SHALIA’S DIARY
Book 7
A Clans of Kalquor Story
By
Tracy St. John
© copyright December 2015, Tracy St. John
Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright March 2016
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s
imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or
events is merely coincidence.
Kindle Edition
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PLEASE NOTE:
Shalia’s Diary is an ongoing serial story. This is Book 7 of that tale, picking up where Book 6 left off. It is highly advised that you read Books 1 - 6 in their entirety before reading this part.
July 10
It’s been a few days since I last recorded anything. All my free time is taken up with Anrel, which I’m sure makes plenty of sense. I want every single moment I can get with my little girl, especially since we came so close to not having this time together. Tep has to chase me out of Isolation to rest. I’m still recovering from the It’s takeover and being poisoned to flush it out.
My little Anrel is hanging in there. She’s still got a long way to go before her tiny little body can venture out of Isolation. Her organs, though developed ahead of schedule, are still not strong enough by far. But my pint-sized fighter is determined to stick around, and for that I am profoundly grateful.
I was recording a message to Clan Seot this morning. I still look like hell, but I wanted to show Anrel off to her prospective fathers. Betra walked in, interrupting me.
I smiled up at the Imdiko and paused my recording. “Look who is here, small fry,” I cooed to Anrel who was kicking her adorable little feet in weak slow motion. “Uncle Betra is here to see his precious little niece.”
“Actually, Tep sent me in here to make you leave for a little while,” Betra corrected. Yet he wasted no time in bending over the hover chair I sat in to fuss over Anrel. He stroked her head, her arms, her legs. “Hello, sweetling. Hello, little heart. Just look at that pretty face.”
Anrel paid no attention, as usual. She’d discovered for the hundredth time that day how tasty her fist is. All her attention was centered on stuffing it in her mouth. Betra and I said ridiculously gooey things in voices pitched high. I’m sure we looked like idiots ... especially my liaison since he’s well over six feet tall and made of deliciously sculpted muscle. Seeing such a behemoth cooing and making silly faces is its own brand of sweet and goofy.
Finally my level of admittedly shaky maturity asserted itself. “I just want to finish recording a message to Clan Seot. They should see this adorable little baby. I’m dying to get their reaction to her.”
Especially since Anrel is still barely big enough to fill a Kalquorian’s hands. I wanted to know how my suitors will respond to seeing such a tiny, vulnerable little being. She continues to wear a sensor vest that can be hooked up to feed her intravenously with medications and nutrition. Will Clan Seot be horrified? Or will their hearts melt? It’s important for me to discover how they respond to a helpless child.
I also want to do the same with my second batch of suitors, Clan Aslada. If I’m going to trust any men to be fathers to my child, they have to show me they deserve her. That they can take care and protect her. Heaven knows with my track record, she’ll need strong people around. I wish I was stronger myself. Some days I feel as weak as Anrel. It’s pathetic.
Betra surprised me by saying, “Don’t record the message. There is a better option on its way.”
“Better option?” I asked. “Like what?”
“Like speaking to your suitors in real time.” He grinned. “The ship will be in range of mini-portals in less than a week.”
“And I can talk to Kalquor?” I gasped. “I can talk to the clans face-to-face for real?”
The news couldn’t have been better. I knew about miniature wormholes, bridges through space much too small for spacecraft to use. Yet they were perfect for instant communication, so long as you had someone on the other end of the portal that you wanted to talk to.
Betra had better news to come. “Yes, but that’s not all. There are two portals, Shalia. One will allow instantaneous transmissions to Kalquor. The other goes to the rim of Earth’s solar system. There is a relay station out there, which will bounce our signal to your old home world. The delay is only a few seconds if you wish to contact your dads.”
I gave a little squeal of childish delight. Anrel’s face screwed up at the high-pitched sound as she thought about crying. I immediately covered her face in light butterfly kisses to make up for startling her. She chirruped, yawned, and went back to sucking her fist.
Once she was settled again, I resumed my excited reaction. “How long will we be in range?” I asked.
“Three days. That should give you plenty of time to set up and have decent conversations with your candidates and fathers.”
“Erase recording,” I told my handheld. “I definitely want to talk to everyone in real time.”
Tep’s long frame stepped into the room. The ship’s head doctor eyed Betra severely. “I asked you to get her out of here. She needs to take a break.”
“I was working on that,” my liaison said hurriedly. He scooped Anrel out of my lap, her usual spot when I sit with her. I’m regaining my strength, but my arms get shaky after a few minutes of cradling her.
“Bye, sweet baby,” I said, sad as always when we are forced to part. Her eyes were closing in readiness to nap.
Tep came close to squeeze my shoulder. “Katrina is already here to sit with her. She’s busy flirting with Dr. Ret at the moment.”
