by Roscoe James
A naked man, his hard cock bouncing, waved them in and yelled something at the uncaring crowd before running ahead.
The place was huge. And had rooms. And from the looks of it, it had several. One entire wall was a D screen of a city he’d read about called Manhattan. An earthscape of tall shiny buildings and lush green trees in a park. It paled compared to Meline.
One corner of the room was a writhing heap of slick sweaty naked bodies of every type. A cock would disappear at one place and another would appear somewhere else.
Lucy gave a tug and headed toward some people sitting on sofas and chairs that were grouped around a low table with a huge tray of rangdon spice in the middle.
A lot of them were chatting, a few of them yelling, several just stared at nothing in particular, their jaws slack, their pupils black pools of nothing.
“Lucy!”
It was the girl they’d run into earlier.
“And you brought the stud!” He felt his cock fondled.
“Hey, watch out, that’s all mine!”
“You are such a selfish bitch!” The woman raised her hand in a high-five.
He’d told Lucy he wasn’t going to play. She’d said she could work around it, but that he might have to put up with a little touching.
“Damn, honey, what is the gorgeous hunk of man meat you’ve brought me?”
“Just keep your cock in your pants, Jason. He’s all mine.”
Damn, he thought, thank you Lucy.
Then he saw them. A lot of them. At least twenty. About half-and-half. Male and female. Some earthlings, but a lot of them from other planets.
He’d never seen an aznate female from the blue system naked before and he finally understood why they kept them under cover in public. Maybe not to an aznate, but to him she was absolutely the ugliest female he’d ever seen.
The mijon male beside her didn’t seem to agree with him, given the way the guy was eying her and the state of his cock. Well, both of his cocks.
Lucy tugged his leash and pulled him over to the collection of sex slaves, wrapped the end of his leash around a hook on the wall, obviously put there just for that purpose, grabbed the front of his vinyl jockstrap and with one pull tore it off, and sauntered away to a smattering of applause.
She’d warned him, but he still didn’t like it.
His half hard cock sticking out in a droop, Hill fell into parade rest, something he could do for hours, tuned the babble and music out, and watched from beneath his mask.
By the time she reached the couch, Lucy was naked. When she sat, it was on a hard cock. She was looking right at him as she slid down slowly until she was in the guy’s lap. Before she could settle, a woman was sucking one of her nipples and a man was kneeling at her feet shoving her knees apart.
Scanning the room, he finally found a face he recognized. Board member Hanson was giving new meaning to the term board member draped across some man’s lap, a flat wooden paddle turning his red ass redder with each loud smack.
So this is it, he thought. This is a glimpse into the inner workings of the people that dogged and throttled the worlds of the galaxy into submission and burdened them with contracts that sometimes left their own people starving.
He wanted to puke.
Half an hour later he still wanted to puke while the board member knelt beside him sucking one of the mijon male’s cocks. A woman knelt at the other cock and they seemed to be having some kind of race to see who could make the mijon come first. Now I’ve seen it all, he decided.
Fifteen minutes later, clearly the winner, board member Hanson’s mouth dripping green come, or whatever it was that came out of a mijon, he just wanted to leave.
He was about to call it quits, tear the mask off, and run when Lucy walked up and grabbed his cock, leaned close, and wined loud enough everyone could hear. “Everybody wants to play with you, cowboy.”
He searched her eyes and was relieved to see she hadn’t been dipping spice. “Forget it,” he whispered back.
She squeezed and tugged, her hand sliding to the end of all fourteen inches of his cock where she cupped the head in her palm before sliding back. It did nothing for him.
Leaning as close to his ear as she could get, her huge breasts pushed into his chest, she whispered urgently, “Look, I know you can’t, but you’re going to have to do something. Can you come again? You know, make yourself come? Like before?”
“Look, I told you before we came I wouldn’t! Now get me the hell out of here!”
