by Cameron Hale
Dayla’s heart thudded. After about ten minutes, Lucie’s house glowed invitingly from a cozy nest of trees and flowering shrubs. “Thank God,” she whispered.
The car silently rolled to a stop in front of the house. Ignoring the driver, she jumped out of the half opened doors. Concealed colored lighting bathed the garden as she stepped onto a tiled path and breathed in the heady aroma of jasmine. The cab skidded off in a cloud of dust and disappeared into the night. Slowly, the serenade of crickets returned.
Lucie appeared at the door clad in a soft, floral print dress that clung to the curves of her body. It was clear she wore nothing else, her nipples and pubic mound protruding beneath the supple fabric. With a smile, she rushed out with extended arms. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
Falling into her welcoming embrace, Dayla breathed in Lucie’s delicate scent of lavender. She gazed into smiling sable eyes that regarded her without judgment. Gently stroking a strand of Lucie’s wheat-colored hair, she pressed her lips against her neck and kissed the strong pulse. All the fear, anxiety and loneliness dammed within her for so long suddenly exploded in a torrent of tears.
“That’s right, let it go,” Lucie said, clasping her tightly until the sobs receded. “I don’t know why you put up with it for so long. The city’s dead, Dayla, the people living there just don’t know it yet. You know in your heart you can never be part of that world. Stay here and just be with me.”
“I guess I realized I was never going to change,” Dayla said, wiping her eyes. She paused to gaze at the serene nocturnal vista and the stars freckling the sky. “I thought I could beat them, but I just can’t pretend to be this woman I barely know anymore.”
“Then let’s bring back the woman you really are.”
Placing an arm around Dayla’s shoulder, Lucie led her indoors. Furnishings, soft and warm, beckoned, the gentle crackling of a fireplace lending an air of intimacy. An array of fragrant handmade candles flickered from every corner, lacing the air with heavenly floral scents.
Enveloped by the security of the quaint, womb-like atmosphere, Dayla felt the tension drain from her body. She sagged onto the couch and lay against flowered cushions. Lucie stretched out beside her and gathered her in an embrace. Stroking her like a treasured pet, her hand strayed to the flesh beneath Dayla’s blouse and sought the fullness of her breast. Circling and teasing the nipple until it grew turgid beneath her touch, she pulled the crumpled blouse off and buried her face between her breasts, licking and squeezing them with growing urgency.
Dayla gasped and cradled Lucie’s head. With quickening breath, Lucie rose abruptly and slipped off her dress. Running her hands along the creamy contours of her body, she lingered at her breasts and played with them before allowing her fingers to stray to the golden down of her cunt.
Dayla, flushed from arousal and the warm room, sat up and pulled her leather skirt to her waist to reveal her nakedness. She reclined against the cushions and raised her thighs as high as possible, completely exposing her swollen cunt. Beneath a delta of glossy black pubic hair, pearls of wetness beaded her parted lips, the clit a rigid button. Below, the puckered ring of her anus beckoned invitingly.
Falling to her knees, Lucie clutched Dayla’s thighs and spread them even further, her tongue eagerly probing each crevice. Dayla gripped Lucie’s hair, her body arching and writhing. She threw back her head, her eyes tightly shut. Sensing that Dayla was close to coming, Lucie paused to reach for two unlit candles from the coffee table. Slowly, she inserted one into Dayla’s cunt and the other into her anus.
Dayla cried out and writhed furiously as Lucie thrust harder and harder. A moment later, she came, her body climaxing in a series of shudders. Sweating from exertion, Lucie lay back on the floor. Dayla opened her eyes and stared dazedly at her before pulling the candles from her body. Lucie smiled and drew her thighs up. Reaching for a long, thick candle on the coffee table, Dayla inserted it and positioned herself above Lucie’s cunt.
Slowly, Lucie raised her hips. Dayla mounted her and pushed the candle inside her own cunt. Lucie’s breasts rose and fell in time with her panting as it penetrated her. Together they rocked in a contained frenzy until their cries echoed in the room. When the last of their energy was spent, they fell into each other’s arms and lay quietly on the floor.
