The High Princess thanked me politely for my support when we were alone on the bridge, seemingly satisfied when I told her I thought she had handled it well and had probably defused a nasty situation.
"Not a pleasant experience, Sir," she said coolly, surprising me with her calmness. But a few seconds later the fa�ade cracked. She let her emotion show, spitting out as an afterthought just one venomously laden word: "Scum". A single tear rolled down her cheek. I said nothing. There was nothing to add.

Then she efficiently set about her work. "Just making the course corrections and programming in the autopilot for the night ahead, Sir."
There was no need for the title in private, and I told her so; she merely nodded and said that in that case I should also stop calling her 'Your Highness' all the time, all the more so since she had by signing up to my deal renounced her Imperial title anyway. She was Lieutenant Tamara when on duty, no more and no less, and Louisa Tamara when not.
"And right now, Captain, I'm on duty. It should take about an hour, Sir, to get everything acceptably in order to leave unattended. Though our presence here is still required. So, Sir, I suggest you arrange for a seriously good dinner to be sent up and then make use of the bridge's en suite bathroom and relax."
I looked at her, but she was avoiding my gaze. Her usual cool ice-blue innocent stare was focussed on the console and the numbers scrolling across it. I could see her cheeks were still flushed with tears or perhaps still embarrassment from the pain and humiliation she'd just undergone. I raised an eyebrow. "Suits me, lieutenant. Why?"
"It's a big moment for me, Sir. No need to face it sober."
I nodded. "A celebratory meal on the bridge to welcome a new recruit on her first commission. Excellent."
Or did she mean more than that?
She did. "I had assumed, Sir, that you would wish to... initiate a more intimate relationship... once I had joined your crew. So, unless of course you... er... require my services right away...?"
Unbelievable: was she actually offering herself to me? Why on the bridge and not in my quarters?
"Here?" I queried.
"Over and done with. My decision is made, I do not wish to have it hanging over me for another day with all and sundry knowing it. Nor do I want your men laughing behind my back as I am led off to your bedroom. Right here is fine."
Barely able to keep my fingers and voice from trembling, I went back to my console to order a buffet with good wine.
"Thank you," I heard her say softly...

...before she switched back to efficient mode and continued. "Bridge computer...? Eunice? Record all actions on the bridge from now on and pipe them live to the captain's personal memory store. And Eunice, after the meal is delivered, you are to lock the bridge to all comers in anything less than yellow alert status. Ambient temperature up three degrees, lights dimmed and with follow-spots and zoom focussing on all motion. Drone recorders to concentrate on flesh tones. On-line editing, and continue forwarding the results to my quarters and to the main screen. Confirm."
"Confirmed," came the sultry female voice, and the programming was complete.
I was taken aback by the fact that she wanted her defloration on record. She hurried to explain. "I think, Sir, that it will assist the other six in accepting my decision and my lead if they can if necessary observe a record of events. The log will be diverted to your private storage... God, I hope I can trust you with this..." She wavered. "I can imagine it would be worth a lot on the black market."
"I don't require a copy," I told her. "I'll have something much better. The memory of the real thing. And I very much hope, the real thing many times more."
She took a deep breath and nodded, but didn't rescind the instruction. Odd. I didn't let it show, but I suddenly realized what her game was. She had come up with a method to use my access codes indirectly to get events on the bridge securely through to her own quarters and nowhere else on the ship. No prizes for guessing: in her bedroom, there were undoubtedly six frightened young women who had just watched one of their number bravely face down the hated crew, submit to a sadistic torturer and accept the pain he delivered. Now after the cathartic release of besting that opponent physically, she had to face the hardest mental block of all and let me take her maidenhead. A man she had known for merely a month, a nobody from ranks far lower than her own, nearly twice her age and probably barely half her intelligence. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Very well, Captain," she said surprisingly calmly. "I have the con. You take your bath and relax, Sir, and when my technical duties are complete I give you my word of honour I shall do my best to fulfil the informal obligations too."
She looked me in the eye, then blushed and averted her stare. The big forward screen showed her sitting at her console, head bowed demurely and looking for once very young and fragile. Then she looked up at the screen, and the drones zoomed in to her perfect pale-skinned face. "We'll have aperitifs before dinner here in one hour."

Then in a small voice: "And after the meal, you can rape me."

