Rajhir noted, “If Amelia does indeed find sexual gratification from light discipline and strong lovemaking, such surrender would be a perfect match to our needs.”
Breft’s grin was filled with predatory anticipation. “Especially mine.”
The door to Flencik’s lab opened, and he stuck his head out to look at them. “I’m ready for your samples, if you please. Cups are in the facility.”
Breft broke out laughing. “Samples and cups? That doesn’t quite get me in the mood, Doctor.”
The Imdiko grinned back. “I’m sure Rajhir would be glad to help.”
“He’s too dominating and I’m too aggressive for this to go well. We’ll end up fighting, and those samples will land all over the floor. Come on, Flencik. If you give me a hand, I’ll give you one back.” The Nobek’s eyes twinkled.
“Sorry. I took care of mine already.” Flencik’s expression was pure lechery. “Thinking of how Amelia was with me was all the inspiration I needed.”
“Smug bastard!” Breft lunged for him, and Flencik quickly disappeared, locking the door between them.
Rajhir laughed at the pair. Life was often too serious. His clanmates’ antics lessened some of the pressure he felt, pressure he admittedly put on himself.
“Come on, Breft, we have a job to do,” he chuckled. “I promise I’ll match you tug for tug.”
“Right,” Breft scowled, though his eyes were still bright with merriment.
A few minutes later, they handed Flencik his samples. “Here’s the finest, strongest specimen of sperm you’ll ever cook with,” Breft promised. “Oh, Rajhir’s got some too. Kind of watery though, old man.”
Flencik howled with hysterics, nearly dropping the cups. Rajhir spent the next five minutes pounding his Nobek until he got a laugh-filled apology. Breft was erect again when the clan leader finally let him up. Amelia wasn’t the only masochist Rajhir knew.
As they waited for Flencik to deliver the results of the attempt to fertilize Amelia’s eggs, Rajhir and Breft settled on the lounger with drinks. It was good to have blown off steam after a long day of meetings, Rajhir thought. They drank kloq, a Kalquorian spirit that burned the guts as it went down. It relaxed them without dulling their senses or slowing their responses.
Too well trained to fidget, Breft sprawled on the lounger. Rajhir envied his clanmate’s ability to appear relaxed. Still, Rajhir knew his Nobek well enough to sense an aura of impatience. He understood it. He felt it himself but fought to display the same outward calm.
Breft drained the last of the kloq from his cup and stared into the empty vessel as wistfully as his warrior breeding could manage. At last he gave voice to a hint of his feelings.
“I wish Flencik hadn’t sent Amelia away.”
“He did what he had to. If he ran the tests while she remained, she’d become suspicious.”
Breft smirked. “I could have kept her distracted, especially after seeing the marks she left on him. The thought drives me mad for her.”
Rajhir chuckled, thinking about the gorgeous claw marks striping Flencik’s sculpted torso. “Her heart is unwilling, but her flesh is eager.”
“Damn, I wish he’d hurry up. At the same time I dread him coming out.”
Rajhir nodded. The odds were stacked so incredibly high against them being compatible to Earther DNA. Once Flencik gave them the news, they would have to let Amelia go. It made his chest ache.
The door to Flencik’s lab swung open. Rajhir and Breft stood at once as he emerged.
Unable to rein in his impatience, Breft said, “Do you have the results?”
Flencik looked from one to the other, his eyes wide. His mouth worked soundlessly, making Kalquor’s leading physician look idiotic. Despair crashed against Rajhir’s heart.
Another incompatible species. Our people are doomed. Worse still, Amelia is lost to me.
As a distant cousin to the Imperial Clan that ruled Kalquor, Rajhir’s life had always revolved around the well-being of his Empire. He wore duty like a second skin thanks to exacting family expectations. Once upon a time, obligation to Kalquor had even superseded that of his clan.