Pushing away, her hand came to her mouth in an expression of awe, the same hand that had been pulling on his cock and she licked her palm, and said, “Oh my God! Sorry gang, gotta go! Stud here wants me all to himself!”
After she’d done a strange reverse strip to hoots and catcalls, she unhooked his chain, let it drop and led him out by his cock. Once the door closed behind them, in one swift move, he broke the cuffs that held his wrists together and went for the zipper on the back of the leather mask.
“Wait!” she hissed between clenched teeth, “Too many people are looking for you. Leave it on until we get back to my place.”
He left her the small single bunk, and threw some cushions from chairs on the floor and was sound asleep, his body mending and his heart soaring with Peenzan’s, before she’d even finished undressing.
* * * *
Peenzan woke with a start in a tangle of sheets and Pran. Careful not to wake her sleeping handmaiden, she extracted herself and wandered into the main sitting room. He was pulling at her heart and she smiled. That same pull wouldn’t let her sleep. Curse Zad for not telling her where to find him!
The lights came up and she heard a yawning Pran say, “Princess, are you okay?”
She sighed and let him go. “Yes, Pran. Just worried.”
“I’ll prepare your bath.”
“Pran?”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Do you still think me a fool?”
She watched Pran smile wistfully before answering, “I think that Bast has been exceedingly kind to you, my Princess. I pray she is half as kind to me.”
* * * *
Crenshaw pulled hard and grunted. Sweating, his wrists sore, he gave up. There’s no way to break them. Damn that woman! I’ll kill her.
His jaw was killing him and the seat of the couch was soaked from his slobbering around the fucking red ball she’d strapped into his mouth. His ass burned from the plug she’d stuck in it and he felt like a light-beam ship had taken a shortcut through his ass on its way to Rangdon.
The fucking pleasure ring she’d put around his cock and balls was going to kill him if he didn’t get it off. He felt it switch on, just as it had done every fifteen minutes since she’d put it there, and felt his cock pushing into the couch again as he got hard.
“Fuck,” he mumbled around the ball. Five minutes later, he felt the pull in his groin and the unwanted and unappreciated rush and tightening of his overworked muscles when he jerked and climaxed. Nothing came out. That was gone hours ago. It was all a sticky mess beneath him. Now it was just the excruciating agony of an overworked libido.
When he opened his eyes, he didn’t know how long he’d been out and started pulling frantically on his restraints again.
When his D chimed announcing an incoming call he actually tried to smile. Mumbling as loud as he could he finally managed to get the thing to answer.
“Blake? Is that you?”
He couldn’t see the screen, but he recognized the voice immediately. It’s that prick in production that had been trying to get a meeting with him since he’d arrived on the Meline moon. Don’t these people know we’re trying to destroy a world here?
He moaned around his little red ball. He knew the guy could see him. The D’s would follow any living breathing thing anywhere in a room. If it was unblocked, which his was, there was absolutely no privacy.
“Oh, sorry, I guess you’re…” And the guy laughed knowingly. “…ah, busy. I’ll call…”
Shit!
* * * *
As a UC Marine, sleeping only four hours and waking up alert and ready to go was second nature. Rolling to his feet, he realized he was naked and still covered in the oil Lucy had rubbed all over his body the night before.
She was naked sprawled lewdly on top of her sheets and he jumped in the shower.
Clean, naked, and making breakfast he heard her moan, “Damn, cowboy, it’s awful fucking early isn’t it?”
He shoved the synthetic bacon around in the pan and said, “I need you to go find Radd. He’s my lieutenant. You’ll find him at C barracks, box 2, left. Tell him ‘code Singapore 4’ and tell him to bring weapons. Tell him my name and tell him it’s important. He’ll come when you give him the code.”
He dropped some real eggs into the pan beside the bacon and wondered who the hell this woman was. He hadn’t seen real eggs in more than ten years.
