by Beva John
She nods.
“What did you call it before – a prick?”
“Penis. Dick.”
“Isn’t that a Human name?”
“It can be.”
“Imagine a cock being called Magnar.” I laugh at her look of alarm. “No, forgive me. We will call it whatever you like.”
“Male member. Staff. I’ve even heard it called a hammer.”
I love the way she blushes. “A carpenter’s tool?”
Now she laughs as well. “I suppose it is silly to worry about the name. It is just a word. You can call it a cock.”
“Thank you. Now, to get back to the task at hand.” I hold up the assistor and wave it slightly, making her smile.
“Yes, sir.”
She separates her legs again and shifts so that her cunt is available again. She is more relaxed now, having laughed and joked with me. And yes, her trousers are damp in that area. I wish I could lean down and smell her arousal, but I fear that would alarm her.
I must proceed slowly with this woman.
I place the assistor over the damp spot and rub in circles, getting her accustomed to the vibrations.
Then once again, draw it up toward her clitoris.
I cannot see her actual little nub, for it is covered by the cloth of her trousers, but I imagine it pink and delicate, hidden in her folds. I shift the assistor back and forth, up and down to find just the right touch that makes her sigh and pull her breath in sharply.
Repeatedly, I address her sweet spot.
I must be doing something right because she clutches my thighs with her hands.
“Does this feel good?” I murmur.
She gasps. “I don’t know. It is so different. Not what I expected.”
“You should feel a pressure building inside.”
She nods.
“Excellent.”
For a moment, I pull the assistor away, to give her body a reprieve and she groans. She bucks her hips, seeking out more pressure.
I bring it back to her clitoris, this time, circling, rubbing along the sides. Over and over. Lottie writhes on my lap. I know she is close. I then tap the assistor gently on the center of her mound.
Lottie cries out and shudders. I can feel her inner muscles clenching and unclenching.
Her natural liquid seeps out further.
I hold her close, wanting to share every spasm of pleasure. She is magnificent.
After what feels like a full minute, Lottie relaxes against me, completely spent.
For a moment she breaths deeply with her eyes closed, but then she opens them and gasps out, “Good heavens. That was completely unexpected. I had no idea ...” her voice trails off. She composes herself and addresses my reflection in the mirror before us. “That is nothing like cleaning my teeth.”
I laugh a little. “You are right. But I did not expect it to be so ... intense for you.”
She turns and looks over her shoulder at me. “Is it always that way?”
I cannot lie to her. “No. At least not in my experience. I am beginning to think that the reputation of human females is true – that you are more responsive than Brune females.”
She looks embarrassed. “Dear me. Is that bad?”
Only bad for me, because I don’t think I will ever be able to forget the feel of her shuddering as she sat on my lap. Her beautiful face as she cried out; her hands gripping my thighs.
I want to turn her around and kiss her.
I want to take her to her bed and claim her a hundred times with my cock in her cunt. I never want to let her go.
But I can’t say that, so I say only “Not bad at all.” I won’t remind her that human females’ responsiveness is why they were abducted from Earth for thousands of years.
Why my cousin Tomor is obsessed with them.
I understand him better now.
I shift, uncomfortable because my cock is as hard as a rock, pressing into her. Lottie is so innocent; she probably doesn’t realize what it is. “Pardon me,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “Do you mind if I take care of my needs as well? I can’t very well go around with a cockstand like a Katoll.”
She blushes and quickly climbs off my lap. “I am so sorry.”
“No, do not apologize.”
I stand and look at the various assistors. I am so primed to explode; I think that any one of them will work quickly.
Lottie says, “Do you want me to leave?”
“No. This is a simple biological function. No need to hide or be embarrassed.” And I do like the thought of her watching me, just I watched her.
I loosen the drawstring of my pants and release my cock which is pointing upwards.
Lottie gasps and looks down, biting her lip.
“Are we very different from humans?”
She blushes again but meets my gaze bravely. “You seem about the same. Although larger, which is to be expected given your height, and blue. And no hair.”
I want to ask her what she thinks of the royal cock, but I will not.
Instead, I fasten the assistor over my cock. It is a simple tube structure with an inner squeezing and tugging action.
Within two minutes, I am done. As I ejaculate into the assistor, I wish that I was ejaculating into a warm human cunt instead, but I will keep that thought to myself.
I am a gentleman and her employer, not a rutting beast.
“Is that it?” Lottie asks.
“Yes. I believe male arousal is much simpler than female.”
When I leave Lottie’s rooms, I go directly to Palace security and make certain the recordings from today are destroyed. I do not want anyone to be able to see what we just did together.
“Yes, sir.”
LOTTIE
Once Prince Magnar leaves, I sink back down onto the chair in the bathroom. For a long moment, I stare at my reflection, unable to recognize the person I have become.
How could I have lived twenty-seven years and not known that my body was capable of such feelings?
Prince Magnar was right. Climaxing did improve my circulation and I am remarkably relaxed now, as if I had received an extra-long massage.
