Willa had experienced the first mate’s maddening predilection for practical jokes and tricks the first day she met him. The last three days had cemented her negative opinion of his sick habit. Sprites were serious-minded individuals and she simply could not understand his need to involve others in scenarios driven by his strange idea of humor.
“Now is not the time for your inappropriate jokes, Bevel. What does the damned thing eat…besides fresh Sprite?”
Already becoming re-engrossed in his precise preparations for take-off, he absently answered, “He iss a sspecies of cat, Willa. Catss like cream…”
As he completed his sentence, a humid blast of gusting breath blew apart the sparse fronds covering her sex. A wedge-shaped head roughly inserted itself between Willa’s thighs and a wide, coarse tongue swiped her dewed flesh from anus to clit. The force of the tongue thrust lifted her from the ground, sending her feet flying from her magnetic boots.
She hung suspended on the invisible tongue, a shockwave of pleasure sizzling under and along her skin. The sudden invasion swept all thought from her. Intense feelings drove the fear from her. Her toes curled at the pleasurable sensations sweeping through her. The thing’s tongue filled her to overflowing and she writhed on the spike of gravelly flesh, her mouth rounded in an ‘O’ of arousal-tinged excitement. The hot, rough organ plowed deeper into her dripping sex, pulling out to lap the juices escaping from her slit, before pushing back up into her cream-filled pussy.
Instinctively, she grabbed for an anchor. Her seeking hands encountered solid flesh covered in dense fur, fingers swept over a broad flat head and upstanding rounded ears. Sinking her hands into the dense ruff, wrapping her legs about the animal’s thick neck, she held on for dear life.
The tongue curled up inside her, rasping against a sensitive spot and her cunt spasmed, raining honeyed cream down on the hot, thick invader as it drove and retreated, drove and retreated, working its determined way further into her tight, clasping channel.
The Tygyr employed its tongue with ruthless talent, delving and rooting in her, its abrasive surface fraying her responsive tissues. It scraped across her vulnerable S-spots, awakening every nerve, bringing her cunt to screaming life. She shuddered, impaled and ravished, mind spinning with desperate excitement.
The prickling tongue withdrew from her dripping pussy to swipe over her turgid clit, lapping at it, lapping it hard, licking it raw. Sharp teeth closed over it, bit down with deliberate pressure eliciting a primal scream of ecstasy. Spine bowing, nipples swelling and stabbing at the ceiling, Willa rode the Tygyr, humping her hips toward its mouth.
Hands fisted in the ruff at the animal’s neck, she tugged its massive head tight against her juicing pussy. Her plumage blushed the hue of deep fuchsia as pleasure ripped through her -- so intense, so brutal, she screamed as she came, screamed until blackness overtook her…
The Captain, purring loudly, happily lapped up the fragrant cream spilling from the cunt of his new plaything. The crumpled Sprite lay on the deck in an ungainly sprawl. He paused only long enough to nudge her legs wider apart, not nearly finished supping on her honeyed essence. His deep, broken-cadenced purrs rose and fell as he worked his tongue into the tiny rosebud hole of the Sprite’s anus. Distantly, his acute hearing registered Bevel’s agitated movements over at the command console as his second-in-command swiveled in his chair to face him.
“Sshe tasstess quite good, doessn’t sshe, Brant?” Bevel canted his head, his tongue questing out his captain’s mood. “Her cunt iss deliciouss and sshe iss an excellent cock ssucker. I know I bought and hired her mainly for you, but perhapss you wouldn’t mind ssharing a tasste every now and then ?”
Lifting his damp muzzle from his tasty treat, eyes slitting in warning, Brant allowed a snarl to rumble deep in his throat. He had never before minded sharing a female with the Jenari yet, this time, he didn’t care for the knowledge that Bevel had enjoyed this delectable dish before he had. Nor did he appreciate the twinkle in the sightless eyes of his navigator or the sly smile widening his damn mouth.
As usual, the Jenari ignored his warning.
“Are we enjoying our cream, then, Captain?”
Bevel wagged his writhing tongue against the roof of his mouth in admonishment. “Really! On the cold deck, Ssir? What? Are you trying to give another meaning to the phrasse: ‘Laying them in the aisless’?”
