by Beva John
“Ah,” the doctor says, “Her pulse is increasing, and her vaginal muscles have relaxed.”
“Excellent,” Officer Hadr says. He leans forward so his face is closer to my bush. With idle curiosity, he removes the jeweled box and taps his finger on my clit, and I stiffen at the unexpected touch. “Such an obvious, wrinkly, ugly little bit of flesh,” he comments as he rubs his finger back and forth, making me gasp and not from pleasure. I squeeze my eyes shut from the outrage, not wanting him to see me cry.
The doctor says, “That little bit of flesh has thousands of nerve endings.”
Hadr pinches my clit now, which is painful, and says, “The porn would have us believe that this works, but I suppose that is all marketing.”
“I believe every female is different, sir, but obviously there are generalities.”
“Open your eyes,” Hadr commands and I obey, afraid now. What more is he going to do to me?
“What works for you?” he demands. “What arouses you?”
“I don’t know,” I stammer.
He frowns. “You don’t know? And you’re not a virgin?” Then he laughs. “Apparently human males are even more backward than we thought. Pathetic, uncivilized, vulgar creatures. It’s a wonder their kind lasted more than a few thousand years. But then, what can you expect from sitters?”
I’m grateful when Hadr loses interest, replaces the jeweled box on my clit and walks away. I can hear running water in the background, and I think that he is washing his hands. He returns briefly, saying to the doctor, “Do your best.”
He then sits on a chair and waives his hand dismissively, saying, “In the final version of the viewing, we will edit out any segments with me in it.”
“Very good,” the doctor says.
I could tell them that they are wasting their time. Two human young men, neither of them the Neanderthals that Hadr described, had tried their best to bring me to completion on multiple occasions. They had tried hand jobs, oral sex, getting me drunk, getting me wasted, different positions, different strokes, but nothing had worked.
They could arouse me, get my heart and clit pounding, but as the inner tension rose and I approached what I assumed was the big event, something in my brain would always turn off like a light switch, making any level of excitement drop like a rock. It was frustrating for me, it annoyed my boyfriends, and now I know it is going to piss off the blue aliens, too.
I lie here, waiting for the inevitable shit show, wishing that I’d gone to see an Earth psychologist earlier, or at least read Everything you always wanted to know about sex.
I can’t help but think it ironic that my failure to orgasm might be the death of me.
This was certainly never included in the little pamphlet they handed out in school.
I try to pay attention to what the doctor is doing, to force myself to relax, but over the next hour, possibly longer, the doctor tries different methods, all unsuccessful, which increases his frustration with me and makes Hadr swear under his breath. “Brix. What is wrong with this female?”
I tense and hold back tears.
And then Officer Raan bursts into the room.
I feel a wave of relief and hope, like some poor damsel tied to a railroad track with the hero riding up on a horse.
CHAPTER FIVE
SYLVIA
At first it appears that Officer Raan is on my side. He demands that they let me go, but as they continue to refuse, his attitude seems to change, and he asks questions about their methodology and the science of human orgasm.
Damn his yellow hide. He is no better than they are.
I need to remember that humans have no friends here.
Raan is a wolf in lizard’s clothing.
Some of my emotions must show on my face, because he glances at me and gives my arm a little pat.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Is he trying to reassure me?
Does he want me to trust him?
He says to the doctor, “So what is your plan?”
“I am not certain,” the doctor says. “We have had three separate arousal attempts and she doesn’t complete.”
Hadr says, “I think she is refusing.”
For a brief second, Officer Raan glances at me with a look of approval.
The doctor says, “I think she must have some physical abnormality.”
“That would lessen her marketability,” Raan says. “Perhaps she could be purchased to do manual labor instead.”
Damn him. What a jerk.
Hadr says, “I doubt it. Humans are too small and weak to be of much benefit. No, if we can’t make her orgasm, we might as well open up a competition for the crew. Give them each an opportunity to improve their luck and who knows – maybe one of them will have the magic touch. It will improve morale. I’m sure Captain Delk will approve.”
I can see how this could easily deteriorate into a gang rape.
“No, please,” I beg.
Again Raan’s hand briefly touches my arm. He says calmly, “If that’s what you’re thinking, Hadr, let me go first.”
I hate Raan now. He’s not a lizard; he’s a pig. I arch my back and buck my hips in protest. “Just kill me now,” I say.
Hadr laughs dismissively. “So melodramatic. So impulsive. I suppose that is part of the human charm. It can be entertaining. It will be interesting to see how she reacts to the crew.”
“No,” Raan says firmly. “If I can bring her to climax, there is no competition.”
“It would still be good for morale.”
“Any such activity with the crew could damage her and lessen her value on the market.”
Hadr’s eyes narrow. I can see that he doesn’t like the idea, but he acknowledges the truth of Raan’s words. He says, “That is correct. If you can bring her to climax, that will be all that is required.”
“And no one else will touch her,” Raan persists.
Hadr nods. “On my honor.”
As much as I don’t trust the guy, he sounds sincere.
Raan says, “Then I accept the challenge.”
