with a genuine note of concern. I had evidently gone too far, and she thought I was mad at her.

"Oh," I gushed. "Yes, Ma'am we are VERY ok," To drive the point home, I kissed her deeply and tenderly, caressing her delicately adorned body as I did. When I broke away, I looked into her face and continued, "But I mean it. You're a vision. You're amazing in that thing."

It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but I thought I saw a tear on one of her cheeks. I continued, "So... where to from here, boss?"

She sniffed tellingly and straightened up, "I'm so sorry," she paused for emphasis, "...Professor Kingston. For doing all those things."

We were still half embraced. We stayed there for a moment, physically reassuring each other, the uncomfortable tension having fallen away. Then I broke away to continue the game she was controlling, even in her submission, "I should think so. Now, what else have you been rooting around in? Have you been through my other personal things, you peeping little perv?"

"Oh, no, Professor Kingston. Only your clothes, I promise," she replied, once again a quivering, intimidated young student of an oppressive professor.

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow and stepped around her to face my cabinet. "Let's just see, shall we?" I opened it, and took a shoe box and brought it to my bunk. "Do you know what's in here?" I asked.

"No, Professor Kingston," she breathed.

"Oh, I expect you do, you malcontented little miscreant. You've been snooping in here, haven't you?" I taunted.

"No, no, Professor Kingston, I promise!" she objected in a squeal.

"Well, let's just see, shall we?" I challenged as I removed the lid. In the box were all the sex toys I had packed. It had added six kilos to my luggage, and I hadn't used them yet, but the captain had made it pretty clear I should bring them, so it was only fitting I should pull them out now for her to see what had cost her mission six "fuck'n fortunes" to push out of Earth's gravity well.

I didn't know much about sex toys before. I mean, I knew what a vibrator was, but only the sort of plain ones. I was astonished at the creative and even intimidating things people have invented when I started researching this for my trip. In the end I just went into one of those adult stores and bought a range of things at the lady's recommendation, not even really knowing what some of them were for.

"What about this one?" I asked, pulling out a weird vibrator that had two prongs, a penis shaped one, and another, smaller one, about the size of a finger.

"No, Professor Kingston, I haven't ever seen it before!" she protested.

"I don't believe you," I lied. "Get on the bed," I demanded, and she quickly obeyed.

"We don't need these any more," I snapped, sliding the delicate knickers down her long legs and off. Her legs fell open in apparent invitation and submission. "You see? I think you do recognize it!" I accused her, pointing to her splayed open legs as evidence.

She had no easy response to such a silly accusation, and after closing her legs and squirming for a moment with her knees together, she responded, "Ok, Professor Kingston, you got me there." And her legs fell open again, opening that lovely little blonde oasis wide.

"Ha! I knew it. Now, let me remind you what it does!" I said menacingly, Teasing it at her entrance.

"Yes, Professor Kingston," she replied, her hands raised above her head in open submission, and she rotated her hips so that she was even further open to my demands.

She needed no extra lubrication. I activated the device on a low humming setting, and pressed it to her entrance. It easily picked up a slick coating and slid in to her hot readiness and, with just a few reversals of an inch or so to pick up extra lubrication, it sank all the way to the hilt into her body, to her rapturous reception.

The finger part was pointing straight up, bent almost perpendicular and pressed against her clitoral nub, while the thicker prong of the device filled her. She writhed and huffed, and gasped and moaned, and all I needed to do was press it harder into her, and release, and repeat that several times. There was no sliding action, no thrusting, and it was already driving her crazy.

It had seemed to me from the time I first saw it that the toy wasn't well designed. Surely there were better ways to design the bit that rubs on the clitoris! But I figured the vague resemblance to a human finger must have been the idea.

I started thrusting with it. The captain bucked in sympathy with the motion, indulging herself in its pleasures. Observing her, and adjusting the pace, I found I could fairly easily bring her to several modest climaxes, and then started working up a real doozie.

At one point I needed to swap hands, because providing the thrusting motion she needed was starting to exhaust my first arm. She didn't notice the transition, and I continued driving her steadily forwards to her inevitability. Finally, she exploded in a wonderful climax. She made wordless sounds, absent any awareness of what her voice was doing, and my nostrils were tantalized by a new heady, musky scent, raw and sensual, earthy and warm, as her body released its pollen at its ecstatic peak. The newer scent enveloped us both as she reluctantly let the dragon's tail go and floated back down to earth.

It took her half a minute to regain her breath, and during that time I slid the toy out of her and switched it off. When she spoke, her voice was initially breaking and only took shape once the vocal chords were lubricated by the first couple of words, "Will I have to submit to the toy's full function, Professor Kingston? That would be a fitting punishment for my perfidy."

I was confused. What did she mean by "full function?" What had I missed?

