Laricon's Ways

by Patricia Green

  "Send him in."

  Marsh was dapper, but tired. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Michael rose to meet him and they shook hands across the desk. "Governor. Good to see you again. Were your accommodations adequate?"

  "More than adequate!" Marsh responded with a big smile. "Can't say I've ever enjoyed a diplomatic function quite so much."

  Michael laughed. "I'm very glad to hear that. Perhaps it will make our concluding talks more beneficial for Laricon, hm?"

  Marsh shook his head. "Don't be too sure. I learned long ago not to get pleasure mixed up with politics."

  Michael smiled and nodded. "No, that is never wise. Nevertheless, were you reassured that our ways are not so … abhorrent as you first thought?"

  "Actually, it's rather astonishing how secure and happy your women are."

  "It's what we strive to achieve. Those women are the mothers of future generations. We want them healthy and content."

  "I'd have to say you've done quite well in your goal. Let's talk about grain, Chief Council. We need it, you have it. Will you rethink your policy on exporting?"

  Michael shook his head. "As we discussed yesterday, Governor Marsh, as long as East Shores is a potential societal problem, we simply cannot do business with you without certain agreements in place. It's important to us that our partners here on Ganymede are fraternities of the Laricon way. The moon is just too small to have factions amidst the domes."

  Marsh shook his head. "I just don't think our–"

  Liebmann rushed in and switched on the vid screen. "Excuse the interruption, but I'm sure you'll want to see this."

  Both Michael and Marsh turned to watch. There was no sound with the picture. "They brought him out about five minutes ago," Liebmann said. He pointed to Governor Beatty of the Southern Continent among a large, loud crowd. The portly man was made to kneel as the crowd drew back several meters. "The woman is his wife, and there are his two daughters and the little boy is his son." Beatty was disheveled, his shirt torn, his shoes missing. "The guy with the stunner is Falco. He's the ring leader of the takeover. Loyal to Laricon." Falco pressed the stunner to the back of Governor Beatty's head and all of a sudden the Governor rocked forward, his hair burning quickly. His wife and family, their hands tied behind them, wailed, their silent mouths on the vid making terrible o's of horror.

  Marsh gasped. "Oh my god!"

  Michael glanced over at Marsh to see the fellow cover his mouth. Michael was unhappy about the execution. Obviously his men had been unable to control the mob led by Falco. "A terrible shame," he said softly.

  Falco was preaching to the crowd for a minute, stirring them up further. Then he walked to Mrs. Marsh. She was a slender woman with ash blonde hair and a proud demeanor. Falco pulled a combat knife from his belt holder. As her children and the cheering crowd watched, he tore open her blouse and slit her brassiere, pulling both to the sides dramatically. Her breasts bounced free for all to see. She spit in Falco's face. Incensed, the revolutionary backhanded her. She stumbled, then stood straight again. Falco applied his knife to her pants and panties. Naked, she was made to kneel on the ground before him.

  The crowd cheered enthusiastically. "Hail Laricon! Hail Laricon!" they mouthed on the silent vid.

  Michael glanced at Marsh again. He was ghost white. Undoubtedly he was imagining his own wife suffering these incredible indignities if he didn't cooperate with Laricon.

  "Turn it off, General," Michael advised Liebmann. "And thanks."

  "Sure, O'Malley." He switched off the vid and left.

  "A terrible, terrible situation, Governor," Michael said somberly.

  "Oh my god!" Marsh forced out. "How could you–"

  "I assure you, Governor, I did nothing to instigate this execution. However, there are always revolutionaries like Falco, men loyal to the Laricon way, who will stop at nothing to insure that society flows in that direction unimpeded."

  Marsh wiped sweat from his forehead with a white handkerchief. "This leaves me little choice."

  "Oh, you always have choices," Michael advised. "You can work with us, or you can work against us." His own gut was whirling as he backed this poor man into a dismal corner.

  Marsh looked at Michael, his face pale and sweating. "The East Shores domes will cooperate with you, Chief Councilman."

  Michael smiled. "You'll be glad you did." He handed over a notepad. "Here are a few ideas we've drawn up. They're just quick and peaceful ways you can start moving your people in the right direction."

