Laricon's Ways

by Patricia Green

  "Perhaps in the bed, eh, Ambassador?" Laricon asked lasciviously.

  "That would be my choice!" the ambassador admitted with a laugh. "Though Julia doesn't … well, you know … do that sort of…"

  "We understand perfectly, sir," Michael soothed.

  On that note, they signed contracts and adjourned to the ballroom for the fête.

  Couches and chairs were arranged around a small dais this evening, and the consorts and several spares were awaiting the gentlemen when they entered.

  Immediately the women uncovered their breasts and dropped to the floor. The Governor took a step back, his droopy eyes going very round.

  "We didn't think it appropriate to show you before our deal was made, Governor, but this is the traditional way Lariconese women greet free men," Michael explained.

  The Governor wiped sweat from his forehead. "Well, I'll be damned."

  "They're beautiful, aren't they?" Michael said.

  "Floored me too, Governor," the ambassador admitted. "But you get used to it mighty fast. Even Julia looks the other way now."

  The Governor couldn't quite pull his eyes away. "Even Julia?"

  The ambassador laughed. "Yep. There's hope for you, too."

  "Damn," the Governor repeated.

  Laricon smiled beatifically. "Up ladies."

  The women closed their bodices and came to the arms of their men bringing wine and smiles. Michael noticed that Nina's smile was wooden and forced. She'd been utterly lackluster through dinner as well, and her eyes had faint dark circles beneath them that no amount of makeup could cover.

  The men took seats facing the dais, the governor with a lovely woman on each side of him. Michael seated Alyssa and went to the dais.

  "Tonight we'll present several traditional Lariconese entertainments for gentlemen. As you know, some of our women were born here or came to us as small children. These girls are raised in a dome we call The Farm. It's a place of fresh air and sunshine, where the girls are trained in proper ... um ... deportment, as well as being educated academically. When the girls are old enough, generally at sixteen or seventeen, they move out of The Farm into the world of women.

  "This evening, we've brought five of our girls here to perform a musical concert in your honor."

  Michael stepped down and five teenage girls came onto the dais. They were all dressed alike in black pinafores and white blouses, their feet bare, their long hair tied in ponytails with black bows. Each had a musical instrument with her. They knelt on the stage and bowed their heads, remaining very modestly covered.

  "Begin," said Laricon, waving a blue-veined hand.

  The girls took position and played for half an hour. Their skill was excellent. It was a relaxing interlude.

  The governor leaned back to Michael during the performance and whispered, "So these girls will be learning to do the … you know that…" His hands made a pulling motion across his chest. "That … thing."

  Michael nodded. "Yes, in their last year of training. Some of these girls are already in their last year."

  "I'll be damned," he said, shaking his head and looking forward again.

  It was strange, Michael knew. It had taken him almost a year to get used to the Lariconese customs. He no longer got an immediate erection when a room full of women bared their breasts at him, but he thought he'd never get used to being hand-fed his dinner. And, while it was an incredible jolt to know that women were always available, no matter that you just wanted a quick fuck or whatever, it was also a fact that this household of women depended utterly on Laricon and the councilmen to provide for them in every way.

  Alyssa sat quietly next to him, her smile sweet as she listened to the music raptly. Michael wondered briefly if she knew any of the girls on the dais. She'd only been away from The Farm for a few weeks, after all.

  "Friends of yours?" he whispered into her tiny ear.

  She pointed to one tall, thin, violinist. "Marie is, sir."

  Judging from the girl's lack of a figure, it seemed unlikely that Marie would ever see the Palace again, but she was a helluva violinist. It was a shame. Ungainly or unattractive girls were sent to be consorts to labor overseers and mill foremen. Talents like violin playing were utterly irrelevant. Their primary duty on Laricon was to produce babies, and that wasn't done with a musical instrument.

  Still, when the CS operation was over, all these girls would be freed. They'd be debriefed, retrained, and let go to pursue their own lives. How would that be for these girls in their last year of subservience brainwashing? And for his Alyssa? Would they ever fit into the normal world where women were the equals of men, where they were expected to partner?

