Shalia's Diary #9

by Tracy St. John

  “She’s great. Napping.” Desperate to snatch this awful scene from the jaws of calamity, I asked, “Can I com back later? This isn’t such a good time.”

  Aslada snorted.

  I swear I could hear the grin on Larten’s unseen face stretching from ear to ear. “No need. I just wanted to let you know I’ve sent that list of physical and combat trainers you wanted.”

  This time it was Jaon who made a dismissive sound. I ignored him.

  “Thank you, Larten,” I sighed. There had been no reason for him to com. I would have been alerted to the new files on my handheld. He knew that. He was playing Nobek games, apparently.

  “Have a nice visit, Shalia. Give my other girl a kiss for me.”

  “Goodbye, Larten.” I heard a short bark of laughter, cut off when I disconnected.

  Aslada’s expression was a pleasant mask. He addressed Jaon. “I thought you were taking care of that.”

  “What’s to take care of? I’m here. Shalia has no need to worry over her safety.”

  “I should hope not.”

  I gave the Nobek a sidelong look. “As I told you, training is important to me. Whether or not you can keep me safe while I’m here is not the issue. I want this.”

  Jaon looked flummoxed. “Why? There is no need. Just because others couldn’t keep you from being attacked during your trip—”

  I was not about to hear him denigrate Oses or any of the Pussy ‘Porter’s security. “Let me stop you right there,” I said, keeping my tone as non-confrontational as I could. “I had the best damned weapons commander in the fleet looking out for me. I had a transport full of highly-trained security and destroyers ready to fight to the death for me. And just like all of life, shit still happened.” I put my hand on his. “I know you’re good at what you do. I can see you’re a hell of a Nobek, an incredible protector. It could be you’re right, that training is a waste of my time. Even so, I need this. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else. Because if I’ve learned nothing else, I know for a fact that shit will continue to happen to me.”

  I hoped I hadn’t shattered Jaon’s fragile warrior ego. He sat perfectly still for several moments, during which time I supposed him to be turning the matter over in his handsome head.

  He relented. A little. “Well, I suppose it will do no harm,” he said. “If it makes you feel better.”

  “Yes.”

  Aslada put his diplomat’s hat on, eager to smooth things over. “So that’s settled. You should have Jaon look over this Larten’s recommendations, however. I know I’d feel better having my Nobek’s seal of approval on this matter.”

  Wanting to put the momentary unpleasantness to rest, I readily agreed. “Sure. That would be great.”

  Of us all, Meyso acted most unaffected by my wanting to train. He looked at each of us as if trying to figure out what the fuss was about. After a moment or two, he shrugged his shoulders and smiled at me. “So I’m not going to get to watch you and Jaon wrestle for dominance now? And here I thought I could win some money off Aslada by betting on you.”

  He’d opened the door for us to lighten the mood, and I jumped at the chance. I stood up and struck a bodybuilder pose, snarling in my best angry-Oses imitation at Jaon.

  My would-be Nobek obviously wanted to get past our little tiff as much as I did. He left all dignity behind to squeal – yes, squeal – and cringe in pretended fright. In a falsetto that no man with two dicks should be able to achieve, he cried, “Save me from her, Meyso!”

  Let me say, a screeching and flinching Jaon is a sight to see. It was so ludicrous that I fell back on the lounger, laughing like a loon as Aslada and Meyso roared at the spectacle. I was also touched that Jaon would put aside the usual Nobek dignity to make us laugh.

  “Oh, you scared me,” Jaon said. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, fawning over me. “How does such a beautiful woman inspire terror as you do? Ah, you are a gorgeous and terrible goddess that I must do all in my power to appease.”

  “Sweet prophets,” I giggled. “You are full of it.”

  “Full of worship, my adored Shalia.” He grinned at me, his fierce face admiring. My insides felt gooey as I basked in the frank approval that broke through the silliness. “You make a Nobek want to lift you up in adulation.”

  “It’s getting deep in here,” I snorted, but yes, a part of me was eating the accolades up. I wondered what it would be like for a man to really feel that way about me.