  Marsh looked down at the data pad. "The women immediately set 'free' from their jobs. Sent home to begin learning their proper place?" He groaned. "There will be protests. Riots!"

  "If you need our help, Governor, just ask. I assure you that our troops know how to deal with obstinate women."

  Marsh nodded, dazed. "Yes. I'm sure they do." He stood up, slightly shaky. "I'd best be going."

  Michael stood and circled his desk to put an arm around Marsh's shoulders reassuringly. "I'm glad we could come to this agreement. Did you want to take home those two ladies who served you last night?"

  "Oh god, no!" Marsh exclaimed. "My wife would–"

  "She'd get used to them. Really. Just give it all time. Be patient and firm."

  Marsh nodded as they went through the doorway. "If you say so."

  "I know so," Michael said. The hallways on the way to the dock were busy, the women reverencing quickly as Michael and the Governor walked by. "I wasn't born here, Governor. It took me a while to get used to it. And to get used to how to handle the women here. Believe me, it comes more naturally than you'd expect."

  Marsh looked up at him hopefully. "My wife–"

  "Now your consort, Governor," Michael corrected with a smile.

  "Right. My consort will come around. I'll make it clear that she must come around."

  "There you go." Michael patted him on the back.

  They'd arrived at the Governor's small flyer. Michael shook hands with him at the foot of the ramp. "Patient and firm, Governor. And call upon us if you need help."

  Marsh was nodding. "Yes. Good-bye, Chief Councilman."

  Michael raked back his dark hair as he returned along the hallways. Marsh was nearly certain to need considerable help subduing the women and those men who rallied with them. But troops could be sent, and a library's worth of instructional disks as well. In time, it would work out.

  Back at his desk, Michael pushed a button on his phone. "The Great Man, please. This is Chief– I mean, Councilman Michael."

  A few moments later, Laricon came on the line. "Michael? Has Marsh left?"

  "Yes, sir. The deal is struck. They're with us."

  "Well done, my boy," the old man said brightly. "Ganymede is ours now!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "I'll see you tomorrow at the council meeting, Michael. This deserves a celebration!"

  "As you wish."

  He felt a small buzz behind his left ear.

  "Until then, sir!"

  Laricon was chortling when they disconnected the comm.

  Quickly, Michael told Sandra that he was not to be disturbed. He touched his temple and jaw simultaneously, activating the Federation Command Security comm implants.

  "8872."

  "Command Security."

  "Go ahead, CS."

  "We've got your transports on the way. All persons needing repatriation will have their opportunity in seven days, twelve hours and nine minutes."

  Michael set his chronometer alarm. "Finally," he said. "Laricon has just completed a deal with East Shores to add those domes to the country. The Southern Continent domes went down yesterday. Beatty is dead."

  "Is Laricon still out of it?"

  "Yes, but he'll be back tomorrow." There was a silence on the line. "CS?"

  "Still here. Comstock advises that you keep your head down."

  "Tell Comstock that I'm taking all my accumulated vacation when this op is over. I don't want to be reassigned the day after I get out of here."
>
  Comstock got on the line. "Comstock here. You got plans or something, O'Malley?"

  "Yeah. I'm going on a honeymoon."

  Comstock laughed. "Aha. Picked yourself up a little Lariconese honey, did you?"

  "Two, actually, sir."

  Comstock laughed harder. "You're shittin' me!"

  Michael frowned slightly. What was so amazing about finding a woman, or women, to be part of your life? "No, sir."

  "Well, I'll be damned. Too bad we can't accommodate you. You're already reassigned for the day after you're off this op."

  "But sir–"

  "Don't argue with me Colonel. The assignment is set."

  Michael felt his shoulders slump. "What is it?"

  "Nothin' too grand. We'll talk more after the troops are inserted there."

  "Yes, sir."

  "O'Malley, keep Laricon in sight until we get there. Don't want him squirming away."

  "No problem, sir."

  "Comstock out."

  "Out."

  That done, Michael made one last call for the day.

  "Liebmann."

