"Yes," she breathed on a sigh of pleasure.
"Your sweet pussy was made for this," he whispered, his voice deep with desire.
She moaned and pressed her hands to her breasts, kneading firmly, tugging on her nipples.
Talking made her more excited, Michael realized. No wonder she'd sky-rocketed during the masturbation exhibition Laricon had ordered them to do. "You're so wet and tight, honey. I feel like you're sucking my cock."
"Oh god," she groaned, her hips forcing him deeper. "Michael."
"You want it harder, don't you, Nina? So hard that you feel like you're swallowing."
"Yes! Yes!" she begged. Her hands moved from her breasts down to where their bodies met and she rubbed his slippery hardness on each out-stroke.
"Mmmm, that's nice, honey," he encouraged, "but put your hands back on your tits. I'm going to give you what you want."
"Yes!" she moaned, moving her hands as he'd directed. "Yes! Fuck me! Please!"
Michael resettled himself on his knees and lifted her shapely buttocks with his hands, pulling her down and onto him more firmly. His strokes were hard jabs now, reaching the center of her each time.
Alyssa woke and quietly moved to kneel next to him. Her small hand reached between his legs and teased his tightening balls while he pistoned.
Nina was mindless now, her body trembling. Each hard thrust almost hurt, it was so deep, but it also felt incredibly good. She moaned and tossed her head, her hands roughening on her breasts and nipples as Michael slammed himself in.
"Don't come yet, baby," Michael ordered. "Not yet."
"Michael! Michael!" she begged. "Oh … oh … god!"
His strokes were faster now, his hands holding her bottom steady on his driving steel hardness. "No. Not yet!" he repeated, his voice breathless, deep with his own need.
"Oh please, oh please!"
"When ... I ... say," he told her, each word spoken on a rough thrust that jarred her very being.
"I can't stop. Can't stop," she cried, twisting her reddening nipples mindlessly.
He paused, though it cost him. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he held himself barely within her. "You will. Stop, Nina. Stop."
Her eyes opened wide and she howled with displeasure. "Damn you! Please!" She scratched at his forearms and tried to buck her hips to pull him more deeply, but he would not be pulled.
"Who am I?" he growled.
"Michael," she cried. "Michael."
"Not only Michael. Who am I?" he persisted, though his erection was screaming for release.
She bit her lower lip and met his eyes. "Master … master, sir."
He watched her face transported by ecstasy as he slammed back deep again. "Now you may come."
Three strokes and she was screaming with pleasure, her sheath tightening on him in pulsing wet waves. Three more rough strokes and he arched against her, his semen spilling into her deepest recesses as Alyssa massaged his balls encouragingly.
He remained there, deep inside her, while he caught his breath. Alyssa moved slightly away, and he could smell her excitement mingled with the odor of sex.
Nina was still gasping, her hands quiet on her breasts.
"Kiss Nina, Alyssa," he suggested.
Alyssa looked at him questioningly, and when he nodded, moved toward Nina's face. She touched her lips to Nina's cheeks, her closed eyelids, then to her open mouth. At first, Nina did not respond, her breathing harsh from the rough sex she'd just had. But in a minute, she allowed Alyssa's tongue to penetrate her mouth.
Michael watched them with satisfaction. The kiss was shallow at first, but then deepened beautifully. Nina's hand moved to hold Alyssa's head down near her as the kiss became more passionate.
"That's my girls," he said softly as he withdrew from Nina and rocked back to sit on his heels. And they were his girls, he realized. Nina's wild temper only served to keep things interesting and keep him on his toes.
He reached out to stroke Alyssa's bottom, so prettily presented to him as she bent to kiss Nina. His fingers moved over that soft warm flesh to find the pool of wetness between her legs. Alyssa moaned into Nina's mouth and spread her legs further in offering.
"You want a treat, too, hm, Alyssa?" he asked. She wriggled her bottom in reply. He laughed.
In the drawer by the bed, within Alyssa's pouch, he found the Preparer. He wet the long dildo with her thick moisture and slid the first few centimeters past her rosetted sphincter. She moaned and wriggled some more.
