by Viki Storm
“I have wanted to do this for a long time,” he says wistfully, “But I have never had the…” he struggles to find the word.
“Creativity?” I guess. I don’t want to offend him, but that was the impression I got from Xalax. Males of his race are very logical and war-oriented. The females have the innovative spirit and creativity required for art and inventions. A female, he explained, came up with the idea for the metal suns blocking discs. She made a prototype and explained the basic workings, then a male building team saw it through. The genders worked together. Until the Sickness.
“That’s it exactly,” he says, snapping his fingers. “We are very grateful for your service to the fortress. We have never had a human take such an active role in our society before.”
I thank him again, but I know that he is indulging in a little of the false flattery and politeness he claims not to practice. There are plenty of Zalaryn males who think I am overstepping my bounds. They think humans are… well, subhuman would be the word, except that word doesn’t exist in their language. They think human males are puny and weak and their life has no value except food for the crows. Human females, they hold in barely higher regard, but only because the necessity of our reproductive value. Mostly, they think we should stay naked and chained to a filthy bed somewhere where the males can take turns trying to impregnate us.
Not all the males think like that, however. Xalax doesn’t. The High Builder and many others don’t.
He leaves me and I start to clean up for the day. I’m getting hungry, so that means it’s evening time. I gather my crew and praise the work that was done well and outline what we’re going to do tomorrow. The females bow to me, as if I’m their queen. And I suppose that I am their queen. Xalax hasn’t been coronated yet, but it’s scheduled for next month when the solar cycle is most auspicious. That’s when I will be their queen. For now I’m just a human bossing them around.
Back at our chambers (how easy and comfortable it was to start thinking of the rooms as ours) I take off my robes and hang them in the wardrobe closet. Xalax had robes fashioned for me in a finely-woven fabric, much softer than the rough-spun gowns the Zalaryn females wear. He says it’s woven from the hair of an animal called a Khoro and he showed me a picture of one on his comm-screen. I laughed and laughed, because the animal he showed me was a shaggy mountain goat. Basically, I’m wearing the alien version of cashmere.
I go into the washroom and fill the bathtub. I am addicted to a hot bath at the end of my working day. I try to tell myself I deserve it, that I’m covered with paint and clay and my muscles are sore from the physical labor, but I still feel a little guilty. I can’t believe I get to do something so opulent, but then again, I can’t believe a lot of things about my new life. Especially how easily I’ve adjusted. People can get used to anything, my grandmother used to say.
In the bath, I use something that he calls a laser to singe away the hairs on my legs and armpits, as well as the hair between my legs. Xalax says he prefers me bare down there and I comply. At first I was horrified at how it made me look, embarrassed at being so utterly exposed. But now I sort of like it. I like showing off my body for him, walking around and seeing his eyes roam all over my private areas.
I know he wants me, I know that we’re going to have to consummate. He needs an heir and the sooner the better. It’s only been a few weeks, so the High Councilors are leaving him alone, but they will start asking soon. It makes everyone nervous when the issue of succession is uncertain.
If he made an advance towards me, grabbed me and kissed me, told me to lie down and spread for him, I would do so. And not just because it’s my duty or even because he paid for me. I would do it because I wanted it. I’m so damned curious what it would feel like to have him on top of me, to let him fill me up and slide in and out.
But he said he wouldn’t lay a finger on me unless I asked him to do it. And that’s not going to happen. I just can’t say the words. It’s too forward, too embarrassing.
I sit at the little desk that Xalax has set up for me and I set to studying the language. He’s programmed the comm-panel with language exercises and writing assignments for me. I can tell that it’s the sort of thing they give the young Zalaryn children. I’m still trying to master writing the characters of the alphabet, but even the alphabet is weird. There are only seventeen letters, but each letter can make different sounds depending on the context. Like how “C” in English can make two different sounds, except every Zalaryn letter can make at least 5 different sounds, some of them can make 12. And it’s not just a different sound, it’s a different written meaning too, depending on what the other letters are paired with. So the writing looks very simple at first, until you realize a word with 4 letters really has at least 625 possibilities of combinations.
But I’m making progress. If five-year-olds can learn it, I can too. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I’m deep in thought, almost on the verge at reading a word, when the door pops open. I’m a little frustrated to be interrupted, but not really. I’m glad that Xalax is home. I want to tell him about the High Builder’s compliment.
“Hello?” I say. I am nude, as he demands, and I rise to greet him at the door. I used to feel awkward at the way my breasts would move, but now I stand tall and pull my shoulders back, pointing my breasts at him. Inviting him to touch me. Because void knows I want him to. And I know he won’t take the bait. It’s frustrating and maddening but also a little fun. I like teasing him. I like the anticipation of wondering if tonight will be the night he just desires me so much that he can’t help it and takes me.
So far I’ve been disappointed, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping.
“How are you?” he asks. He’s taking off his boots and unlacing his breeches. This is a new development. Usually, he keeps them on until bedtime.
“Good,” I say. The way he looks at me fills me with an instant blooming heat. There is not just hunger in his eyes tonight. There is desperation.
