by V. K. Ludwig
Izzy takes a step toward me, her brown eyes soft when they lock with mine. “Well, you’re practicing, right? Nobody’s expecting you to be good at it right away. Let me slip this off so we can get started.”
When she tugs on the belt of her robe, the fabric parts in front, revealing a bare pubic bone that shimmers in the dim light. My pulse speeds up. I should leave. And I will.
Right after she finished slipping the robe off her—
A shudder paralyzes my feet.
Veking shit. She is… definitely female.
All this time, I wondered what—aside from a penis—she was hiding underneath all that fabric. Now I know. Small breasts, nipples only slightly roused, with the light casting a shadow underneath the swell of her flesh. A narrow waist ties into small hips, her entire frame so petite, so fragile, vulnerable, I want to wrap my arms around her to make sure she won’t break.
“Okay.” She scoots to the center of the bed and leans back, propping herself onto her elbows. “So, do you… like… want me to give feedback during? After?”
My limbs climb onto the bed all on their own, crawling up in front of her, my voice thin. Close to snapping, really. “During would be help… helpful, perhaps followed by suggestions?”
There’s a slight stiffness to her nod. “I can do that.”
Is she nervous?
Because I am.
Nervous and hard.
It’s one thing to have a human cunt molded from silicone in front of you, but quite another when an Earth woman lies sprawled like this. Even if her clitoris is a penis, who cares? I’m willing to reconsider my sexual orientation right about now, she’s that gorgeous.
I position myself between her legs and open the holograms I prepared. “I loaded the entire workbook onto my com, including step-by-step instructions, advanced techniques, and blueprint of your clitoris.”
“Blueprint?” She stares at me open-mouthed for a moment. “This is already about as sexy as a Pap smear.”
No idea what that means.
Not that it matters.
Until I have better control over the pressure I apply, I better ignore her clitoris and practice what Professor Smith calls cueing. That left-right-dodge-and-back thing. “I’m going to touch you now.”
She nods quietly.
I wiggle my fingers.
I shake off the tension.
Thumb to her left thigh. Swipe right, and, up, up, up. Dodge clitoris, and geeeently brush to the right. Turn around. Left, left, left. Dodge. And back to starting position.
My chest swells with pride.
I’m not one for self-praise but that was textbook perfect.
“How did it feel?” I ask, sensing a fat grin bunching my cheeks when I look to Izzy.
She stares at me… unimpressed. “Fine.”
Fine? What’s that supposed to mean?
A billow of heat puffs from my collar and plays around my earlobes. “My instructions say over seventy percent of human females find this very arousing.”
“Guess I belong to the other thirty percent.” Of course she does, because I’m veking cursed. “Seriously, it was okay. Like you said, no orgasm ambitions here.”
And it stings a third time. “What arouses you?”
“Does it matter?”
No.
Maybe.
“You owe me feedback, so speak your mind.”
With a huff, she props herself higher on her elbows. “Adrin, I have a holographic blueprint of my sexual organs hovering above my bellybutton, while an alien sits between my legs, methodologically prodding my pussy. If this was a movie, I’d have a probe up my ass now it was that clinical.”
I’m tempted to tell her that probes are outdated. That’s what holographic screening is for, but that won’t solve the issue at hand: she didn’t like it. Which shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t. I did it correctly, which is all that counts.
“What movements do you like?” I ask, ignoring the foreboding taste of failure on my tongue. “I have forty-one ways to please a woman with my hands on my com. Dipping in. Hinting. Teasing. Gliding large circles. Stationary small circles.” Why is she grinning?
“Sounds complex.”
“Are you challenging me?”
Lines form between her brows. “No.”
She’s challenging me. “Tell me what you like, or I swear I’ll go through every single bullet point in my workbook tonight until I found it.”
“Okay… fine.” One hand wanders between her legs, and she taps her clitoris. “What you did is nice… if you want me to relax and fall asleep. Lots of women hate having too much stimulation on their clit.” Please tell me she’s one of them. “But I need a lot of it to get off.”
