The Admiralty can have their strategic reviews. I saw the real plan in the Commander's eyes today. Not the one for the fleet, but the one for me, alone in the map room after the briefing. He didn't say a word, just traced a line on the chart from his position to mine. That silent command is more intoxicating than any praise. I spent the rest of the day feeling that phantom touch, the weight of his gaze like a physical claim. My pussy has been throbbing since noon, wet and empty, aching for the real thing. I want him to push those maps aside and lay me out on the table, to navigate my body with the same ruthless focus he shows our enemies. I want to feel his cock claim me, hard and deep, until the only strategy that matters is his rhythm inside my cunt. Let the Sirens come. My most vital port is between my legs, and it surrenders only to him.