Laricon's Ways

by Patricia Green

  "Well done," he proclaimed. "Ladies." He turned and left, as the women – except for Nina – exclaimed, "Hail Laricon!" in his wake.

  Appetite lost, Nina closed her robe, got back into her chair and somehow made it through the meal silently. The man hadn't even bothered to remember her name.

  ***

  After the meal, the women dispersed either to their rooms or to the middle room off the large chamber. Nina glanced in and saw that it was filled with books and video disks. It seemed strange to expose the women to outside thinking like that, but Nina didn't have time to give it a more thorough look as the matron took her wrist and guided her away.

  "You must be trained."

  "I already understand about the damned prostration-thing, Matron."

  "Oh that mouth! There's more, girl. And I only have three days to teach you, so you'd better pay attention."

  Nina nodded, wondering what more debasement there was to being a woman on Laricon.

  Chapter 4

  "Everything is in place, sir."

  Laricon clapped his hands together. "Excellent, Michael." He turned to Liebmann. "And your men, William?"

  "All ready, sir. We're just awaiting your order."

  "This will be a smooth, bloodless coup, just as you wanted, sir," Michael said. Killing innocent citizens in order to take Laricon down wasn't something Michael was willing to do, and he'd planned his part of the strategic takeover just that way.

  "Very good then. We'll meet with Marsh in ten days, and that will be Beatty's last day as Governor of the Southern Continent."

  "Why wait, Father?" Roberto asked. "Marsh is a wimp. He doesn't need any more proof that he'd better get with us or be overtaken."

  The older man sighed and tapped his fingers on the table. "Do you think, Roberto, my son, that the Federation isn't doing all they can to keep Marsh in line? Do you think," he asked, his voice rising as his temper heated, "they're just sitting by while Ganymede changes hands? Do you think at all, boy? Do you?"

  He visibly forced his temper down, either not noticing or not caring that Roberto had gone red with embarrassment and suppressed fury. "By taking out Beatty while Marsh is here, we accomplish two things: one, we punch Marsh in the stomach to show him who's bigger and stronger, and, two, we make him an accomplice to Beatty's downfall in the Federation's eyes.

  "He is this close," he gestured with his fingers. "To putting Lariconese social policy in place in East Shores. He's already come 'round to the idea that the strong must use the weak for the good of the species; for the furtherance of mankind. He's disgusted with feminism, with foolishly complex economics, and with the egalitarian ideal the Federation spouts continually."

  Laricon rose and began to pace, a sure sign that he was going to lecture on the brilliance of his sociological philosophies and how they must be promulgated through the system with vigor. "Egalitarian, pah! Accept all ways except the Lariconese way! So they put an embargo on our domes, prevent immigration, etcetera. My writings are forbidden off-planet, my scholarly works maligned. I will build the population and economy here. I will force them to see that I have been right!"

  Michael's mind wandered to the furtive conversation he'd had while in his chamber that morning.

  "Michael 8872 to CS."

  "We hear you 8872."

  "I've got things set for the coup. Need you to arrive 10 moon days from today in two places; I'll transmit coordinates now." He relayed the latitude and longitudinal coordinates.

  "Copy you, 8872. Martian Governor Wallis will be arriving in just over a week. That should ensure that the majority of prisoners are off-planet before we arrive. See that it all goes as planned."

  Michael nodded. "Will do."

  "Good. Command Security out."

  Wallis was working with the Federation to smash Laricon's slave trade and oust "The Great Man." But he was an off-worlder and could only do so much.

  Federation Governor Marsh of Laricon's East Shores was buckling under pressure from Laricon and could no longer be trusted, while Governor Beatty of the moon's Southern Continent had proved a stubborn opponent to Laricon. However, Beatty wouldn't listen to the Federation's warnings – warnings that started with Michael's knowledge of Laricon's plans – and was going to get overthrown. Michael had done his best to put agents in Beatty's government who would work to see that the coup was bloodless, but he wasn't in charge of Laricon's formidable army; that was Liebmann's job.