So off I went, taking my time and somehow resisting the urge to wank myself stupid. This was completely and utterly unreal. I bathed, soaking happily and listening to the blues music I had asked Eunice to put on, and then spent ages cleaning myself thoroughly. I put on a black towelling robe from the closet, rather than dress in formal uniform again. It was risqu�, but the situation was ridiculous enough anyway... and for this particular girl I wasn't going to start tripping myself up over pants and trousers while frantically undressing. Nor did I really want minutes of footage of me wrestling with shoelaces or collar-studs whilst giving the delectable youngster all too much time in which to change her mind.
As it turned out, she too had chosen to reduce the level of formality, having removed her uniform cap to let her stupendous mane of pale blonde hair be shaken free. She had also unzippered the trouser legs up the inside and reattached them to each other in a manner that no male recruit would ever have thought possible, so that the two baggy flared legs made a single below-the-knee bell skirt. Neither had she bothered to do up the black leather waistcoat again.

She eyed me up and down which I thought was something I was supposed to do her rather than the other way round. Then she said, "Come on over, Sir. Everything's lovely and very tasty."
"Yes, you certainly are," I muttered under my breath. She flushed and looked away, clearly having caught my little aside. "Sorry about that," I whispered when I got close, sotto voce so that the drones wouldn't pick it up.
"I suppose I ought to be flattered, Sir," she replied clearly. "How do you want to play this? A formally polite meal, with formally polite sex afterwards?"
Leaving me thinking about that strange question, tingling with anticipation already, she went off to pour some of her father's excellent dry white wine and pick up a selection of seafood bits and pieces. After raiding the royal yacht, we were quite well supplied for esoteric nibbles - just unfortunately rather short of the staple essentials. When she came back, I whispered, "No, that's too easy. No shock value. I need to persuade the other six to come over as well. Voluntarily, remember?"
"Oh, so you want them too?" I could swear she bridled slightly at the idea. Christ yes, who wouldn't be interested in the others too? - but she was unquestionably the pick of the bunch. She'd be the pick of any bunch.
"Miss Tamara, I'm sure you're enough to satisfy any red-blooded male," I countered, making her blush furiously again. "But that's not the point. They're part of the deal - quite apart from my own desires, the ship needs them. We need something a little unexpected to help shock them into cooperating."
She was getting worried. "Sir... I thought you were just going to rape me...?" Her tone of voice made it a question. The eyes were begging me, but it took a major effort to make herself say the same thing in words. "Captain, don't use that awful delimiter again... Please. By the end, I'd have sold my inheritance to him for sixpence and played the whore for the whole crew rather than face it again."
"No, you twerp. I want you to try to enjoy yourself, look as if you're taking some pleasure in it. Make them see I'm not an ogre."

She exhaled thankfully, and then giggled nervously as she poured a glass of claret for me to go with the chunk of steak I had put on my plate. "We know that," she said with some relief. "The various assistants were quite complimentary, all things considered. Unlike the men at court, you respect and appreciate them, they say. And you have more delicacy and manners than the slobs on this rustbucket, who mostly just make them strip and then jump on and take them." She shrugged. "You forget, Sir, that my own marriage of convenience was destined to be every bit as traumatic."

My response almost caught me by surprise, let alone the teenager opposite. I placed my hands on her hips and pulled her close for a kiss. She stood there looking gobsmacked, glass in one hand and plate in the other while I kissed her on the lips, the first phsyical contact beyond a handshake. She finally shut her eyes and parted those full lips slightly, but I then let mine move slowly round to her soft warm cheek and then down to her neck with my hands coming down naturally near her hips. At that she stiffened, but she swallowed and made no attempt to move away. One hand slid up her back over the blouse but inside the leather waistcoat, pulling her closer. The other went down over her firmly muscled backside and grasped her tight. No response, so I stood back and picked up my drink. She looked unsure of herself, as if wondering why I had stopped. "I wasn't resisting, Sir," she said almost apologetically. Then as if she had to make it good, "I'll undress for you now, shall I?" I spluttered into my wine for a moment before recovering. I put my hands out in front of myself, palms down in a gesture of conciliation. "No, Your Highness... Miss Tamara... Not yet. When you're ready." She shook her head. "I'm perfectly prepared to..."
I cut her short. "No you're not. Mentally you are, emotionally you're not." She protested. I looked her in the eye; time for shock tactics. "Do you remember Jackson's question? Tell me, does the collar match the cuffs?"
Her eyes blazed angrily blue for a second at the personal question as if she were about to slap me in the face. The point was made.
"Let's eat," I said.

