Of Inquisitors and Cadets [ss]

Smutomancer

Of Inquisitors and Cadets

	Hiram Tyrell-Acturas kept his breathing as steady as possible as he sprinted towards the finish line.  His jogging pace had eaten up the three kilometer track steadily, but now that the finish line was in sight it was time to stop holding back.  His years at the schola progenium on Barbarus Alpha, under the tyrannical attentions of tutors Commissar Cruciatus [retired] and Sister Dolor, had built him into a lean, fit trooper with stamina to spare.  He was barely even swating.  The cadets’ usual morning run was 10km, so this was a cakewalk in comparison.  Or it would be, if not for the spectator.

	But he couldn’t think about that, now.  Karl and Brandon were still ahead of him.  Hiram leaned into his run and commanded his legs to move faster.  He was, at best, average height for his age, but he was possessed of an innate fixation on victory that had served him well before.  He refused to let it fail him now.

	Brandon, the largest boy in their class, also had the longest legs.  For the moment, he was in the lead, but Karl and Hiram were right behind him.  Hiram had started his dash at the opportune moment when the track curved to the right and aimed back towards the schola’s front gate.  Brandon was big and fast, but somewhat clumsy.  He always slowed down a tad during a turn.  Karl’s position on the inside track gave him a slight advantage, but one Hiram knew he could turn to his own ends.

	His legs pumped forward and back rapidly as sweat started to fall in sheets off his arms and face.  Then the bend was upon them and Hiram all but dove past Brandon, purposefully sidestepping into his path.  His maneuver caused Brandon to turn to far into the curve, blocking Karl’s attempt to push past.  Hiram tried, and failed, to suppress a grin as he let loose with the last bit of energy he could muster and opened up a steady lead.  When he heard Karl cursing at Brandon, Hiram slowed into a steadier pace.  He coasted past the finish line and came to an easy stop.

	He came to attention, panting lightly, and saluted the figures on the balcony watching the race.  Within the next thirty or forty seconds, the rest of the class assembled around him.  He noted with some surprise that Sasha, the only female in their year that had been assigned to Storm Trooper duties like him, managed to come in third, displacing Karl as he slowed to hassle Brandon.

	A flicker of movement above returned his attention to the balcony.  Most of the senior staff was present, and all looked nervous.  Visitors to the schola were rare, usually just some local aristocrat wanting to show his (meaningless) support; the tutors would politely thank and then ignore them until they left.  But this was different, the visitor was a tall woman with an arrogant posture wearing an intricately patterned over mantle of blacks and dark blues, embellished with silver cord.  Her hair was a dark color, almost red, and was curled up tight in a high-topped sheaf with a pair of silver needles skewered through the center, presumably to keep it all in place.

	Even Commisar Cruciatus was stiff and awkward in her presence.  When he introduced her to the cadets, they understood why.

	“I present,” he said, “Milady Inquisitor, Lilliana Fortinbras.”

	And so it had begun.  The instructors had drilled them all like the eyes of the Emperor were upon them.  In a sense, they were.  First, they began with a rigorous set of stretches and warm ups, all conducted at double speed.  Then they had been force marched to the firing lanes.  Hiram had achieved eighty-three percent accuracy, five points less than his average (he was nervous, after all), but it still netted him the number two spot.  Brandon had then snagged a clean win in the sparing matches, as he always did.  Though clumsy, he was still strong enough to overcome the more clever students.  Karl sported a wicked shiner on his left eye for trying to trip him up when they went against each other.

	The inspection had gone on from dawn until noon, culminating in the final race.  All in all, Hiram thought they had made a damn good showing for themselves.

	The Inquisitor seemed whispered something to the Commissar behind her fan, and he nodded.  She took a step forward and nodded before turning and heading back inside the facility.

	“That was a dismissal, apes!” roared Commissar Cruciatus when they failed to react.