Another chuckle escaped him as he shook his finger at his Captain and sometime friend. “Naughty, naughty kitty!”
Chapter Four
Willa woke with a start, shuddering as her body convulsed in the aftermath of the most devastating orgasm of her short life. She shook her head, fighting sensory overload…a case of too much, too fast.
By Sparkle, what a ride!
Gingerly inventorying her chilled flesh and tight muscles, she rubbed her sore neck, hissing with irritation. How did she end up lying on the floor of her cabin? Whoever had carried her here could at least have placed her on her bunk.
Willa’s thoughts faltered…a Sh’Bahkyr Ghost!
That had to be the answer. A Sh’Bahkyr in his Ghost form had licked her to orgasm. Once he finished, the creature had probably carried her in his jaws, which explained why the nape of her neck felt damp and tender. The flesh there ached as if a harsh hand…or careful teeth had grasped her.
Willa released an awed breath.
The Sh’Bahkyr race, reputed to be a people steeped in the erotic arts, had always held an undeniable fascination for her. If one were to believe the stories that circulated among the space ways, the males excelled in giving multiple orgasms to their mates before finally spending themselves in copious showers of sperm -- sperm potent enough to cross species. Could it impregnate even a Sprite from the planet Sparkle?
Further, legend held that the Sh’Bahkyr males possessed two forms: one humanoid-bipedal, the other animal. The primary form always took precedence, took flesh and substance. The secondary form, whether humanoid or animal, manifested as ephemeral or ghostlike…invisible, but having the same substance as its visual opposite.
Oh, yes, Willa thought shakily, scorching heat scouring her body as she relived the sensations of a hot, rough, impudent tongue forging past her skimpy nest fronds to embed itself in her dripping slit. Definitely, the ghost form retained its substance!
Her hand slipped down her torso, exploring her nest, unsurprised but gratified at the new fullness of her feathers. Petting and finger combing her fronds, she fluffed them fondly, grateful for the newly sprouted growth.
She crooned a happy little melody, lips parting in a wide smile as she thought how long it had been since she’d had an adequate orgasm. Too long! All of her feather-fronds had been in danger of molting. The strength of the Tygyr-induced orgasm had caused her plumage to grow and deepen in color. Of course, she needed much more before she could attain full growth and health, still…
If I have attained this new growth without receiving sperm, is it possible I could actually grow a Sprite from our joining?
Willa’s entire body shimmered with barely contained excitement. She had never entertained the thought that she might one day have a child. The Sprites of Sparkle had proven barren with all known species. Their numbers steadily decreased with the years as the surviving Sprites molted and died in forced captivity, unable to flourish without adequate sexual stimulation and unwilling to give their captors the information that would only serve to deepen their captivity.
If her race could mate with the Sh’Bahkyr…if the males’ sperm proved to be as potent as legend reported…if, if, if!
Willa’s thoughts raced with renewed hope. If she could find more males like her invisible Captain, would they be willing to help her people? Whether or not they could or would help might prove to be a moot point since the Corporation’s official List of Sentient Beings listed the Sh’Bahkyr Race as extinct.
Willa now knew at least one male Sh’Bahkyr survived -- it, or rather, he had pleasured her into a faint -- and she
suspected there were lots more of the so-called extinct race, despite the official word to the contrary. After all, legend and the Corporation also claimed she and her fellow Sprites were a genetic impossibility, yet she lived and breathed.
Sprites might have trouble keeping their feet on the ground, but there was nothing flighty about their intelligence, so when irrefutable evidence presented itself, a wily Sprite like Willa took note. Her head came up in determination. She would find out all she could about the Captain before revealing her own secrets. They might possibly become allies, but for now, she would take no chances…
Willa rose from the floor, stretching her arms up, rolling her shoulders and neck to remove the last of the kinks. As she finished her exercises, she became aware of heavy breathing. A steady, growling thrum pulsated loudly in the small confines of her cabin and she cautiously turned toward the sound, knowing now what that sound meant. She gasped, almost swooning again at the wondrous sight that met her devouring gaze.