  "Liebmann, this is O'Malley. I want you to make sure that Beatty's family gets transferred to The Farm dome ASAP."

  "The Farm?"

  "Yeah. I don't want the general populace to get too much of a taste of blood. It gives them wrong ideas."

  "Oh. Oh, yeah. I see what you mean. I'll get right on it."

  "Good. Thanks."

  ***

  Alyssa greeted him properly at the door, smiling sweetly, her big brown eyes twinkling with devotion.

  "Rise, honey." He gave her a big hug and a long kiss, then looked at Nina who rested on the bed. "How are you, sweetheart?" he asked, going to her side.

  "I'll be okay, sir." Her face was pale, but her voice was strong.

  He bent over and kissed her gently.

  "I get a little roughed up and suddenly you kiss like I'm your sister," she complained.

  He laughed and kissed her more deeply, enjoying her enthusiastic response.

  The three of them ate quietly and then talked about Marsh's capitulation.

  "I need to tell you something, Alyssa," he began after the dishes had been cleared. She looked up at him openly. "I'm not entirely what you think I am."

  "No, sir?"

  "No, honey." He took her small hand in his. "I've been working here under false pretenses." She blinked. "I'm actually a Colonel with the Solarian Federation Command Security Force."

  She gasped. "Master! A spy?"

  He nodded. "In a sense. I was sent to get information on The Great Man and his operation, and to set things up so that the Federation could come in and take back the domes."

  Her eyes darted down to her lap. "You wish to destroy us?"

  "No. Not really. Just the slave-trading. And Ganymede's nine domes were built by the Federation. They belong to the Federation."

  "Slaves? You mean the older women, like Nina?"

  "Right. She didn't come here of her own free will. Lots of others are the same."

  She glanced at Nina who was listening from the bed. "But Nina is happy here now. The others become so, too." Nina reddened and tipped her face down.

  Michael had no answer for that. It was true that the women he'd encountered adjusted to the system and seemed happy enough. "Nonetheless, honey, it's illegal to steal people away and keep them from their homes."

  "Federation illegal," she pronounced distastefully.

  "Yes. Federation. The people I work for."

  "So this all," she gestured to the room, "is part of your plan. We are part of your plan."

  He raked his hair back. This wasn't going well. "At first, yes. I'll be honest with you. You were like a pleasant break from a hard job. And Nina was causing so much trouble since she'd known me before, that I had to take charge of her."

  Alyssa stood and walked to the dark window. "Well then, when you are done with your spying, what did you plan to do with us, sir?"

  "I – uh... I didn't plan, exactly, I–"

  "You will go back to your Federation world. Nina will go back to her Federation home. And I will remain here on Laricon which will no longer be the home I love."

  He rose. "No, Alyssa–"

  She turned, her eyes wet with tears, but her voice hard as steel. "Yes, Master. You will destroy my world as you have destroyed my trust in you."

  That was enough. "Down on your knees, Alyssa."

  She pursed her lips and paused, obviously deciding if she was going to be cooperative or not. Training won out.

  "Now, stop interrupting me." He paced a few meters and back again. "When I came to this moon, I didn't know how things would go. I didn't know I'd meet someone as special as you. Nor did I know I'd run into the woman I'd fantasized about for six long years – since that one night I'd spent with her." He paced. "I didn't know those things would happen, but they did. I can't turn back the clock and I don't think I would if I could. I love you. And I love Nina. You have become my girls, and I would lay down my life to protect either of you."

  "But–" Alyssa began.

  "Do you want to be spanked?" Michael asked, irritation clear in his voice. She shook her head. "Then hush. One more interruption and you'll go over my knees." She nodded. "So … here we are. The three of us. Together. I've been wracking my brain to figure out a way to keep things the way they are for us. Outside of Laricon, our ways would be very odd. Not because there are three of us, but because of the way you two show your devotion. Do you understand, Alyssa?"

  "I think so, sir."

  "But Laricon is going to change when this is over, and it will be over in one week. I just found that out today. I don't know how things here are going to be different; I only know that they will be."

  Alyssa sobbed.

  "Change happens, honey," he said, stroking her hair. "But we'll work it out so that the change is good, not bad. Okay?"

