by Zora Jorel
Fury bubbles with me. Before Brea can even register my movements, I’m behind her, my fist gripping her plaited mane. I pull hard, eliciting a sharp scream from her.
“Such a lack of respect for a Duqaanian royal is punishable by pain and torture. Lucky for you, I’m beyond such barbarities.”
Her eyes betray the aura she tries to project. They are full of fire and hate, but her scent says something else…and it’s so gods-damned loud. Those perfect dark buds on her mammaries protrude, begging for me to pinch them, to tug.
I want to do nothing more than to give Brea’s thick, curvy body the pummeling it so richly deserves, but now is not the time.
I release her hair and take a deep breath.
My mission. I must remember it.
She sits there panting, never taking her sight off of me as I retake my seat.
Arrogantly, she sneers. “You know what I think? You’re all talk. You don’t have the balls to do crap to me, otherwise I wouldn’t be in cuffs.”
I bang the table. She tasks me! It’s a warrior’s tactic used by a weaker enemy to try to gain a psychological edge.
Clever little Earthan. What she doesn’t grasp, though, is how dangerous a game she plays. There’s a spirit inside her influencing her every thought. Everything she does has a deeper purpose outside of her control. Whether she’s aware or not, she wants me to take her as much as I want to. I know this.
But I’m a trained, decorated officer of the Sholqua Protectorate. I will not take the bait. Her calculated maneuvers will be met with those of my own, practiced and honed from a lifetime of training.
Beads of sweat drip down her perfect nose, her lips, her chin. My cocks throbs, imagining it to be my cum.
This gives me an idea.
The metal flask clinks as I remove it from my belt. I shake it twice, Brea’s eyes transfixed. She gulps dryly, watching me take a swig of sweet r’ddinberry juice. The electrolytic effects of the fluid is immediate, power surging to my already raging manhood.
Satisfied, I grunt and wipe my mouth. “You look parched, Brea. Would you like a sip?”
The conflict on her face is delicious. She’s too proud to beg, to rise to my puerile taunt, but the heat emanating from her has taken its toll.
She licks her lips.
Macrocycles of interrogation training tells me to use this to my advantage, to leverage her thirst for the behavior I desire. I reposition her chair so she can lean forward and as she does, I hold the flask just out of her reach and pour. The liquid pools on the table.
“Drink.”
Instead she grits her teeth and flares her nose. No giving even a microshet, this one. I am impressed.
“I’m not a goddamn dog.”
I take a finger and wipe some of the juice. I bring it up to her thick, pouty lips. Her dark eyes transfixed on me, she licks and then sucks, her lips popping when she finally releases.
My cocks nearly rip my pants.
Grunting like an animal, I stand and walk away.
“Something wrong?” I feel her glare taunting me in victory.
How could I have let the tables turn so quickly? What are you doing, Markuz? You should be the one in control!
“Rawwgggh!” I scream, slamming the door. The makeshift walls of this human dwelling shake with my frustration. This psychological standoff between Brea and me accomplishes nothing. She has no idea what’s at stake, no clue as to the danger she faces.
I’m here to find out a truth, and perhaps help her in the process. But to do so it must be clear that I am the one calling the shots, that whatever happens next is because I command it. I have watched her enough to know that she’s vulnerable right now, and there’s no way she’ll embrace the truth behind the emotional walls she’s constructed if I flat out ask her what I need to know.
I must rethink my strategy. But the mixture of her arousal and the heat between us messes with my concentration.
It was to be expected. She is my sera, just as Kulan once was. A genetic match from careful generations of Duqaanian DNA engineering. Down to a cellular level, Kulan’s essence has changed her. Our bodies call to each other to do one thing.
Mate. To do it often. As rough as possible. Until I have breeded her with a liter of my progeny, after which I’ll continue to rut her until the suns fade.
Simple, sexual, insatiable need. Fire lust.
