K-Agent · Part 1

K-Agent · Part 1 (1/2)
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Mark Sorenson typed furiously, trying to complete the document prior to his 10:30 meeting. His subordinates kept trying to convince him that it would be faster if he simply dictated and let the computer do the work of getting it down into letters and words, but he was “old school”. While voice recognition had come a long way he still preferred to do it himself. “Old fashion” they call him. That’s okay, at least he knows that what gets written was really what he wanted to say, and not what the computer thought it heard. He was proud of being ‘old fashion’ in other areas.

At 10:29 the little red icon appeared at the bottom of his view screen. The semi-circular transparent screen wrapped half way around his desk and represented the latest in display technology, a perk of his rank. It was touch sensitive and he could do lots by simply running his fingers over the screen, moving things about, resizing windows, etc. but he preferred to use the old fashion mouse.

He pointed to the red icon and clicked, opening the online meeting. Four windows popped up, representing the four other participants. He moved them to his preference and enlarged them such that each face was roughly life sized.

“Okay, thank you all for being prompt!” Mark said. “Let’s keep this quick, I got lots to do today! Linda, start with the status report on the Hasbold incident.”

“Been handled!” Linda stated. “Turned out to be a lot to do about nothing. All involved parties are happy and the press has been redirected elsewhere.”

“Good job.” Mark said. “That’s the way to do it! No mess, no fuss, no embarrassment. Karen, what is happing on Eron?”

“Too early to tell.” Karen replied. “We don’t have sufficient intel. It doesn’t appear to be a problem yet, but it could escalate into something major.”

“Well, get on it!” Mark bellowed. “Eron may only be a third grade civilization but the mineral resources dramatic, we can’t let the situation degrade into a planet wide war! Get an agent there as quickly as possible.”

“Working on it!” Karen said. “The planet alignments are not good for sending someone from here. We could send someone in a high speed scout ship to the Nestar system and then catapult them to the Zyram system and finally on to Eron. But that would take a year, six months of which would be aboard that tiny scout ship. The agent wouldn’t be worth crap when he got there.”

“Sounds like there is a ‘but’” Mark mused.

“BUT!” Karen said, right on cue. “There is someone that just came off assignment on Kriton. As luck would have it there is an interstellar transport about to leave that could make a flyby past Eron. It would be a minimal cost to drop a pod as the ship passed by.”

Mark considered that for a moment. The commercial ships balked at having their schedules messed with and dropping the ship out of hyperspace would add days to the journey, inconveniencing all aboard. At least the ship wouldn’t need to establish orbit, a process that could take weeks. Instead, it could just eject the pod as it passed through the solar system. They would probably have to compensate the passengers with vouchers, and those drop pods weren’t cheap and were only used once. Cheaper then powering a scout ship all the way to Nestar, however.

“What sort of agent?” Mark asked, suddenly remembering that Kriton was a highly unstable planet.

“A K-Agent.” Karen said reluctantly.

“No, no, no!” Mark said. “We need intel and a stabilizing force, not a one person revolutionary force!”

“It is all we got!” Karen insisted. “What have you got against K-Agents?”

“They shouldn’t be allowed around civilized people!” Mark insisted. “Oh, they’re fine if you want to rape and plunder! They are the most deranged bipeds that have ever existed!”

“They are human!” Karen insisted.

“Genetically modified humans!” Mark countered. “Apparently, conscience and morals were bred out of them.”

“They are not all that bad!” Karen insisted. “And it isn’t just because of their genetic makeup.”

“Yes, I have heard the spiel before.” Mark said. “I just don’t buy this ‘product of their environment’ crap.”

“It’s not crap!” Linda interjected. “What is done to these people is downright inhumane! They don’t have biological parents, at least not in the same sense as we do. Just a sperm donor and a womb. They are raised in an institution instead of a family. They are taught to kill from an early age, not to love. They know weapons, not family virtue. And how can you expect anyone to have a serious relationship when they spend months getting to an assignment, years in deep undercover, and then yank them back home?”

“I am just tired of cleaning up the sex scandals! It seems like there is some mess we have to cover up after every Interstellar flight we send one on. They are the raunchiest sex addicts I have ever dealt with. Can’t they entertain themselves some other way?”

