“I was good, Atlas. I was really fucking good. You know it. I know it. You should be sucking my fucking dick right now.”
She was right. She’d done a phenomenal job. But that damn mouth of hers made it impossible to give her any praise or credit.
Atlas took her by the arm and led her away from the bridge.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to your quarters.”
She tried to pull her arm away, but his grip was much, much stronger than hers.
The adrenaline from saving the ship was still in her system, and not helping her respond in a calm or respectful manner. He knew he was setting her up to fail in some way. She expected praise and instead she was getting censure. But she needed this. Too many times, being the cocky DSN allowed her to escape the obligations of good behavior and proper protocol. It was time she learned some humility. She’d done her job well, but that did not entitle her to act like a prima donna. Atlas had never imagined he would spend this much time retraining an ensign. He wasn’t sure she needed a commanding officer. Right now it felt more like she needed a daddy.
“You ruin everything, you know that?” She threw the accusation at him with pure petulance.
“You need to learn to address me with respect. Your temper gets the better of you every time. Your lack of discipline is still a problem, even if you did do a good job just now. I expect you to do a good job. I don’t expect you to mouth off like a press-ganged urchin forced to serve against her will.”
“Why not? That’s what happened.”
“We don’t force recruitment. Graduating from the academy requires sustained effort and discipline, so I know you’re capable of behaving.”
“There’s force, and there’s force. I never had a choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was sixteen years old when I was orphaned. A sixteen-year-old has two ways to support herself on alliance stations. She can sell herself, or she can apply to the academy. I didn’t want to fuck endless aliens. So I joined. But don’t think that was a real choice.”
He knew something about choices that weren’t choices, but now was not the time to commiserate. They had reached her quarters. Atlas escorted her in.
Her quarters were a mess, but the entire ship was a mess right now. Anything not gravity shielded or strapped down had gone on a wild and repeated journey across the room. Interestingly, her quarters did not look much different than usual. They had been an absolute mess the first time he was there, and they were an absolute mess now.
“You’re twenty-four years old now, Tessil. Whatever the circumstances were that led you here, you’re here, and I’m going to enforce ship discipline.”
“Asshole,” she growled under her breath.
That was it.
He propped his boot up on the side of the bed and tossed her over his knee. Talking was only making things worse. It was time for spanking. He threw up the back of her dressing gown and yanked her pajamas and underwear down, baring her in a near instant. Her perfect rear was presented to him, two pale globes that soon turned pink with the swift application of his palm.
She started to cry almost instantly, and Atlas felt every inch the monster she accused him of being. She had been so proud of herself, thought she’d proved herself. And now she was over his thigh being spanked like the little brat she still was. Learning she’d lost her family at sixteen made a lot of sense. There was something in her psyche that wasn’t fully developed. No matter how functional she might have been as an adult DSN, her emotional behavior kept reverting to that of a rebellious teenager. She needed this spanking, even if she hated him for giving it.
How the fucking hell was this happening again? Jerri yowled at the top of her lungs as Atlas spanked her on her bare ass, and on top of the thrashing he’d only just finished handing out a couple of days earlier. Her ass was still tender, as was her ego.
“Stop!” she yelled. “I’ll report you to Commander Esense!”
“Report me all you like once I’m done with you,” Atlas growled. “You practically begged for this. Rude, mouthy little brat. There are cadets with better manners than yours.”
She yelped as his palm impacted her ass again. He wasn’t spanking her quite as much as he had the first time. He didn’t have to. It was like he’d installed a burning sensation in her ass and now he could turn it on whenever he chose simply by whipping his palm across her cheeks.
“I’m not here to have manners. I’m here to fly the fucking ship!”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He showed that fact by spanking her longer and harder than before, his palm beating a wicked rhythm against her cheeks. It was more than painful. It was fucking humiliating. He had her in such a casual position, treating her like she was nothing more than some rowdy scamp he’d decided to take his disciplinary ire out on. She’d just saved the whole ship. She was a goddamn hero. Heroes usually got better treatment than this.