Shit. Of course I had to end up between the legs of an Earth female who takes full advantage of all eight-thousand nerve endings on that troublesome, little organ of hers. And probably the other ten thousand extensions…
I should just repeat the exercise from before until I get it down. “Small circles heavy pressure coming up. Lie down.”
I ignore the knot forming from my guts and lower myself onto my stomach. She might not have enjoyed what I did, but neither did I mess it up. Just like I won’t mess this one up either.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s try this.”
At my next exhale, I position my finger right at the top edge of her clitoris. From there, I draw small circles around it, slowly increasing my pressure. Her first moan sends a tingle into my cock, but it’s the second one which concerns me, to which I respond with an involuntary groan.
The way she shifts her pelvis, pressing against my finger, tells me to increase the strength of my touch. When I do, her eyes flutter shut, and her legs part wider. She likes it.
I flinch.
Wait… she likes it?
A tremble vibrates through my finger, and she hisses, “Easy.”
“Sorry.” I breathe my excitement down.
Circle after circle, the little nub hardens, and the thin labia around her entrance glisten. It all makes sense now. That erectile tissue? Not a penis at all. It swells with arousal, pumping blood into all those nerve endings, amplifying her perceived pleasure.
“You enjoy this, don’t you?”
Her pelvis rolls with the motion ever so slightly. “It’s awesome.”
Ripples of excitement course through me. Not trying to push my luck here, but could I make her orgasm like this? Because if I manage that, wouldn’t that prove that there’s hope after all?
Another tremble rattles through my finger.
Too much too soon. Play it safe, Adrin.
Anxiety. It’s been my worst enemy ever since I returned to the saikhmenti. Better not trigger it. So I keep circling her little button, sensing every pulsation, every jerk, every twitch. That has to be enough. It is.
Until Izzy’s stomach visibly contracts, and she moans, “Shit, I’m about to come.”
A shudder chases down my arms. “Seriously?”
My eyes snap to her sternum, her breathing increased, almost erratic. A crippling force squeezes my chest, and every single muscle in my body snaps tight. Shit. What do I do? Less pressure? More pressure? Consistency?
Within seconds, my finger stiffens. Circles distort to ovals, before it all falls apart right in front of my eyes, my digit trembling so hard I’m jackhammering across her clitoris.
Izzy squeals.
She bucks against me with such force her pubic bone clanks against my chin. With a groan, I jerk back just as she angles her knee toward her chest like a protective mechanism. Then she veking kicks…
Her heel hits me right on the eye, pain exploding across the left side of my face. I scramble myself onto all fours and throw myself back, legs kicking, hands dragging me away from her over warm throws, soft furs, and then… air.
The mattress ends, and I hit the ground with a whomp, groaning, “What the vek was that?”
“Oh my God!” Pillows roll off the bed, and she pokes her head over t
he edge. “Adrin?”
I lie on the ground, hand pressed against a throbbing eye. “Please tell me human females kick when they orgasm.”
She slips off the bed and kneels down beside me. “Not really.”
This was my fault. I got cocky, attempting something that was doomed to fail. “Damn, we need to establish a less aggressive way for you to share your feelings with me. Words, maybe.”
“Safe word Worcestershire Sauce,” she says, and the tone of her voice carries the traces of a giggle she probably bites back. “I’m so sorry for kicking you, but it was a reflex. Want to try again?”
“Yeah, sure. Let me go grab my sparring gear real quick.” A laugh bursts from her lungs, and I can’t help but laugh with her. I might not be able to make her climax, but at least I can humor her. “Maybe I’ll even invest in a helmet too, because human copulation seems brutal.”
“You’re lucky we didn’t get to the point where I try to eat you.”
I freeze in place. “What?”
Her eyes grow wide, and her smile dissipates. “It was supposed to be a joke.”