  It wasn't his job to follow this train of reasoning. His job was to crush the slave trade and get the hell out.

  He looked over to Nina. She was staring off in space while Laricon fiddled with a long, silky curl of her hair.

  The concert concluded and everyone applauded. Michael rose to introduce the next and final presentation.

  "Dancing and tumbling are very traditional forms of entertainment. Here on Laricon, girls who show special talent in this area are groomed from an early age to focus their bodies on an erotic form of this art. These, Governor, are the most supple women on Ganymede, and their muscles – yes, even their intimate muscles – are honed through constant exercise and practice. It is interesting to note that these women are never given as consorts or gifts, but retire to the boys' farm when they are too old to dance. There they are the tutors of Laricon's teenage boys in the erotic arts. What you'll see now is only the third generation of Laricon's Dance Erotica."

  He moved from the stage and the lights dimmed slightly. Colored gels added ambiance to the stage as six women in masks and glittering costumes rushed out.

  Violin music played in the background as the women circled. Their masks were beautiful grotesques of three female and three male faces. The three "male" dancers had bulky kimonos; the three females had clinging, sequined long dresses with slitted skirts but high necks and long sleeves.

  There was movement to establish characters, the "men" strong and commanding, the women subservient but manipulative. When the "men" threw off their kimonos, they were wearing a wide black bandeau which covered the dancer's breasts, and a startling black thong with a shining black dildo, large and quivering from the front. The women characters were scared and uncooperative, tumbling sensuously away. The "men" tore off the women's costumes. The women character's nipples had been dyed red and their pubic hair removed. Two of the "men" cartwheeled two of the women off the stage leaving one couple in the spotlight.

  The music changed tone, becoming slow and dark. The "male" circled the female and she tried to run. She got to one edge of the stage and looked back at the "male," then played with her red nipples, rolling her head with pleasure. The "male" caught sight of her and grabbed her hair, dragging her back to the center of the stage where he threw her down.

  "He" forced open her legs, so wide that the woman may have been double jointed. Then he put only the head of the big dildo into her, and she arched and scrambled as if trying to get away. The "male" reached for a breast and pulled on the female's nipple until she stopped stirring, only rolling her head in mock distress. The "male" rocked back and forth, imitating intercourse, while only using the head of the dildo. The other "men" came back onto the stage, dragging the apparently defeated women over to watch their friend. They moved exclamatorily, leaping around the coupling pair, while the two extra women found and clung to each other in a sisterhood of subjugation.

  Finally, the "man" noticed his friends dancing around and seemed to feel criticized. He pointed to the woman and motioned for her to roll over. She did, getting to hands and knees. The "men" watching, motioned orders to their women, and the two moved to lick the kneeling "man's" dildo. He slapped at the woman's bottom, though it left no mark of course. She moved like she was crying and begging. The "man's" friends went wild, their dancing frenetic around the stage, then th
ey stopped and stared expectantly at the kneeling "man." The two women looked away. And the kneeling "man" spread the woman's buttocks and rammed the shining, wet, dildo up her bottom.

  The woman really screamed, a bizarre and disturbing counterpoint to the heavy violin music. And the lights went out.

  "Damn!" said the governor.

  "Holy shit," said the ambassador, his voice cracking.

  When the lights came up again, new music was playing and the six dancers had doffed their masks showing their lovely faces. All were completely naked, their nipples all dyed red.

  The next exhibition was more traditional. They performed contortions which led to cunnilingus. They moved around the stage touching each other, tumbling to land in splay legged positions where they either played with themselves or one of the other women manipulated them. Small dildoes were brought out and the women showed how they could hold them inside with their inner muscles while they tumbled around on the stage. One actually "spit" the dildo out and another caught it in her mouth and sucked it while she played with herself. For the finale, the women formed a back-bend daisy-chain, licking each other between the legs.

  The lights dimmed briefly, then came up again, showing the women kneeling on the stage, showing obeisance to Laricon and their audience.

  Of course, everyone clapped.