  “Not at all.” Meyso joined in. “You are remarkable given all that’s happened to you. Strong, sure of yourself, a devoted mother—”

  “Smart, talented, and beautiful as well,” Aslada interjected.

  Goodness, I didn’t know there would be a Shalia Appreciation Society to deal with. I could feel my face going hot from all the compliments, compliments I knew were more than I deserved. “Guys, come on. I can’t live up to all you’re putting on me,” I said. “You’re sweet to say those things, but you don’t know me yet. Wait until you see me without coffee. Or for longer than a few hours when I’ve run out of energy for good behavior.”

  That got me plenty of chuckles. The men curled close to me, huddling us in a tight knot on the sofa. I was cocooned in hot, yummy men who insisted on telling me how wonderful they thought I was and that I could do nothing to change that idea.

  Am I the luckiest woman in the universe, or what?

  They are Kalquorian men, so of course things didn’t stop with snuggles. I’m not sure who delivered that first hot kiss because as soon as one mouth left mine, another was there to take its place. I am Shalia, so of course I fell prey to all that rampant manliness surrounding me.

  I thought you wanted to take it slow with your potential clans? a sly voice sneered in my head. But my body wasn’t listening to good sense – as if it ever had. Tongues stroked mine, tasting me in a way that left me dizzy. I couldn’t help but taste back, goading them to kiss harder, deeper. The sofa beneath me seemed to rock, but muscled arms were there to steady me.

  My clothing shifted. Cool air greeted my skin. They were baring me, pulling my blouse and skirt up for questing hands to investigate. My bra and panties remained in place, but that didn’t stop the men from exploring. Hot hands cupped my lace-covered breasts. Fingers and thumbs seized my hard nipples to squeeze enough to make me squirm. I moaned into the hot mouth possessing mine. I’d had little to drink, but I was intoxicated just the same. Drunk with desire, aching for more. When someone’s hand slid up my inner thigh, I spread my legs in welcome. Fingers rubbed over my pussy, galvanizing my clit so that lightning zapped through my core. I cried out.

  A hoarse voice groaned, “Beautiful, sweet girl.”

  Horny girl. I rubbed myself over those fingers, chasing sensation hard. They shifted, and for a moment I thought I was to be denied. Instead, they slipped inside my panties, sliding in the wetness to touch bare, wanton flesh.

  It was almost too much, feeling calloused digits sliding over my swollen slit, my clit captured between knuckles to be rubbed until my whole body flushed with fiery need. My hips lifted and lowered, unconsciously pleasuring myself with his hand, doing all but begging them to satisfy me. The men didn’t deny me; they doubled their efforts, hands and mouths all over me.

  I wanted more, though. I wanted to be filled, front and back. I no longer cared we were practically strangers. I forgot I missed Oses and Betra, that my conscience might go into full-on guilt over sleeping with men other than them. I forgot Clan Seot, who I’d thought of with more desire than Clan Aslada – until now. All I knew was I needed to be made love to, to be fucked as only Kalquorian men could fuck me.

  Those soul-stealing kisses kept coming, not allowing me to plead for what I wanted. And their hands kept playing me, edging me closer to being obliterated until the first sweet flick of orgasm teased my pussy. My body seized, each muscle going taut as I begged myself, not yet, not yet, I want all of it, not just this.

  The men would not be denied. Intuiting that I’d reached the verg
e of release, they went at me harder than ever, shoving me into the abyss of climax. I plunged in, my body jerking wildly as sweet dissolution swept me from head to toe. They kept at it, dragging every last quake, every diminishing spasm from me to leave me weak and shaking.

  I blinked up at three handsome faces, each one of them insufferably pleased with himself. The scent of their desire, spent so that their trouser crotches were dark, filled the air. From the smug looks they wore, I had the idea Clan Aslada had planned to get me like this all along.

  Aslada grinned, his smile bright against his dark face. “I think we can call this a successful introduction. I look forward to us being acquainted well enough for the rest.”

  Once again, it was the Kalquorians saving me from my rampant lust by not taking me too far too quick. It wasn’t only Clan Aslada who had preserved me. Thank goodness Nomol had been discreet enough to leave the room at some point. My face flamed to think of how much of our encounter the bartender might have seen.