	The cadets all scurried to get to the lockers to clean themselves up.  The door was to the back of the courtyard, so Hiram, near the front of the lineup, was in the back of the rush to get inside.  Knowing it would take him awhile anyway, he moved at a casual walk.

	“Acturas!” called the Commissar.

	“Sir?” he asked, turning around with a salute and parade ground snap.

	“Report to Interrogation Cell number seven,” he ordered.  “Milady Inquisitor wants a word.”

	A chill washed up his spine.  It took him a moment to answer, but he did.  It took him even longer to get moving, but he did that too.

	Inquisitor Fortinbras must have seen what he did to Brandon and Karl.  Dammit, he thought, of course we would notice you cheating.  He was doomed.

	He reported to the cell as ordered only to find it empty, save for two chairs and a plain, but sold, utilitarian table with a pitcher of water and pair of glasses on it.  Hiram was still breathing a little heavy form the exercise and was covered in sweat form the exertion, and fear, but stood rigid as a board in the center of the room.  He refused to even think about the full pitcher of crystal clear water with the condensation on its sides that could only mean it was cold and which was sitting right there.

	Dammit.

	After a few minutes standing at attention and watching the clock he noticed was hanging above the door, the dryness in his throat was becoming unbearable.  These cells were designed to be uncomfortable, and the bare rockcrete walls and ceramite door were boxing in an oppressive heat.  There was a vent in the ceiling, but it wasn’t activated.  He took a chance to look around.  No windows or mirrors that could be two-way viewports.  The little spyhole in the door was firmly shut.

	The hell with it, he thought, moving over to the table and picking up the pitcher.  If he was here he was fucked anyway, so taking a sip could hardly make things worse for him. Hiram poured himself a generous measure, loving the cool feel of the water as it filled his glass.  He brought it to his face and touched it to his sweaty forehead.  As tempted as he was to just dump it over his head, his parched lips were complaining much louder.

	He brought the glass to his lips.

	CLANG

	The metal door burst open and slammed against the wall.  Hiram jerked back as though shot.  He threw a hand up in salute, only to drop the glass.  It crashed against the floor, spreading water and shards of glass underfoot.  Stepping through the doorway was the Inquisitor.

	She was even taller in person, standing a good head and shoulders above him.  Close up, he could now see her face.  Even in his shock his pubescent, hormonal brain registered her striking, angular features as distinctly attractive.  And she had just the most lovely green eyes-

	“You are Acturas,” she said in a rich voice with a slight raspy tang to it.  It was not a question.

	“Sergeant Hiram Octavius Tyrell-Acturas, ma’am!” the introduction came out before he could think of a response.  If he survived the next few seconds, he would have to thank the Commissar for drilling it into his head so well.

	“A sergeant, at your age?”  Her condescending tone was only matched by the condescending smirk on her face.  Her lips were a dark red.

	“Eh, ‘cadet’ sergeant, my lady,” he said, trying to backtrack.  “At the schola, I’m treated as having that rank during drills.”

	“And what does that amount to?”

	She was amused by his panic, so he decided to roll with it.  “In practical terms?”

	“Sure,” she said.

	“If my team screws up, I take the blame. And the beating.”

	“Oh my, a realist. How delicious.”  She cocked her head and stared at him.  He felt like a puppy in a shop window.  “You know who I am,” again, it wasn’t a question.

	“Milady Inquisitor Lilliana Fortinbras, my lady,” he said, caught unawares as she walked over to the table.  On the way she shed her black and blue over-mantle and casually tossed it next to the water.  Underneath she wore a jet black bodyglove that fit her… like a glove.  She filled it out nicely, he noticed.  A thick corset (probably armored, he mused) of red silk supported a pair of impressive breasts.  He did not fail to notice the blades, micro-pistols, and miniature grenade dispensers festooned across the whole assemblage.