I clench my teeth and glare at him, thinking that he’s an opportunistic, conniving bastard, but then he says to me, “As long as it is all right with you.”
The sudden transposition of the conversation stuns me. “What – are you talking to me now?”
He looks me straight in the eyes. “Yes, I am speaking with you now, wanting to know if you agree with my proposition.”
I am still suspicious. “Why do you want to do this? Do you have a thing for Earth girls?”
He looks at me quizzically. “No, I am not attracted to children.”
Apparently, the translating device isn’t completely accurate for idioms.
He adds, “I wish to help you find a better work situation for your future and at present, to keep you safe so you do not have to accommodate the remainder of the crew.”
I agree, if only to get the matter over with. “Fine. Yes. I agree.”
The expression in his golden eyes is serious. “I also sincerely apologize that you are in this position.”
As if words make any difference in a situation like mine. I ask, “Why? Is it your fault? Were you part of the decision to strip me and put me on this table?”
“No.”
“Then it’s not your fault,” I say magnanimously, but he still looks as if he is troubled. I say quickly, “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get this over with. If that’s possible. I’m afraid your doctor may be right. I may be defective.” Frankly, after the past hour and all the stimulus my poor pussy has endured, I may be too numb to feel anything.
“I don’t believe that.”
“Brixing hell. Are you going to talk her into an orgasm?” Hadr interrupts angrily. “Get on with it.”
Raan faces him. “You have already failed in three attempts; let me do this my way.” He motions to the metal tube in my vagina. “First, we will remove this.”
“Absolutely not,” Hadr says. �
��It is to gather biological data. How else are we to know that she has actually reached orgasm and is not faking it?”
That is another option shot down.
Raan shakes his head. “No. None of this equipment is necessary. The medical scan on her wrist is capable of recording all of her bodily reactions, isn’t that correct, Lerro?”
The doctor looks guilty, but he finally admits, “Yes.”
“Then you will kindly remove it,” Raan orders and the doctor regretfully obliges, although with a ‘don’t blame me’ glance at Hadr.
Hadr is annoyed but doesn’t argue.
“The clips on her breasts as well.”
The doctor removes them.
Raan continues in a conciliatory tone, “I understand your marketing rationale – the various attachments can provide visual appeal in the viewing and if purchased along with the human, it would raise the profit margin, but I am more concerned with the end result.”
Raan makes me feel like an expired can of waxed beans on the bottom shelf of the grocery store, but it does feel good to have the clamps and tube removed.
“Now the restraints,” Raan says.
“No.” Hadr holds firm. “The brown one bit me. There is no guarantee what this one might do.”
“Are you going to bite me, Green-eyes?” Raan asks quietly.
A little bit of my antagonism softens at his use of a nickname, but then I realize he may have forgotten my real name. I say, “No.”
Hadr adds, “Besides, we are recording a viewing and it won’t work if she is thrashing about.”
“You don’t have much confidence in my skills,” Raan says dryly.
“Why should I? Your kind are all conceived by artificial insemination. My bet is that you don’t have a clue what you’re doing, No Balls.”
At this, the doctor who is watching the two of them argue, smirks in a superior way. I sense that although the different species work together on this spaceship, they don’t like each other. From what I’ve seen, there are more blue and lion people on the ship. The lizard people may be the minority, but at least Raan is in a position of authority.
Raan doesn’t seem fazed. “I suppose we’ll see,” he says and looks down at me with a tender expression. “And now for you, Green-eyes. Let’s show them what we can do together.”
He smiles a wide smile and I see that he has a mouthful of teeth, including a set of fangs.
I am definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto. “All right.”
“May I touch you?”
“Do whatever you want.”
Again he flashes a fleeting, toothy smile. “That could be dangerous,” he says dryly, and I give a little laugh.
I can’t believe that I can find any humor in this situation, but I’ll take it.
Another smile from him. “Let’s begin.”
He touches the outside of my thigh with a light touch. “Your skin is different from mine. Very smooth.” He rubs his hand up and down my leg and I feel the texture of his hands. It is not rough, but it has a nap, like velvet. “Do you like that?”
“I don’t hate it.”
He nods and continues to rub my legs, avoiding my pussy. “This must be difficult for you,” he says in a conversational tone. “Tell me, what are the mating rituals on your planet?”
This question takes me by surprise, but I try to answer it honestly. “It varies, but usually the guy asks the girl on a date, takes her out to eat, they might see a movie, and then later they might make out in his car.”
He looks me in the eye. “So your males start by feeding you.”
“Yes.”
“What is your favorite food?”
“Brownies. Ice-cream.”
He looks at me with incomprehension.
“Sweet foods.”
“Ah. Fruit. Are you a herbivore?’
His velvety hands continue to rub me from hip to knee, sometimes slipping into my inner thighs. This is very distracting as I wait for him to reach between my legs. I finally say, “Humans are omnivores.”
“So are Namvire.”
I look at him. “Is that what you are?”
Another smile. “Yes.”
His hands are now rubbing my stomach, petting me like a cat, and one of his fingers dips into my navel, making me give a short burst of laughter again.
