DISCLAIMER: Battlestar Galactica belongs to R&D TV. Me, I’m just a fan.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Disciplinary Procedures
By Celievamp
"You need to be more disciplined, Lieutenant Thrace…"
Roslin was behind her desk, at her most schoolmarm, her glasses not hiding the tiredness and pain in her eyes, her thin hands clasped in front of her, fingers steepled. Starbuck stood at parade rest in front of her, staring somewhere beyond. It wasn't as if it was the first time she'd heard the discipline thing… though it was usually in the form of something being done to her rather than something she herself possessed.
Now if it was President Laura Roslin doing the disciplining…
The President's desk looked sturdy enough. As if in agreement Roslin stopped speaking and swept all the paperwork, her laptop and everything else off the desk and onto the floor. She stood up, deliberately unloosened another button or two of her blouse revealing creamy skin and a pale peach lacy bra that clearly showed her erect dark nipples.
"As I said, you need to be disciplined, Lieutenant Thrace."
From the desk drawer, she took out a long, thin ruler which she smacked against her palm, staring at Starbuck, her expression a mixture of speculative lust and the knowledge that she had all the power here. Feeling the wet heat rush to her centre it took Starbuck about ten seconds to shuck her flight suit and bend over the desk, shimmying her buttocks invitingly.
"You're absolutely right, Madame President. I do need to be disciplined."
The strokes of the ruler across her buttock were like lightening strikes across her psyche. Six on her right buttock, six on her left. Hard enough to sting but not to break the skin. The President was good: she had done this before. Kara had wondered just how close she was to her assistant, Tory. Still, she was going to have an interesting set of bruises and would be wishing for an extra cushion the next time she got in her viper.
Roslin's cool hands smoothed over her skin, following the cleft of her buttocks. Kara ground herself against the edge of the desk. It was going to mark the veneer for sure. Something for the President to remember her by. She gasped as the Presidential fingers parted her labia and slipped inside, her thumb arching to rub against her clit. Kara thrust herself back impaling herself on the stiff fingers, the President's other hand cupping her breast, squeezing her nipple. Roslin bent her head, whispered close to Starbuck's ear. "Don't enjoy this too much, Lieutenant. You are being punished, remember."
Kara locked her arms, holding herself upright, trying not to whimper as she felt the President's fingers curl inside her, pushing against that spot, that special place that was better than flying, better than ripping a toaster ship out of the sky, better than pulling six g's in a power dive through atmosphere or taking a Viper blind through a nebula or… or…
"Lieutenant Thrace!"
Roslin had been taking lessons from Adama on using a command voice. Starbuck straightened up, putting her daydream back in the box to be reexamined later back in her rack. "Ma'am."
"Don't let it happen again."
"No, ma'am."
The End