  Nina found the entire exhibition disgusting. But, she realized, she was thoroughly disgusted by everything to do with Laricon. She felt raped, abused, even set up and humiliated by Michael. Michael, who sat on his couch, his teenager by his side. Disgusting. She could just imagine the two of them together, the tiny girl and the big older man. No. That was a picture she definitely wanted out of her brain.

  Unfortunately, she was likely to see far too much of it tonight as that was where these evenings seemed to lead. Laricon reached into her robe to fondle her breasts and she did her best to turn her mind off.

  The girls on either side of the governor helped him remove his jacket, then his shirt, and finally, though he tried to demure weakly, his pants. They kissed and fondled him, and lay him back on the couch while they removed their own garments.

  The ambassador was becoming an old hand; he already had his girl between his legs sucking hard.

  The council members were slower to succumb, of course. They were used to the dedicated attentions of these lovely women. As Alyssa was removing his clothing, carefully folding it and putting it aside, Michael glanced at Nina.

  The old man had ordered her to disrobe, and yet he was still dressed. He sat and fondled her, watching everyone else with what seemed to be perfect contentment. It was very odd.

  Wearing just his pants, Michael disengaged Alyssa's hands and walked to Laricon. "Sir, is everything all right?"

  Laricon was watching the governor with his women.

  "Of course, Michael. The exhibition was superb. Good work."

  Michael looked at Nina who was staring off in space while Laricon continued to finger her nipples.

  "Uh, thank you, sir. I only did the planning. The entertainers did all the work."

  "You go and have your fun, my boy."

  Roberto interrupted from a couch nearby. The lanky woman he'd chosen for the evening was licking his toes. "I'm curious to see how Michael handles a truly well-trained woman, aren't you Father?"

  Michael's jaw tensed, and Nina glanced at Roberto, who was smiling smugly.

  Laricon spoke sternly to his son. "I expect you to pay attention, though I doubt it will do you any good." He looked up at Michael. "Didn't I tell you to go on?"

  "Of course, sir," Michael said through clenched teeth.

  Back at his couch, Alyssa was waiting with a smile. The last thing he felt like doing was having sex with Alyssa, but there wasn't a way to get out of it. Not with Laricon and his son watching like a hawk. But that wasn't Alyssa's fault.

  He bade her to leave his pants on for the time being, but to remove her robe. He sat her on his lap and kissed her, giving what he could. His hands found tender spots and excited her. When she was wet and breathing hard, he lay down on the couch. "Come kneel over my face, honey." She hurried over, remembering what Betty had said about the time Master Michael had done this to her.

  He tweaked her nipples lightly as she got positioned. "Spread your lips for me. Yes, that's just right. Your little clit is swollen. It looks like a berry." He grasped her buttocks and lowered her close to his mouth till she could feel his hot breath scorching her open labia. It brought a giggle of delight from her. "Is that funny?" he asked, smiling. His tongue darted out and licked just beneath her clit and she moaned. "Not so funny, hm? I think I'd like to taste that berry." He licked her labia, delved into her womanhood, and made silly noises. Her giggle was throaty and ended in a moan. She was dripping on his face. "Berry time." He pulled her down and latched onto her clit with his lips, whirling his tongue around on it slowly. She squealed and squirmed in his hands, pressing herself into his face. His tongue moved faster and faster on her; he sucked softly and kneaded her bottom.

  She came with a soft little crescendo of ohs, ending with a louder ah. One of the unoccupied spare girls floated nearby and Michael motioned her closer. She was a beautiful young black woman with tightly curled black hair and sloe eyes. Perhaps 20 years old.

  "You're new. What's your name?" he asked as Alyssa floated with soft sighs over him.

  "Jan, sir."

  "Oh, Jan," Alyssa said softly, opening her eyes. She reached out and grasped the other woman's hand. She pressed that dark hand against her pale face. "Oh, Jan, I'm so happy."

  Jan smiled at Michael. Michael smiled back, forcing down a twinge of guilt.

  "I see you're friends. From The Farm, too?"