  Michael and the Solarian Federation had worked at ferreting out and setting up Laricon's slave business for over four years. And the sting was going to happen very, very soon. Things were getting down to the wire.

  Laricon rattled on for several more minutes, then turned to leave the room, his bearing stiff, his face red with righteous indignation.

  "Oh." He turned back at the door. "Roberto, you made me almost forget. Tonight I shall be presented with my new consort. Her initial training is complete and I'm eager to see how her comportment has seasoned. Let's make her coming out a festive thing." He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips, a perfect imitation of licentiousness. "The entire council and their women are to attend. We'll make a party of it, hmm?"

  Roberto caught up to him as he was walking out the door. "Why do you always treat me like an idiot, Father? You make me look like a fool in front of everyone."

  Michael made believe he didn't hear their bickering as they left. Every other man in the room did the same. It was always so between Laricon and his son. If Roberto had been likeable at all, Michael might have even felt sorry for him. But he was spoiled, venal, and petty.

  Michael gathered his things from the table, far from sanguine. Another party he'd have to attend – was ordered to attend this time. Really, they were just excuses for Laricon to test his social theories. Michael hated having to treat a woman like a thing; it just didn't jive with his notion of partnership, love, a trusting relationship. How could you have a relationship with someone you only used as a depository for semen? Nonetheless, he'd do as expected.

  He made his way to the women's quarters to arrange a date for the evening. No matter what they were labeled here, to him no woman was a spare.

  ***

  Laricon was enjoying the evening's festivities immensely. His closest lieutenants and his son were there, all their women coifed and made up perfectly, their sweet little bodies clothed in silky, nearly transparent robes. That tiny concession to modesty always delighted his senses. Couches covered in fine damask were set about the grand ballroom, creating soft places for the sex to come while allowing all the voyeuristic joys. Food was to be served at a long dining table set at one end of the room, and wine flowed freely, served by two women dressed to look like pre-adolescents in cute little ultra-modest pinafores.

  He could hardly wait to see his lovely new mistress. Maybe she'd be the one to bring his body to life again as his precious Irena had. Certainly he'd felt his loins stir when he'd had her in the throws of agony, her nipples twisting in his fingers at the slave auction. But then, no one was like Irena, he reminded himself. She'd loved the pain and humiliation, had begged for it often enough. And when she'd become pregnant, she was overjoyed to be carrying his offspring. Why the gods had chosen to take her and the infant during the birthing process, he couldn't guess. It was just meant to be. Her hips were too narrow, the child turned wrong. It was his fault, really. He waited too long to send her to The Farm where the midwives would have known what to do. But he couldn't bear to be without her. His darling Irena.

  He drank more wine and checked the clock. The two big doors at the end of the ballroom opened and guards appeared. Immediately all the women in the room bared their breasts and knelt.

  "Rise, ladies," Laricon said as he moved toward the doors. "And behold my lovely new consort."

  Nina glided into the room, her translucent sea green robe embroidered with gold filigree over breasts and pubic region. She came three steps into the room and slowly, gracefully opened the robe, heavy breasts sp
illing forth as she sank to her knees before Laricon.

  Michael felt himself mesmerized by her stunning, proud demeanor. Even bare breasted, she'd managed to hold herself erect and above the humiliation of the act. He'd held their one night together like an ideal in his mind, and now it all came flooding back. Command Security had been his whole life, never leaving room for a relationship, and for the first time Michael felt a pang of regret.

  "Lovely, lovely," Laricon said, his voice crackling like autumn leaves.

  The matron came forward from the still-open doors; she too, bared her breasts and knelt.

  "Speak, old woman," Laricon commanded.

  The matron looked up at Laricon. "I present Nina, sir. On my life, she is well trained and worthy of you."

  Laricon licked his lips, his eyes still on Nina's humbled form. "We shall see, Matron." He waved his hand, dismissing her and she rose and backed out of the room. The guards closed the doors behind her.

  "Stand up, Nina, and let us all admire you," Laricon ordered.

