Magda & the Captain Ch. 01: Lightheaded

You hinge forward and let your head drop between your knees, both hands sliding down your legs, and at just the right moment in the music track, you flip your head and hair back dramatically, and begin to stand. Your eyes open and lock with the Captain's. Her expression is positively wicked. She grins and raises one delicate eyebrow.

Before you can interpret, you feel a strange lift in your stomach, like driving too quickly over the peak of a hill. You feel your body begin to wobble forward. Instinctively, you clench your eyes tight and reach out, bracing yourself to fall – but instead, your feet come off the ground, stilettos and all. You open your eyes again to find that you are now floating a couple feet above the floor. Your robe spreads out around you like angel wings, and all your internal organs seem to have relocated to your throat. What the...

The Captain, still stretched out on the chaise, chuckles – and it feels like the ship does, too. "Oh, the old low-gravity trick," she says whimsically. "Never gets old."

You look at her incredulously. "Are you doing this, or is Magda?"

"A combined effort, naturally." She releases her empty goblet and it hangs in the air in front of her, spinning slowly in place as the last tiny droplets of her drink slide off the glass to float away. Just like you. Your brain has no idea what to do with this information. You flail clumsily and try to get yourself "standing" straight and upright.

"Magda wants to know if you call that dancing."

You flush. Your motions aren't getting you very far anyway, though you do seem to be floating back towards the floor gradually. So the gravity wasn't turned off completely, just significantly lowered. You finally touch down, less than gracefully, but manage not to fall.

"I might have done better if I'd known what would happen to the dance floor," you grumble.

"Nonsense, I gave you more planes of movement to work with. Go ahead, get airborne, it's safe," she says with a wave. "The music is still playing, isn't it? I didn't say you could stop dancing."

With a gulp of air, you think for a moment, and then cautiously bend your knees and launch yourself into the air. You rise effortlessly, the empty ball in your stomach again, but this time you at least aren't taken by surprise. You tuck your knees up towards your chest and attempt to somersault – a modified success. Out of your peripheral vision, you see the stars outside the windows, and the sudden sensation of floating in open space hits you like an arrow in the chest.

Your trajectory is a little wider than you anticipated, though, and you start to float off into the cavernous room. Below you, the Captain lazily raises her mechanical arm, and a thin cable shoots out from the joint of her wrist and wraps around your waist. She follows your momentum off the ground, but rather than flailing as you have, she moves expertly through the air, twisting, flipping, and bending as though pulled along underwater currents. The long golden fringes of her dress float around her like a glittering cloud, turning and rippling with her every movement.

Guided by the tether, she comes up alongside you and immediately reaches down between your legs and cups you through your dress – only for a moment before continuing on up your body, grazing your belly, ribcage, breast, collarbone, just to release you and twist away, floating just at arm's length. "Seems like you could use a little flight training, Officer," she purrs.

"Yes, Ma'am," you respond. Your skin reacted immediately to her touch – you've been craving it even more than you allowed yourself to admit. "Please, show me what to do."

The Captain smiles and then drifts a little further from you until the tether connecting you two goes taut. "First lesson – rotation," she says. Her fingers close around the tether, and she yanks it back toward her. It unwinds from your waist and sends you into a pirouette. Floor becomes ceiling becomes walls, all in a blur. Yet somehow you don't feel dizzy, and your stomach has stopped flipping in an attempt to realign to some known plane of reality. An effect of the bubbly drink, perhaps?

You've lost sight of the Captain, and her tether has left your waist. The feathered hem of your robe has twisted around your ankles, binding your legs together mermaid-like. The floor is several yards below you by now. Below? Above? Direction has lost its meaning. As your rotation slows, you find yourself facing the ceiling. You stretch your arms out beside you and arch your back slightly, as though trying to stay afloat on the surface of a lake.