  "If you say so, sir."

  He squatted down to tilt her eyes up toward his. "You don't trust me anymore?"

  "I am afraid."

  That seemed natural enough. He took her in his arms and rocked her. "You're my girl and I'll take care of you."

  She sobbed quietly into his jacket.

  After a time, Michael picked her up and put her gently on the bed. Nina scooted to one side carefully. He held Alyssa's eyes with his as he removed his clothes, then reached out and drew her robe over her head. He spent several minutes just looking at her. She was small and lovely, her body curved elegantly, her small breasts pertly topped by large pink nipples. Her pubic hair a fine, silky, gossamer of strawberry blonde. Her dark brown eyes were worried and she bit her lower lip subconsciously.

  He crawled in next to her on top of the coverlet and ran a hand over her sweet face. "Pretty Alyssa," he whispered. His hand trailed down her throat and across her chest, then cupped one firm little breast in his big hand. "How fine you are," he said. Her eyes never left his face. He cupped the other breast and squeezed lightly. He stroked her nipple round and round with his roughened palm. Her eyes closed with pleasure and her lips opened slightly as her breathing came faster. "How delicate your tender nipples are." He took a nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed until she gasped and arched slightly. He twisted until she reacted again. He did it again, a little firmer this time, and she moaned softly and arched higher, offering her breasts for more. He repeated the entire process with her other hard nipple and she began to squirm. "Your body says you like this, Alyssa," he said softly.

  "Yes! Yes, sir."

  "Do you like this also?" he spanked her breast just enough to leave it lightly pink and engorge the nipple more fully.

  "Ah!" She writhed and whimpered. "Yes! More!"

  He swatted the other breast similarly. Her upper back arched off the bed and then fell back as she cried out.

  He bent over her and took a breast in his mouth, twirling his tongue around the hot nipple slowly. She stroked his shoulders and back with frenzied hands. Taking
that nipple in his teeth, he drew it up until her breast was conical.

  "Oh, sir!" she cried, her head tossing and her back arching.

  He released that tender, reddened, flesh and moved to her other breast, repeating the procedure. This time, he nibbled the wide areola and bit harder on the succulent nipple. She was breathing hard, moaning with pleasure.

  "Sweet little masochist," he murmured, ceasing this nipple play. His hand trailed down her belly and into the golden-red thatch between her thighs. She opened her legs immediately.

  Michael smiled. "Not this time, honey," he whispered. "Roll over."

  She did. Michael stroked her back, her bottom, her shapely thighs, then brought his palm down on one buttock sharply.

  "Oh! Master!" she cried out.

  He spanked her other buttock. Both now had a wide light pink print. He pushed his hand between her legs and teased her wetness, tugging gently on her labia and circling her opening with two wet fingers. Then he returned his hand to her bottom, stroking gently for a moment before he swatted one cheek, then the other.

  She was sobbing with joy, wriggling and writhing.

  "Back over, baby," he said.

  She rolled to her back, her eyes locking with his, telling him how close she was to falling from the precipice of desire. "Open your legs. Good, now spread that pretty pussy with your fingers." She did, and he spanked her clit just enough to give it a sharp sting. Her hips bucked and she squealed. "More?"

  "M-m-more!" she agreed breathlessly.

  Again he stung her clit with his palm. She sobbed and squirmed. Michael knelt between her legs, lifted her hips with his hands and drove himself deeply into her, hard and fast. She screamed with delight and wrapped her legs around him. Over and over he spiked into her, thumping her against the bed mercilessly.

  She was hot, wet, trembling around his engorged staff. He ground his teeth together as he focused on not spilling inside of her … yet. But he felt magnificently male, thrusting rigidly again and again.

  "M-M-Master … please!" she begged.

  "Yes, honey," he allowed. "Come."

  Pulsing, throbbing, she squeezed as he continued to plunge into her little body, hard and fast. She cried out mindlessly, arching, her body completely tense as pleasure coursed through her.

  "Mmm. Good, good," he praised, his voice a growl as he pushed himself for another deep stroke, then another, and another.