Claimed by the Commander Read online

  Claimed by the Commander

  By

  Sassa Daniels

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Sassa Daniels

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Sassa Daniels

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Daniels, Sassa

  Claimed by the Commander

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by Period Images and 123RF/Kevin Eaves

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Prologue

  It was dangerous and oh so wrong but Caroline just couldn’t help herself. The moment she heard her sister’s bedroom door clicking shut, she reached into the top drawer of her nightstand and pulled out the well-worn paperback she kept hidden beneath a pile of silk handkerchiefs. For a moment, she studied the cover, taking time to appreciate each inch of the hero’s impressive physique, that massive chest that looked as though it had been chiseled from solid rock and those muscular arms. She felt the first familiar pangs of longing as she moved on to admire his face, sighing as she saw the passion he felt for the woman he held tight in his arms burning brightly in his eyes.

  Caroline wondered if she would ever look up at a man like that, with such naked desire. It seemed unlikely, given that few men on this rotten planet were sculpted so beautifully. In fact, most were decidedly unattractive.

  Feeling a surge of anticipation that was well known to her coursing through her veins, she turned to her favorite chapter, the corner of its first page turned down so she could find it easily. This was the point in the story she wanted to read again and again, the part where Sebastian bent Lucinda over the bed and finally claimed her body as his own. As she held the book up, angling it so she could see the text more clearly in the dim glow of her bedside lamp, Caroline popped open the button fly of her prized jeans, a recent purchase from her dealer in illicit twenty-first century merchandise, the man from whom she also had acquired her prohibited reading material.

  Even before she slipped her hand inside her jeans, Caroline felt impossibly wicked. What would the High Council say if they could see her now? What would they say if they knew that she and her friends had formed an illegal group, The Hyde Ladies’ Circle where they sat around and talked about sex and politics and other topics forbidden to women? She shook thoughts of those crusty old men on the Council from her mind and turned her full attention to the book.

  In the previous chapter, Sebastian had spanked Lucinda for trying to run from him. Caroline was not entirely sure what the appeal was but she relished those scenes where the heroine became aroused as she was disciplined. The women in the novels she loved all seemed to crave chastisement and Caroline wondered how she would react to being taken over the knee of a strong, powerful male. Certainly, in the book, by the time Sebastian finished administering the punishment, Lucinda was kissing him with every ounce of passion contained within her petite body. As he pushed her down on the bed, the novel’s heroine was dripping feminine juices and ready for his penetration and Caroline couldn’t help but think she might react the same way.

  Moving her fingers beneath the silk of her panties, she gently stroked herself. Wet just from reading a few words of the story, her forefinger glided easily along her moist folds. As the hero of the novel thrust his enormous cock into his woman’s tight, virgin pussy, Caroline sighed with pent-up desire and began to circle her finger around the little bud of nerves she knew from her reading was called a clitoris. Closing her eyes, she dropped the book to the bed beside her and imagined it was her own helplessly quivering body that Sebastian was pounding ruthlessly into, an exhilarating thought that made her womb clench.

  Her fingers began to move more urgently, applying a greater pressure to the engorged nub between her legs. As her breaths came out in frantic pants, the first waves of pleasure gripped her. She was close, so very close this time, to achieving that ecstatic release the novels described, a sensation that had always eluded her. As she began to feel a new, deeper arousal, there was a sudden, ear-splitting shriek that made her sit up, her heart racing.

  Footsteps pounded along the hallway outside the room and she heard her sister shout.

  “Caro, run! Get out now!”

  Mere moments later, the back door slammed shut and the house fell quiet. Frozen in shock, Caroline listened, trying to work out what was happening, why her sister had fled. Her mind told her to move but her legs would not obey. She sat there, motionless, as a loud crash came from downstairs. Before she could register what was happening, her bedroom door was flung open with such force, it came right off its hinges. Light flooded the room, blinding her for a moment. Too late, she realized she still had her hand down her pants as a tall man clad in the austere gray uniform of the state police stepped into the room, a wickedly self-satisfied grin on his face.

  “Well, well, someone has been a bad girl, haven’t they?”

  Caroline quickly removed her hand and wiped the glistening juices that coated her fingers off on the bedspread. She had no time to think, to speak, to try to save herself as the man strode across the room, grabbed her arm in a bruising grip, and dragged her toward the door.

  “What’s happening?” Caroline finally found her voice as he hauled her down the stairs and out into the driveway, seemingly uncaring that he was handling her so roughly.

  “What’s happening, you filthy little slut, is that you’re under arrest.”

  “On what charges?” she demanded.

  The single word he uttered as he bundled her into the back of a police transport vehicle chilled her to the bone.

  “Treason.”

  As the police wagon slowly moved off, Caroline looked back at her house, its grounds swarming with agents of the High Council, and feared she would never see her beautiful home or her beloved sister again.