She obviously wanted me to do something specific with it, and I wasn't going to be able to just wing it. I tried, but couldn't think of a way to roll the game forwards when I so obviously didn't understand something that she expected me to know. So this time it was my turn to break the fourth wall. I leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Help me out, captain, what does 'full function' mean...?"

She looked momentarily confused. Then the realization dawned on her. She reached up and cupped the side of my face, "Oh honey. You've never used one of these, have you?"

I shook my head, biting my lip in embarrassment. What a stupid girl I must seem. What a dummy. She would probably mock me about being Sandra Dee again. I was starting to see how much I deserved it. But I just wanted to know what to do to make her happy.

"Let me show you," she responded, in a kind, husky voice.

She took the toy from me, and to my surprise, put the finger part into her mouth. By now I was incredulous. What could this toy be for? How could it be for your mouth? What was the point of that? I watched intently.

I realized, after a moment, that she was actually coating the finger part with drool. Once I clued onto that, things started to make more sense and just as I was starting to put everything together, she switched it on, on the low pulsing setting again, and started inserting it properly.

So for those who, like me, didn't know... That finger part isn't for clitoral stimulation at all. You'll never guess! It's to go IN YOUR BOTTOM. Can you imagine? At the same time as the other part is in you properly! Both are happening at the same time! Who comes up with these things? My mind was a whirl, wondering whether it was even possible.

I was shocked, but watching her slide the larger part into herself as the finger found its way into her bottom with a little help from her other hand to guide it, I was amazed at the effect it seemed to be having on her. She started making a guttural moan, and her knees lifted all the way up in the a most undignified pose. But she still looked incredible, in the throes of a series of apparently deeply moving orgasms, just more or less constantly rising and breaking all at the same time.

Spittle ran from the side of her slackened mouth. She spent long seconds just clutching the toy and driving it as hard as she could into herself, her head lolling around insensibly. She was in her own little orgasmic world.

Presently, she sighed in a long, loud moan of release. This was apparently her climax, because all her muscles then seemed to drain of their power as she collapsed back into a more normal lying posture, legs sprawled open, and the toy discarded on the bed between her legs.

She lay panting and, for the first time in a while, her bright blue eyes were open, and gazing up at me.

"Woah!" I said. She smiled and pulled me down and kissed me, a luxurious post-coital kiss of indulgent sensuality. I surrendered to it.

Next, she sat up and said, "How about we see what else is in there, Doc?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I responded automatically. She was the captain now. The roles had reversed.

She poked around in the box and lifted a few things up. One, a small clip, I commented on, "I don't even know what that is. The lady at the shop said I'll need it and winked, so I just bought it."

"No way, really?" she was genuinely surprised.

"Well, what do you expect from Sandra Dee?" I asked, happily letting her have power over me in the situation. She was smarter, wiser, more worldly than me.

She came and sat beside me, and before I knew it, she opened the clip and placed it on my right nipple. Immediately, I felt a bolt of pain, but also something else. Something... different. I gasped, and instinctively moved a hand to flick it off, but she blocked me. I then had no choice. She was in charge. I was going to have to endure it.

After a few more moments, the pain mostly subsided, and the other, a strange pleasure-like sensation, was growing. She was looking into my eyes in the darkened room, our faces close as she enjoyed my journey of discovery. When she saw my expression soften as I started to experience this strange new pleasure, she kissed me.

Somehow the nipple clamp enhanced the sensations of the kiss in a way I can't adequately describe. It was in one way a distraction, but at the same time it had me completely focused on my physical sensations. The kiss became a detailed exploration of sensation. Lips, tongue, small sucking actions, twitches, deliberate and otherwise, of the lips, and simultaneously my breast was experiencing a strange and seductive set of contradictions between pain and pleasure. I was soon on fire, and kissing her back ever more hungrily.

As I became inflamed, she broke off the kiss, to my immediate disappointment, and she hung tantalizingly close, just above my mouth, letting me continue to beg with my lips and tongue reaching for her and not being allowed to have her. She slowly raised a hand to where the clamp was and took hold of it, then opened it.

You'd think the sensations the clip had caused would just stop at that point, right? Wrong! The clamp being released brought an immediate surge of intense sensation painfully to that nipple, which had become mostly numb under the pressure of the clip. Now, it was electrified, and yes, painful, but not completely in a bad way. It was the kind of strange pleasure-pain you get after your leg goes to sleep, and you stand up and get the circulation flowing, but times a hundred. A thousand. It was an intensity that leveled up the strange pleasure I had been feeling earlier, rather than letting it abate. It took a moment for my brain to decide to characterize the intensity as pleasure, and not just pain, like when the tap is very cold and your brain initially registers it as hot. As soon as the realization coalesced that it was pleasure, she met my hungry lips and filled my mouth again with what it craved. Her tongue was dominant, her kiss probing and demanding. I was hers.