Part 4: A test of discipline

Though Jane appreciated the doctor's tender encouragement more than Bre liked a fresh box of Cubans; the affection shown to her by such an exotic beauty clad only in strings of leather did not ease the unsatisfied longing in her pussy. As the ever unflappable officer was helped out of her restraints, it took all her willpower to not rub her clit with righteous vengeance. Truth be told, it was a little surprising; the officer rarely let the opinion of others or even orders she thought were bullshit get in the way of what needed to be done, and a good bout of selfish lip-service was the most important thing in the galaxy at this time.

Instead she followed Dr. Ocelot's directions as obediently and energetically as any pet that had seen a treat. "Kneel on the floor, arse off your heels. Spread your knees; I want you to feel the air on your snatch. Good girl, now put this on."

Jane was tossed a hood made from thick latex and put it on. It had a hole for her mouth that was currently zipped shut, leaving two nostril slits as the only opening. The snug face covering not only submerged her in darkness but silence as well; to feel the faint hum of The Pale Horse's systems instantly dissipate was a little unsettling. "Noise canceling." The doctor's voice felt so close Jane half expected to feel breath on her ear. "You only hear what I allow you to hear." The mask was zipped tight behind Jane's head then buckled it to her collar. "Now place your hands on your thighs. Higher up, like you're framing your cock-slot with your finger and thumb. Good girl. I'll tell you when you can move."

With that, Jane was left alone. Of course, the kneeling woman knew that other people could enter the room at any time, but her eyes and ears insisted she was the only one in her inky void.

The first thought Jane had, and if she was honest a thought that lingered in her mind throughout her isolation, was to masturbate. Her hands rested only an inch from her wet pussy, and the orgasm she'd been tormented by for so long would only take a few seconds of stimulation to reach. She knew she could plunge her fingers into her aching slit and find sweet release before Dr. Ocelot could stop her. **** punishment would no doubt follow: severe whipping or electric shocks, perhaps directly to her nipples or clit. This pain, however, seemed an acceptable price to pay for that moment of pure joy that dangled in front of her nose. In fact, the guarantee made her want to taste that forbidden fruit more. The officer scolded herself; she had more self-control than this.

To wrest her mind away from such disobedient thoughts, Jane thought about the possible punishments. She recalled the sting of her mistress's crop when it had swung down onto her breast, sending ripples of pain through her soft mound. The handle was even more threatening; those intense lightning bolts of pain had almost been enough to break her, but now Jane just wanted to feel it thrusting in and out of her even if it was stabbing her with its electric pins. Her whip, that tool had left angry red bruises that were still echoing with pain. How much more would it hurt for that long lash to slice across her nipples? or between her pussy lips? Jane pressed her index finger into her thigh and rolled her shoulders back as the fantasy of a soft leather cord being slowly dragged over clit pounded through her head. Get a grip. One hand could grip her breast and kneed it while-- Stop that! Think of something else. The whip wasn't her mistress's favorite toy. It was that magic wand with those magic tentacles. Jane's breaths became rapid and shallow; she would like to be punished by that little buddy again. Wait, no, I really wouldn't. Icicles of dread scraped through her veins when the true terror of such a device dawned on her. Shutting off that thing had been a mercy. How long could it keep her in tantalizing torment? Until she had begged herself mute? Until the firestorm of desire in her pussy melted her brain into slag? With the fear of that punishment in her mind, Jane was able to resist any further naughty desires she had.

Her crotch still tingled. Being shaved than whipped had left that whole area raw and excited by the slightest breeze. And that's not even mentioning the dampness left by so many brushes with "the little ****." Currents of air felt like tongues lapping at Jane's tender pussy, reminding her how exposed she was. Surprisingly, the tight embrace of Jane's hood added to her feelings of exposure. The press of latex was an ever present reminder that there was nothing covering the rest of her body. Moreover, in her darkness and silence, Jane had no way of knowing what was around her. It felt like her body from the neck down was **** in a completely different location.

