Suddenly, the intraship communications device on his belt beeped.  “Lieutenant Jackmore,” a tinny voice said, “we need you on the bridge immediately.”

            Cursing as the doctor’s fingers popped out of him, Jonathan tugged his pants back up.  Hitting a button on his ICD, he said, “Be right there,” and zipped his fly.  “See you Tuesday?” he asked the doctor.

            “Lieutenant, I assure you, you’re in perfect health,” Doctor Haardbhone insisted, red-faced, edging around the exam table as if it could hide the stiff rod tenting his uniform pants.

            “It’s always better to be safe than sorry,” Jonathan said brightly.  “Put me down for another prostate exam.  And you’d better prep an enema, too,” he added on his way out the door.

            He meant to head straight for the bridge, but while he was in the elevator, another blast shook the ship.  Being a noble lieutenant, of course, he took the time to comfort Ensign Tighttasse, who was in the elevator with him, and he had his balls in the ensign’s mouth when the lights went out and the elevator froze.

            They were stuck there for a while, so they played a few rounds of angry fireman/sassy flight attendant, and  sadistic teacher/submissive photographer, and bad cop/good cop, and then Jonathan’s balls were in Tighttasse’s mouth again, and the elevator revved back up.

            His balls still wet, Jonathan strolled onto the bridge in time to see everyone hugging and crying with relief while someone unconscious he’d never seen before was beamed up with Doctor Haardbhone.  The captain strode over to him and clapped him on the shoulder with a grim smile.  “We really got them this time, Jackmore.  We really pulled through.”

            “Yes, sir,” Jonathan said, nodding.  “It’s great to see everyone come together like this.  But you’re such a strong and commanding leader, Captain Ruffpounde, that you almost make it easy for us.”

            “It’s not about me,” the captain said, turning his gaze on everyone else.  “It’s about all of us…”

            While Ruffpounde launched into a noble speech, Jonathan slipped out again.  He had to track down Ensign Tighttasse again; he’d forgotten to get his cock ring back.

            Shit!  “Captain Ruffpounde,” Jonathan said, popping up from the floor and looking across his mussed bed to where the captain stood.  “Sir?”

            “Ah, there you are, Jackmore.”  His hands behind his back, Ruffpounde began a slow stroll around the room, shaking his head.  “I just came from a meeting with the commander.  I hate to admit it, but I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this wormhole.”

            “Mmm.”  Wormhole?  Jonathan hadn’t realized that they were in a wormhole.  Maybe that’s what that meeting had been about.  Slowly, while Ruffpounde gazed meditatively at the carpet, he eased his dick another inch deeper into Chief Petty Officer Slikhol’s ass.  God, that felt good.  The CPO started to twitch, but at least the ball gag kept him from making too much noise.

            “It’s a tough responsibility, commanding a ship like this.  I won’t say that I didn’t ask for it, that I don’t enjoy the privileges that come with it, but it comes with some heavy responsibility.  And at times like this, when everyone’s counting on me…”  Ruffpounde sighed, turning to pace in another direction.

            “It must be,” Jonathan coughed, smacking Slikhol’s ass and nudging his torso under the bed, further out of sight, “hard on you, sir.”  Gritting his teeth and holding back a grunt, he thrust into that tight, hot little ass again.  Oh, yeah.  Leaning forward, he found a better angle, giving a couple more hard, quick thrusts.  Slikhol reached back, spreading his cheeks further, giving Jonathan a good look at that sweet, rosy pucker.  Hell, yes.

            “It’s not easy on me, I’ll say that.  I just wish that there were an easy answer.  That’s what space has taught me, Jackmore, that life doesn’t come with easy answers.”  Pausing, Ruffpounde cast him a puzzled look.  “What are you doing over there, Lieutenant?”

            Grunting, Jonathan pounded Slikhol’s ass, hot from the way Slikhol was bucking back against him.  “Thrusting, sir.  I mean, thrusters.  You should check the thrusters.  To get us deeper into - - I mean, out of, this hole.”  This tight, heavenly hole.

            “The thrusters!” Ruffpounde exclaimed.  “Of course, the thrusters.”  Heading for the door, he called back, “Meet me in engineering!”

            “Yes!” Jonathan called.  “I’m coming!”

            Chief Engineer Ballsim, it turned out, could go all night, and also had a thing for being tied up.

            The next day, there was some kind of problem with an unidentified clear, sticky substance being smeared over some of the controls in engineering, but other than compromising the ship’s shields or something, it wasn’t anything to worry about.

            “Lieutenant,” Ruffpounde said, his tone somber, “I have a list here of comments from the other officers on board.  Quite a number from this week alone,” he added, dropping a stack of sheets on his desk.  “Everything from a failure to salute to a failure to show up for duty.  If these reports are to be believed, you haven’t done either of those things all week.”

            He hadn’t.  “Sorry, captain.”

            Ruffpounde raised an eyebrow.  “If you’d like to stay on my ship, Lieutenant, it’s going to take a lot more out of you than a ‘sorry, captain.’”

            Sighing, Jonathan admitted, “I know.”  Taking off his ICD and setting it on the desk, he stood, starting to undress.  “Where do you want me?”

            Rising, wearing only pink latex shorts, his package a bulging protrusion, the pink rhinestones in his nipple rings glinting in the light, Ruffpounde reached for the riding crop on the wall.  “Up on the desk, lieutenant.  And remember,” he was smiling now, nearly panting with excitement, “call me Sally Mae.”