Terrian females two planets over do that. If she keeps joking like this, she’ll replace the penis misunderstanding with something much worse. “Let’s call it a night, and I’ll reflect on the feedback you so graciously provided.”
That lures another giggle from her. “Guess I wasn’t a very good teacher tonight?”
“No worse than your student.” I rise, then reach my hand out to help her up. “Come on. I got here late, my eye is hurting like crazy, and the Horn Splitter is at the opposite side of Sunhaven. You stuck to your end of the bargain, now it’s my turn.”
“So… the Horn Splitter is what? A club?”
“Uh-huh.” Kinda.
Four
Izzy
The Horn Splitter is a club alright.
A fight club.
The moment Adrin leads me inside, I hit a dense wall of sweat tinged with traces of iron, and my guts tie into a knot. Two males brace against each other on a raised platform at the center, their horns tangled.
“This is a slaughterhouse,” I say.
One where every single set of eyes belonging to a male shoot to me, which makes up about ninety-nine percent of the patrons. Dressed in blue shorts with a tailhole, and a matching top that makes even my handful of tits spill over the neckline—as per Adrin’s recommendation—I have the urge to fade into a corner.
No such luck. This joint has no corners. It’s all wavy walls decorated with round, colorful glass inlets.
“Only male pride gets slaughtered here,” Adrin says with a grin, his hand hovering over the small of my back as he ushers me toward the bar. “Nothing else dies, unless you count the dreams of those fighters who want to make it big but don’t have what it takes.”
I climb onto the barstool. “And what does it take?”
“Stupidity,” a male calls out, and gives a yank on Adrin’s horn. “And perhaps superior horn density, right, little brother?”
Adrin smacks his hand away. “By two damn minutes. Izzy, meet Odrin. My ever-annoying brother.”
Twin brother. Identical down to the alignment of ridges on their light-gray horns, and just as handsome. “Nice to meet you, Odrin. I’m Izzy.”
“The female with a tail on the wrong side of her body.” A boyish smirk tugs on his lips, stretching wider when his attention falls to Adrin’s bruise. “Whatever happened to your eye? Did she dickslap you during homework?”
“Your brother knows?”
“Relax. He was the one who suggested I approach you,” Adrin says before he turns his attention back to his brother. “And it’s not a penis. They have erectile tissue to increase the blood flow to the organ.”
Odrin cocks his head my way. “Is that true?”
It’s news to me. “We don’t exactly over-analyze our clit back home. If science says that’s the case, it’s probably true.”
“Easier to arouse compared to our females.” Odrin’s expression turns earnest. “Probably easier to please as well. Still not touching that cropped backside.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Adrin waves the bartender over. “Talking crap and pushing buttons is his way of getting females all riled up until they succumb to his alleged charm.” He points at the carousel of holograms with pictures of drinks to choose from. “Which one would you like?”
I flip through the catalogue and, unable to read the names, choose what may or may not be a piña colada. “What do you mean by riling up females?”
“Jovi’resh,” Adrin says, his voice rising over the sudden shouts and bellows surrounding us as the crowd chooses a winner. “His specialty. He’ll get you furiously mad until you snap into attack mode, wait until you emotionally exhaust yourself, then overwhelm you with male dominance until you submit.”
The moment my eyes snap to Odrin, he winks at me, saying, “There’s nothing better for initiating angry make-up sex. You two have fun.”
At that, he joins the crowd.
Psychological manipulation.
My friend Steph told me quite a bit about it, and my program at work has a sub-folder for all those sneaky techniques. “Should I be concerned?”
“Nah.” Adrin sits down beside me, his white shirt lining his upper body so perfectly. “My brother doesn’t care for your tailless backside. Freaks him out. Nothing personal. Blame it on our lack of exposure to other species.”
“Does it freak you out?”
A wolfish grin steals over his mouth, dimples forming underneath his cheeks. “I’d have to take a closer look once the swelling on my eye goes down.”