Only when the mantelpiece clock chimed twice did Lucie finally extricate herself from Dayla. She rose and stretched luxuriantly, the firelight bathing her body in a molten veil. “It’s late,” she said with a grin. “Why don’t I run us a bath?”
Dayla rose and trailed her fingertip along a trickle of sweat between Lucie’s breasts. Playfully swatting her hand away, Lucie turned and scampered off to the bathroom. “I’ll call you when the bath is ready. Why don’t you make some tea? I’d love a cup.”
“Hot and sweet?” Dayla asked.
Lucie’s laugh followed. “What else?”
Padding to the kitchen, Dayla filled the kettle with water and placed it on the sonic heating base. Filled with thriving plants and Lucie’s eclectic collection of handmade pottery, the environment reflected her personality in every detail. It was a far cry from the carefully sculpted conformity of the city.
She opened a cupboard and rummaged through a daunting array of teas. A cool draft brushed her damp skin. From her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of motion.
The cold sting of a dazer sent her sprawling to the floor. As she lay stunned, a leather-clad blonde with hard honey eyes stepped over her. A pair of restraint manacles dangled from her gloved hands.
“I see I need to review my technique,” she said, roughly yanking Dayla’s arms around her back and clamping the manacles around her wrists. She paused to press the pointed tip of her boot against her crotch. “Interesting technique, by the way. I hadn’t thought to use candles.”
Disoriented, Dayla weakly struggled to crawl away. The sound of the filling tub seemed to recede to a great distance.
“What the hell is going on here?”
The woman whirled around and pointed the dazer at Lucie.
Lucie gasped, her eyes fixed on the weapon no larger than a cigarette lighter. “My God, I know you.”
“Sooner or later, your kind all do.” With a smile, she motioned Lucie to the floor with the dazer. Her attempt to reach Dayla was met with the stomp of a booted foot. She cried out and cradled her injured shoulder.
“I suggest you stay where you are. I could easily have you taken in for treatment as well.” She pointedly perused Lucie’s body. “Maybe I should anyway. Candle therapy could provide an effective avenue.”
“You can’t touch me and you know it,” Lucie spat. “I’m a city expatriate. I have the right to be here.”
The woman laughed harshly. “I’ll touch you however I like. Don’t think your official paperwork is going to shield you out here.”
From the breast pocket of her jacket, she slowly removed a hypodermal gun. A tiny metallic object gleamed inside the stubby, transparent nozzle.
“You know how important your upcoming review is to both of us,” she said, squatting over Dayla. She suggestively rubbed the nozzle against her cheek and trailed up to her left temple.
Dayla winced from the contact. “No,” she murmured, her struggles uncoordinated. “No…”
The woman bent and brushed her lips with a kiss. “You see, as a therapist, I believe in monitoring the welfare of my patients to ensure successful completion of their treatment. As you’ve experienced a significant setback, I thought it would be in your best interests if we continued your therapy with the help of a behavioral implant…”
NUCLEAR HEAVEN
Martika almost missed the distress signal that emerged as the faintest whisper of static. Extending the gilded tip of a formidable nail, she touched a highlighted region of a glowing sector chart and studied the various star systems in the vicinity. None showed evidence of life forms developed enough for such communication.
“Computer,” she purred i
n a voice reminiscent of honey and stripped tree bark, “status on distress signal. Have we got anything worth pursuing here?”
Computer’s husky voice responded. “Mistress, preliminary stats reveal the presence of a disabled vessel two hundred magsecs from the Mar Vlada system. Its markings are uncategorized, making it very possibly a renegade.”
A brief pause followed. “Wait, Mistress. This is very interesting. The signal is based on an obsolete code not utilized for almost two hundred years. I think it’s safe to assume we’ve stumbled upon a vintage discovery here, if the archaic propulsion configurations are anything to go by.”