“Have you ever been on an interstellar flight?” Peter said, joining in the discussion. “Ship board romances are the norm. Not a lot else to do.”

“I am surprised that we don’t have a long string of bastards to deal with.” Mark groused.

“They are sterile, they can’t have children.” Karen reminded him. “And they are inoculated against every known communicable disease, either from their genetic modifications or from simple drugs so they don’t have a downside to wanton sex.”

“I am going to regret this, I just know it!” Mark grumbled.

“Well, if you would rather approve the launch of a scout ship…”

“No, I’ll approve it. Well, wait, how much is the Interstellar transport going to cost? Getting passage last minute is not cheap!”

“We were in luck, there was space available.” Karen said. “But not within the guidelines of employee travel, so it will need your specific approval for that as well.”

A document appeared on his screen, which showed the breakdown of project costs. Highlighted were the lines specific to the interstellar transport and a line for his signature. Mark grimaced, knowing that he was going to catch flak from the H. R. department over this. With a heavy sigh he gave in and used his fingertip to sign the document.

“Start the damage control now.” Mark said. “I just know this is going to go bad.”

Thorin walked the halls of the first class deck, enjoying the relative roominess. He had traveled in Interstellar ships often enough, but normally in business class. The upgrade was nice, especially because it allowed him to pursue his hobby. In fact, she should be waiting for him in his cabin now. Or at least she was supposed to be. It was okay with him if she wasn’t, in fact he actually hoped that she wasn’t. It was so much more fun to actually have a reason for punishing his slave.

She had been remarkably easy to seduce. They usually were in her situation, the interstellar ships provided a ‘target rich environment’. It was relatively easy to acquire a sex slave on most planets, trivial in the less developed societies. But those women were typically the lowest of the lower class, desperate, often on the verge of starvation and willing to do anything. Their spirits were often so broken that they weren’t any fun except to satisfy his urges.

On the ship, however, the paradigm was different. Interstellar travel was not cheap, and typically filtered out the poor and uneducated. Any woman that he found on board, excluding the crew, which were off limits anyway, was traveling by choice. She wouldn’t be desperate, she wasn’t trading her dignity for her life. Heck, he mused, some women may actually like being used this way. Most often, however, it was someone that was simply looking to upgrade their accommodations.

His target was a single female, traveling alone in ‘E’ section, the lowest fare available. The E section passengers had a sleeping berth that was basically a tube the size of a coffin. The tube slid out, you got in, it closed. Fresh air was piped in and it was temperature controlled but your entire private space was a little over two meters long and one meter in diameter. There was also a small locker that all the personal effects could be stored in.

All that was on the inner ring, which only provided half gravity. It wasn’t really ‘gravity’, but rather centrifugal force from the spinning of the ship. The outer ring generated a force that was equivalent to the gravitational force of the destination planet, but the force decreased as you moved to the centerline of the ship. There was an exercise room and lounge on the second ring where the apparent gravity was 80% of nominal. The lower classes could congregate and maintain their physical conditioning, which would be essential when they arrived at their destination. But sleeping was at half gravity for the E class, 80% for the C & D classes. Only the A or B classes experienced full gravity the entire trip.

One might think that sleeping in light gravity would be good. Indeed, the ship’s crew and frequent travelers did prefer it, once they were acclimated to it. It didn’t matter how soft or firm the mattress was if you pressed into it very hard. One could sleep their entire rest period without having to roll over.

But most people had a hard time adjusting to the half gravity. Nausea and insomnia was common. After only a few days people would tend to get sick and tired of being sick and tired. Many passengers discovered, far too late, that they were claustrophobic and couldn’t tolerate the sleeping tubes. The lounge was typically littered with people who preferred to sleep in a chair rather than subject themselves to the horror of their sleeping tube.

Thorin simply had to troll the E class lounge, letting his ‘B’ class pass card show and the women (as well as a few men) flocked to him. His first choice hadn’t worked out; she had fled the first time he tried to discipline her. But she had only been a ‘D’ passenger, they at least had a private entertainment console in their sleeping tube and had 80% gravity. But this new one was ‘E’, and her choices of places to hang out were the common room at 80% or her coffin sized berth at 50% grav.