  Like Clan Seot, Clan Aslada had decided not to rush me into full-on sex so soon after meeting me. They told me they too planned to take things slow until they were sure I was ready. Everyone but me has sense during the heat of passion, it would seem. It’s weird. Since when is it the woman who tries to get into the men’s pants without success?

  Twat-blocking. It’s apparently a thing on Kalquor.

  October 17

  This morning I woke up in my ridiculously luxurious sleeping room in Clan Aslada’s home and thought I must be dreaming. It was obvious I’d somehow found my way into a fairytale what with the immense cloud-soft curtained bed, soft-as-down sheets, window-vids showing an impossibly beautiful view of hills and lake with drils singing sweetly. The artwork was rich and fabulous, as were the handwoven rugs scattered over the marbled floor. At first I thought I had a lady-in-waiting ready to attend me when I saw the long, sapphire-blue gown at the corner of my vision – a headless lady-in-waiting. Fairytale turned into nightmare until I realized the gown was hanging without a body inside it. Sweet prophets, didn’t that scare the snot out of me for a moment.

  I rose to see a tray of fluffy pastries and a carafe of coffee on the table next to the sleeping mat. Well. Wasn’t that nice. But who had been in here while I was sleeping to leave it? And was the gown for me? It was fancier than anything I’ve ever worn – but I realized it was in keeping with how the Kalquorian women dressed on a daily basis. It wasn’t sized for a Kalquorian though. It was obviously intended for me. Was I supposed to wear it like a Kalquorian, like I do slacks or a skirt? Or were we going somewhere special?

  I was discombobulated by waking up in this place of wealth and prestige, but more off-balance by all that had gone on the day and night before. What a whirlwind, not the least of which came when Clan Aslada ravished me – jeez, I’m still thinking in fairytale terms, aren’t I? Ravish. Ha, what an over-the-top word that is. But doesn’t it fit after what happened yesterday? Three different times? No sex, because Clan Aslada had decided to operate with the same slow build of anticipation that Clan Seot had. All on their own, without me requesting it. However, Kalquorian ‘slow’ still means getting kissed and touched until I orgasm. Let’s not talk about how many pairs of pants those boys went through, or how guilty I feel over being satisfied while they were left wanting.

  But they instigated each time it happened. They did so with no expectation of getting anything in return. I’d be sitting there, talking and laughing with them when suddenly they were all over me again. Driving every sane thought out of my brain, exploring me, making me wet, making me hot, making me come for them. They could have fucked me each and every time and I wouldn’t have said no. They were too overwhelming and exciting to me. But they made no effort to take what I would have gladly given.

  Hey, I challenge anyone to not want to bonk Clan Aslada when they’ve decided a girl needs to be serviced. Any gal who could resist would be a much better woman than I.

  I shook my head, clearing away the sleepy cobwebs that had me musing over my surroundings and three entirely too-fuckable men instead of checking on Anrel. I threw back the sheets and put my feet on the floor.

  As if on cue, Meyso walked in, cuddling my baby girl. “Mother’s awake,” he told my happy child.

  “Good morning, sweetest girl,” I cooed as he set her in my arms. Anrel squealed to see me, waving her little fists with joyful excitement.

  “She’s fed and in good spirits,” the Imdiko reported. “I thought she wanted you, so we came in to check if you were ready to see her.”

  “I’m always ready for my Anrel,” I sighed, looking into her bright purple eyes. “Who had the good sense to bring me coffee?”

  “Me,” Meyso grinned, proud as he could be. “Here, let me help you.”

  If waking up in a fairytale wasn’t odd enough, Meyso insisted on feeding me the pastries and holding the coffee for me to sip while I cuddled Anrel. I’d had a little experience before with doting Kalquorian men. I knew a clan feeding its Matara was the norm for them. Yet Betra and Oses hadn’t done it but once or twice. It felt weird as hell.