You then feel hands on either side of your waist. The Captain has maneuvered herself behind you – beneath you? – and presses herself into the contours of your body. The tassels of her dress surround you both. Eyes closed, your head tips back to rest in the crook of her neck, exposing your throat to her. To your delight, the Captain takes the invitation – you feel her tongue tickling at the soft patch of skin just behind your ear. She nibbles at your earlobe, then lays a trail of kisses along your hairline to the nape of your neck. The sudden sensation of her teeth right there, just a split second of a bite, makes you gasp. While the dress you chose doesn't show it, you know your nipples just hardened. Your hands find hers where they've parked along your ribcage; you gently try to urge her up toward your breasts, and for a moment she goes along with it. One arm wraps tighter across your midsection while the other hand cups and massages first one breast, and then the other, through the silky material. A shallow moan escapes your lips and is absorbed into the music that continues to permeate the lounge.

"Lesson two," the Captain murmurs in your ear, and releases your breasts to extend her hand toward the ceiling. "Acceleration."

In an instant, the tether shoots out of her wrist up to the ceiling and wraps around something you can't make out. She holds you tight to her, and the cable begins to retract just as fast as it emerged, pulling you both rapidly toward the ceiling. You squeal in surprise and reflexively put your hands out in front of you to brace for the imminent crash.

At the last possible moment, the Captain tugs the tether laterally, causing you and her to reverse positions. It is her back, not your front, which makes contact with the ceiling and absorbs your momentum, leaving you gazing down at the floor in astonishment. She laughs, and despite your shock, you laugh with her. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you can feel the adrenaline sparkling beneath your flesh.

Without giving you too long to recover, the Captain picks up where she left off, beginning to plant more kisses down the other side of your neck. Despite the arm still wrapped around your waist that keeps you bound to her, your instincts keep telling you you're about to fall. You reach back behind you for something to hold onto, find the backs of her thighs, and grip her eagerly. She reacts by raising one leg to wrap around your own and grinding against you, braced against the ceiling as she is. The hand that grips your waist travels up over your breasts to your throat and encircles it with gentle pressure. Your breath catches in your lungs and your body tenses. Your nails sink into her thighs.

Just as gently as it arrived there, her hand then leaves your neck and slides down under the top of your dress. With a quick tug, your breasts spring free of the strapless garment and hang in midair – it's so odd, at first, to not feel their weight. The Captain teases your nipples with circular strokes that start light but grow more fervent with each pass, until she is gripping your breast with her entire hand and pressing it into you. Her other hand slides down your belly to the top of your thighs. She tickles the skin along the hem of your dress, and you try to curl up, but between her limbs and the cable, you are effectively immobilized. You crane your head back, seeking her lips, so aroused now that all you want is to kiss her until you are breathless.

The Captain evades you – what else would you expect? – and instead grasps the bottom hem of your dress and hikes it up along your hips. A sudden warm breeze crosses your newly exposed skin. That must be Magda, you suspect. The ship has been uncharacteristically quiet during this encounter, save for the music she continues to pump into the room.

The Captain buries her hand between your thighs and forces them apart easily, pulling aside one leg with her own. With a twinge of excitement, it hits you that this is her mechanical appendage working between your legs – its powers have been alluded to but not yet experienced. You can't help it: you arch toward those fingers, inviting her to part your lips with the knowledge that she could just as easily refuse.

Indeed, she pauses. You squeeze her leg desperately. "Please, Captain..."

"Please what?" She's not going to make it that easy for you. "What do you want?"

You groan and squirm against her, trying to convey your need. "I ... I want..."

The tip of one finger glides down into your slit – no motion, no sudden plunge, just the application of the perfect amount of pressure to your hardening clit. Heat flashes across your skin from head to toe. "Is this what you want?"

"Unggghhh" escapes your throat, and you bite your lip. "Yes, Captain! I want more ... please!"