	Hiram was still holding his salute when she bent down to pour herself a glass.  The callipygian spectacle she presented dropped his jaw and reddened his cheeks.  She held the pose as she poured out the water.  Slowly.  He couldn’t help but notice the enticing way it all swayed as she turned back around.

	She stood and, holding the glass with her thumb and middle finger.  The Inquisitor held it out in front of him and sloshed the contents from side to side.

	“Care for a drink?” she asked; the picture of innocence.  “You seemed to have spilled yours…” she nodded at the wet floor.

	He gulped, cursing the sudden surge of cowardice that had stolen his tongue.

	“After that workout you must be thirsty,” she said.  “It’s not poison, you know.”  Her eyes seemed to twinkle mischievously as she raised the glass to her lips.  Instead of pouring it into her mouth, she pressed her lower lip against the rim and tilted it back just far enough for her upper lip to dip into the water.  Her chest inflated slightly as she inhaled, sucking some of the water into her mouth.  “See?”

	She held out the glass once more and this time he took it.  He raised it to his own mouth and noticed that she had positioned it so the red curve of her lipstick was pointed towards him.  Panicking, he twisted his hand a bit so he wouldn’t drink from the same spot.  The angle was off and a trickle spilled down his chin.

	He blushed a darker shade of red when she chuckled.

	“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked.

	Hiram had decided on coming clean the moment the Commissar had ordered him here.  If he was doomed, he would be doomed standing proud.  “I- I ch-cheated during the r-race,” he croaked.  Evidently the water had done nothing to moisten his throat.

	She chuckled again.  It was an endearing laugh, bubbling up from her chest, almost a giggle at times.  He smiled in spite of himself.

	“You mean that trick at the curve.”

	“Yes, ma’am.”

	“I actually thought that was pretty clever.”

	“Inquisitor?” he asked.

	“Yes, clever,” she repeated.  “I’ve reviewed your file.  You’re persistently clever, aren’t you?  High marks in academia and the physical spectrum as well.  No wonder you’ve made sergeant so quickly.”

	He wanted to say, “cadet sergeant,” but his tongue was on leave again.

	“I might have use for a clever boy, such as yourself,” she said.

	“My lady?”

	“That’s why I’m here.  I’m recruiting.”

	As he realized what she was saying, he puffed up with pride.  Now THIS is an opportunity, he thought.  Hiram stood up taller and tried to keep his chin up with a ‘noble bearing’ he saw soldiers have in recruitment posters.

	“Now, take off your clothes,” she said, producing an auspex from somewhere on her person that he couldn’t imagine.

	“Err, what?” he asked, sure he had misheard.

	“That was not a request, Sergeant Hiram Octavius Tyrell-Acturas.  That was an order from an Inquisitor,” her eyes narrowed and suddenly he found it even harder to breathe.

	In a frantic hurry, he returned the glass to the table and pulled off his PT shirt, kicking off his boots.  In a moment he had dropped his trousers and was standing in nothing but his socks and drab-green, military grade boxers.  Emperor on Earth, he thought.  I just about questioned an Inquisitor.  The room was still hot, but the chill in his bones almost had him shaking.

	“Oh, relax,” said the Inquisitor, obviously amused.  She had watched him strip down with a quirky little smile that reminded him a playful gyrinx kitten he had once seen as a child.  Right before it had pounced and devoured a space-mouse whole.  “If you’re going to work for me, I have to make sure you are up to snuff.”  She wiggled the auspex in front of her like her intent had been glaringly obvious from the start.

	His socks grew moist as they absorbed water from his spilled glass.  He suppressed the urge to gulp as she circled him, all business now.  She held up the auspex at various intervals and scanned until it chimed.  Now and again she would poke or prod him with a finger, causing him to flinch and her to chuckle/giggle.  Every once in awhile her shoes, stilettos, now that he looked at them, would crush a piece of glass and the crunching sound would send shivers up and down his spine.