  Chapter One

  Jeers from the hostile crowds who lined the streets of New Cambridge assailed Caroline’s ears as the mechanized cart bounced along the cobblestones, jostling her from side to side. The metal cage she’d been forced to stand inside offered her no protection from the hate-filled glares of the masses or from the occasional missile that was hurled in her direction. Thankfully, nobody threw anything heavier than an overripe orange, although how they could spare such precious natural fruit just to fling at her, Caroline did not know.

  The thin white gown her jailers had dressed her in after forcing her to endure an entire day of nudity in their presence, was no barrier to the cold and she knew that everyone could see right through the flimsy fabric to her naked form beneath. It filled her with shame to think that the thatch of thick, dark curls at the apex of her thighs, the taut rosebud nipples at the peaks of her breasts, and the pert little globes of her bottom cheeks were as much on display as they would be if she wore nothing at all. But she knew that this humiliation was just the beginning and she had to steel herself for whatever horrors lay in store for her when they reached their destination.

  Fighting to retain her balance as the wheeled cage rumbled on toward the town hall where she was to stand trial, Caroline felt the strain on her outstretched arms, which were chained to bars on the insides of the rudimentary vehicle as she was pulled, first one way and then the other. Her heart beat rapidly, her limbs ached, and panicked
thoughts churned so quickly through her mind, she feared she might pass out. But she had to be strong. Soon she would be brought before the High Council to answer their ridiculous charges of crimes against the state and she knew all too well that the mob, already baying for her blood, would have to be placated. The men on the Council were going to make an example of her.

  “Bet she wishes she hadn’t survived the night,” the taller of the two guards who walked at the sides of the wheeled cage in case she somehow managed to free herself said mockingly.

  “Would have done us all a favor if she hadn’t,” his colleague replied.

  Caroline smiled sweetly, refusing to let the bastards get to her as they seemed to confirm her suspicions that her jailers had hoped she would not make it through to the morning. Having withstood twelve straight hours of intensive interrogations, she had spent an uncomfortable night huddled on a hard wooden bench that was supposed to pass for a bed with only one threadbare blanket to ward off the chill.

  Before she’d even had the chance to answer the Council’s charges, to offer up some defense, they’d hacked off her gloriously long, dark tresses and left her with the shorn hair of a convicted criminal. Such cruel treatment told her that in the minds of the Council she was guilty and she had already begun to pay the price. Caroline knew that tossing her into a freezing cold cell and giving her nothing to eat or drink for twenty-four hours had been a tactic to weaken her, perhaps even finish her off. Unfortunately for them and as much to her own amazement as anybody else’s, it seemed that she was not quite as delicate as that.

  For over a century, since the last devastating world war had wiped out more than ninety percent of Earth’s population, the authoritarian all-male Council had been in control. It would have suited them if she’d passed away quietly in the night. She was the highest born woman ever to have been brought up on such serious charges and she knew that it posed problems for them when determining what punishment to mete out. Usually for crimes like the ones she was accused of committing, the sentence was a series of harsh public floggings and life imprisonment in one of the city’s brothels or state-controlled breeding facilities established to assist with the repopulation efforts. Wherever a woman was sent, her body was used hard until the day she was no longer fit for purpose. Caroline had no idea what happened to female convicts after that but she knew it would not be pretty.

  The one ray of hope she could hold onto was that it was unheard of for a lady of noble birth to be condemned to such a life and she knew the High Council would not take such action lightly. They would surely not want to risk alienating friends of her late grandfather whose money and ancient titles still carried a great deal of influence.

  No, Caroline imagined, they would have to devise some new and hideous punishment for her. Perhaps they would banish her to the supposedly barbarian planet of Taar-Breck, which maintained an uneasy alliance with Earth’s rulers. That would get her nicely out of the way and the Council could erase all trace of her existence. She’d already been informed that all her possessions were to be seized and her wealth absorbed into the High Council’s coffers. Her prison guard had told her with great relish that her money would be spent on hunting down other women of her sort, by which she assumed he meant free thinkers, and providing them with the stringent training it would take to turn them into obedient wives. They intended, it seemed, to focus their efforts on rounding up other members of Caroline’s group, the Hyde Ladies’ Circle, and bringing them to heel. Their number one priority was to track down Caroline’s sister, sweet little Elizabeth, who had managed to get out of the house just moments before the police descended. Caroline could only hope she’d found someplace safe to lay low until this all blew over.

  As the cage slowly trundled closer to its destination, the crowd grew denser and Caroline couldn’t help wondering how she’d come to be public enemy number one. All she’d done was gather a group of like-minded women together to read books and imagine another way of living, one where they enjoyed some of the freedoms the male citizens took for granted. It wasn’t as though they’d acted on their desires, other than by distributing the occasional pamphlet or writing anonymous letters to the High Council to ask for reform. Their methods had been strictly nonviolent but, for the authorities, the women’s very association with one another was crime enough.