We went over to the recessed pit in the middle of the bridge, behind the captain's console, where there are a couple of black leather sofas arranged round a low central table. Next to each other on the shiny squeaky black couch, we ate and drank slowly and calmly. I deliberately began a bit of play with the food, feeding her olives and prawns with my fingers. She refused at first, as if she might catch my germs that way or something, and then cooperated, almost visibly having told herself to do so. I didn't instruct her to do the same for me, but after a while she decided that was presumably what was intended.
She kept steering the conversation towards the upcoming sexual activity, which as far as I could see was only making her more tense and anxious about it. Increasing her hard-nosed determination of her ego to go through with the act she had given her word of honour about, yet undermining the willingness of her psyche to perform. So I in my turn avoided talking about her and we ended up having a weird discussion about my sexual history. I sat there with an arm round her shoulder - which she by now barely noticed, thank God: relaxing a little - describing my contracts back on earth. Shortly after, I turned to lie on the couch with my head in her lap while she asked me in detail what I had thought of the twelve assistants. We fetched more wine, caviar, strips of steak, tails of lobster... and she sat reclined along the sofa with her calves over my knees, not shuddering or freezing up any more when my hands gently stroked her long legs through the cottony material of the dark skirt. She spouted forth her views on the Etiquette rules in relation to sex and the often strict observance of them in court circles - nothing ever mentioned in public, all activity going on behind scenes in the dark and under the bedclothes. Yet with an undertone of harshness and the feeling that a girl was not safe from anything if the male involved could get away with it simply because the scandal could not be afforded. Such as the Presidential gang-bang she had been promised on her first night. She said that it was not that unusual for even high-ranking women to be raped - hauled behind a tent at a garden party, abused in ministerial offices, pinned down with the hoops on the croquet lawn... all these had happened to acquaintances of hers. But, she added very quickly, not to herself or to her certain knowedge any of the other six on this ship.
A few minutes later she was the other way round, with her head in my lap, arms stretched languidly above her playing with strands of her long blonde hair, eating the salted brazil nuts I was feeding her and licking the saltiness from my fingers playfully. All this was beginning to give me a thoroughly eager erection now, whether she was ready for action or not. The conversation had moved on to the male fascination with breasts, something she could not understand at all. To her they were just mammary glands, two lumps of flesh that restricted her movements at times and were sensitive targets during the martial arts lessons. There were no real answers to this, so I did the obvious thing and simply parted the leather material of her waistcoat; she bit her lip with a small thrill of anticipation, drawing in a breath and making the objects in question swell up tight under the white silken blouse. She was waiting for me to touch her bosom, so I didn't, choosing instead to unfasten the top button of the blouse and then bend to kiss her delicately at the bottom of her throat and between the collar-bones. Then back up to the mouth, and this time she was a willing participant in a long and satisfying exploratory kiss. We came up for air, the youngster looking mildly surprised at herself, the pupils in her pale blue eyes now visibly larger with the adrenalin rush. She nodded after a moment - perhaps in acknowledgement of the fact that I had been right to wait, I don't know - and then squirmed round into a position kneeling on the sofa next to me, before pulling herself down for another kiss, parting her mouth wide for my tongue and lips to explore hers. The kiss stopped; we still said nothing. First I eased the jacket off her shoulders, she reached her arms out behind herself and shrugged it to the floor. I undid the belt and found the catch of her skirt easily enough. There was no opposition. She stayed kneeling up on the sofa in front of me as I pulled the skirt down, once again revealing those long legs and the plain white knickers underneath. This time it was not a crude and unwelcome exposure - it was an intensely erotic moment. I placed one hand round on her buttocks again, sliding up to a slice of flesh on her back between the waistband of the panties and some kind of bra or halter underneath the blouse. My fingertips lingered at the elastic, and my other hand was at her slightly protruding hipbone: both of us acutely aware of the fact that one tug at the flimsy garment would make it follow the skirt down to her knees. Breathing shallowly in nervous excitement, the young woman shut her eyes and waited in what seemed like an electrically charged tension for the moment of exposure. But instead I let my hands move down to her thighs, warm and soft on the surface but with hard muscle beneath. One set of fingers curled round the outside of her upper leg, the other set sliding in between the tightly-clamped thighs and moving inexorably upwards to where my thumb made the slightest of contacts with the damply warm material at her crotch. She gave a sensual little shudder and then undid the next button of her blouse, but I moved her fingers away. This was my moment to savour. I took the silken blouse by the lapels and ripped it wide open suddenly, popping pearly buttons left and right and revealing that beneath it she was wearing some kind of strapless white bodice laced up the front. She arched her back, breath coming quickly, so that she would have fallen had I not reached behind and grabbed her buttocks to pull her forward. And to my absolute amazement and delight, as I buried my face in the lacework of the bodice and my fingers squeezed her bum tightly up against my chest, she climaxed unmistakeably.