Computer’s husky voice grew high-pitched with excitement. Martika smiled. “Calm down, Computer. It could also be nothing but space junk. Let’s have a close-up of this wonder ship before we start the celebrations.”
Immediately, the cylindrical lines of the unidentified vessel appeared within a holographic projection floating around the command center. The view slowly panned around the ship, revealing an array of primitive engine exhausts. Computer’s sensory imaging followed Martika as she rose, the focus sharpening on the voluptuous curves of her statuesque body gliding elegantly toward the projection. A lacquered halo of copper hair adorned her head; her feline features and elongated amber eyes accentuated by jeweled clusters implanted into each temple. Magnifying her sinuous movements, Computer’s circuitry gently resonated at the provocative sheen of her oiled leathery skin. Silently, it willed her flimsy platinum corselet to collapse under the weight of her pendulous, multi-nippled breasts.
Aware for some time of Computer’s malfunction, Martika could barely conceal a grin as she tried to focus on the derelict vessel. Despite increasing incidents of voyeurism reported by the crew, she had yet to locate the fused circuit and repair it. At least Computer sounded like a male if nothing else, and admittedly, she was intrigued by the possibilities presented—especially for lengthy missions.
Assuming an appropriately thoughtful stance, she studied the derelict. For all the cycles she and her crew had been on scouting patrol, never had she encountered such an ancient vessel. Though they periodically discovered a number of relics, none displayed such apparently obsolete technology. By the very configuration alone, she realized that they had stumbled upon a find of tremendous archaeological importance.
“Computer, any life readings?”
“Yes, Mistress. Stats reveal the presence of one life form, preserved in an archaic form of suspended animation. Further analysis has revealed that the technology places this vessel well before the Centenary period. A malfunction at some stage must have directed it to a relatively secure system where a distress signal might be favorably received.”
Curiosity piqued, Martika pondered her next question. “Any idea of the alien’s origins?”
The image of a blue, spectrally lit chamber appeared, housing a transparent, tubular object aglow with monitoring devices. She vaguely distinguished a reclining form through a soupy white mist, but could glean no details.
“Mistress, I’ve scanned the rudimentary artificial intelligence aboard the vessel. The species is an adult male known as Homo Sapiens, originating from a minor system in the anterior section of the galaxy.”
Martika unconsciously preened her hair as the image of the helpless male filled her fevered imagination. There would certainly be a few raised eyebrows on Vargrys when she brought this prize home.
Computer, jealously deciphering her glazed expression, interrupted. “Do you wish me to assemble the crew in the meeting room?”
“Immediately,” she said enthusiastically. “We have much to discuss. In the meantime, perhaps you could make the necessary arrangements to retrieve and defrost our visitor.”
Computer sighed inaudibly, its visual magnification set at maximum on the superbly rounded planes of her retreating ass. Almost completely exposed by the high cut of her corselet, the thin strip of blue metallic fabric tightly hugging her cleft barely concealed the tantalizing mound of her sex below. A noticeable swelling betrayed her arousal. Computer vibrated in the approximation of a shudder, imagining the spicy aroma of the commander’s turgid flesh.
Diligently, it rifled through its extensive memory to retrieve the latest illicit recordings of her taken in the communal bath with two other crewmembers. Frolicking in the rainbow colored water cascading from an array of staggered spouts, the acrobatics favored by Martika provided graphic anatomical views that Computer diligently stored for periodic review. Focusing on a close-up of Martika kneeling between the spread legs of one woman while fingering her dilated, fan-shaped sex, it slowly panned the length of Martika’s crouching body positioned to receive the extended, tongue-like member of the woman behind.