“Get on the bed,” he says. My stomach flips in anticipation. Is tonight really the night? I climb up on the bed and sit, dangling my feet of the edge innocently, as if I have no idea what he’s got in mind.
As if it’s not the same thing I’ve had in mind the last couple weeks.
“Lie down,” he says. I listen to him. I like how he tells me what to do. Mostly because I have no idea how any of this is supposed to work.
I expect him to come to me, get on top and position that huge thing of his between my legs, but he does not. He gets my desk chair and pulls it over to the foot of the bed.
“Touch your breasts,” he says. I’m not sure what he means, but to hear him say something so dirty excites me. I cup them and sort of squeeze, but I don’t know what to do. “Play with your nipples,” he says. “Pinch them. Roll them between your fingertips. Make them nice and hard.”
I feel that they’re already hardened into wrinkled, tight peaks. I walk my fingers over my nipples, brushing them lightly. A shiver goes down my chest, into my stomach. It feels good to touch them, I suppose, but just a little. That’s not what is making me feel all tingling and warm between my legs.
It’s the fact that he’s watching me. That he’s making me perform for him.
He’s hard and staring so intently at my body, I feel like I’m the only girl who ever existed.
“Good,” he says. “You always listen to me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“All you have to do is tell me,” he says. “Just tell me to put it in you and I will.” I say nothing. His eyes are locked on mine. “I bet your little pleasure button is throbbing, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
“Take your hand and touch it,” he instructs. I’ve touched myself before—of course I have. But never like this. Never with anyone watching. His hand creeps down his leg and he grips himself tightly. He starts to pump his erection. “Do it,” he says again.
I close my eyes and
slowly move my hand down my body. I can’t bear to look at him like that, stroking himself. My face is so red hot it might burn off. My ‘pleasure button’ as he calls it feels so swollen and hot it might burst. As my finger parts my lips, my first thought is pure shock at how wet and slippery I feel. Have I ever felt this much wetness between my legs before?
I touch myself, relishing the slow strokes. One hand is on my breast and the other is between my legs. The two sensations together feel so good. I open my eyes a little to see Xalax in the chair, touching himself and watching me. I realize that I like to watch him.
I feel the tingly heat building low in my stomach. That sensation of building. Climbing towards something, a great release.
“Stop,” he says. “Take your hands away.”
I whine like a wounded cat. “No,” I say, knowing how pathetic I sound but not caring. I squirm against the bed.
But I listen to him. I obey. I put my hands flat on the bed.
I’m going to lose my mind. He has teased and tortured me and now I am finally going to go insane.
“I promised you,” he says. I open my eyes and see that he’s still stroking himself. Oh sweet never-ending Void, why is it so arousing to watch him do that? “I’m not going to force myself on you. You are not obligated to serve my desires.”
I close my eyes. I cannot look at him. It’s too embarrassing.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Please what?” he says. I don’t have to have my eyes open to know that he’s smiling.
“Please do it,” I say.
“Do what?” he says. “What do you want me to do?”
I can’t believe he’s torturing me so much, drawing out my agony. “I want to do it,” I say. “I’m ready.”
“Tell me that you want me to put my hard cock inside you. Tell me that you want me to be the first one to do it.”
“Please,” I whisper. “I want you to be my first. I want you to be the only one.”
“I told you,” he said. “We are already bonded. There will never be anyone else.”
He stands up and comes to the bed. Tonight really will be the night.
Finally. I need this. I need her. Especially after today. If war is coming, I need an heir. And soon. The Kraxx are planning an invasion—why else is a scout nosing around in our city? If a big war is on the horizon, we might all be dead.
As I watch Resa with her hand between her legs, I feel a calm come over me. It has nothing to do with the intercourse or the release I will soon experience. I am calm knowing that she is with me. She is my mate. She wants to please me and I want to please her.
With a woman like her at my side, I will be able to face what is coming.
Even if it is warfare and destruction.
She speaks the words—the words I knew she would say—and I grow even harder.
I get off the chair and climb into the bed with her. I lay on top of her. She feels so fragile and small beneath me. A dainty creature, full of so much lust. I kiss her, unable to contain my eagerness. I devour her mouth, probing my tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. Her lips are so full and soft, I give a playful nibble to her bottom lip and she moans, her breath hot against my face.
Her breasts are against my chest. I reach my hand down and cup one, thumbing her nipple gently. I want to savor every inch of her body, but I can’t contain myself. I’ve waited weeks, going to bed with her, wanting every night to be the night that she would finally give me permission to claim her virginity.
But I cannot break the kiss. I get up on my knees, getting between her legs. I grip my shaft and guide it towards her opening. She’s so damned wet, I glide easily over her flesh. I find the spot and push gently. I don’t want to hurt her. I stretched her with my fingers the first day I brought her to my chambers, but that probably wasn’t enough.
I push into her, slowly at first, gently, but I cannot enter her. The tip is enveloped in her folds, but I am not fully inside. I push harder, just a little, and use my hand to reposition and guide it inside.
Then all of a sudden, I feel it break free and I am inside her.
That tight, gripping wetness surrounding every inch of my cock. She gasps and I moan, unable to stop. “Does it hurt?” I ask her, my words ragged gasps.