That made some of the gloom disappear. Dr. Ret is Captain Wotref’s Imdiko. Katrina has been carrying on with their clan for a few weeks now. I’m beginning to suspect it’s serious.
Betra settled Anrel in her tiny incubator that someone had rigged for her. Like the full-sized medibeds, it generates its own heat and is computerized for any treatments Anrel might need. Nothing is left to chance with my baby girl.
I know she is safe and getting the best possible care at all times. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m abandoning her every time my hover chair is floated out of Isolation. I can’t wait for the day when Anrel is strong enough for me to take to my quarters and keep at my side nonstop.
July 10
Betra guided me back to my quarters in the hover chair allotted to me until I’m back on my feet. I walk a little farther every day along with performing physical therapy, but it still doesn’t take much to wipe me out. The poisoning took one hell of a toll on my body. Plus my therapist is a sadistic shit named Dramok Resan. Okay, okay, I know he’s just doing his job. But there is something about that man that scrapes my nerves raw. Sometimes I think he enjoys putting me through the wringer and pushes me harder than is necessary.
At any rate, I get tired really fast. Anrel isn’t the only one with a long way to go.
It didn’t take us long to get to my rooms in the Matara section of the ship. I was greeted with smiles and inquiries about Anrel from my fellow travelers, Earther and Kalquorian alike. It’s nice to be cared about by so many.
Betra guided me into my sitting room. “Here or the sleeping room?” he asked.
“Here is fine,” I said. “Despite Tep’s worries, I�
��m not all that tired. No p.t. today, so I’ve got a little strength. That vampire Resan didn’t get the chance to steal my life force.”
Betra chuckled and watched me carefully as I got to my feet and walked to the lounger. “He’s doing something right when it comes to getting you back on your feet. It was only days ago that you would have to take a nap after an hour with Anrel.”
I sat down and mused. “You’re right. I’m recovering better than I thought.”
“Don’t rush it,” the Imdiko warned. “You still have to take it easy.”
I looked him over, appreciating as always his gorgeous physique. “I can’t wait to be cleared for sex. I’m not that religious, but it’s a sin to have someone like you running around and not enjoy every inch of that body.”
That brought out Betra’s goofiest grin. “You like it?” he asked. He ran his hands up his thighs, over his abdomen, ending with that chiseled chest that his armored formsuit can’t quite disguise. Then his hands traveled back down again.
“Gimme,” I begged, reaching for him. “Stop being such a tease.”
He stayed out of reach, but turned around to show me that pert round ass of his. His hands cupped his buttocks, accentuating their perfection. “Tease? Not me.”
“You mean brute. I’m telling Oses. He’ll teach you a lesson.”
Betra turned back around. His expression was a cross between anxiety and anticipation. Oses has his number in a lot of ways nowadays. I could tell Betra was weighing the pros and cons of being tattled on to the big weapons commander.
His grin turned saucy again. “Shalia, don’t you like to be teased?”
His hands went to the collar of the formsuit. He tugged, slowly opening it down the re-sealable seam that ran from the collar to his groin. I bit my lip as a hint of that wide chest came into view.
“You are so going to get it,” I warned him, licking my lips as a triangle of fabric opened up to display more coffee-with-cream colored flesh. Mentally, I urged him on. Even if I couldn’t have sex, I wasn’t averse to the strip show.
“Yeah? What is it you’re going to give me?” Betra pulled the top of the formsuit wide, displaying his shoulders. Gorgeous, strong shoulders. I heard a tiny groan spill from my throat.
“Bastard,” I whispered. I didn’t tell him to stop.
The Imdiko’s arms peeled free of the uniform’s long sleeves. Veined biceps joined the muscled shoulders to delight my eyes. I thought of all the times those arms had held me. I shivered.
Betra saw. He damned near gloated over the effect he was having on me. “Poor Shalia,” he whispered. “Ready men at her beck and call, and she can’t have them. Poor, poor girl.”
He pulled at the seam again, opening his formsuit to just below his navel. The ridges of his abdomen came into view. I could have humped the double row of eight hills for days on end. Betra was too magnificent.
“Oses is going to parade you up and down the ship naked,” I threatened him. “I’ll tell him to.”
Betra’s eyes widened. The bulge that had formed at his crotch grew bigger still. The Imdiko possesses a dominating personality, particularly when it comes to sex, but he also has a weakness for being humiliated. I think the differing drives confuse him as much as me.
“I like to show off,” he purred. “I can imagine how exciting it would be to be shown off.”
“On a leash,” I added, seeing the excitement growing in his eyes as well as parts south. “With a switch striping your ass as you’re walked.”
It was Betra’s turn to shiver. However, his smile only got more evil. He turned around. “Do you mean this ass?”