In a way, I suppose I did – a cunt massage.
That is another word I have never said before.
And I glance at the assistor wondering how soon I can use it again.
I laugh, thinking about the other women at Baby Town. Did everyone know about this and was I the only clueless one?
Obviously, I have more research to do.
And I don’t think I will ever forget the sight of Prince Magnar’s blue cock – long and thick – almost the width of my wrist, I think. Good heavens. Most likely Brune women are larger down there, because there is no way his male member could fit inside – but I stop myself before finishing that thought.
The Prince is my employer.
I may be pregnant with his child, but he is engaged to Lady Jing.
I take another deep breath and shake my head, reminding myself to keep my place.
After a few minutes, I carefully replace various assistors back in the bathroom cupboard. Allathone is certainly a strange and wonderful world full of things I could have never imagined.
CHAPTER TEN
MAGNAR
The Brune are governed by a constitutional monarchy. The real power is invested in the Assembly, a parliament which is made up of elected individuals and led by the Prime. The monarchy has provided guidance and inspiration to the Assembly for more than ten thousand years. My family has been the ruling family for more than two thousand years. My father worked closely with the different Primes, spearheading various changes in the law.
My father worked tirelessly for the rights of all sentient beings on Allathone. The Katoll and Namvire already had some rights when my father ascended to the throne, but overtime, non-travelers such as Humans and even the Teeks obtained rights as well. One of the last pieces of legislation, providing equal rights of voting, property ownership, inheritance and emplo
yment was finalized a few days before he died. I remember my father on his deathbed taking my hand and saying, “At last. Now I can go to Paradise in peace.”
The laws are in place, but the implementation will take years. I hope someday that Allathone’s example will be followed throughout the five galaxies, which is why I arranged to meet with Fahar, one of Brune members of the Intergalactic Cooperative Council members. The Cooperative Council is the governing body for the five galaxies.
Council members are appointed by the different traveler species. Brune appointments are chosen by our Assembly.
Fahar and I converse for several days. Theoretically he is here to discuss mining regulations on one of our outposts, but I know he has another agenda. The mining could have been discussed digitally over our data screens. There is no need for a face to face interaction unless one wants complete secrecy.
On the third day of his visit, after the midday meal, I ask him to walk with me in the palace gardens. As we step outside, out of earshot of our various servants and secretaries, he says bluntly, “Haldis is dying and we need to find a replacement.”
Haldis is another of the Brune members of the Cooperative Council.
I bow my head briefly. “My condolences. Haldis always seemed to be such a healthy traveler.”
“His heart is failing.”
I nod. It is a common problem with the Brune. “Are you asking me for recommendations for his replacement?”
Fahar shakes his head. “No. I am offering the position to you.”
I laugh. There is no other appropriate response. “I am the Crown Prince. I cannot take a position with the Council.”
“Your mother may live another ten years. Think what good you could do.”
“I am needed here.”
“The Cooperative needs you. The other Brunes on the Council are old travelers. They don’t have your perspective.”
For a moment I am tempted. So much of what my father did on Allathone was subtle. He had to maintain his impartiality, keeping most of his political opinions to himself.
Fahar continues. “The monarchy is primarily ornamental. Your duties are mostly ceremonial. But as a member of the Council, you could make lasting changes. Make the five galaxies better.”
He is correct. The monarchy has influence, but not the true power it once had. “I will think on it.”
Fahar nods. “Thank you.”
I say, “You may send me information as if I am making a recommendation to replace Haldis. I do not want any record that I could be considering the position for myself.”
“I understand, Your Royal Highness.”
The thought of leaving Allathone is painful, but the opportunity to do more is exhilarating. If I were a member of the Council, I could champion the rights of all persons throughout the five galaxies. It would make my father proud.
But if I take that position, will I want to abandon it when my mother dies? I doubt it. Having tasted freedom, I will want to remain, doing good. That will mean abdicating the throne, something that has not happened for nearly 900 years.
If I did abdicate, my cousin Chell would be the next in line. He is in his fifties, never married. Would he be an adequate king?
It seems blasphemous to even think of it.
I think of my future child, the one Lottie is carrying.
Would it be right to abdicate, taking away her birthright? I know our child will be a girl because the doctors have already told me so. I have seen the digital viewings of her tiny body inside Lottie’s womb.
Nine hundred years ago, one of my ancestors abdicated, leaving the throne to a younger male cousin. He did so because he had a head injury and periods of unconsciousness and felt he could not serve reliably as king.
His abdication led to civil war, which only ended when he was killed.
I would not want to do that to my people, and yet ...
I turn to Fahar. “Stay with me for a few days. We will talk again.”
“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”
I have much to think upon.
As I leave Fahar and return to my offices, my secretary Naj informs me that there is a Namvire wishing to speak to Lottie. I stiffen. This is highly irregular. What does this stranger want with Lottie? “What is this about?”
“His name is Raan, House of Vasuren. He was the one who arranged for Lottie’s purchase.”