  Jan nodded. "Yes, sir."

  It was something he didn't usually do; shouldn't do with Nina watching. But then, she already hated him. And Alyssa deserved all the pleasure he could give for these last few days. Who knows what would happen to her after the bust?

  "Join us," he decided. "Get rid of that robe and come down on your knees right here next to me."

  Alyssa was perking up a bit and made as if to move away. "Oh, no, berry girl, not yet!"

  She giggled sweetly and Michael pressed her hot wetness against his face again. She was immediately transported as he licked and sucked on her lips, carefully avoiding her throbbing clit.

  Jan reached up and touched Alyssa's hard nipples, which made the girl squeal with delight. Jan looked down at Michael to make sure it was all right, and he nodded even as he circled Alyssa's clit with his tongue.

  He went softer on her swollen nerve bundle this time, knowing that over-stimulation would begin to hurt. She was ecstatic, dripping her pleasure on his chin, face and chest. He sucked at her sopping opening, taking a mouthful of her thick sweetness. Turning to Jan, he motioned her down to kiss him, and they shared Alyssa's ambrosia.

  Unfortunately, this was the moment when Nina looked their way. Her heart felt like it had shriveled in her chest. There was nothing special about Michael's lovemaking with her. No profound discovery. Just sex. Just his manipulating her to do as he wanted for Laricon's entertainment.

  "That is so disgusting," Roberto hissed. "That's for the women to do. Pussy-licking, ugh. What does he think he is, a woman?"

  "Shut up, Roberto," Laricon said, his voice tired. "If you actually fucked women now and then, perhaps you'd understand what makes them committed and devoted servants."

  Roberto pushed the woman massaging his shoulders away. "I do what I want, Father."

  Laricon sighed. "You think I don't know about you, but you're wrong, Roberto. I know, but I don't care. Laricon will go to a man with balls when I die. I don't much care if that's you or someone else."

  Roberto went red. "You think that just because I don't go around making all the women swoon, getting them pregnant, that I'm some twisted boy-lover?"

  "It takes very little thought, Roberto. There are two male servants who prove the theory."

  "Damn you
, Father!" He came over and grabbed Nina by the hair. "I asked you for this one, didn't I?"

  "Yes, and it surprised me. Maybe there's hope for you yet. But thus far, you've not been in the same league as councilmen like Michael or Edward."

  "Michael, Michael, Michael," Roberto mimicked, releasing Nina's hair with a push. "He hasn't fathered any brats either!"

  Laricon looked his son in the eye. "Are you so sure?"

  That took Roberto aback and he sputtered. "You mean he has?"

  Laricon shrugged.

  Roberto looked at his father, then at Michael who was laughing and playing with the two women. "But, I am your son."

  "You are my disappointment, Roberto."

  "I hate you!" Roberto hissed. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the room.

  Laricon sighed, then sat quietly with Nina beside him. The old man's hands had long since stopped moving on Nina's breasts. They just sat there like tired spectators – those who couldn't do – watching the healthy beasts fornicate.

  Nina tried not to look in Michael's direction. Had he really fathered children here? Could he be so callous to do so while on an undercover mission? The idea was appalling.

  Laricon stirred from his voyeurism. "Michael knows how to charm women into enjoying themselves, doesn't he?"

  "I suppose so, sir."

  Laricon looked at her through slitted eyes. "Do you hate him utterly?"

  Nina looked at her hands. "I couldn't care less about him, sir."

  He laughed, an ugly sound. "Liar."

  Nina glanced over at Michael, Alyssa, and Jan, though she tried very hard not to. His body was just so graceful, his voice hypnotic when she could hear it. The women seemed to squirm with eagerness just by being next to him. What a pig he was. How she despised him.

  She quickly wiped tears off her cheeks before Laricon could see.

  Michael, on the other hand, was doing his best performing for Laricon. He needed to convince the old man that he was not interested in Nina in any way, shape or form. The more of a rué he appeared, the more likely Laricon would look at the afternoon Michael and Nina had spent together as a fling.