Audio had provided the usual orchestra of panted moans and sharp, excited barks that signaled manshir, the psychic and physical release of the body, but it was close-up of Martika’s penetration that fired Computer to almost ecstatic states of energy exchange. Sadha’s formidable member, quivering, the flesh blushed by arousal, snaked deep inside Martika. Doubled up, her ass rising from the bathwater like a mythical island, Martika swayed and writhed with molten sensuality. In the meantime, Lessra, her companion beneath, had presented her gaping sex to Martika’s mouth. Martika groveled among the extended fleshy petals and lapped the beaded nectar…
At that moment, Computer’s emergency cooling system initiated, lowering the dangerously elevating temperatures threatening the integrity of its microcircuitry. A sound not unlike a frustrated cry echoed through the bowels of the ship…
* * *
Assembled in the meeting room beautifully adorned with erotic frescoes of the goddess and planters of shyly murmuring flowers, the female crew chattered excitedly among themselves. Hair and bodies painstakingly groomed in anticipation, they preened each other like a flock of wild birds. The musk of excitement lingered in the air.
Stepping through the doors into the crush of nubile, perfumed bodies, Martika raised her hand, immediately commanding silence. Obediently, the women took their places at the great round table and waited for her to speak. Martika briefly regarded her crew. Each face told a story, the bodies yielding an encyclopedic array of sexual encounters. Behind her, a holographic representation of the derelict vessel appeared, instantly snaring all eyes.
“Daughters of Vargrys, as you all know by now, we have made a historical discovery. A human male has been found on a derelict vessel thought to have originated from the Imshran sector of the galaxy. In view of this remarkable event, we will need to re-evaluate the importance of widening exploration into the region.” An enthusiastic buzz of voices and queries erupted. She waited for the excitement to subside. “Computer is transporting him to us at this very moment, where he will be revived in the quarantine chamber. The ship itself will be stored in the hold. Those wishing to observe the procedure may follow me. At that point, you may address your questions and concerns, including the human’s possible role on Vargrys.”
The heavily jeweled hand of a raven-haired crewmember tentatively rose.
Martika smiled. “Yes, Sansia?”
“Forgive me Mistress, but should we not notify the Council of Elder Daughters of this discovery? I thought such finds came under the edicts of the archaeological division?”
Noticing the incredulous looks of the other crew, Martika formulated a generic response as she turned to leave. “In due course, Sansia. For now we must allow our guest a chance to recover.”
The meeting room immediately emptied. Computer had just initiated the reanimation program when the women entered quarantine and filed around a protective transparent partition. Momentarily neglecting its duties, Computer deviously ogled the living banquet of sashaying hips and oiled skin until a potent, acrid aroma filled the air.
“Computer!” Martika snapped. “Get on with it, or I’ll have you completely re-circuited when we return home!”
“Yes, Mistress,” it grumbled.
Eagerly, the entourage observed the compl
etion of the reanimation procedure. As life support monitors gradually turned to green, the chamber slid open, releasing the soupy mist and revealing the man for the first time in two hundred years. Martika led the anxious crew toward the chamber while the protective partition moved ahead of them.
“Computer, any signs of contamination or contagion?”
Silence ensued.
Scowling, she raised her voice. “Dammit, Computer, I asked you a question! Disobey me again and I’ll disassemble you myself.”
“No signs, Mistress,” Computer grudgingly responded. “Readings are clear. Commencing removal of the quarantine shield.”
The man’s eyes fluttered open just as she bent over his face and smothered his groggy field of vision with the sight of three melon-sized breasts.
“He’s conscious!” she cried, staring at his pale skin and curious, lash-fringed blue eyes. She cautiously fingered the damp strands of golden hair plastered on his forehead. “In the name of the goddess, he’s not only smooth-skinned, but he’s an albino as well!”
Excited chatter echoed as the women crowded around the chamber. The man blinked in confusion and disbelief, a slow grin spreading on his face beneath the onslaught of fleeting touches and strokes.
“Oh, my!” Sansia said, her hand poised above the mound forming at his crotch. She stared at the growing erection in fascination and gingerly prodded it. “He is capable of sonhar. How interesting!”
The man’s smile faltered slightly as hands eagerly groped him.
Computer vainly cried out. “Ladies, please! Give the man time to recover. He’s been in suspended animation for cycles. His system may not be able to cope with the shock of reanimation just yet. Remember when and where he came from. For all we know, this could be his first alien contact!”