I do not want to converse with human traffickers. “Why is he here?”
“He wishes to speak with her, to make certain that she is safe and being taken care of kindly.”
“If he is so concerned about her safety, he should not have sold her in the first place.”
My secretary says, “Should I send him away?”
“No, I will speak with him.”
I am surprised when the Namvire is announced, for he is accompanied by a human female who is obviously pregnant. I don’t understand her presence. Is she a surrogate like Lottie? I did not think the Namvire used surrogates. “Your Royal Highness,” Raan says formally and bows his head. “Thank you for granting me an audience.”
I ask him what his business is on Allathone.
He informs me that he is currently on Allathone to meet with one of the governors to talk about a trade agreement.
I wish him success in his endeavor and then lean forward. “Who is your female?”
“My wife, Sylvia.”
She bows as well. “Your Royal Highness.”
This is entirely unexpected. “Forgive my astonishment,” I say after a moment. “I thought that the Namvire did not marry.”
“We don’t usually,” Raan admits pleasantly. “But I hope that more of them will follow my example when they see our happiness.”
I narrow my eyes, looking at this human female more closely. Although she is taller, Sylvia looks similar to Lottie. Pale pinkish skin but with lighter hair. Sylvia is dressed in expensive linens with a shining name necklace around her throat. Her fingernails are painted a bright blue and shaped into points as if she has claws like the Namvire.
How a human female can be part of the Namvire culture, I do not know, but I am intrigued. “How did you meet?”
Raan says, “Sylvia was in a storage unit, along with your surrogate. They were once owned by the Red Sands Company and were purchased by the captain of my ship. I was the Merchandizing Officer and arranged for their sales.”
“Which is against Intergalactic law,” I say coolly. I find Raan personable, but I do not trust him.
Raan shrugs. “I did my best to find a suitable home for each of the women. I am here now, to make amends, if necessary. I wish to be certain your surrogate is happy and well situated.”
“And if she is not?”
“I am willing to pay for her to find another situation. Possibly even relocate to Little Earth.”
I fold my arms in front of myself. “There is no need for that. Lottie is a citizen here and she freely chose to be my surrogate.”
“I am glad to hear it. Do I have your permission to speak with her briefly? Privately?”
What is he implying? I sense that he does not trust me as much as I do not trust him. “Of course. I have nothing to hide. There can be no better place for a human on all Allathone than in my palace. You may speak with her.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And when you are finished, we will speak again.”
It does not matter what Lottie tells him – under no circumstances will I allow her to leave Allathone.
Raan bows his head. “Yes, sir.”
LOTTIE
“You have visitors ma’am.”
I look up from my drawings, surprised. I know almost no one on Allathone – except possibly for my friend Dorothy who is about to deliver her child and cannot visit me at present.
I live a quiet life at the palace, doing what I wish, growing the royal baby. I have no visitors.
“Who are they?”
“A Namvire. Raan, of the House of Vasuren, and his human wife, Sylvia.”
I am even more surprised, now. I have heard of very few interspecies marriages. “Let them enter.” I wipe my hands on a towel and prepare to meet them.
A moment later, a Namvire and a Human woman appear in the doorway and my footman introduces them.
“Miss Jamison?” the Namvire says. He is tall and yellowish with scales and a tail.
It is strange to hear my last name. “Yes.”
The Namvire touches his name necklace. “I am Raan, House of Vasuren and I am the person who arranged to have you come to Allathone.”
The woman says, “And I am Sylvia. You don’t know me, but we were all in the same storage unit, all in pods, and so that’s how I know of you, and that’s why we’re here.”
“And why is that?” Both Raan and Sylvia seem friendly, but I am still cautious.
Sylvia says, “We just wanted to make sure that you are fine. Some of the pods opened earlier and remained closed. It looked like you were abducted during the Civil War. I came from the 1960’s.”
“Actually, I was abducted a few years after the War of the Rebellion.”
Sylvia smiles. “I’m afraid history was never one of my strong points. But it is very nice to see you and it looks like you’re doing well, living here in a palace. That has to be good, right?”
I ask them to sit down and then offer them some refreshments, which a servant runs off to find, and as we sit talking, I realize how wonderful it is to speak to another human.
I ask her what she does now and learn that her husband works for his family store and Sylvia makes viewings about various historic items. “It sounds very interesting. Like a walking, talking newspaper advertisement.”
Sylvia beams at her husband. “It is,” she says, and I think it remarkable that she seems happily married to a traveler that looks like a lizard. Personally, I don’t think I could ever become accustomed to a man with a tail.
Sylvia asks what I am doing, and I tell her about my birds and that I have been studying Earth’s history.
Sylvia says, “It’s definitely a mess, isn’t it? I can’t believe that our political leaders just destroyed each other.”
I say, “Well, having seen some of the devastation from the War of the Rebellion, I don’t think I am surprised. I think men are particularly bloodthirsty and opinionated and willing to kill each other to prove their point.”