Suck his cock, you have

You don't have a choice. The realization crystallizes in your consciousness with the clarity of cracked ice—not as defeat, but as simple mechanical fact. The conditioning has already won. Your jaw aches, stretched around him, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth as he pushes deeper. The body knows what to do even when your mind recoils.

Jack's fingers tighten in your hair, using the grip to control the rhythm. "That's it," he says, voice rough with pleasure. "Take it all the way. You designed this throat to handle it." He's right. You did. The gag reflex has been neurologically suppressed, the muscles trained through repeated conditioning sessions to relax and accept. Your hands grip his thighs—your thighs—and you can feel the tension in them, the building urgency.

The engineering part of your brain observes with clinical detachment even as the rest of you drowns in sensation and shame. The conditioning isn't just making you comply—it's making you good at it. Your tongue moves in practiced patterns, your breathing times itself to his thrusts, and worst of all, you can feel the wetness between your legs, the body's arousal responding to his pleasure as if it were your own.

"Fuck," Jack gasps, and his hips stutter. "I'm going to—"

He doesn't pull out. Doesn't give you warning or choice. His orgasm floods your mouth and you swallow reflexively, the conditioning making even that automatic. When he finally releases your hair and steps back, you're gasping, throat raw, face wet with tears and saliva.

The frigate's proximity alarm chimes. Three minutes.

"Get cleaned up," Jack says, already reaching for his shipsuit. His voice is business-like now, the post-orgasmic satisfaction giving way to focus. "We need to look presentable. You're Kat Voss, my girlfriend. We've been together three years. You handle ship maintenance and life support while I manage the technical operations. Simple, normal, boring. Can you remember that?"

You nod, still on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

"I asked you a question," Jack says, and there's an edge to it now. "Answer me properly."

"Yes," you manage, and the word comes out hoarse. "I can remember."

"Good girl." He tosses you a cleaning cloth. "Two minutes. Make yourself presentable. And Kat?" He waits until you look up at him. "Don't even think about trying to signal them or ask for help. If you do, the mental scan will expose everything, and we'll both get brain-wiped. Your only chance of getting your body back is to play along. Understand?"

The docking clamps engage with a heavy thud that reverberates through the hull.