"More, honey?" he teased.
She lifted her head slightly and looked back over her shoulder. "Please, sir."
He gave her another two centimeters and wobbled the dildo around slightly. He watched her drawn back down by Nina for more kissing, and Nina's free hand moved to begin teasing and caressing one of Alyssa's pointed breasts. To his surprise, he was getting hard again.
"Good, Nina," he praised, moving himself to kneel between Alyssa's spread knees. As he inserted his reinvigorated manhood into Alyssa's wetness, he slid another five millimeters of the Preparer into her bottom.
She trembled and moaned loudly, then lifted her head to look at him. Her face was flushed with passion. "You, sir," she begged. "Not the Preparer. Please. You, sir."
Michael hated to disappoint her, and, in fact, would have enjoyed that other sensation. But Alyssa was just too small to accept him there without damage. "Ah, honey," he soothed as he stroked in and out of her, the Preparer moving with him. "My cock is just too big for you there. And doesn't this feel good?"
He pushed the Preparer in its final several millimeters, feeling the hard object only a thin bit of tissue away from his equally hard masculinity as they pumped in and out.
Alyssa groaned with pleasure, her body swamped with sensation from her wet center, her bottom, and Nina's manipulations of her breasts and their kisses. Within a minute, her request was a distant memory as she trembled and squirmed.
Michael could feel her tight glove rippling with readiness, and he pumped harder and faster, wobbling the Preparer within her as he stroked. "You want to come, don't you, Alyssa?"
"Yes, Master," she groaned, her voice deeper with desire. "Please, Master!"
"Hold it," he warned. "Hold it until I say."
"But–"
He smacked her bottom lightly, leaving a pink imprint of his hand. "Alyssa!"
All she could do was moan and sob with need.
He drove himself and the Preparer into her over and over, feeling his own need rising to a crescendo. Alyssa couldn't wait, however, and disobeyed his order.
She screamed and cried. "I'm sorry, Master! Oh! Oh!" Her voice rose on the tide of her deep orgasm.
The sensation of her tightening her already small, tight sleeve, sent Michael skyward. "Bad ... girl," he growled out and then groaned loudly with his own pleasure, shooting hot satisfaction into her well.
He caught his breath, slid the Preparer out of the sobbing girl, and put it on the table. Michael's body felt happily empty as he moved to the side of the women and lay down on the bed. Alyssa was sobbing against Nina's shoulder and he felt somewhat guilty for making her cry. He had undoubtedly pushed her too far, hadn't tracked her impending orgasm well enough to know when holding it back was possible or impossible. Nonetheless, she would expect to be punished for disobeying. He thought about what punishment would be appropriate, and yet not harsh, just enough to make her feel that she'd paid for her disobedience.
Rising from the bed, he swatted Alyssa on the bottom once again, and another light pink hand print formed. She gasped wetly. "You were disobedient, Alyssa," he said in his sternest voice.
She rose to kneel, her eyes downcast, tears of contrition coursing down her sweet young cheeks. "Yes, sir. Do you want the paddle?"
He shook his head. There was something about Alyssa that made such a thing ghastly, an obscenity. "No, but tonight you'll get no pleasure as you took it against my express order this morning."
"You are generous, sir," she said
softly, sniffing.
He tilted her head up and she looked at him, her deep brown eyes begging forgiveness. "You'll learn, Alyssa."
She nodded.
Nina was quiet, thoughtful, as the two women dressed Michael and saw to his breakfast. He caught her preoccupied blue eyes as he finished his meal.
"No brooding now, Nina."
She nodded silently.
It was a quiet, moody household he left behind as he hurried out the door.
***
His first order of business was to comm CS and check on the status of the operation. Today Laricon was supposed to signal the coup, removing Federation Governor Beatty from his position in the Southern Continent. And Governor Marsh was to arrive and be surprised and intimidated by the coup. Neither man knew their danger.
"Michael 8872 to CS."
"Here, 8872."