By the time she got out of the shower and dressed, well, put something on—it didn’t cover much, but he guessed that was her idea of getting dressed—he had breakfast on the table and synco, the crappy synthetic coffee found on every Corporation light-beam ship, brewing.
“Uhhh cowboy, you shoulda’ said something. I’ve got the real stuff in a cabinet above the refrigerator.”
“Didn’t know,” he said around a mouthful of eggs. “And what the hell is a cowboy, anyway?”
She just laughed.
When she got ready to leave, he remembered, “Oh, and tell him to get me some clothes.”
Standing in her open door, she looked back and said, “Oh, I don’t know, I kinda like you like you are.”
* * * *
“No, Pran. Get me a royal robe. I need a place to hide something.”
Her sergeant was rattling around in her chest and she wondered what he was doing. She could tell he was okay for the moment. She also wondered if he realized what was happening to him. That made her worry, and she bent back to the mirror and pulled the feather under her eye.
Pran helped her with the heavy robe, and she pulled a stitch loose and slid the lightstick into place. Stepping back from the mirror, she turned right and left making sure the robe billowed correctly and inspecting her work.
Satisfied, she announced, “You too, Pran. I may need a witness.”
Pran’s face clouded, she curtsied, something she never did, and said somberly, “Yes, Princess.”
Peenzan was sad, but not overly so. I still have a chance to save him. I only hope I can say I’m sorry first.
* * * *
Crenshaw limped around his apartment on UC-1 and wondered when the damn salve on his ass would start working. It still burned like hell, and his cock and balls still throbbed.
Choosing a loose pair of slacks, he got dressed and slipped a small hand laser into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He’d checked the chairman’s schedule and when he saw the Princess of Meline scheduled for a meeting, he’d smiled. Yes, he knew exactly what would stop them.
He was actually whistling as he walked out his front door.
* * * *
Hill could feel her. It wasn’t like before when he first met her. It was clear, defined. A presence. It was as if she were standing beside him. It was so strong, he turned twice thinking he’d find her standing beside him.
The overwhelming feeling of presence morphed into one of sadness, and it made his chest ache.
“What is it?” he said to the wall. When there was no answer, he balled his fist and slammed it into a cabinet, then yelled like a trapped animal.
“Hey, Sergeant, you okay?”
When he looked up, he found Radd and Lucy standing in the doorway. He resented the intrusion.
“Okay, cowboy.” Lucy pushed past Radd. “Much as I hate it, here’s a uniform.
He turned away from them to pull his khakis on, not out of modesty, but because he thought his tear for Peenzan was too private to share.
Pulling his shirt on, he turned, rubbed his hands together, and said, “Boy, am I glad to see you!”
“Singapore 4? Hell, I was sure it was you. I still remember that night in Singapore we met up with those four…”
“Sorry, Radd. A lot to explain and not much time. And you have to know, this is dangerous. That means we might not make it to Singapore. Ever again. You with us?”
“Hell, asshole, you think I wanna miss out on all the fun? Assholes and elbows, that’s a UC Marine!”
Chapter Seven
Peenzan was surprised. The room was full. All twelve board members were seated, chatting animatedly, the chairman sat stoically at the head of the long table, and she cringed when she counted six fully armed Marines stationed around the huge room.
Standing a little straighter, pushing her shoulders back, fixing the chairman with a stare that said, “Don’t fuck with me Mister,” she strode to her place opposite the director at the long table, Pran a few feet to one side, and stood waiting, watching, and taking measure of her enemy.
The man looked even worse than he had just a few days earlier, if that was possible. His eyes set in black hollows, his cheeks seemed to sag and had a gray tinge to them, and his hands looked unsteady.
Protocol dictated she wait and speak only after being recognized by the secretary. Looking around, she realized the secretary wasn’t present and stifled a moan of impatience. They’re trying to kill us with the blunt end of bureaucracy. How absolutely cowardly, she thought.