Her finger slides down further to part your inner lips, only slightly, just enough to reveal to you how wet she's made you with just these barest touches. She strokes back up toward your clit to make it slick with your own excitement, then back down... her pace is excruciating, and you twist and grind against her, trying to encourage her while knowing full well she'll go at exactly the pace she wants and not a moment faster.

The Captain's palm presses down hard on your clit at the same time that she gives your nipple a good squeeze. You feel your legs tremble and your toes curl. She begins to circle the heel of her hand against your clit while stroking your lips with her fingertip. You grind back against her, gasping little breaths as her finger moves ever closer to entering you. You want to clamp your thighs around her hand and ride it all the way to the finish line, but her leg wrapped around your own won't give you the chance.

She brings her fingertip back up to tease your clit with tiny light strokes, holding back the hood with her thumb to expose the sensitive inner flesh. You spasm – it's almost too much. Almost. By now you've pretty much forgotten that you're being fucked on the ceiling of a spaceship. Her touch is all you can process.

"Tell me, Lieu," she says so quietly you can barely hear her over the ringing in your ears. "Are you ready to fly?"

"Mmm-hnnnn," you groan into your bitten lip.

No sooner have you answered than you convulse in surprise, for her hand has begun vibrating between your legs. Not just any vibration – not the simple back-and-forth of something run on batteries, not too fast, not too subtle nor too intense, but rather more like the vibration of a voice, something organic and responsive to your every nerve. You've never felt anything quite like it. It hums through every part of you, as if your body has become an electric conduit abuzz with her frequencies. You're vaguely aware that you've gone lightning-rod stiff in her grasp.

And all of this is before she even moves this miraculous machinery – in the next breath, she is plunging her fingers deeper between your folds, keeping her thumb planted against your clit all the while. Her fingertips hook inside you and stroke your inner walls expertly, squeezing the tissue of your g-spot against the bones of your hips in such way as to amplify the vibration across the entire lower region of your body. The soles of your feet prickle with pent-up charge. "Captain..." you gasp, "I can't... I'm gonna..."

"No, you're not, not yet," the Captain replies coolly. Her other hand leaves your breast and finds your mouth instead. You hungrily take her fingers between your lips and suck on them, moaning with the pleasure that ripples up and down your spine. What does she mean, not yet? At this rate her vibration is going to dismantle you at a molecular level and there's nothing you can do about it.

Somewhere in the haze of your pleasure, you feel the cable dragging across your waist again as the Captain retracts it into her wrist casing. She next unhooks her leg from around yours. The only thing holding you in place right now are her fingers buried within you. Somehow, without removing them, she manages to turn you around to face her, and you see that the two of you have come away from the ceiling slightly – That's right, I'm being fucked on the ceiling of a spaceship, you suddenly remember. Those details managed to escape your attention in the last few moments.

"Now, for your final lesson," the Captain purrs. "Leverage."

With an agile extension of her legs, the Captain pushes off the ceiling, with just enough power to send you floating back toward the center of the room. As you both descend, she maneuvers herself up against you, straddling your thigh and entwining your legs in hers. The golden tassels of her dress, and her long blue-white hair, stream out around her in a glorious halo. Out here, she is the brightest star among many. You wish upon her, the only thing your heart desires.

Your body tightens again – this is it, there's no holding back this time. The impending explosion builds in your belly, hot, tense, waiting... She can see it in your eyes and no doubt feel it in your thighs as well. She takes a handful of your hair and tilts your head back. The vibrations thrum through her fingers with renewed intensity; you can't tell where you end and she begins.

Her tongue meets yours – and instantly, a shimmering jolt of pure ecstasy zaps through you, igniting the spark within your belly. The Captain's fingers continue to work inside you, performing motions you can't even begin to make sense of. Her tongue dances with yours, and between them, a live wire carrying enough current to power a sun is sending off a cascade of shock waves out to your very fingertips.

Suspended amid the stars, with a howling scream that shakes the walls of the good ship Magdalene, you explode into a supernova.