  Nina rose gracefully and moved to close up her robe, but Laricon's hand stopped her. "Not yet. I want every free man here to see what is mine, what is only mine."

  Roberto snorted and drained another glass of wine. It was ignored.

  Michael tried not to stare and looked around at the faces of the other men and women there. A few didn't care, of course, having seen Nina completely nude. But the others clearly found her attractive, an object of lustful thoughts. Liebmann's woman, Crystal, was even massaging the general's crotch as he stared at Nina, encouraging him in his imaginings. Michael wanted to pound them all, most of all Laricon who was subjecting her to this.

  Pretty soon Laricon caught on as well and gestured for her to close her robe. All of a sudden, conversation began again, the room breathing a collective sigh. Laricon escorted Nina to the low dinner table and everyone else followed.

  Michael watched Nina tensely through dinner, curious and hopeful that she'd caught on to the way things were done here. And she performed perfectly. Laricon sat on his low chair and she fed him morsels from her own fingers, offered him his cup, wiped his mouth with a linen napkin when he asked. Michael's own female for the evening, Betty, did the same for him, but his eyes rarely lit upon her attractive face.

  After the meal, they sat around the table and discussed politics for a while as they drank thick red wine. Roberto was very drunk by this time, and belligerently berating the woman with him.

  Musicians set up in a corner of the room, their backs turned to the guests lest they see one of the women from the Grand Palace, which was forbidden. Michael couldn't concentrate on the conversation, and sat petting his girl's head as though she was a mastiff until he caught himself and stopped.

  "Sir, my girls would like to offer a dance in honor of the occasion," Walker said.

  Laricon's eyes twinkled as he smiled. "Then let us move to couches where we may watch in comfort."

  "Oh yes," Roberto offered snidely as he pranced a few feet drunkenly. "Let's see how Edward-the-Studly has trained his beasts."

  Laricon turned to his son. "You're drunk, Roberto, and tiresome. I doubt you'll even be able to make adequate use of the female you've brought with you."

  Roberto put an arm around the girl's shoulders and dragged her to a couch. "If so, then it runs in the family, Father. And at least I have wine for an excuse."

  Laricon scowled, but let the vicious remark pass.

  The group followed Laricon and Nina away from the table and sat down on the rich couches to watch.

  Walker made some comment to the musicians, then took his own seat, clapping his hands for the dance to begin. Michael glanced over at Nina and ground his teeth together as he watched Laricon's veined hand slip inside her robe to play with her breasts. Michael motioned his own girl to sit on his lap, and he kissed her deeply to distract himself. She was a good girl with a sweet mouth, and he lost himself for a moment. When he looked up, the dance was in full motion.

  Walker's girls were nude, their lithe bodies springing aerobically across the floor in response to the light and airy music. Then, as the music turned deeper and slower, the two began to wind closer together, their bodies brushing one another in a teasing, sultry way.

  Michael glanced over at the other couches. Most of the women's robes were disarrayed, lifted to give the men access to private realms. And the women were stroking the men gently, clearly in foreplay. Laricon was holding Nina's face with one hand, the back of her head with another as he bent her backward in a deep kiss. Michael could see Nina's hand fist and only hoped that she could withstand the revolting old man's passions for the time it took for the Federation CS plan to bear fruit.

  The dance had become erotic, their bodies rubbing each other rhythmically. One did a graceful backbend while the other licked between her legs then up to her pointed nipples. Moments later their positions were reversed.

  Michael, even distracted as he was, found the dance extremely sexy. His girl reached for the hard mound in his pants as he reached into her robe to tease her breasts.

  As the music reached its crescendo, the dancing girls cupped their breasts and rubbed their nipples together, sharing a deep kiss. Someone in the audience groaned a masculine, guttural, sound of pleasure. Michael glanced back and saw Crystal, naked, on the floor between Liebmann's legs, her mouth around his thick member as she swallowed his enjoyment.

  Michael was incredibly hard now and the girl on his lap was relentlessly encouraging him. Finally, he lay back and opened his pants and pulled her on top of him to ride his engorged staff. Betty threw off her robe and mounted immediately, making sweet, sexy noises with nearly every stroke.