Time crawled forward. Jane did her best to move as little as possible. Even when her muscles started to ache, she only slightly shifted her weight from one knee to the other. Her tongue was the only thing Jane let roam; occasionally, it would peek between her lips and lick across the zipper sealing her mouth shut. The synthetic smell of her hood had initially been enough to overpower anything that made it through the small breathing holes, but Jane was eventually able to pick up the ripe scent of female arousal. It wasn't clear to Jane if she was smelling herself or Dr. Ocelot; she hoped it was the latter, that the beautiful half-Asian viewed her as an object of desire.

The next smell Jane noticed was lavender perhaps from a scented candle. Then after another eternity, there were wisps from a quality steak that made her stomach grumble. These faded too quickly, banishing Jane to the void.

How long had she been left like this? It felt like days; the rest of the crew was clearly having meals without her. Had she been forgotten about? No, they needed her for the mission, right? Maybe there was an emergency on the ship that was distracting them. It seemed impossible that Dr. Ocelot could be watching her this whole time. Perhaps the doctor had set up a camera in case Jane tried to sneak a finger into her lady bits. The naked officer didn't like that idea very much; what would happen to the recording? Sure, her face was obscured, but she still didn't want her tits and pussy uploaded to serve as someone's masturbation fuel.

The uncountable hours were broken by the return of the lavender smell. She breathed deeply, clinging to the break in her monotony. The sharp blots of pain that spontaneously erupted on her right breast caught her completely by surprise. It took her a second to realize the hot pain was from candle wax. Jane's scream echoed loudly within her hood. Her body had already instinctively pulled back, meaning the torturous drip splattered hard against her tender nipple. "Naughty, naughty," her mistress's voice was in her ear, "I didn't tell you to move. Now, I have to do the other breast." Jane gritted her teeth as she felt a steady drip of molten wax **** the pillow flesh of her left mound. A cruel line was traced unto her other nipple, making Jane whimper through her hood, but she was able to prevent herself from flinching this time.

"Better," her mistress complimented as the splattering stopped but the hot pain lingered. "Just like any good slut, I know you're eager to orgasm, but you must know your mistress comes first." The zipper across Jane's mouth was opened. "Now earn it."

The kneeling woman had a fairly good idea of what was expected, but her tongue moved slowly, meekly probing forward. It found smooth leather and cautiously licked. The dominatrix gave an approving moan, so Jane licked again, pressing harder. The leather had some elasticity and yielded to just enough to hint at the exquisite womanhood beneath. Jane's heart thundered as her hopes to please the exceptional doctor in such an intimate way. She greedily lapped at the soft leather, deeply enjoying the sounds of pleasured breathing that filled her ears and the thickening smell of female arousal in the nostrils. As she served, Jane felt the crotch move closer to her yearning mouth.

"My tongue harlot is off to a good start," Dr. Ocelot said after a couple minutes, "but she needs to lick hard if she wants me to cum." A hand pushed the back of Jane's head, forcing it to grind against the crotch. "Work harder bitch," commanded the mistress, and tales of a flogger snapped across Jane's breasts. The **** was spurred on and licked as hard as she could to make sure her mistress felt each stroke through her outfit.

Despite her efforts, Jane's tits were regularly flogged. Occasionally, she felt tiny flecks of wax fling away, exposing raw flesh to the next strike. Given that the woman was straddling her face, Jane imagined she swung the whip like a jockey commanding a horse, the painful motivator swinging through her luscious legs to strike the subs **** bosom. Dr. Ocelot was riding her after all.

Wisps of desire rose from Jane's pussy. Head tilted up to her goddess, she started thinking about what she enjoyed when someone went down on her. Her mouth temporarily left the crotch strip of leather to plant rapid kisses on her mistress's naked thighs. After enjoying the startled yet appreciative breaths the generous Dom let her hear, Jane thought to return to tonguing the cooch covering leather, but a more delightful idea came to her. Jane's tongue wiggled its way under the skimpy strip and found its way to the tasty flesh beneath. As the thighs pressed tighter around her head, Jane probed deeper; she had almost reached her mistress's clit.