	Soon she had him move away from the glass covered area and ordered him to do some jumping jacks.  Then some squats.  Then twenty pushups.  Between her scrutiny and the heat of the room, it didn’t take long for him to start panting heavily.

	Inquisitor Fortinbras picked up the glass once more and handed it to him, gesturing towards the nearest chair.  “Have a seat and take a drink,” she told him.  “We’re just about done.”

	“Thank you, Inquisitor,” he said, gingerly stepping around shards of glass and taking a seat.  He finished the water almost instantly and gratefully accepted her offer to pour him some more.  This time he drank more slowly, savoring each gulp.  He didn’t notice the Inquisitor moving behind him until she placed her hands on his shoulders.  Hiram started and almost dropped the glass, but caught it at the last minute.

	“Easy, easy,” she said.  “You need to calm down.”  She began to knead her hands into his skin, easing out nerves and aches.  He tensed up at first, not used to being touched in such a manner, but her soothing words lulled him into a sense of ease and he let her work her magic on his back.

	“That feels amazing,” he said after a few minutes of her attention.  He lazily turned his head to thank her, only to leap up from the chair as his cheek brushed against a soft, fleshy nipple.  Behind him, she had somehow managed to unfasten her corset and was letting it fall to the grown, where it landed with a thump.  It turns out that the bodyglove she wore was hardly complete, it just served as pants and covered her arms, leaving much of everything else exposed.  Her breasts were full and heavy and pulled down low.  The nipples where round and brown and gorgeous.

	She placed her hands on her hips and gave him an annoyed look.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

	He stammered, trying to get the words out.  After a moment he took a deep breath, counted to five, and blurted it out all at once, “WhyinthenameofTerraareyounaked?!”

	She just stared at him for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter that shook her chest up and down in a fascinatingly hypnotic rhythm.  “Oh, child, so naïve.  This is what happens when you’re raised by nuns.  So conservative your head is shoved up your ass so far you can smell your teeth.”

	He tried to wrap his head around that one, but got distracted by the bare chest still wobbling playfully in front of his face.  He decided that that was worth more of his attention.

	“It’s hot in here,” she said, gesturing with a finger to bring his gaze back up to her eyes.  He flushed in embarassement.  “Im simply tyring to cool off.” She paused to see how he would react.  “Besides,” she gestured to her chest, “this is hardly ‘naked.’ Now get back here,” she ordered, pointing down at the chair.  “I wasn’t done.”

	Sheepishly, he took a step forward.  Pain shot up through his foot and he stopped moving, grimacing at his own stupidity.  He had treaded right over a piece of glass and now it was lodged in the ball of his foot.
	Concern flashed across the Inquisitor’s eyes and she rushed to his side.  “Oh, you poor thing!”  She hugged him close, pulling his head into her chest, right between her breasts.  Her arms, wrapped around his back, squished them up against the sides of his face.  Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, he mused.

	She guided him over to the table and had him sit down.  His feet dangled over the side and he averted her gaze self consciously.

	“Let me take care of this,” she said.  The Inquisitor had him sit back a bit, then squatted down in front of him.  Her nipples were almost grazing her knees.  The thought set his heart beating like a heavy stubber on full auto, and he felt his groin twitch.  Oh shit, he thought.

	But the Inquisitor wasn’t paying attention.  No, she was slowly, carefully pulling down the edged of his sock, easing them down his ankle.  She rolled it up as she went, using her fingers to keep the bulge from scraping against the lodged glass.  When the drab-green sock had passed over his toe, she let it drop to the ground where it made a little plopping sound in the wetness.

	She held up his foot and turned it a bit to each side, inspecting the wound from every angle.  Nodding satisfactorily, she told him, “Just one piece; no little shards breaking off of it, either.”

	He nodded too, then felt his eyes grow wide as an earthshaker cannon’s bore as she pressed her face against the base of his foot.  Her lips wrapped around the glass and he could feel her teeth pinching at it.   His body tensed as she eased it out of the wound, causing it to throb as the blood started to flow through freely.