He was still responsible to a fault. However, it wasn’t the Empire’s thwarted need for females to breed with that made his heart ache. He was shocked to find the worst blow came from his growing feelings for Amelia. He realized he cared for the Earther despite having had only two encounters with her. Something about her incited a strange mix of urges: wanting to protect her from harm, yet wanting to take her with ruthless strength at the same time. Wanting to bend her to his sensual will, but also wanting to hold her and keep her. Wanting to calm her fears so she never again looked at him with doubt or concern.
Wanting to love her if he didn’t already. The realization that he might was like a wave of icy water against his skin.
Knowing he had no valid reason to ever touch the beautiful Earther again left Rajhir aching for the feel of her soft flesh, for her warm, yielding body. Regret made his voice sharp.
“Don’t make us wait. Did our seed fertilize any of Amelia’s eggs?”
Flencik blinked at him. In a disbelieving voice he answered, “All the eggs are fertilized. Cell division is normal. We have actual viable embryos.”
Rajhir stared speechless. When his voice came back, it roared from his guts. “All ten of the eggs?”
Breft sat back down on the lounger hard as if his legs had given out beneath him, a rare display of weakness for the fearsome Nobek. “You are absolutely sure, my Imdiko?” he whispered.
Flencik nodded, his shocked expression giving way to a wondering smile. “All her eggs responded to our seed. Earthers are not only compatible with us, they’re more suited to our needs than our own women.”
Joy so extreme that Rajhir thought it might kill him filled his entire body. A compatible people had been found. A Matara for his own clan had been found! With Earthers, his civilization could ensure the continuation of Kalquor and its culture. A doomed race would survive.
What made him truly happy was knowing his clan could claim Amelia. He’d been guaranteed that if she proved compatible, she belonged to them to keep and cherish.
My Matara. My Amelia.
His voice husky with emotion, Rajhir turned to the grinning Breft. “Send a message to Ambassador Ospar’s office at the Galactic Council. You know how to code it.”
Breft nodded, his expression still dazed. “His old friend Councilman Rajhir sends his greetings, and we cannot attend his party because we are viewing the rare flower that blooms bright on Plasius.” He blinked at Rajhir. “I almost didn’t memorize it. I thought it could never happen.”
“None of us did. Send it, my Nobek.”
Breft shook off his paralysis and sped to the vid to carry out the order.
Chapter 6
Amelia awoke refreshed the next morning. She stretched her hands towards the ceiling and flexed her fingers. Not even a twinge of pain remained.
She laughed out loud. At the same time, tears sprang to her eyes. Not since the day an old black electric-powered Cadillac jumped the sidewalk and slammed into her body had pain retracted its dagger claws. Even on her best days her hands hummed with a steady ache.
The pain was utterly erased. Flencik’s medicine had plucked the threads of agony from her nerves. Freedom, she thought. This is what being without pain is like. I’d forgotten how it felt.
Amelia rose from the lounger. She pirouetted in the morning sun’s golden rays that beamed through the window. She moved as awkward but uncaring as a child dancing her first recital. She laughed again, ringing peals that celebrated life itself. Tears ran unchecked in a steady flow down her cheeks. She jumped up and down on the lounger, ran the length of her apartment to hold her hands aloft to the bright sky outside the window, then ran back to the lounger and jumped up and down on it again.
When the giddiness subsided, she cooked herself breakfast. Amelia marveled at how effortlessly her hands accomplished routine tasks. How had she
taken such ease for granted before? Lifting the fork and cup to her mouth, washing and drying the dishes – each mundane step was a miracle.
She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror as she moved about her apartment. The bandage on her neck was a reminder of her liaison with Flencik the day before. She’d almost forgotten in the wake of his successful treatment. She pulled the bandage away, wincing in anticipation of the two holes she was sure she’d see.
True to his word, the wounds had healed completely. Amelia grinned at herself as she tossed the dressing away.
She felt too happy to settle down to paint right away. She wanted to luxuriate in the absence of pain. The fantasy that she lived a normal life again delighted her. She piled scentwood into the pit and lit it, inhaling the floral aroma. Then she shrugged off her clothing and stepped into the wash basin.
Amelia tilted her head back to let the waterfall sluice through her hair. She shampooed, trailing painless, languorous fingers through her thick mane to release the tangles.