It had been as unexpected for her as for me. She stood up on wobbly legs and divested herself of the skirt as it fell to the floor. We went back to the buffet for more drinks, kissing again as we stood there. But this time her long arms were draped languidly over my shoulders and her hips were sensuously pushed forward at me. She was now half-undressed, other than her underwear she wearing just the ripped open white blouse and the black ankle-boots. I may only have had one item of clothing, but even that was in disarray. It had somehow gotten wide open at the chest, where her strong hands were even now also disappearing inside the black towelling robe and the sash was dangerously loose... What the hell? "My turn now, Miss Tamara," I said. "Kneel."
With one hand twisted in her long hair, I pushed her down to her knees. With the other I pulled the gown open, so that my angry red erection sprang up free just inches from her face. Obediently she took it in her hands, reaching out uncertainly with her delicate fingers to touch me gently. She seemed to be more analytically curious about the anatomy than excited by what was to come. "Warm and dry... and hard," she said.
"What did you expect?"
"Well, somehow you always sort of imagine it would be cold and slimy and horrible and squishy." She put a hand across her mouth and giggled. "Bigger than I thought, too."
I had had enough of this. I removed her hands and pulled her head forward, forcing her none too gently to open her mouth wide and take in as much of my length as she could manage. I made her go on sucking and licking for a minute or so, more to establish dominance over her in her mind (and presumably the other viewers) than because I needed any more stimulation. Picking up my glass of wine, I looked over at the main forward screen which was providing a close-up of that famous face attentively ministering to a healthy hard-on. I looked down at the golden hair of the youngster kneeling before me just as she raised her gaze to look at me. Those angelic blue eyes staring up pleadingly at me, childishly wide open, almost made me come on the spot - in particular combined with the far from innocent image of my penis disappearing into the mouth below.
No, such pleasures could be for later. This load was going deep inside that unbelievable body. I withdrew.

Not bothering to close the housecoat, I strolled back to one of the armchairs, leading my prize by the hand.
"Time to see what you've been hiding from us men for the last eighteen years."
Sitting back with my drink and a cigarette, I gestured at the small recessed open floor-area with the low tables. "Come here where I can get a good look at you, and strip for me."
What can I say? She stripped off with an inexperienced girl's lack of subtlety. No coquettishness, archness or fake dramatics. Not teasingly - more as if for, I don't know, a medical or something. Not that I cared too much. I had eyes for nothing other than the beautiful figure standing statuesque in front of me. Long limbs, slightly and evenly tanned, slender but also clearly quite strong - not an ounce of fat anywhere. Unblemished torso, flat and smooth stomach. Splendid firm breasts, not quite large enough to be out of proportion with her slim frame, with small reddish nipples positively demanding my attention. Slender waist, almost girlishly narrow hips with slightly protruding hipbones, and a diamond-shaped bush of golden curls over her pubic mound. Coarser and a shade darker than on her head, but nonetheless still very much blonde. And undoubtedly natural. I gestured that she should lie down on the couch, then arranged the compliant and uncertain youngster so that she had her arms draped over one arm of the two-seater settee, and her legs over the other. She then lay there for the next several minutes with her eyes closed, permitting me to explore her delectable body with fingertips and mouth and obediently parting her thighs a little to let my probing fingers access her pussy lips a little. She was beginning to respond to these ministrations, biting her lip and squirming.
And suddenly she got up and walked off again, just as I had been about to gleefully haul her legs apart and lick her until she came again, as I was sure she'd been on the verge of doing. She had something up her sleeve, I realized. Probably another little show for the benefit of the other highborns. Well, it had better be good: I was getting ready for action now.

