My name is Corbett. I have been getting more and more frustrated lately. I've been on this long patrol for four months now and I'm becoming a little testy. I haven't had real sex in all that time and the pleasure module in my cabin is starting to get a little monotonous. Besides, I am coming so quickly now as a result of so much masturbation that I expect my next performance with any real woman to be quite unspectacular.
Captain Shane and her chief engineer are hooked up. They are devout lesbians and have no use for my manly skills, only my piloting ability. I've heard the two of them in the throes of passion quite often as I come off watch and pass by her cabin.
The Sensor/Weapons operator, or S/W, and the junior engineer are a couple. Although they have invited me to play, I have very little desire for other men. The boarding squad is composed of Ascetics and they are religiously prohibited from sex of any kind. The rest of the crew, male and female, are of no interest to me. No, the pleasure module is to be my only release until we make the next port call.
Captain Shane inherited the Endeavor from its previous Captain after she slit his throat while making love to him. It went along with her peculiar sense of humor. That is another reason I don't hit on her.
The Endeavor is a fast, medium cargo ship that has been refitted with bigger engines, long-range weapons, and a tractor beam. It is a Privateer ship of the Marauder Fleet with a letter of marque from the Dog Star Republic to prey on Andelian Hegemony commercial shipping.
Captain Shane gives up 30% of our take and the Republic gives us legitimacy and free ports of call in their space. None of that will make any difference if the forces of the Hegemony catch us. The punishment for piracy is spacing. I see little future in being cast out into a vacuum.
We wait three days at the edge of an asteroid field searching for likely targets. We see large, slow ore carriers, fighter-escorted express freighters, and pre-fabricated asteroid mining facilities pulled by brutish space tugs. They are not of interest.
Concentrating on the hunt takes my mind off of sex, temporarily. We need a big fast container freighter trying to make the run solo. They sometimes do that, counting on their speed to carry them through the danger. It is only another day before we get an indication of likely prey entering our sensor range.
I call the Captain to the bridge and we watch as a faint blip resolves into an Andelian Hegemony registered mid-sized long-range transport. It is one of the new Galaxy model executive transports that corporate executives and tri-vid stars like to scoot about space in.
We are faster and they are unarmed. As they pass, the Captain orders a shot across her bow and transmits a demand for surrender. The passenger transport quickly yaws in space, faces away from the direction of movement, and fires thrusters to bring her to a halt. We close on her and the Captain orders the boarding squad to stand by.
The Captain of the luxury transport offers his unconditional surrender. Our Captain orders me to dock with the ship and send the boarding party over to secure the ship. Within minutes the boarding party is signaling all secure and six prisoners to bring aboard.
The S/W operator activates the tractor beam and I move the two ships together deep into the asteroid field. She has me secure the ship, leaves the S/W operator to keep a watch, and then has me join her as she inspects the captured ship.
I follow along behind, my weapon drawn, as we enter our prize.
The Captain sneers and says, "Well, Corbett, what do you think of her?"
I look around and see the opulence of the furnishings. The airlock is stainless steel. The passageways are lined with real wood, something pretty rare in space. I look in one of the cabins and see gold fixtures and real cloth bedding. There is some money invested in this ship.
I chuckle, smile, and reply, "Captain, This is a good haul."
We make our way to the bridge and meet the captain-pilot and co-pilot. The captain is your typical shuttle pilot. He is all braid and no fortitude. No wonder he surrendered so quickly. His uniform is highly decorative and wildly impractical. The co-pilot is almost a carbon copy, just shorter and pudgier.
With a sneer in her voice, my Captain asks, "What is your cargo and what was your destination, Captain?"
Sweat trickles down his forehead. A smell of fear permeates the air. The luxury transport Captain answers quickly, obviously nervous, "I have Mrs. Ellen Debran and her two daughters, their personal chef, plus their personal baggage. That is all. Mrs. Debran and her daughters are in the main salon with your guards. The chef is in the galley. We were headed to Rigel Station."
Captain Forest motions for me to follow her. She leaves an Ascetic to guard the two pilots. I holster my weapon and follow her back down the hallway. We turn right into the main salon.
Two Ascetics guard the women. Mrs. Debran is a statuesque woman in her early forties. She has long brown hair, dark brown eyes and a nice shape. She carries herself in a very erect, patrician manner. She is a very attractive woman and wears a brown sheer caftan, considered very fashionable among the very wealthy. It does not leave much to the imagination.