A gloriously naked male sprawled upon her bunk. His impossibly long legs, his thighs and calves were heavy with corded muscle. His dormant cock, resting against one out-flung leg, lolled long, thick, and delicious looking even at rest. The relaxed organ had her guts tightening and her cunt juicing.
The rest of him appealed to her senses as much as his tasty looking rod. His well-shaped head -- the thinking one -- sported a full shock of tawny blond locks. Silky, luxurious looking curls that many a female would envy tumbled about his shoulders and down his back, blending into the light fur that rippled across his broad shoulders. The lighter gold of his brows and lashes were startling against the darkness of his bronze skin. His Tygyr-gold eyes were enormous, fierce, and fathomless, the irises streaked with bold slashes of black, the pupils -- slitted like those of a Terran cat -- tracked her every movement.
A thick dusting of hair or a light coating of fur covered his entire body, thicker at the nape and upper back area. The intriguing growth lent his body a deceptive sleekness. Latent power hummed beneath that relaxed skin and Willa salivated, itching to explore every inch of him, eager to run her fingers through that dense mat of soft-looking body fur.
Willa quivered, heart racing as she met his audacious, knowing gaze. He smiled, showing sharply pointed white teeth, another trait of his Tygyr-like ghost form carried over to his primary humanoid form.
The damp down of her nest fronds grew wetter at the thought of those sharp teeth nipping at her nipples and dripping cunt. Breathing deeply, Willa inhaled his spicy male scent, held it until her pent-up breath escaped on a sigh, fluttering through her dry lips. Her breast feathers fluffed outward, pushed aside by the stiff, hard purple tips of her engorging breasts peeking through their covering fronds. Her nipples ached fiercely, tightening for the piercing pleasure to come. She could hardly wait to service this prime specimen.
“Your nipples are poking through your feathers. Is that a sign of arousal? Or fear?”
Ooohh, of course he would have a luscious sounding voice! The deep, rolling thunder stroked her skin, raising a rash of fine bumps. Groaning, she swallowed thickly. “Arousal.”
“Good. I don’t want you afraid when I fuck you.”
“Some argue that fear lends spice to the act.”
“I can agree with them if they speak of the female being fearfully glad she is about to get the best fucking she has ever had.” The Captain flashed his pointed teeth in a feral grin. “Or fearing she’ll never enjoy the touch of another male once she revives from the powerful orgasms her lover is about to give her… That kind of fear will certainly spice up the coming act.” He winked at her. “Pun intended.”
“Fine talk for a quiet cock.” Willa smirked, tossing a dismissive glance at his still quiescent sex. “You do not look capable of providing the fuck you brag about. Or does your kind fuck with a limp cock as does your Jenari pilot?”
According to what the Jenari had told her, Bevel’s cock stiffened at will but remained flexible while engaged in coitus, performing coitus by striking out like the decobra it resembled. Personally, the thought of his cock having a separate sentience titillated her imagination. She wanted a chance for a closer inspection, something she had yet to work up the nerve to ask Bevel. She would never forget how it had hovered, weaving and bobbing before her sex, sizing her cunt up for invasion. In the end, she’d begged him to fuck her, so desperate for an orgasm she had dared her master’s sure punishment.
For naught, it turned out. The Jenari refused to fuck any but his bonded mistress. He held no strictures against sharing his tongue or his cock for oral sex, however. She licked her grinning lips recalling her initial trial. The pilot’s cilia-coated tongue belonged in a class all its own.
“Make me hard.”
Willa bristled at the command. “Make your own self hard, Tygyr,” she sniffed, striding forward to face the man/beast that had unmercifully teased her and now lay on her own bunk, mocking her. She was no longer a slave, damn it, and he could just stop with the orders. “Why should I? You scared me! You played with my emotions and cruelly taunted me on the bridge. I am angry with you.”
The Sh’Bahkyr reclined indolently, his sharp smile growing more pointed as he murmured, “I merely tested your response to the unexpected.”
Willa wanted to ask what she’d scored on his innovative test, but declined to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had intrigued her. Still, her natural inclinations kicked in and she couldn’t resist flirting with him even as she scolded, “You licked my slit. That rough tongue of yours could have taken my skin off!” She pouted, fully aware of how her lips plumped and swelled invitingly, having practiced to get the expression right numerous times.