Vali help me! With Brea, I sense something more. Something deeper. Past the need to roughly, violently rut her…
I almost fail to notice the communications alarm, my thoughts are so scattered. I rush to the room I’ve been using as a control center and see who it is.
Grev. I’ve been dreading this since I arrived.
To not answer would only arise suspicion.
“Commandant Superior!” I say, giving Grev the proper due he’s earned from seniority. He appears on the holoscreen in front of me, in full uniform like a strutting p’cok. His ashen grey skin is pockmarked with chevrons denoting his rank and position, extending all the way over his balding head. Grev’s visage is business-like, as usual, although painted with obvious disdain.
The feeling’s mutual.
“Commandant Premiere. How is your…vacation?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed. As if I ever expected my flimsy excuse for leaving Duqaan to be believed.
“It goes well. I needed the time…away.”
“Really? An officer in your position should need no respite. It’s a trap for smaller, less disciplined minds. I expected more of you, but maybe I should not have.” His eyes narrow.
I grip my fists behind my back. “Very true. But the news of Kulan hit me harder than I could have expected. Your decision to grant me this leave shows more wisdom and grace than I deserve. It is a debt I will repay with renewed vigor upon my return.”
“Of course.” Grev strokes his chin. “I take it you also understand my wisdom in NOT granting you permission to investigate Kulan’s death. Such matters should be handled by someone not personally involved.”
To hells they should. “Yes.”
“Good. Because someone of your exemplary record with regards to following orders should know that when an order like this is given, it must be obeyed. Otherwise there will be consequences.”
He and I maintain eye contact in silence a moment longer than necessary. The bile of hatred in my mouth is bitter and hot. “Then it is good that I’ve never been one to disobey orders…Superior.”
“No, but let us not forget the single time your neglected your duty, and the horrible price that was paid.”
If he were in front of me, I would kill him.
“So do we understand each other, Commandant?”
“Yes.”
Grev’s cruel smile reminds me of a krukeen, the largest predator in Duqaanian oceans. It’s one borne of cunning and spite. While Grev has seen his fair share of battles, he stinks of politics, and of the most ruthless variety. It’s no accident he’s accumulated the power he has, despite even Kulan’s dislike of him within the Protectorate hierarchy.
“Good. I just wanted to let you know that the Circle has decided upon action. We’ll be sending a Inquisitor to Earth to investigate your sera’s…demise. I swear to you, brother, we will bring justice to her name.”
I bow, but my skin crawls. He is no brother of mine.
“Duty, honor, justice ad infinitum.”
“Duty, honor, justice, my Commander.”
As the screen goes dark, the pressure between my eyes spike.
This is not good. I’ve served most of my life as a member of the Protectorate, but without a trained sania’s oversight, politicians have taken control. Power begets power, and feeds on itself, tail to mouth.
There’s little doubt in my mind that an Inquisitor will not be as patient with Brea, or Earth, as I have. There will be no investigation. No interrogation. No seeking of truth.
Only the spilling of blood. A suppression of truth.
If Brea is as every cell of my being tells me,
she’s a threat to the new powers that be. They’ll hurt her, or worse.
I’ll kill anyone who tries to make that happen.
Staying in my thoughts benefits no one. I know what I need to do, whether Brea’s ready for it or not.
This…will be interesting. My cocks practically scream in anticipation.
I return to her interrogation room with a case in hand. I drop it on the table and leer at her, salacious intent in my heart.
As ever, she sits calmly, ever confident, betraying no emotion. If anything, she seems emboldened after that little stunt with her delectable mouth.
“And what’s this?”
My arms crossed, I say nothing.
She shakes her head. “Listen Markuz, my dude, I get that where you come from you’re some sort of big, bad ass who commands respect and takes no gruff. But you’re on Earth now, and I used to be a part of a group called the Hellcats. We’re the ones who beat you guys before.”
“Oh really?” I say, amused at her display of arrogance.