  Around them, couples were playing more or less in the same way. Walker had taken his women back to his couch where they'd undressed him and were licking and sucking him fore and aft. Michael knew from previous experience that Walker had tremendous staying power, and that it would be quite some time, and many different positions, before the girls heard his grunt of satisfaction.

  Michael's whole world was beginning to be focused, though, on the wet sheath milking him so well. His hands cupped and kneaded the girl's buttocks, guiding her in the rhythm he wanted. She was rubbing her nipples and squeezing her breasts harshly, utterly taken by sensation.

  So near now to spilling himself, so near. "Your mouth, honey," he murmured to the brunette on his loins. "Use your mouth." She quickly obeyed.

  He glanced one last time over at Nina and saw her on hands and knees, the old man stroking in and out of her vigorously. She turned her face toward Michael and he saw tears running down her cheeks. As they locked eyes, he came hard, shatteringly, groaning deep in his throat. Nina turned her face away.

  Feeling guilty, as though he'd intruded on Nina's private misery and, worse, found some pleasure there, Michael turned back to the woman between his legs. It would be good to finish this and get out, go back to his quarters where he could think clearly. But that wouldn't happen for hours yet.

  His girl stopped sucking moments after he'd orgasmed, though her flushed face clearly said she was still highly excited. "Did you come?" he asked her.

  She shook her head. "No, sir."

  He gestured for her to move forward. "Then come here, honey, and I'll see that you do."

  Her eyes widened. It was very rare for a free man to pleasure a woman. Maybe he was trying to trick her, and pain was his goal? She slid forward hesitantly, suddenly afraid. She felt his hands on her buttocks encouraging her to straddle his face. "Please, sir, please don't hurt me," she begged.

  "Open yourself, girl," he ordered sternly, knowing very well why she was scared, and disgusted that any man could be so cruel.

  Trembling, sobbing softly, the girl used her hands to spread her lower lips. Michael's tongue began an exploration, tasting the sweetness of her excitement mixed with the saltiness of his own orgasm. Soon her sobs changed pitch and became excited bleats and breathless exclamations. When he sucked on her swoll
en little nerve bundle, she squealed in joy, squirming around above him. Soon his whole face and neck were soaked with her warm juices. Finally, though, breathing hard and squealing with delight, she came, bathing his tongue with honey.

  She crumpled down next to him on the couch. "Thank you, sir, thank you," she whispered.

  Michael wiped his face and neck with the edge of her robe, smiling kindly at her. "Nothing you didn't deserve, honey. Just relax for a while now."

  He could feel her snuggle in beside him, and a soft warmth pervaded his hardened undercover shell. This could be Nina, he thought.

  Nina, nearby, was desperately wondering how much more pain she needed to endure this evening. The old man had stopped spanking her, but now he had her hair wrapped around his fist and the other hand pressing into the small of her back, arching her like a contortionist while he continued stroking from behind. Finally though, he cried, "Yes, yes, yes!" and twitched a few more times before he stopped and released the pull on her hair. It had been the worst experience of her life – so far.

  "Lick me clean," he ordered, lying on the couch, his member quickly shrinking back to its original, wrinkly worm size. Nina moved to between his legs and laved his semen and her lubrication from him, trying not to gag. There wasn't much of either.

  "Good girl," he said, patting her splitting head. "Now get me some wine while I watch the show for a bit."

  "Yes, sir," she mumbled, rising from the couch. She padded to where a dusky-skinned young girl of perhaps eighteen in black pinafore and white blouse stood openmouthed behind a table of wines and sweetmeats. In Nina's estimation, this was no place for a girl so young. "Aren't you needed in the kitchen or something?" The girl looked at her like she was crazy.

  "I'm being prepared to be a consort of The Great Man or one of his council!" she announced. "I want to learn it all and be the best! I am the daughter of Walker!"

  "Walker? That Walker?" Nina pointed toward the man with the contortionist women.