  “Whore!” Her thoughts were interrupted as a yell came at her from across the street.

  Tears pricked Caroline’s eyes but she resisted shedding them, knowing that to cry would give the man who had thrown the insult endless satisfaction. Ironically, the last thing anyone could accuse her of being was a whore. She’d never known the loving touch of a man’s hand and now she feared she never would. Stoically, she stared straight ahead, determined to hold onto whatever small amount of dignity she could muster.

  As they turned the final corner on their route, she spotted a familiar figure in her peripheral vision and looked around discreetly to confirm that it was her friend Victoria Walton she’d seen. A quiet, well-mannered girl of eighteen who never put a foot wrong in public but held strong political views in private, Victoria was the last member of the illicit Hyde Ladies’ Circle Caroline would ever have imagined would risk coming out amongst such potentially volatile crowds.

  Wearing what was, for a woman of her class, the requisite corseted dress with long, flowing skirts and a beautifully tailored jacket that gathered in at the waist and then flared out over her hips, Victoria carried a little umbrella over her arm in case it rained. As always she looked to be the very model of propriety.

  The women in the group had all made a pact that if any of them was ever arrested, they would disavow one another to avoid being dragged down together but, as Caroline’s eyes met with hers, Victoria put her lace-gloved fingers to her lips and blew her a kiss. It was a small, subtle gesture of solidarity that reminded the caged woman she was not alone, but she hoped, for her friend’s sake, that nobody had witnessed it.

  A flicker of a smile passed across Caroline’s face as Victoria disappeared from view. That momentary glimpse of a friend, a sister in their shared cause, was something she could draw strength from and she needed every ounce of courage she could muster to face the coming ordeal.

  As the cart came to an abrupt halt, its cogs locking together almost violently to stop the wheels moving, Caroline was flung forward so her arms were pulled painfully behind her and her head bounced off the bar at the front of the cage. The impact stunned her for a moment and so she barely noticed the chains being unhooked from the insides of the metal enclosure and then refastened behind her back.

  One of the large, intimidating guards who had accompanied her on this humiliating journey through the streets took a firm grip of her arm and pulled her out onto the pavement. The concrete was cold and hard beneath her bare feet and Caroline suddenly felt a real chill gripping her.

  “What do you think of the view, my lady?” The guard’s voice dripped with contempt.

  Caroline looked around to see what he was talking about. Her stomach lurched as she saw the raised platform that the y-shaped whipping post stood on, heavy metal shackles dangling ominously from hooks at the tops. Shuddering at the thought of being forced to stand there, arms stretched and bound, on her tiptoes as her clothes were torn from her to bare her for the flogging, she allowed the guard to drag her past the gathered masses as his colleague hung back in case of trouble.

  As she took one last look up into the sky, fearing she might never get to enjoy the gloriously crisp sunshine of a fine February morning again, the swarm of people surged forward. If they hadn’t been held back by a cordon of agents from the Council’s notoriously brutal security forces, she had no doubt that she would have been torn limb from limb.

  “Move it!” the guard, panicked by the crowd’s palpable outrage, hissed in her ear.

  She was pulled up the steps into the building and marched through a labyrinth of corridors at dizzying speed. At a large wooden door, the gu
ard paused to unfasten the shackles from around her wrists.

  “Try anything and you’ll be sorry,” he barked before leading her into the great chamber where the seven men who would determine her fate were already seated, their faces grim.

  The viewing galleries, Caroline noted, were filled with an entirely male audience and, as she was brought forward, an awed hush fell over the room. The way their mouths hung open in surprise, anyone would think they’d never seen a woman before. She wondered whether she was a disappointment to them. They’d come here, no doubt, to see a dangerous criminal and, despite the severity of the haircut they’d inflicted on her, she didn’t imagine she looked like much of a threat.

  As they reached the center of the chamber, the guard forced her to her knees on the unforgiving wooden floor.

  “The prisoner, my lords,” he announced gruffly before moving off to stand at the side of the room, ready to spring into action if she dared to try to get away.

  Before she had been taken from her cell and brought here, her jailer had instructed her to bow her head penitently before the men who would judge her but Caroline was damned if she was going to do that. Looking straight at President Hall, leader of the High Council, she met his eyes with a defiant glare.

  From the sudden reddening of his fat cheeks and the almost comical juddering of his jowls as he shook his head, she knew her insolence had infuriated him. Well, good. She wasn’t prepared to face her fate with her eyes averted like some meek little mouse.

  “Bailiff, read out the charges,” President Hall instructed.

  A small, thin man stepped forward onto the floor of the chamber and unfurled a scroll of paper with such a flourish that Caroline had to stifle a laugh at his pomposity. Puffed up with an air of self-importance, the bailiff cleared his throat and began to speak.