“Really. You’re not going to break me, so you might as well let me go. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can get off Earth before my girls kick your ass too.”
Oh Brea, thank you. Any reservations I once had are now long passed.
I pull out the chain that had been hanging on her neck, and the rock attached to it. Her eyes widen, suddenly vulnerable.
“Leave that alone!”
Finally, she’s off-balanced. Her restraints clatter as she tries to furiously reach out.
“I would not take you as the type to hold emotional value towards jewelry, Brea Stone. Something tells me there’s much more to this than mere sentimentality.” The rock is warm between my fingers, at odds to the cool air surrounding us. There’s is something unnatural about it.
Something unsettling. Familiar. It pulses in my grip, spurring my fingers.
“Don’t.”
I rub my thumb across the ridges of the pendant, and Brea’s body reacts as violently and deliciously as if she were in my bed. Head rolled, back arched, eyes closed, her fingers desperately clutch at something intangible.
Interesting.
I imagine my cocks in her hand, her grip strong and her stroke steady.
The pendant is connected to her the same way a bet’lak blade would be to Duqaan royalty, perfectly attuned to its master at a cellular level. I’d wager Brea only subconsciously aware of this.
Bringing the pendant to my mouth. I kiss it once, twice, three times, and it’s like tasting a budding fruit. The room echoes with Brea’s moans and protestations.
Hmmm. I could do this all day, stroking my tongue up and down this avatar for her delicious pussy.
The pendant in sync with her body; her body in tune with my wanton desires. And my desires feed into her darkest cravings. It’s a perfectly carnal circle borne of the bubbling need for us to rut each other.
I reach out and touch Brea’s hard, sweaty nipple. She strains against her restraint to push against my firm hand.
“Please,” she calls for me, all the while shaking her head.
A smile curls my lips as I take her peak between my fingers and pinch. Her lips make the most exquisite o-shape as she coos.
The smell of her cream is so strong now, and my self-control is reaching its limits.
If I could I would bury my face between her thighs and feast on her wetness.
But duty. Duty!
I bite my lips and unclasp the case. Brea’s soft huffing is the only sound in the room.
“As a member of the Protectorate, my job is simple: pursue justice without mercy or prejudice. In order to do so, I must unearth truths. But the mind is a complicated thing, and reacts with deception when time to face the uncomfortable. Words mislead, emotions mask, and perspective’s shift. Facts fade like mist. “
“What does this have to do with me?” Her bold facade would make even the strongest Duqaanian proud, but I sense her unease.
Good.
I open the case and reach inside, the tetlu squirming into my palm. I hold it up for her to see. Its four legs pulse and glisten. “For many years, my people would swim in the Unending Sea and leave it enlightened. Light-headed. Unnaturally wise. It would take many years for scientists to figure out these creatures were the cause. They open the mind, remove inhibitions. Unblock walls erected by the partiality of emotion.”
“Get that thing away from me!”
I laugh at her reaction to such a small creature. “As I said before, Brea Stone, I’ve been watching you. You are a Earthan of honor, but I do not believe you are capable of giving me the truths I desire. At least not willingly.”
I drop the tetlu onto her leg, and it starts to move up her body. Brea screams and writhes.
Shaking my head, I remove the other two tetlu and repeat the process.
“The tetlu are non-lethal. But these have been engineered for maximum effectiveness. They will only clasp onto your body where it believes it will be most potent.”
My smile wides as the tetlu do just as I’d hoped. Two clasp onto the nipples of her brown, hard nipples, eliciting a half-moan, half-scream. The last one moves down, down, until its on Brea’s slick, exposed pussy.
I couldn’t have planned it any better.
“Shall we begin?”
3
Oh hell no.
Hell. No.
I don’t do tentacles, or squids, or octopi. I barely eat seafood and I have a bad relationship with eels. And I swear to god whenever I see a catfish I want to slap the hell out of its smarmy mustached face.