Her daughters are younger versions of their mother. They carry themselves in a reasonable approximation of their mother's posture. The Captain and I look on these women with the same hunger in our eyes.
The older daughter is approximately 25 with dark brown shoulder length hair. She wears a rainbow-patterned dress that fits tight across the bust and hips. It is cut low exposing a spectacular chest and short to reveal shapely legs. Sandals adorn her feet.
The younger daughter is probably 20. She has hazel eyes and the family's brown hair. She wears a short white jumpsuit with white boots. The jumpsuit is zipped to the neck. The material strains to cover her ample breasts, as the jumpsuit was not designed to be worn in that manner. The material is also quite flimsy and her nipples are prominently displayed.
The Captain addresses them, "You are on a vessel of a hostile power in an embargoed area. You have been taken prisoner by a vessel in the service of the Dog Star Republic. If you cooperate and offer no resistance, you will be returned to Andelian authorities as soon as possible. If you cause us problems, you will spend a much more uncomfortable passage. Do you understand me?"
Mrs. Debran nods her head and answers, "We will give you no trouble. I ask that you not harm my daughters or I. We are very wealthy and our family will pay a generous ransom to get us back alive and unharmed."
The Captain smiles a wicked smile and says, "That is good to know. Stay here. An officer will be here soon to take charge of you. You will be transported to our nearest base on this ship. Your repatriation will be arranged there."
Captain Shane motions me to follow her. I trail behind her as she leaves the salon. A guard positions himself in the doorway as we leave.
"Corbett, I want you to take charge of the ship and get it to Cygnus Base. I want it delivered unharmed. Our take for this prize will be better than 100,000 credits for the ship plus whatever the ladies fetch. If their family won't buy them, I know plenty of people that will. Enjoy yourself with them, but don't do any permanent damage. I'll take the two pilots and cook with me and leave you with three Ascetics. We'll follow some distance behind you. Maybe we'll get lucky and find another ship along the way."
I check with the Captain on the bridge before I take command of the prize crew. She has nothing more for me. As I pass the chief engineer she grabs my cock through my trousers and tells me not to be too hard on the prisoners. A wicked, hungry smile, almost a leer, crosses her face.
I hold at the airlock as the two pilots, the chef, and the majority of the boarding party leave. The Ascetic corporal meets me as I enter the airlock and reports.
"Captain, the three women are in cabins off the main salon. One of us will guard the entrance to the salon at all times. There is no other entrance or exit. We will keep them in the salon and their rooms unless you authorize otherwise."
I am impressed with the corporal's professionalism. I approve his recommendation, order the airlock closed. I move my gear into the Captain's cabin. I look around for a few minutes and move to the bridge.
I fire up the command console and call over to the Endeavor to check comms. I get a good comms check and continue to familiarize myself with the controls. Everything is automated. I will have no trouble piloting the ship to Cygnus.
I spend a few minutes locking out all ship's controls and comms from all ship's terminals except the one in my cabin and set a voice imprint pass code into the system for the corporal and I. I cue up the ship's internal monitor system and verified all heat sources on the ship. The corporal is correct. All life signs are accounted for on the ship. No weapons are on board, with the exception of some carving and steak knives in the galley.
I receive a message from the Endeavor. I am ordered to Cygnus. I energize the shuttle as the docking collar is retracted, move clear of the asteroid field, punch in the course, and engage the engines.
I activate the sensors to warn of any ships and walk to the main salon. It is time to relieve my tension.
The Ascetic moves out of my way as I enter the salon. The two daughters are talking on a couch, but the mother is nowhere in sight. The two daughters look up at me with apprehension in their eyes.
Their mother comes back into the room, sees me, and says, "So, you are the one that has charge of us?"
"Yes, my name is Corbett. I will be your captain for the trip to Cygnus. If you cooperate fully, no harm will come to you or your daughters. Of course, I am a pirate, so my idea of no harm and yours may differ slightly."
To her credit, the mother gets my meaning right away. She looks at me, nods her head, and tells her daughters to leave the room. They quickly scurry out of the room and lock their doors, leaving me alone with their mother. She still wears the brown sheer caftan.
I look her up and down. Her breasts are firm. Her legs are long and shapely. Her waist is nicely shaped and her belly is flat. This is a very desirable woman.
The Ascetic, sensing what is coming, steps out and seals the doorway.