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however, he opened his trousers and sat on the bunk.  Without looking at her again, he motioned with his hand.  “Here,” he said, pointing, “on your knees.”
    It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he wanted her to give him head.
    She was just confused and dismayed because his member was huge—the one he always rammed into her—and he had at least two that were definitely penises.  Which one was she supposed to perform oral sex on?
    She moved quickly into position despite the doubts, however.
    Partly this was because she had no desire for him to escalate her punishment.  She was miserable enough already. 
    And partly this was because her throat instantly closed with want at the demand—not disgust, not reluctance—desire.
    He pulled ‘a’ penis from his trousers.
    A monster of a phallus. 
    She grabbed it immediately and began to struggle to get it into her mouth.  To her dismay, she found she couldn’t open her jaw wide enough to engulf it let alone her lips.  Deciding, maybe, she could work up to it, she began to lick and suck at his flesh and stroke it with her hand.
    He settled a hand heavily on top of her head, threading his fingers through her hair.
    She wasn’t certain what the intent was, but he didn’t shove her away or tell her to stop and after a few moments she was so totally focused on what she was doing she was hardly aware of his hand anymore.
    Until he began to knead her scalp in a way that almost felt like a caress.
    Her heart thundered harder in her chest.
    She knew he felt nothing for her, cared nothing—not even whether she lived or died except in the sense that it might be a financial loss.
    It still felt like affection and affected her the same way as if it was.
    His heaving breaths of excitement excited her.
    He desired her.  She excited him.  She gave him pleasure.  It was enough to make her feel all of the same things and even a sense of triumph, of control over him—however elusive her command or fleeting it might be.  At that moment, she was in control.
    His hand tightened on her head, almost to the point that she began to wonder if he would crush her skull.  In the next moment, however, he came.
    He released her and leaned back on his elbows, studying her through narrowed eyes.  “Did ok despite unfortunate inadequacies.
    Tilly felt her sense of triumph deflate abruptly.  Heat rose in her cheeks—a twinge of both embarrassment and anger that, in spite of the pleasure she’d given him, he still looked at her as being deficient. 
    He caught her jaw in his palm.  He shook his head. “You do good up til dat,” he chided.  “Any who buy you will punish you if look at him dat way—or kill you outright.  Must understand dis— will —before we get to slave auction on Loprine.”
    He released her jaw and began to rise from his place on the bunk.  “Get up.”
    Tilly scrambled to her feet, struggling with the urge to try to escape him.
    “Get on bunk.  I gib you de odder side of de coin so you understand. You feel what master allow you to feel … and nothing else.  You learn be grateful only to serve master in whatever way it pleases him.”
    Tilly discovered she’d lost the chance to rebel and flee if she’d ever had it at all instead of just the illusion that she might try to escape him.  The suit carried her to the bunk at his command and arranged her for his pleasure, drawing her legs up tightly and spreading them wide, pulling the lips of her sex wide for his access.  This time was different only in the fact that her arms were drawn above her head.
    To her surprise, he began to strip.  To her knowledge, he hadn’t done that before.  He’d merely unfastened his trousers.
    But maybe he had done it before?  She’d been blind and deaf throughout most of the ‘punishment’ before.  She didn’t know they hadn’t undressed—or maybe been undressed when they arrived?
    She discovered, though, that the body the commander revealed was