So excuse me for losing my shit when demon starfish from another planet make their way over my body, firmly planting themselves over my most sensitive parts.
“Ooooh.” I gasp for air as the first two creatures clamp to my nipples and then the last one starts to suck on my clit.
“Relax Brea. The less you struggle the easier this will be.”
Markuz’s voice echoes, tickling the tiny hairs on my goose-bumped flesh. My conscious mind is telling me that this might be the worst thing to ever happen to me, that to hell with trying to relax, that I need to run, run, RUN, restraints be damned. But ever since this began, my body’s not been listening to my mind. Not since I met him.
There’s something about Markuz that makes me want to believe him. Trust him. Even though that sadistic look on his face and the slab of meat bulging in his pants tells me he’s not thinking pure thoughts.
But hell, neither am I.
A dull ache radiates from where the starfish is clamped, growing slowly into a exquisite mixture of pain and desire. I keep telling myself I can’t be getting wet from this, but I feel the moisture creeping down my thighs and beneath my ass.
Markuz slowly, casually walks behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. His touch is like lava, and I bite my lower lip to stop from groaning.
“It’s okay, Brea. I promise I’ll make this quick.”
His crotch is mere inches from my face, and I smell him. Musk. Loud animal musk. A scent that makes me think of faraway lands, of planets with triple suns, and oceans glowing green.
Jenu. The word is nothing but a whisper spoken in a foreign voice, and I don’t even realize it’s escaped my lips until Markuz looks down at me, longing in those green eyes.
I recognize the word, but refuse to acknowledge its meaning. I barely know this guy, and I’m already ready to give him a part of me only a few men have claimed, but never owned.
He leans even closer, his bulge brushing against my cheek.
Too much. This is too much.
“Please, just…let me loose. Just for a little bit. These cuffs are burning me. Please.” Writhing and twisting, I look up at him with desperation.
His eyes soften, as if he can’t stand to see me hurt. Pain and punishment might be part of his repertoire, but they’re only a means to an end. To do a job.To help me. And if I’m lucky, to discipline me. To raise me to the height of passion by his hand and his alone. But not to a
ctually make me suffer.
Slowly, he undoes the shackles keeping me tethered to the chair, eying my body like a feast and he moves from my legs to my arms, his nose and lips millimeters from my skin.
“Brea, I am trusting you. Don’t try anything st—”
With all my might, I thrust my palm into his nose. I’m a fighter, and fighters fight, no matter how much they want to fuck the enemy. I expect him to at least fall backwards, but the big lug’s face is like stone, as stout as the rest of his hulking body.
He’s stunned, though, just for the moment at the sheer audacity. And I use the opportunity to RUN.
I break through the flimsy door to find myself in an empty, barely lit corridor of sort.
“Brea,” Markuz says low and darkly, echoing off the walls and adjacent door. God, even the way he breaks my name down into the two-syllabic Bree-uh has my body on edge. Flashes of him grunting my name while he fucks me from behind invade my head, morphing my vision.
Dammit. It’s these starfish things messing with my head. Has to be. As I run, I try to pull one off my breast. It clamps down harder, leeching more painful pleasure from my core.
Ugh. This mesh body covering is practically nonexistent, yet it digs into my flesh as I move. The agony of it combined with the starfish makes me want to drop to my knees and wait for what’s coming to me. To spread my legs and put myself at Markuz’s mercy.
Stop it. Get it together, Stone, and get out of here!
At the end of the corridor is a short set of stairs leading down, after which I find myself in a wide open area with a concrete floor.
This is some sort of warehouse. To my right I see a large object underneath a sheer, translucent covering. It’s shape is like that of Markuz’s shield, and it hums. A ship.
“Brea.” His voice is low and monotone, tinged with amusement. I look back, and he’s standing at the top of the platform, steeped in darkness. The only thing present are his eyes, an ocean of green.
I keep telling myself to move, because my legs want to stop. My body craves his vicinity.