"I'm set to run the coup on Beatty and scare Marsh witless today. Are you prepared to get Beatty off-planet for his safety after the take-down?"
"Beatty refuses to leave. Says he'll take his chances, 8872."
Michael snorted. "That's what he says now. But he doesn't know about today's set up. Can you get him out if I can arrange for him to be jailed?"
"No can do, 8872. No ships available yet."
Michael felt his blood pressure rise. This had been planned for months! "What the fuck do you mean? He's a Federation Governor! His life will be in serious danger. I can't guarantee that the insurgents that my men have been dealing with won't just call for his execution!"
"Do what you can, 8872. Beatty had a chance to leave weeks ago and didn't take it. He's a cipher compared to the Miners' Uprising. Can't spare a ship."
"So for the sake of the Federation's fucking economic interests, a good man is likely to get killed. This stinks!"
"Get professional, 8872," the CS operative warned. "You just play along until we can get you the troops for a takeover of Ganymede."
Michael put his temper on the back-burner as much as he could. "Fine. I'm playing along. Leading the band, even. When are the troops expected to be on their way?"
"A week, maybe two. No certainty. The miners are backed into a corner but haven't surrendered yet. Estimates suggest they can only hold out another week or ten days."
Michael sighed with annoyance. "Comstock knows I'm now running this show, right?" Comstock was the Federation Command Security Chief.
"Yes, 8872. He has confidence in your ability to keep things from getting out of hand until we can get there."
I'm glad one of us does, Michael thought. "Very well. The first shipment of slaves to Mars will be transporting out tomorrow. Willis is set to keep them until they can be repatriated."
"Excellent, 8872. As soon as ships are available–"
"Yeah, I know. We'll all go home. 8872 out."
"CS out."
Michael leaned back in his desk chair, raking his dark hair back impatiently. He had no choice but to make the call to his moles in Governor Beatty's government and pull off the coup. The Southern Continent would then become part of Laricon, and any persons who would not cooperate would be taken as slaves. It was the way former Governor Laricon had secured the current five domes of his country. It was brutal, but effective. And now Michael was in charge of doing it. He didn't like it one bit.
The speaker phone was slightly staticy as he placed the call. "This is MM," he said to his covert agent. "It's a go."
"I hear you, MM. Consider it done."
"Do what you can to secure Beatty and his family safely, okay?"
There was a pause on the line. "I'll try, MM, but can't guarantee."
"Yeah, I know. Do it anyway. Good-bye."
He hung up and had a similar conversation with his well-placed military mole.
Michael's assistant rapped on his office door. "Enter," he called gruffly.
She came forward and reverenced. "Governor Marsh's ship is about to dock, sir."
"Rise. Thank you, Sandra. Please see that the councilmen are assembled in the conference room."
"Yes, sir." She closed the door behind her.
He picked up the phone one more time. "This is Master Michael. Put me through to The Great Man."
"Right away, sir," the sexy voice on the other end said.
"Michael?" Laricon was sounding stronger, but his voice was still trembly.
"Yes, sir. I just wanted to tell you that Marsh is setting down. Things are in place as you requested."
Michael could almost hear the old man smiling malevolently. "Very good. Give him a helluva show, my boy. I want him shaking in his shoes when he hears that Beatty has fallen. Then show the velvet glove, so he feels he is choosing the better part of valor when he goes back to East Shores. I want those last two domes on our slate by week's end."
"Yes, sir. I've arranged everything."
"Picked the best women to woo him tonight?"
Michael sighed. "Yes, sir."
"Excellent. I'll be watching the vids of Beatty's downfall as they come in."
"We will be too, of course, sir. I need to go meet Marsh at the dock, sir."
"Good man, Michael. I knew I'd chosen well when I put you in charge. I'll be back to my old self in a day or two, though. Don't get too used to it!" He laughed.
Michael laughed politely. "Have no fear, sir. I know on which side my bread is buttered."
"Yes, I think you do!" And he hung up, leaving Michael with a closed connection in his hand.