A tingle of guilt sparks at his words. Yeah, kicking him in the face wasn’t on my to-do list, but he tortured my clit so hard it just happened. A shame, really. This male isn’t lacking skill — only confidence.
When the guy behind the bar hands us a glass and a dark bottle, Adrin takes both, and reaches the glass to me. “Alright, woman. Let’s find your three future saikhs.” He lets out a deafening whistle. “Hey Silas!”
When he waves him over, I lean into him, whispering, “Didn’t you say he’s gay?”
“Uh-huh, but he loves gossip.” The moment Silas approaches, Adrin hands him the bottle. “Have you met Izzy yet? She’s from Earth.”
Silas grabs the bottle with a dip of his head. “Nice to meet you, Izzy. Adrin and I are attending Earth Women 101 together on campus. It’s… interesting.”
“Yeah, about that.” Adrin clears his throat. “I did some research after class and, would you believe it, the datawiz says it’s not a penis at all. The area only engorges to increase the amount of pleasure they perceive.”
“Really?” Silas rakes a palm over his black braid, thick biceps poking out from his blue shirt. “So it was just a misunderstanding. We should probably tell the others, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. And those rumors about women choosing saikhs? It’s all true. Izzy will choose three from among the new graduates.”
“I hope I’ll find what I’m looking for.”
Silas cocks his head. “What are you looking for? I have excellent romance skills.”
Yup, he’s also gay and has a boyfriend.
“You know,” I say with a shrug. “Funny, honest, decent.”
As expected, both males exchange a look of confusion before their eyes track to me, scanning me for signs of a concussion, or anything else explaining this absurdity. Apparently, the entire planet thinks choosing saikhs based on their characters is a mental disease.
They talk a bit more about other classes and mentors before Silas excuses himself politely, returning to a table where four males swoon over a Vandalar female.
I take a sip of my drink. Not a piña colada, but not bad either. “And now?”
“And now we wait until it’s time to get eyes on you.” Adrin gestures something to the bartender, then runs his fingers over the tips of my hair. “Is grayish-blue a common hair color for humans?”
I gig
gle. “They’re died. My natural hair is light brown. So, how did you break your leg?”
“Neyja told you?”
“Uh-huh.”
He grabs the bottle from the bartender and takes a sip. “During a fight. Another Vandalar male, also a current scholar, broke the rules. Scooped me up by the legs using his horns, slammed me to the ground, and broke my lower leg in two places.”
When he lifts it and pulls his pants up, I almost gag at the sight of a massive scar running down his shins. “Just looking at it hurts.”
“It’s healed,” he says. “And I still kicked his ass and won the tournament.”
Tournament? “You fight for credits?”
“It’s how I make my living. I think it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
He grabs my hand, fingers intertwining, and guides me off the stool. “Time for a round of sarish alniz.”
Before I manage to demand a translation, Adrin pulls me behind him through the crowd, dodging other males left and right as he makes his way toward the center. Toward the platform!
My toes curl in my sandals. “You’re not seriously going up there, are you?”
“We’re both going up there.”
Oh, hell no.
I drop his hand and turn on my heels.
At my very first step, Adrin grabs me by my hips and lifts me onto the platform, then climbs up next to me. “Relax. It’s just a game.”
Relax? I tried to keep a low profile for half a decade, so this doesn’t exactly come naturally to me. “What game? Why are we doing this?”
Grabbing my shoulders, he positions me on a red X marked on the ground. “Stand here in the corner.”
Alas, I finally found a corner, but I feel the opposite of invisible. Probably because everyone stares at me, and I’m acutely aware of the breeze licking over my tailhole whenever the door opens.
“I bet by now, Silas told half the club that you have cunt with a built-in pleasure button.” Adrin brushes his hands up and down my arms, but it does little to calm my nerves. “Now you just stand there, be beautiful, and they’ll line up to join your estate after graduation. And what better way to get attention on you than a game we rarely ever get the chance to play?”