  I had a lot to wrap my head around today. My attendant drew my bath and fixed my hair for me. That fantasy about being rowed around on the lake? It happened. I didn’t have a parasol, but there was a kind of cloth tent erected to keep the sun off me and Anrel. I was cajoled into wearing that gown for no particular reason other than what it’s the style of Kalquorian women. It turned out to be one of a dozen such frocks Clan Aslada had bought for me.

  Each meal, including the picnic by the lake, I was fed from the clan’s fingers. They and their servants fussed over me like I was some dainty damsel. Anrel too. It was over the top, and I kept thinking someone was going to jump out and slam a cream pie in my face at any moment, the punchline to some elaborate joke. But I could tell that to Clan Aslada, this was all perfectly natural. They were the same relaxed, easygoing trio I’d met the day before. Relaxed, easygoing, and insanely rich with the attitude a woman needed to be waited on hand and foot. I had few moments when I was allowed to raise a pinkie on my own behalf.

  It was weird. Fun and horribly indulgent too. But weird. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this kind of lifestyle. Not that I’m crossing Clan Aslada off the list. Not for one second. They are wonderful. And what they do to me when we’re private – that’s a lotta ‘oh hell yes’. It’s just that we might have to make a few adjustments. I am capable of choosing my own clothes, taking care of my child, and running my own tub full of water, thanks so much.

  So I played princess today, starring in my fantasy fairytale. Tomorrow, things will start changing. For one thing, Jaon approved Larten’s picks for my training. They’ll be here tomorrow to start work, and then I can get back to being little old grubby Shalia, everyday gal from Small Town, Earth.

  October 18

  Busy, busy day. After playing the grand lady in my gown all day yesterday, it was something of a relief to put on my workout gear. The urge to say stuff like, “Prithee, young varlet” or “Fall back to yonder castle” was happily left behind.

  I started off with Nobek Genner for basic strength and fitness training. Since Jaon has such an elaborate gym in the home, we were able to use it to full advantage. I like Genner. He’s an older guy who used to work in a training camp. He’s got a face like old, cracked leather, and his hair is more gray than black. He’s tough and doesn’t put up with any slacking off. That’s not saying he’s insulting like that jerkface Resan was. All it takes to get my butt in gear with him is a lifted eyebrow and a derisive, “Is that the best you can do?” delivered in an ice-cold tone of voice. I’ve learned I don’t like that one statement, because Genner can put a book’s worth of disappointment and disgust in it. After I heard it the second time and had that awful ‘I’m worthless’ feeling in my gut, I made sure he didn’t say it again. Genner is the master of the guilt-trip, no two ways about it. He left without much comment other than, “Run two miles tomorrow and stretch. I’ll see you
in two days.” I have no idea how pathetic he thinks I am, but at least he's coming back.

  I was wringing with sweat when Nobek Emad came in for fight training minutes after Genner’s departure. He was a little younger, but not by much. He’s got a super nasty scar down the middle of his face, like someone tried to split his skull in half with a sword. Even without that, he’d be as pretty as a truckload of baboon butts. Still, the man moves with the grace of a ballet dancer. Since Oses taught me a lot of basic moves, Emad wants me to learn how to fight with better balance. “Nothing will fuck up a perfectly good offense than falling on your ass because you’ve got shit for equilibrium,” he informed me. His language is as pretty as he is, with about every other word profanity. He knows his fighting though, and I like the guy. Maybe I’m overloading on the elegance of Clan Aslada’s gracious home, because I felt comfortable around scarred Emad with his potty mouth.

  Last came Nobek Toleca, the blade trainer. He was something else to look at. Tall, elegant, light on his feet. Not on the level of Candy’s Nobek Studman, but a beautiful creature. Not beautiful as in ‘Shalia would bang him in a red-hot minute’ beautiful. More like ‘that’s a fucking tiger who is on its way to rip my throat out’ beautiful. As in, I wouldn’t fuck with that even if it was in a cage. Toleca scares the hell out of me. He’s not happy with just the scars he’s received in fights. He purposely gives himself scars in the form of cutting symbols that represent opponents he’s gotten the best of. His legs, chest, and arms are covered in these crazy hieroglyphics that he’s carved into himself. They aren’t crude carvings either, but real artwork – if scarification can be considered such. It’s riveting. Savage. Astounding.