She sat down on the captain's chair, swivelling it round to face me, and picked up the little dish of caviar I had left there.
"I may be a virgin, Sir," she said, sticking her finger into the roe dip and licking it clean suggestively. "But I am not in a position where I can afford to be prudish. The assumption is that you are a man of honour and will therefore abide by the agreement..."
She raised an eyebrow questioningly; I remained impassive. She continued, "... theoretically, of course, you might choose to misuse us and then still hand us over to the men. So, since I can assure you I don't want that to happen, I have to make it worth your while."
"That's typical of you. There you are, sitting on my chair in your birthday suit, having a long and lengthy discussion. A reasoned argument for every action." I took my prick in my hand. "Do something my friend here will like. Quit talking. Make it worth my while."
"I have learned quite a lot, especially during the last two months, about what men like." She sat back in the black leather console chair and drew her legs up, knees and ankles together and with her other hand thrust into her groin to protect her genitals from view. "You like to see your women spread their legs crudely wide for you, don't you? Well Sir, here you are - pussy on parade, as your uncouth subordinates might put it." She put her feet up on the chair's arm rests and then slowly and deliberately splayed her knees lewdly wide, one hand and wrist still covering that amazing blonde bush and whatever was below it. I knelt in front of the captain's chair, eager for the final exposure.
"You're right: there's nothing in the world finer than the sight of a pretty girl showing you her cunt. Take that hand away, blondie."
"Ah," she said archly, sliding her fingers upwards to reveal... a mass of slippery dark-grey dots. Caviar smeared thickly in her crotch.
"Then there's quite a lot of licking clean to do, Sir. If my master wants to see my cunt."
That was an invitation no red-blooded male could possibly refuse. I knelt in front of me chair, between the princess' legs, and eagerly began perhaps the most unusual dish of my life. She could barely contain herself as I let my tongue probe deep into the fleshy fold of her labia, all in the pretext of fishing out the last of the salty and oily droplets. I teased her clitoris out into the open, fingertips and tongue each taking their turn at working the eagerly panting teeanger up into a frenzy.
When I stood back, she looked up at me. Not much innocent or angelic in that stare now. Big black pupils wide with the adrenalin rush, makeing the surrounding blue a touch more intense. She nodded gravely. "I'm ready."
And so was I. Again from the kneeling position, I placed my prick at her entrance and stroked the tip up and down her previously untouched slit until it nestled nicely inside. I bent forward to nuzzle and nibble at those splendid tits again, hooking my hands round under her back to hold her shoulders from behind, feeling my erection pushing further inside her. No matter how she bucked and squirmed, she was mine now. No holding back! I rammed home eagerly, eliciting a brief squeal as I penetrated her fully: she writhed and wriggled before stiffening in wide-eyed astonishment at the intensity of her climax.
After that she just lay there acquiescent with a sheen of sweat on that perfect body and a happy grin lighting up the beautiful young face, while I took my time savouring the moment as I fucked her. With her ankles in my hands, she let me spread her athletic figure ever more lewdly wide, until I could look down and watch the incredible sight of my erection sinking rhythmically into the princess' vagina. The splendidly rounded breasts were jiggling with the impact of each thrust as I hilted myself repeatedly in her, shafting her with every untrammeled ounce of my strength until black hairs were grinding into the gold. Delightedly, I felt myself building up and redoubled my efforts, shoving savagely deeper and harder until I came squirting hotly and massively inside her. Wow.

An hour or so later I went back to the buffet and fetched two glasses of champagne.
"Here's to my First Mate," I said raising my glass to the naked girl lying sprawled lewdly on the black leather couch in the bridge's central pit.
"And here's to my first mate," she said with a smile. Clink.
"Hmm. Still eight hours until the morning shift. How on earth can we fill the time?" It was a rhetorical question and she knew the answer well enough. A small wriggle of those shapely hips brought her to the attention of the movement-sensitive video drones and there she was on the screen wearing nothing but her little white ankle-socks, the famously desirable face of the High Princess atop a splendid young body, as splay-legged and explicitly naked as any porn star.
"Come here," she said. "There are six other virgin princesses waiting for you, so if I want you more than one day a week I've got to learn to be a better fuck than them." She let her long fingers slide round under her backside, coming up between her legs to part her labia. The drones automatically followed the motion. On the viewing screen in her room the other youngsters were being treated to the details of her genitalia; here up on the bridge the twelve by six foot wallscreen was suddenly filled with a close-up of her blonde-haired cunt.
"For starters, Sir, you're going to fuck me again."

Fantastic. I didnt think I could possibly ever have had enough of her, but when I did there'd be six more of them waiting. I might be a desperate outlaw on the run to save his worthless hide, but until they tracked me down and caught me, I was going to enjoy myself. This was the life.