The Sh’Bahkyr drew one leg up, wrapping his arms about his bent knee, muscles shifting smoothly and gracefully beneath firm skin. “I took great care not to abrade your delicate flesh…and I did a lot more than lick your slit, Sprite,” he bragged. “I pleasured you, drank your cream from your cunt -- a delicious bowl full of sweet, spicy sauce -- which only served to whet my appetite. I have issued a command, Sexengineer. As the captain of this ship, you owe me sexual service. Obey me.”
She frowned. He was right, by Drasarka!
Her anger drained away, making way for her very real interest. Eyes glued on his quivering member, Willa stood with feet slightly apart, unselfconsciously exposing her body to the Tygyr-man’s obviously approving gaze. She knew her body -- honed to tip-top shape -- displayed the best of the Spritely form. Her breast-fronds, still a little sparse despite her best efforts to keep them full and colorful, grew above full, rounded breasts tipped with long purple nipples. A fan of iridescent new fluff and fronds covered the small, pouty lips protecting her tiny slit, and her engorged clit poked impudently from between the plump lips. Her blend of purple, fuchsia and pink iridescent tail feathers barely spanned the wide expanse of her curvy hips, her favorite feature.
Smiling in anticipation, she dipped a finger between her legs and swirled it through the juices slicking her cunt. A jolt of pleasure shot through her, racing up and down her spine to explode along her nerve endings at nipple and clit and anus. She added another finger, humming as she collected her dripping cream. Coating her hand with her slickness, she scrambled up onto the bunk and grasped her captain’s cock in a firm, slippery grip.
It awoke with a vengeance, rearing up and up until it towered thickly between the male’s massive thighs, quickly exceeding her expectations. At rest, it had been impressive. Fully erect and outthrust, it inspired worship.
Willa gave a happy chirp as she gleefully pumped the steely staff, her other hand gently fondling the softly furred mass of his balls.
Brant Sylenus groaned aloud, his gut clenching as he watched the Sprite reverently fisting his cock. He’d argued against hiring a Sexengineer, afraid of bringing in an outsider, one who could learn too much about their secretive missions. Now, gritting his teeth as he battled a rising tide of dark pleasure, lifting his hips into the surprisingly ti
ght grip of the small female, he gave thanks Bevel’s arguments had prevailed.
“Take my cock in your mouth, Sprite. I would see how talented you are…”
He almost stopped breathing when the Sprite crawled into his lap, her little fuchsia tongue darting out to wet her lips. She continued sliding her hand up and down his hard shaft as she slowly lowered her mouth and swallowed the flared head of his cock, engulfing the ridged crown and half the shaft.
His breath returned in a rush of ragged, panting draughts as she caught his cock in the hard, tugging suction of her lips. His hips lifted toward her face, forcing more of his shaft into her mouth.
“More! Take more,” he gasped, catching her head between his palms, guiding her movements, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Feathers the color of a misty rainbow grew out of a well-shaped scull, floating about the female’s delicate looking face. Marveling at the contradiction between her fragile appearance and the strength evident in her grasp, he smoothed her fronds away from her face so he could watch her mouth working on his sex. Her small palm easily controlled his rampant cock, yet she looked slight enough to break in his powerful grip, her compact body petite, yet ripe with womanly curves.
His hands tightened instinctively when he felt her pulling away, then released, allowing her the freedom of movement. He gave thanks for his decision when he felt her hot mouth close about his testicles. Her tongue swirled around the base, her lips contracted, teeth nibbled as she slurped on his sensitive sac, drawing almost painfully on his full balls.
“By the Waters of Shaya, your mouth feels so tight, so hot!” A harsh groan escaped him as he felt his balls shifting, growing fuller and taut. Head thrown back in ecstasy, he buried his hands in her head-fronds, loving the exotic feel of the downy fluff between his gripping fingers. He tugged on her, maneuvering her head until she was once more sliding her mouth forward and back on his throbbing length. He moaned again, shaking under her ministrations, writhing as a sheet of flame burned its way along the path of his nerve endings, wanting the spiraling pleasure to last forever.
Tales of the Quiet Kitty 1: Under the Cat’s Paw Page 3