	The Inquisitor smiled up at him, the glass shard glittering between her teeth, before spitting it out onto the ground.  Then she pressed her mouth back up against the wound and kept her tongue plugging up the hole.  Its warm, slippery surface started to tickle him.  After a moment she moved away, pausing to make sure the bleeding had stopped.

	She stood to her full height and leaned over him, putting her face dangerously close to his.  He could feel her breathe on his lips and desperately fought down the urge to lean in and kiss her.

	“I’m so sorry,” she said.  “Please, let me make it to you.”

	Her breasts were rubbing against his chest and he became even more acutely aware that he was all but naked.  Eyes wide as saucers, he stuttered at her that it wasn’t necessary and that he would be fine.

	Her concerned expression turned to one of predatory malice and she thrust her head forward like a charging bull grox, pressing her lips against his and holding his head in place to keep him from backing away with her hand.  Her tongue brushed against his front teeth and wriggled against his own.  When he tried to move it away, she pressed forward even harder and sucked it out of his mouth, squeezing it between her lips before slowly drawing away.  She wiped the moisture from her moth and started to trace lines down his bare chest.

	“Then I’ll have to punish you, instead.”

	“W-what?  What did I do?”

	Her playful chuckling took on a more sinister tone as she pressed her finger in harder, now tracing a thin red line.  His body shuddered as her finger passed down his chest and onto his stomach, bypassing his bellybutton and coming to a rest at the band of his shorts.  She tugged on the elastic with her fingernail.

	“I ordered you to take of your clothes, sergeant.  You disobeyed a direct order.”

	Before he could protest she was pulling his head towards hers and kissing him again.  He thought he could taste cherries on her lips, but just before he could recollect himself and kiss her back, she bit his lip playfully and moved lower.  She planted a wet kiss on his chin, and followed up with a half dozen more moving down his neck.  Here and there she would add in a nibble, or give him a brief lick.  She reached his chest and began to plant lipstick marks with harder and harder kisses.

	Hiram was too shocked and frightened to move.  On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted too.
	He let out a gasp as she reached his waistline.  Instead of kissing, she gathered up a piece of the elastic with her lips and bit the edge.  Shaking her head from side to side like a wild vixen with a baby bird, she pulled his boxers down to his knees.  Freed from its confines, his slender dick shot up and rubbed against her eyelid.  She caught it in one hand and used her other to slip off his shorts the rest of the way and fling them across the room.

	The topless inquisitor twirled her tongue over the head of his cock, pumping up and down the shaft with her hand, then pushed down and engulfed the whole thing in her mouth.  Bobbing up and down, she pressed her lips tightly against him and surrounded the head with her wriggling tongue each time it passed by.  Hiram could feel it impacting against the back of her throat and, against his better judgment, placed his hands on the Inquisitor’s head.

	His action seemed to excite her even more and she redoubled her pace, slurping at his erection and spilling saliva all over his pelvis in her haste to swallow him up.  Hiram’s body began to twitch as he struggled to keep from climaxing.  She began to cradle his testicles in the palm of her hand, gently shifting them up and down, massaging them into action.  Her other hand was nowhere to be seen, but he distinctly heard a rhythmic thwick-thwick-thwick sound coming from somewhere nearby that matched the pace of her bobbing head perfectly.

	She looked up at him with her big, green eyes and he could almost see in them what she was doing with her other hand.

	His whole body tensed as he lost control.  Without warning, a stiff, warm appendage shoved its way past his buttocks and into his anus, writhing around like a snake.  It was her finger.  Hiram yelled out as he came.  His balls contracted again and again as he shot out gobs of thick, white semen into her mouth.  Instead of moving out of the way, she pressed in even closer so that her nose was all but touching his belly.  She sucked in and slurped up every last dollop he produced, swallowing them in a steady stream and not spilling a drop.