Michael, Walker and Michael's assistant met Marsh on the dock. Marsh was a tall, gray-haired, patrician fellow with slightly bloodshot eyes and a red-veined nose. Michael thought he must have been a good-looking fellow once, before alcohol and excess had taken its toll.
He glanced down at Sandra when she exposed her breasts and kneeled, then walked on casually. They moved down hallways to the conference room where the rest of the councilmen awaited.
There was talk of potential import-export treaties for grain and technical wares. Lunch was served by a bevy of pretty women.
Marsh accepted this service from a girl's fingertips gracefully. His only remark was that he, laughingly, wished his wife could be so trained.
Michael was beginning to think that without the coup of the Southern Continent, Marsh would be a harder nut to crack than he'd expected. But toward the end of lunch, Sandra rushed in exclaiming, "Southern Continent is ours! Our people are in!"
Michael motioned for the vid screen to be turned on and tuned in. Sure enough, an announcer on the scene was pointing out the chaotic but non-violent movement of officials from the Southern Continent government house. Beatty and his family were shuffled out roughly and stuffed into staff cars to be jailed pending a trial.
Michael glanced over at Marsh and saw the man's face droop and pale. He smiled when Marsh looked at him in confusion. "We found Beatty difficult to deal with."
"But there are ways!"
Michael shrugged. "He didn't want to listen when we talked, Governor Marsh." He sipped coffee as he paused. "It's so good that you aren't as stubborn."
Marsh watched the vid for a while longer. "What are you going to do with Beatty? With his family?"
"Beatty will be deported. Sent back to the Federation where his failed policies arose. His family…" Michael turned to Walker and raised an eyebrow.
Walker referred to notes. "Wife, forty-one. Two girls, sixteen and fourteen, and a boy, nine."
"His wife," Michael said, "and daughters will be auctioned and probably become trained consorts somewhere in one of our domes. Unless one of his daughters is particularly promising, in which case she will be allowed more advanced training at one of our Farms where her deportment and obedience will be molded according to our particular ways. Lariconese women, as you may know, Governor Marsh, have a much better understanding of their place than women of other societies." Marsh blinked, his face a study in quiet horror. "Beatty's son will very likely end up as a laborer somewhere. It depends on who buys him at auction."
; "We will, of course," Michael said casually, turning the knife, "keep Beatty informed of his family's progress through our system. I'm sure he'll want to know."
"This is monstrous," Marsh said softly.
Michael smiled. "No, Governor, this is politics. A big government gulps up a smaller one and so on. The people are pawns for the powerful."
Marsh thought this over. "East Shores is prepared to offer generous treaties, Councilman. I don't think you'll find the same problems with us as you did with Beatty."
Michael's teeth shone, shark-like. "I never doubted your flexibility." The women had cleaned up the lunch mess and now returned to massage shoulders. Marsh waved the woman assigned to him away. "However," Michael said, glancing from Marsh to the woman and back, "it may very well be that our social mores differ too greatly to allow practical free trade."
Marsh's tired eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"
"Shall I speak frankly, Governor Marsh?"
The gray-haired man nodded, his posture tense. "Please do, Councilman."
"The population on Ganymede is small. Small enough that we are forced to import some of our labor force, and, occasionally, our women. It would be divisive, we feel, if the other domes here refused to share their labor and their women as we would share ours.
"This kind of trade agreement is particularly important to us right now as we have just signed contracts with another planet in the system to provide much-needed labor to them, thus depleting our supply even more."
Marsh stared down at the table. "I'll have to think this over. Our customs are Federation customs. The women would rebel at the change. And where did you plan to draw the labor force?"
"You have prisons, haven't you? And men who aren't paying their taxes or are committing other crimes?" Michael supplied.
"Yes, yes, of course we do." Marsh sighed. "I see where this goes."
Michael stood. "You think about it, Governor Marsh." He glanced pointedly over at the vid screen. "And tonight we'll show you a traditional Lariconese welcome. It will be one you'll never forget, I assure you."
Laricon's Ways Page 15