He opens his coat. “See?” he says, pointing to his own navel. “We are not so different.”
As I had noticed before, he has an impressive set of abs. I say, “I don’t have a tail.” Or ridges on my forehead. Or claws. I notice that his claws must be retractable because I can’t feel them as he continues to caress me with the pads of his fingers.
He continues his ministrations, his hands drifting upward, closer to my breasts.
I shift nervously on the table.
He retreats; his hands go back down to my waist, smoothing over my abdomen as he continues to talk in a calm voice. He says, “This must be strange to you. I understand, a little. In my culture, young males have a collection ceremony. We are brought to a facility and are introduced to several young females. They dance around us, encouraging us.” One of his hands slides up over my breast, cupping it, and I jolt, surprised at the pleasant sensation.
“Ah,” he says. “Your breasts are so beautiful, so large and smooth. So different from the Namvire.” He caresses one breast, then the other, cupping and kneading them.
I am only a B-cup, very average among humans, but I like what he is saying. I like what he is doing.
His finger briefly touches the tip of my breast and I sigh, shuddering at the sensation.
He continues to brush the tips of my nipples with both hands as he speaks. “The females continue to dance, reaching out to touch us, encouraging us. Enticing us.”
His finger rings my nipple, making me squirm. “I like the texture here,” he says as he brushes the circle of my areola. “More like a Namvire.”
Then he leans forward and touches it with the end of his tongue.
I shudder and gasp, stunned by my reaction.
He looks at me, his golden eyes warm with approval.
“The human is now producing vaginal lubrication,” the doctor says. “Heart rate has accelerated.”
Raan glares at him. “Do. Not. Speak. Again.”
The doctor steps back nervously. “Yes, sir.”
For a few minutes, I had forgotten that I was on display, but now all my embarrassment and confusion returns. I feel myself flush with humiliation.
“Ignore them,” Raan says. “Look at me. Listen to me. Not them.”
I nod and look into his eyes. I see that he does not have eyelashes, just slightly darker little bumps on his eyelids, reminding me of Peter O’Toole’s eyeliner in Laurence of Arabia. “I’ll try.”
His hands return to my breasts, rubbing them, caressing them.
I try to relax. I say, “Tell me more about your ceremony.”
He smiles. “Gladly.” He continues to rub me. “Namvire woman are smaller than you on top,” he brushes my breasts, “but they have nice, round buttocks that bounce when they dance.” One of his hands reaches underneath me to grab and pinch my butt cheek.
I make a little squeak, bouncing upward and he continues to knead my butt. “Your buttocks are not as large, but they are very nice. Do your people dance?”
I smile, amused to think of the Twist or the Frug as mating rituals, but I suppose that in some ways, they are. “Yes.”
“Perhaps one day, you will dance for me,” he says calmly. “I would like that.” His breath fans across my stomach and my inner muscles clench.
His tongue touches my stomach, and then he is licking me. This should be weird, but it isn’t. I have never had a guy lick my stomach before. His tongue feels slightly rough, like a cat’s tongue, but I like it. He says, “I like the taste of you.”
His tongue continues to caress me, dipping into my navel, and one of his hands leaves my butt to move forward to my pussy.
His touch is li
ght, caressing rather than intrusive. He says, “Your pubic hair is very pretty.”
I have to laugh.
“What is amusing?”
“No one has ever said that before.”
His hand cups my mound. “Then your human males are idiots.”
Perhaps so.
His fingers reach down to my labia lips and the motion is slick for I am already wet. I watch as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks his fingers clean. This is something else that no one has ever done. I don’t know if I should be scandalized or aroused. He says, “You taste divine.”
I gasp. “Your tongue.”
Again those golden eyes focus on me. “What is it?”
“Your tongue is forked.” I’m surprised I didn’t notice before.
He smiles, amused. “Is that bad?”
“I guess not. Just different.”
His hand returns to my folds, rubbing and circling, making my heart pound and my clit ache. His fingers separate my labial lips to bare my clit. He smiles. “Ah. So lovely.” His finger touches my clit and I shudder.
I remember what the blue officer said. “You don’t think it’s ugly?”
“Not at all,” he says smoothly. “It is rare. The pleasure center for Namvire females is hidden underneath the skin, but yours is right here, ready for me. Like an exotic flower.” He pushes my clit back and forth gently, increasing my pleasure. He says, “For thousands of years, space travelers have considered the human clitoris to be a prize. A good luck symbol.”
It is strange to think that I am like a lucky rabbit’s foot.
But gradually his words, along with his actions are relaxing me, making my limbs heavy with desire.
“They say that a traveler will never die on a day that he touches a clitoris.”
“Then you won’t die today?”
His finger continues to circle my tender nub. “No, but if I did, I would die happy.”
I smile, flattered. I don’t know if I should believe him, but Raan has a way with words. He has a silver tongue. A silver forked tongue.
As if reading my mind, he says, “I must taste you,” and then his face is between my thighs.
I clench, my hips buckling.
I am definitely aroused, and I tense, worrying that once again, my body will let me down.