She soaped her body, delighting in the softness of her own skin. She rarely acknowledged the lushness of her flesh, her body that recalled an era of voluptuous and proudly sinful women like Marilyn Monroe. Personally, Amelia preferred her own shape to the modern twig-thin, androgynous models venerated on magazine covers. Her body was blatantly female, a fact that had always secretly thrilled her despite the problems it had invited too many times.
The one naughty indulgence she’d given herself over to without guilt since leaving Earth was the enjoyment of her own touch. Now, without pain to mar the experience, she surrendered to sensual pleasure. She lavished extra attention on her full breasts, cupping them in her hands and enjoying their weight and firmness. They filled her palms to overflowing; they’d been comfortable handfuls for the Kalquorians’ massive paws. She traced the rose-colored tips, sighing with the pleasure her own touch gave her. Her hands, so long her tormentors, fondled her with loving strokes.
One drifted over her ribcage, across the soft down of her belly, and lower to the pleasant ache of her sex. Amelia brushed the tiny pleasure button with a fingertip and felt a melting in her core. The sensation reminded her of Flencik’s lovemaking the day before. She closed her eyes as she stroked herself, her hips swaying in rhythm with her fingers.
This won’t take long, Amelia thought as her sex came to life. As she drifted closer to climax, she imagined Flencik’s adept fingers stroking her clitoris with such assurance. Her wonderful Imdiko doctor who took away the pain prodded her on to pleasure. One moment gentle, the next, forceful.
And commanding Rajhir; what would he do to her if he were here? He’d take her, pressing his penises deep into her as Flencik continued to massage her pleasure bud. She felt the Dramok forcing her open to receive him, his determined thrusts burying him in her yielding flesh over and over … yes … so incredibly sweet with his harsh demands.
Standing over her, Breft prodded her lips with his larger member. His intense stare, the unspoken command excited Amelia. If she refused to obey, would he punish her? She hoped so. This time however, her desire overwhelmed the temptation to defy him. She opened her mouth to allow his hot flesh entrance. Her tongue licked the silky skin covering the iron of his erection, and her lips closed over it, making it tight for his pleasure. He grunted approval. She inhaled his sharp cinnamon scent as he pumped his groin against her face.
Amelia opened herself fully to them, a grateful receptacle to their hungers. The four of them were a single, heaving beast, hurtling toward the precipice.
Rajhir and Breft came. The sweetish spice of Kalquorian seed flowed over her tongue and down her throat. The warmth of their juices filling her belly from both directions sent her over the edge. Amelia’s head snapped from side to side as she made small animal cries of release.
As the last throbs faded, she opened her eyes and awoke from the fantasy. She withdrew her thumb and forefinger from her still quivering sex and her pinky from her anus. Despite the intense climax, she felt empty. She wished the Kalquorians surrounded her in reality. She wanted their strong limbs tangled in her own.
If they were here right now, I’d fuck them until my vagina went numb. What do you think about that, Mama? It’s wrong, and I don’t care.
Amelia finished bathing and emerged from the basin. She dressed and approached the easel, determined to put the alien clan from her thoughts so she could work.
The painting was progressing well, better than she had hoped. In the absence of pain, she dared to dream of achieving a true masterpiece. She picked up a paintbrush.
Amelia marveled at how sure her grip on the brush felt. Minutes later, she painted in an entranced fog. She felt no pain, no effort. It was as if an invisible hand guided her. The painting seemed to emerge from beneath the brush, as if the layer of canvas fell away to reveal a finished work underneath. It used to be like this before the accident, Amelia thought. Wrong, she immediately amended. Before, she took the freedom from pain for granted. It took ceaseless agony to appreciate the lack of it.
A knock at the door intruded upon Amelia’s senses. She struggled to escape the spell she’d fallen under. She noted the first sun’s position in the middle of the sky and saw the second sun had risen some time ago. Surprise left her gaping. She’d painted for several hours without realizing the time passing. Still, her hand remained pain free.
Life has its share of miracles, she thought with real gratitude. She set her brush down. Wiping her paint-smudged fingers on a nearby towel, she hurried to the door.