	Hiram fell back against the table and felt his eyes rolling upwards.  Never in his life had he felt anything so intense.  He tried to lift his head, only to have it shoved back down as the Inquisitor hoped up onto the table and squatted over him.  He was able to lift his head just far enough to see that a single strip of cloth had been pulled away from her bodyglove; the bit covering her groin.  Then two soft mounds of flesh plopped right over his eyes and the Inquisitor ordered him to start sucking.

	He opened his mouth and frantically started to lick in every direction at once to find what he was looking for.  His tongue brushed against a stiff protrusion and he eagerly puckered his lips together and began to suck, just as a furnace-hot mass of slippery, wet flesh engulfed his dick and thrust him into a world of earthly delights he knew must be damning his soul with its heretical bliss.  He couldn’t care less.

	Hiram kept the nipple in his mouth as it bucked and wobbled around by sucking on it as hard as he could while flicking it too and fro with his tongue.  The sensations coming from below were growing with such intensity that he started to buck upwards with an amateurship but youthful vigor that seemed to give the Inquisitor new heart.  She started to grind back and forward against him, keeping him as deep inside her as possible for as long as possible.  His hand found her hips and he used them to follow each of her rocking movements.  He squeezed hard into the meat of them and pulled apart the cheeks, eliciting a moan from the woman above him that caused his dick to start twitching again.

	“Just a little more,” she said.  “Just a little more, damn you!”

	Sensing her desperate need, he quickly drew his left hand back and used it to pinch at the base of his penis, holding down the urethral track to keep himself from climaxing too soon.  Soon his hand was soaking wet from the repeated slapping impacts from her vagina each time she came down on him.  His eyes began to water and everything started to go a little fuzzy.

	“Breathe, you stupid bastard!” cried the Inquisitor as her breast popped out of his mouth, trailing a strand of saliva that quickly flew off into the distance.

	He gulped in a fresh gasp of air a split second before she plopped her other breast against his mouth.  Almost instinctively now, he started to suck down on the nipple, but in his haste his teeth pinched it instead.
	The woman above him began to shriek and hump so hard he thought the table would collapse.  She threw her head back and ground down on his member so hard he thought she would pull it off.  The inquisitor swatted his hand aside and gasped in delight as he poured hot cum deep inside her stomach.  She kept the pose steady for a long while, rocking forward and back gently until she was sure every last drop had been wrung out of him like a wet towel.

	Then she fell forward and kissed him deeply on the mouth, letting his hands wander all over her back and butt, pinching and squeezing wherever he liked.  Their tongues danced a wet dance and, after a moment, Hiram forgot to breathe again.

	Chuckling, she pulled herself off of him and stepped gingerly to the ground, swaying slightly.  Behind her, Hiram was debating whether or not to give into a new and profound urge to sleep.  Their juices had pooled over his body and they felt cool there as they dried.

	Inquisitor Fortinbras gathered up her over-mantle and slipped into it, buckling up the front and composing herself before walking over to the door.  She gave it a single tap and it opened instantly.  Standing in the threshold was a young woman with short, cropped hair of burgundy and a gilded combat servitor standing at the ready to each side.  She bowed to the Inquisitor.

	“He’ll do,” was all Fortinbras said as she passed back into the hallway, heading for the landing pad.  A little trail of moist droplets followed her as she walked.

	“Put him with the others,” said the woman, “and collect Milady’s gear.” She glanced back into the room and smirked.  The room was a complete wreck.  She wondered if she should bother having it cleaned, or just let whichever cadet was assigned to janitorial duties that day find the mess.

	Young Acturas was sound asleep, his legs still dangling over the side of the table and his body covered in sweat and juices.  He had no idea how much his life had changed in that moment.  He would awaken to a whole new world of wonders, delights, and danger.

	Perhaps her mother would let her play with this one after she got bored with him, she mused contentedly.