“No,” she says. “I feel so full.” I pull myself out slowly and then slide it back in. She breathes deep and I kiss her plump little lips again.
Inside her I finally feel complete, the final step to total bonding with my mate.
We have united in flesh and spirit.
But, right now at least, I’m concerned with the flesh.
- - -
Stretched out. That’s the only way to describe it. His big, heavy cock is splitting my lips apart, holding them open. And then it pushes in and everything changes.
He’s inside me.
The only man to ever do it.
And I feel what he’s been talking about. That weird glowing in my chest. The bonding. Or chemicals or hormones or whatever.
He is on top of me, covering my body. I feel so small. His wide, muscular frame is so much bigger than mine. I feel like a tiny frail thing underneath his giant, powerful presence. He pushes in and out slowly. Every time he withdraws, I feel a longing. A loss.
Then he slides back inside me and it’s right again. I’m fulfilled.
I scream out, the feelings too much to resist. Every push of his cock hits some spot inside me that cries out for more. Like an itch that needs to be scratched. Like an itch that I didn’t even know needed to be scratched. Every thrust I scream out. I can’t help it.
“Get on your knees,” he says. “I need to put it deeper inside you.”
He repositions me on my knees, facing away. I hold on to the headboard of the bed, bracing myself. He starts pushing into me faster, harder. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I start pushing back against his hips. I brace myself against the headboard, holding myself up. I rock back, finding a steady rhythm. What is wrong with me? I’ve never done this before. Never done anything close to this before. Why is it all of a sudden I’m acting like a possessed whore? That’s a distant thought. Extremely distant. All I can focus on is that thing of his inside me, every thrust deep and rubbing on my secret pleasure spot.
“That’s the right spot,” he says, reading my mind. “I can tell that’s the place that makes you feel good.”
It does. Every push and thrust inside rubs on the spot deep inside.
I’m panting like a dog. Like a fiend. I can’t help it.
He reaches his hands up and grabs my breasts. He squeezes them tight, using them to hold on and thrust even deeper. His thumbs brush against my nipples, sending a shiver down my skin.
“I knew you’d like it,” he says. His face is pressed against my ear, his voice low and sending deep reverberations through my body. “When I saw you in the auction house, I knew you were the type of human who would love to take my cock.”
I can say nothing in my own defense. He’s right. All I can do is cry out louder, push myself back on his thrusting hips.
His hands trail down my waist. He grips my hip with one hand and trails the other hand down further. I feel one thick finger slide between my lips. I gasp as it flicks against my clit. In response, he softens his touch, slows his pace. He strokes it softly but urgently and already it’s too much to bear.
That spot he’s hitting inside me. The steady stroking of his fingers. The two sensations are working in concert, playing off each other, creating this new sensation of unique pleasure. I explode.
It’s nothing I’ve ever felt before.
I start to cry out, but the intense waves wrack my body, overtaking all my thoughts and actions. I am seized by the pleasure, unable to think or speak. I am reduced to a grunting, panting creature.
He grips my hips tighter, pushing himself deep inside me. I can’t believe that I am able to fit his entire length inside me. But now that it’s in, I want more. I feel that same hunger that I’ve seen
in his eyes these last weeks.
“Lie down,” he says. He flips me over with one motion, easily taking my body in his hands and repositioning me to suit his fancy. I feel like a ragdoll, senseless and tossed around for his pleasure. But I like it. I want to give him pleasure. I want to make him feel as good as he just made me feel.
He gets on top of me, parting my legs and thrusting deep. It goes in easily, now that I am broken in. I want it back inside me. I want his body close to mine. There’s that glowing feeling again beneath my ribcage.
As if I am the one that is flushing purple for the whole world to see.
He starts to push faster and I scream out. Why does this feel so good? I heard the village girls talk about sex and they all said it wasn’t that good the first time.
Bullshit. They didn’t know what they were missing.
I cry out harder and I feel his hand on my wrist. I realize that he’s moving my hand between my legs. I start to touch myself, my clit is swollen, so full and hot it’s going to burst again. I rub my fingers against it, slowly back and forth. It’s so wet, so slippery, I’ve never been this excited in my entire life. I start to feel that building again. How many times is he going to make me feel like this? As soon at the thought is in my head, the pleasure plateaus and I start to writhe and push against him, keeping my hand stroking steadily between my legs.
I am a screaming panting drooling mess.
This is not natural. I have heard stories of other girls’ first times. None involved so much pleasure.
“Are you ready to take it?” he whispers in my ear. Just hearing his voice again in my ear, so low and hot, sends a thrill down my core.
“Yes,” I gasp. And I know what’s coming.
“Stay still,” he says. “Let me put it into you.” I try my best to still my gyrating hips. I feel his grip tighten and he tenses, letting out a groan, emptying his seed inside me. He shudders and then collapses on top of me.
He is so big and strong, if he wasn’t propping himself up on his elbows, I think he’d crush me.
That glowing in my chest is stronger. I turn on my side and put my head in the crook of his elbow. I feel like a needy puppy dog, but I can’t help it. He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me closer. My stomach is flat against his, our legs intertwined. I feel his seed dripping down my thigh.