He hadn’t tricked her, lied to her or even withheld information. He had made it clear that she could enjoy his first class accommodations as long as she obeyed him in all respects. It had also been made clear that he would discipline her if she disobeyed, and what that discipline would likely entail. She had accepted without hesitation. Then she accepted without objection that first punishment (for failing to address properly), when he established just how strict his rule would be and how severe the punishments could be.

Oh, she had cried so pitifully when he had whipped her, so much so that he had stuffed a sock in her mouth to muffle her screams. She was amazingly flexible, must be some sort of dancer or gymnast the way her legs will spread that far. His suite had been intended for a family and included a set of ‘bunk’ beds in addition to the master bed. She hadn’t struggled, indeed she had assisted as much as she could, as he held her upside down and tied her legs at the ankles and thighs to the rail intended to prevent someone from rolling off the bunk. Her legs had been spread, a perfect 180, and it appeared that she could even have gone farther.

That position had made her breasts, calves, inner thighs and even her crotch fully exposed to his whim. And her mouth right at his crotch level! He was getting a hard-on now just thinking about it, the way he had fucked her mouth as he tormented her. Of course, when he started whipping her in earnest he didn’t dare have his cock in her mouth, she might have bitten it off!

She had been very obedient after that. Rather disappointing, actually. Oh, he still spanked and paddled her on a regular basis, just a form of ‘maintenance’. But he was hoping that she would mess up, do something that really warranted punishment. He was hopeful now, as he was returning to his quarters an hour earlier than she would be expecting him. Perhaps he would catch her being lazy or helping herself to his private stash of snack foods. He paused briefly at his cabin door, preparing to see everything once the door slid open.

But there she was, kneeling just inside the door, forehead against the floor, ass up. Just like she was supposed to be. And naked, just like he required. The cabin was neat, nothing out of place. He wondered how she did that, if she had really been kneeling there since he left. He ignored her for the moment and went to pour himself a drink. He carefully examined the bottle, looking to see if the make shift seal had been disturbed. It hadn’t. He poured some into a glass, made careful note of the liquid level remaining, and then resealed the bottle.

He stepped back to where she was waiting, and looked her over carefully. The marks from that last whipping had already faded, which surprised him. That was just two days ago, and he had expected them to last a week or more.

“Who do you belong to? Thorin asked gruffly.

“To you Sir!” Christy answered obediently. “For the duration of my voyage.”

“That’s right!” He said triumphantly, although it annoyed him some that she always tacked on that last part. But it had been part of the agreement. She would serve him until the day of disembarking, and in return she would get to stay in his cabin, eat first class food, enjoy a limited time in the first class lounge. They were only halfway through the journey, so there was still plenty of time.

“The marks have faded.” He told her. “Can’t have that, can we?”

“No Sir.” Christy agreed.

“After all, without my marks it isn’t obvious that I own you. Someone else might try to claim you. You wouldn’t want to be taken by someone else, now would you?”

“Oh, no Sir!” Christy assured him. “I will only serve you, Sir.”

“Well, then I will just make sure everyone else knows that you are owned.” Thorin stated as he unbuckled his belt and slid it free of the belt loops. Real leather belts were a rare commodity these days, but Thorin was willing to pay the exorbitant price in return for having a suitable punishment implement at hand.

The belt slid free and he doubled it up, holding the loop by his side, slapping it lightly against his leg as he circled his victim. Christy trembled slightly, anticipating what was coming. Thorin stood next to her left leg, raised the belt and brought it down hard against her buttocks. There was a loud, double crack as first one side of the loop hit her skin, then the second part of the belt impacted against its other half. Christy squeaked and shook her ass a bit, but essentially remained still.

Thorin repeated the lash, and again Christy only gave the smallest of protests. A dozen more lashes followed. Thorin paused, noticing that it was her right butt cheek that was showing the most damage. He moved to the other side and delivered another dozen lashes that emphasized the impact on her left ass cheek.

“Owww!” Christy moaned as she slumped, sensing that the whipping was over.

Such was not the case, however. Thorin moved to a spot in front of her, then spread his legs and straddled her head, facing her upturned ass. He let loose one end of the belt, continuing to hold the buckle end.

“Spread your legs!” Thorin commanded.

“Oh!” Christy cried out, but was careful not to make it seem like an act of defiance, and she spread her legs obediently.