The appearance of Rajhir’s clan failed to surprise Amelia. What surprised her was her heart’s swell of delight to see them. The three men smiled down at her, and she unselfconsciously smiled back, especially at Flencik.
“Hello,” she welcomed them, opening the door wide to allow them entrance. They came in but stopped just inside.
“Your hands do no hurt?” Flencik asked.
“Do not hurt,” Breft corrected his clanmate with a gentle tone.
“They’re perfect. Not one bit of pain.” Amelia opened them for the doctor’s inspection. Dried paint streaked her fingers.
“You have painted?” Rajhir said, tracing a green smudge on her thumb.
Amelia laughed. Had she ever! “I’ve been painting all morning. It’s unbelievable that it’s so effortless.”
With visible pride, Rajhir said, “Our Imdiko is the best of doctors on Kalquor. Perhaps of all the universe.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. Can I get you anything? Something to eat, to drink?”
Rajhir looked toward her kitchen. “If you painted all morning, then you have not eaten your second meal. Will you eat with us? We invite you to what you call a picnic. We will eat by a lake. It is nearby. Very beautiful surroundings.”
His invitation startled Amelia. Painting beckoned, yet the day outside beamed glorious, perfect for a picnic. Failing to enjoy it must rank as a sin, Amelia reasoned.
Past dealings with this bunch indicate eating food may not be all they’re planning on, an inner voice warned.
The delight of a painless day made her reckless. Giddily, Amelia thought, what if they did get her in another compromising position? Who was she kidding anyway; she’d hand Flencik her very soul for the freedom from agony he’d given her, however temporary. Her gratitude for this day knew no bounds. Besides, she still felt a yawning emptiness from her earlier self-pleasuring. To hell with her mother’s morality. Mama was dead. To hell with Earth morality as well. When on Plasius, do as the Plasians do, right? No one on this planet thought ill of such adventures. In fact, they thought one mad to not indulge in them.
What Earth’s government doesn’t know won’t kill it, or me for that matter.
There was something else, too. Something beyond sheer gratitude or simple rebellion. Amelia felt an almost physical need to be with these men, a yearning that made her chest ache. She shied away from thinking about it too hard or dissecting the odd urge. It was enough that it was the
re.
“I’d like a picnic very much,” Amelia said, grinning at the pleasure that brightened the Kalquorians’ faces.
* * * *
The lake, as beautiful as Rajhir promised, shone under the Plasian sun like an oval amethyst. It shimmered in the heat of midday. Amelia wished for a bathing suit. The lake’s cool depths invited her to take a plunge.
She sat on the ground, inhaling the aroma of the grass that grew by the lake. Plasian grass had a lilac-type aroma, drowning her in its sweetness. Rajhir and Breft stood on either side of her. They too contemplated the lake while Flencik unpacked a container full of food. She looked over her shoulder to see what they’d brought for their meal. She hoped for more nellus. When he brought out a platter covered with golden brown meat, she gasped. Of all foods to see on Plasius…
“Is that what I think it is?”
He smiled. “Chicken fry. You like this?”
“That’s ‘fried chicken’, big guy, and I couldn’t claim to be a true Southerner if I didn’t like it. How in the universe did you get it?”
Breft answered. “Earth transports land here and trade with Plasius. They sold the meat to us and instructed us on how to prepare. Flencik says it is not healthy to cook this way, but it smells good.”
Amelia’s mouth watered at the heavenly aroma. She experienced a pang of homesickness that startled her. Was it spring on Earth yet? Would the front yards of Georgia be exploding with the pink fireworks of azaleas now? Or was it summer already, the air so thick with humidity that one felt wrapped in a hot wet blanket even at midnight?
The clan watched her, aware of her mood change. Amelia forced herself to appreciate the here and now. She smiled. “What else did you bring?”
Flencik opened containers to show her their contents. “Grul from Kalquor,” he said pointing to fiery red chunks. Amelia wondered whether it classified as animal, vegetable, or mineral. “The desrel grows local. The nellus just imported this morning.”
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