He pushed the lower part of his uniform down. There it was, his perfect ass, more gorgeous than any master’s sculpture has ever been. I sighed as he rubbed his palms up and down it, wishing it was me touching him.
“Keep going,” I urged.
He grinned at me over his shoulder. Then he bent over – hallelujah – to tug his boots off. His butt flexed in entrancing ways as he did so. He peeled his formsuit down, baring firm chiseled legs. I drank him in from head to heels. I couldn’t get enough.
The man is a bona fide work of art.
Betra turned slowly, drawing out the enjoyment of my appreciation. My poor wrecked body did its best to forget it was in no shape for wild abandon. I could feel my nipples drawing in tight and hard. My pussy was wet, salivating for more than it could have. I should have been mad at Betra for his cruel taunting, but instead I drowned in delight. I figured, what the hell, I can always rub one out ... or better yet, ask him to do it for me.
As the Imdiko’s sweetest assets came into view, I was all eyes. His cocks, the larger stacked over the smaller, were livid with excitement. Veined and glistening with natural lubrication, the tapered bullet lengths jutted straight out from his groin. Prophets preserve us. I could have flung my legs wide right then and there for him. I almost did.
“You’re killing me,” I moaned.
Betra’s smile was humorous with a tinge of cruelty. “You like these,” he said, stroking himself with both hands. “You like feeling them fill your pussy and ass. You love being fucked with them.”
“Which I can’t right now,” I pointed out with a pout. “You know I can’t have sex. Yet here you are, torturing me with your gorgeous self.”
He walked towards me, his pace measured, his hands still working his cocks. “There are still things we can do,” he said. “Things that won’t tax your strength too far.”
I watched him approach, my body heating feverishly as he neared. “Please Betra,” was all I could manage.
He stood in front of me. He let go of his secondary cock and his hand drifted in front of my face. “Lick it.”
His palm and fingers were covered in his juices. I eagerly opened my mouth for him. I lapped his palm clean, sighing with happiness to taste him. Sweetish-spice, like cinnamon, exploded on my tongue. I sucked each of his fingers, my head bobbing back and forth as if I sucked cock. I didn’t stop until I’d tongued him clean.
“Now this one,” Betra said, offering his other hand.
As I mouthed that one, his other hand tugged the collar of my blouse down, slipping the wide scoop neck over my shoulders and down my arms. My bra straps followed, and he pulled the cups away from my breasts, baring them. He cupped one mound and then the other, then stroked over them. He tugged on my already hardened nipples, sending blasts of pleasure straight down to my pussy. I moaned as I licked his hand clean.
When I had claimed the last drop of moisture, he used both hands on my breasts. I looked with longing at the cocks bobbing only inches from my face. “Mouth or hands or both?” I asked him.
“Neither for the moment,” he said, command turning his voice into steel. “Just sit there while I play with your tits.”
His eyes had that ‘lord and master’ look he gets when we have sex. Disobedience would result in punishment ... probably the kind I didn’t actually like. So though my hands itched to grab his flesh and my mouth watered to taste it, I didn’t dare move.
Betra massaged my breasts, his touch firm and demanding. Not hurtful, however. His was the air of a man enjoying what belonged to him rather than pushing me to prove obedience. I had the idea that my acquiescence was a given, something he expected. The ownership attitude excited me. I remained still, giving myself over to Betra’s right to indulge himself with my body as he saw fit.
He paused in his erotic groping to roll my nipples between thumbs and forefingers. I gasped at the darts of pleasure his touch gave me, but I did not move. I dove into the fantasy of being his toy, his plaything, with no will of my own. I existed only for his enjoyment. The idea excited me.
Betra tugged at my nipples, encouraging them to draw tighter into sharp points. The tiny darts grew into lightning bolts, electrifying my body. I clutched at the lounger on either side of me. My fingers dug into the plush fabric. It felt so good to be his.
When he spoke, his voice had a growling quality to it.
“You are beautiful when you give yourself like this,” Betra said. “So sweet with surrender. You excite me, Shalia.”
I looked up into his face. He wore a mix of emotions that battled for supremacy: strength, demand, desire, and compassion. Seeing him like that made me want to give him everything.
Betra released my breasts and gripped the back of the lounger, bracing himself on either side of my head. He brought one knee up next to my leg. Then the other knee, so that he knelt straddling me. His primary cock brushed over my lips. The sweet cinnamon-y flavor filled my senses, drowning me in want.
“Lick me. Suck me,” he commanded.
I was all too happy to obey. My tongue flicked over the tapered tip of him, gathering the delicious droplet waiting there. It tasted much as his lubricating juices did with the addition of savory saltiness. I moaned my appreciation, and his cocks jerked at the sound.
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