Looking from Marine to Marine, she tried to read their alertness, tried to measure how quickly they’d react. Reaching into the folds of her robe, she pulled out a sheaf of papers. Her ticket to the head of the table, she hoped.
On each sheet the words, ‘We will not be conquered,’ was printed repeatedly in both Meline and Zandill. It was garbage. An excuse to walk to the other end of the long board room table and get close enough to the chairman to vaporize his head.
She didn’t know who Zad’s spy was. She only knew it was a woman. She surveyed the clerical staff sitting along the outside wall and found no worthy candidates, and just as quickly decided a good spy would never be obvious.
Then she saw him. Standing in a corner with a stupid grin on his face. Crenshaw was watching her every move. It was in his eyes. She recognized it immediately—he’s here to stop me. It only galvanized her resolve.
The chatter around the table swelled into an annoying din and she shut it out completely, turning instead to the soft ripple of her purr. He’s near, she realized, and she looked around the room with renewed alertness. He’s calm and full of purpose and moving. Like a knife, it stabbed her heart—he can feel me. He’s concerned.
“Don’t be,” she whispered and hoped to Bast he heard.
* * * *
He’d heard a sound like it once when he was a child visiting an aunt and uncle on earth. It was like a wisp of wind blowing through leaves. A whisper so faint he thought he’d imagined it. But it still made his heart pound.
Radd and Lucy had taken the lead and he slouched along close behind to keep his face hidden as much as possible. Radd had explained that he’d been cleared of all charges of terrorism and murder, but just so they could keep looking for him, he was now wanted for going AWOL.
The plan was forced on them by time constraints and was rudimentary at best. Lucy knew that a small fleet of lightbeam ships had already been sent to both planets carrying nuclear-based explosive devices big enough to crack a planet wide open. They were affectionately known as planet busters. She also knew that if they didn’t stop the Corporation immediately, there would be no reason to try.
Three people, three weapons, and four people to kill. At least. Lucy also explained that there was a meeting of the complete board this morning and that this would be their best opportunity. They’d agreed that once the first shot was fired, everyone was on their own. Once
they had four kills, they would each retreat as best they could and try to make it to Meline or Zandill.
So far so good, he thought when they waltzed through the main corporation reception area, Lucy smiling and saying something about being late. When they stepped into the long hall that lead to the boardroom, Radd swung a hand behind his back and snapped his fingers. The call to snap to attention, to be careful. Glancing around Radd’s head, he saw two UC Marines stationed outside the door to the boardroom.
He ducked back and they kept walking.
“Morning, Sir!”
“At ease, men.”
This was the tricky part. This was when they could lose the advantage of surprise.
He saw Lucy’s hand leave her side and knew she was flashing her ID card. He kept his head down and stopped behind Radd.
“Oh, they’re with me.”
“Sorry, ma’am, orders. Special meeting…”
The moment Radd stepped right, Hill stepped left, both of them landing stun chops to the base of the neck of their opponents. When the two Marines slumped, they caught them before they could make a lot of noise when their equipment hit the deck.
“Give me five minutes, then come in shootin’,” whispered Lucy. She was gone and the heavy doors clicked shut behind her.
Radd looked at his watch, held up five fingers, and grabbed one of the fallen guards, looking for a place to hide the body. One minute later, Radd held up four fingers and they both took up position where the guards had been standing.
* * * *
She watched the woman rush past and stop to lean close to the chairman and whisper something in his ear. The man smiled lecherously and rocked in his chair. The man is filth incarnate.
Was that a grimace, an involuntary flinch? She followed the woman’s eyes and found Crenshaw smiling blithely.
“Yes, sorry I’m late. This meeting of the board of directors of the United Corporation is now officially called to order. As our first order of business, we will now hear from Princess…” she said, and the woman stopped, looked up from her notes in surprise, before going on as if uncertain about something, “…Princess Peenzan of the planet Meline, who is here to discuss the unjust invasion of her planet by the Zandill people. Princess, if you’d like to begin.”