The flogger smacked hard against Jane's ass with enough **** that many of its knotted ends impacted her naked pussy. The ****'s high pitched howl was the only thing to distract her from the sharp pain that lingered for several seconds.

"Naughty ****," admonished Dr. Ocelot. "I did not give you permission to lick me like that."

Jane struggled but was eventually able to pull her tongue from underneath the tight garment. Only to receive another cruel strike to her ass and cunt.

"Uh uh uh, Mistress did not say to stop either."

This left Jane not knowing what she should do to avoid more pain. She decided to tease her tongue pack under her mistress's leather because at least it would give her another taste of bitter nectar. The cunt-licker continued to be whipped for her naughty tongue acrobatics, but the lashes were gentler and rarely reached her cunt.

A different pain nibbled at Jane's mind as she worked. Whether as a punishment or for another reason, Dr. Ocelot no longer spoke to her **** or even let her hear those elegant moans. The approval eager submissive had to attune herself to the subtle clenching and thrusting as she plundered her mistress's tender folds.

Truth be told, Jane quickly adapted to the limitations of her situation. Her mind tuned out all distractions; even the spankings became a distant seasoning to her. She only cared about the tight space her tongue was dancing in. After a brief and blissful eternity, she felt her mistress's flower quiver and gush with a salty reward for her hard work. Oddly, the **** didn't need to be told to lick her Mistress clean; it just seemed natural.

Once she was satisfied, Dr. Ocelot stepped back "I'm proud of you slut," the mistress informed Jane, making her grin. "Your orgasm isn't far away," she added while helping her **** stand and peeling off her hood. It was a dizzying shock to suddenly have blinding light in her blinking eyes and cold air on her sweaty face, but fortunately Dr. Ocelot helped steady her submissive. The scantily clad dominatrix took her naked ****'s hand and started leading her towards her chamber's exit, but Jane hesitated. Her mistress raised an eyebrow; "doesn't my whore want to cum?"

"I... mistress," the commander's voice meekly quivered, "how will you stop my crew from seeing me like this... naked?"

A vicious slap to her left breast made Jane fall to her knees. "You were doing so well." Dr. Ocelot's voice was thick with disappointment. "What have I told you about speaking out of turn?"

Jane could only hang her head in shame.

"Listen, useless cunt," the scorned mistress spat. "You should already know that I won't do anything to jeopardize your relationship with your crew, but I will do whatever I feel is necessary to make you ready for this mission." She gripped Jane's chin and **** her to make eye contact. "If that means making you spray your slit while riding Slipshot's flight stick, you will do it."

Jane nodded submissively and remained slumped on her knees, a scolded puppy. In spite of her immense feeling of guilt, there was the warm tingle of hope at the second mention of a possible orgasm. Was the cockpit going to be where she would be allowed to reach it? She didn't know how her mistress would make sure it was empty, but it wasn't her place to question.

"That little display of impertinence has cost you your walking privileges. You will now follow me on all fours... wearing these." Given the way her training had been going, Jane should have been prepared for the sharp pinch to her nipples when the clamps bit down. But she wasn't. Jane had been so distracted she didn't notice them until they were on her nipples. A low whine escaped her lips when each was applied; the metal toys had rubberized tips but were painfully tight on her hard nipples. The clamps themselves were also erect, pointing directly away from her breasts despite the chain dangling between them.

The whoosh of the door opening, the fresh breeze it created, and the sight of the hallway beyond made Jane tense with nearly overwhelming panic. Her heart pounded, and her stomach tightened. It felt unbearably unnatural to move into the hallway while totally naked, but Jane was able to power through the primal dread and crawl forward.

Dr. Ocelot left her room followed by the crawling Jane who was silenced both by the terror she would call attention to herself and the shame of her outburst. Though punished, the humbled commander felt like shit for having questioned the woman who had worked so hard to help her. As she crawled, the sub studied the floor of her ship. No, not her ship; the commander of this ship was someone she wasn't. Even the reflection staring back at her didn't feel like hers: it was naked with a face covered in spit and messy mascara.

The wolf whistle made a dagger of ice slice up her back.