Thorin lashed out with this longer whip. The mid-section made contact with her back first, the tail of the belt following the curve of her body. The tip brushed the floor, losing most of it momentum. Thorin took one wrap around his wrist and swung again. This time the tip was unimpeded and struck hard, just below her waist line.

“OOWW!” Christy complained.

Thorin took a second wrap, and this time the tip snapped hard against her labia. Christy howled, and her hand shot down to protect her crotch. But she thought better of it before her hand actually reached the tender spot and she reluctantly returned it to its proper spot on the floor beside her head.

“Good girl!” Thorin praised, although he had actually been hoping that she would attempt to cover up. It always amazed him what these women were willing to do for a little creature comfort. Trade a few minutes of intense pain for hours of luxury.

Again and again the belt lashed down.

“You like this, don’t you slut?”

“Oh, no Sir!” Christy assured him.

“But you must!” Thorin insisted. “Why else would you submit to this?”

“Only to give you pleasure, Sir!” Christy replied.

Thorin smiled. It had taken the best part of a week to get that answer drilled into her. The early training was always the most fun.

“Oh, you want to give me pleasure, do you?”

“Yes Sir!” Christy panted eagerly. “Please Sir, may I suck your cock?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” Thorin agreed. “Kneel up and suck my cock!”

Christy obediently knelt up, moving in close to her master. Her fingers worked quickly, releasing the hook at the waistband, then lowering the zipper. His erection was already tenting his boxer shorts so she worked it out via the fly and took it in her mouth.

‘Oh God!’ he thought, this girl can suck cock! Thorin had found that a good whipping, and especially the threat of an even worse whipping, could make even a reluctant woman into a good cocksucker. But this slave went beyond good. Not that it would lessen her whipping any.

She instantly had his full length in her mouth, and her fingers gently massaging his balls. She was doing something with her tongue that he never completely figured out, but it was good! He had wanted to take her other ways, drive his cock into her pussy, or perhaps give it to her in the ass. But what she was doing now felt too good! Then it was too late.

Thorin groaned and relaxed. Christy continued to work on his cock until it went soft.

“Enough!” Thorin said. That’s okay, he would be ready to go again in a few hours. It never took him long to get hard again.

Christy sat back on her heels and looked up at her master. She wasn’t disappointed that she didn’t get to have an orgasm. After all, he took her at least three times a day, sometimes more, and she would generally climax during at least one of them. When he wanted to he could be gentle and caring. He was amazing, actually. She had never had a lover that could perform that often! It was just this sadistic streak that seemed to dominate his sex life.

“You need to get busy!” Thorin told her. “We have been invited to dine with the captain tonight. This is considered to be an honor and I don’t want to miss it! You do have a suitable dress, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” Christy replied. “It is back in my locker, on ‘E’ deck. I will have to go get it.”

“Hurry along then!” Thorin urged. “Take my pass card so you can get back onto the A/B deck. Now go!”

Christy slipped into the simple dress she kept close at hand, pulled the slippers onto her feet and hurried out of the cabin. Nothing special was required to head up to the lower class decks, it was coming back down that required the special pass cards.* * *

Christy mused on the concept of “up”, and “down” on an interstellar ship. The ship was built like a giant bicycle wheel, spinning through space. The centrifugal force wanted to throw you to the outside, away from the hub. So “Down” was further out, and “up” was closer to the hub.

Back in the days when a ‘ship’ sailed on an ocean the first class had the high decks, with the views and open access to the open air and sun. The cheaper fares were confined to lower decks where passengers might not see the sun until they reached port. On an interstellar ship it was the opposite: first class got the outer ring where the gravity matched what they expected. The D and E passengers were two rings in. Beyond that was only used for cargo.

Christy emerged from the elevator and ran towards her assigned berth. She wasn’t in that much of a hurry, she just liked running in the low gravity. She would leap, taking long exaggerated strides, her legs extended ahead and behind her in full splits, pretending that she was a ballerina.

“Oh, excuse me!” Christy apologized as she ran into another passenger who had just stepped out of his berth. While the A/B deck had hallways wide enough for people to pass easily, the D/E deck did not. Passing was usually a turn sideways and shuffle pass movement, definitely not suitable for a ballerina Grand Jete leaping motion. He just smiled and waved her on. Embarrassed, she continued on at a more subdued pace.

K-Agent · Part 1 (1/2)
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