by Sahara Kelly
His impassioned speech was bouncing around in Boralle’s mind, confusing her, stunning her and yet making some kind of sense to her.
Equally devastating was the effect his green gaze was having on her. She wanted to smooth her hair, giggle, blush and squirm. It was totally unlike anything she’d experienced before and she hadn’t a clue how to handle it. Only her years of training in the art of lawyering, which rather resembled instruction on how to hold a royal flush at a poker table and not let on about it, enabled her to meet his gaze with an unwavering one of her own.
“Boralle, somehow I have to convince you to trust me. It is of the most serious importance.” Rory frowned. “I was told…they told me to tell you that…that…”
“What?” She urged him onward, desperate for something that would justify her increasing urge to free this man from the security restraints.
His brow cleared and he nailed her once again with his intense green stare. “I was told to tell you that Tiryus North bids you accept the truth. For the fairies.”
Boralle felt the blood drain from her head and reached out a hand to steady herself. Somehow she managed to put the mug down, before sparkly lights flashed behind her eyeballs and she took a deep breath to prevent herself from fainting dead away.
“How did you know to say this to me?” She whispered the words through lips that felt like lumps of lead.
“I’m telling you what I was told, lass. These words are meant to help you accept me, to understand that I mean you no harm and to underscore how important our job is. How important it is that you trust me.”
He looked anxiously at her, as if willing her to believe in him.
After what she’d just heard, she had no other choice.
Pulling herself to her feet, she reached for the control panel and deactivated the security restraints.
She’d freed him.
She now had a fully functional, enormously handsome Scottish warrior free in her quarters, ready to awaken her sexually.
She had to be completely out of her mind.
Chapter Four
The Command Center Deck of the Magus Prime Heavy Cruiser “Bratlnarf”
The nearly naked female bent over the control panel and obligingly spread her legs. Grunting in anticipation, Commander Bendrick dropped his dickgard, pushed her tail to the side and shoved his erection into her cunt without further ado.
His thrusts drove the woman into the electronic housing, but he paid no attention to her groans as her belly connected with the steel that sheathed the inner workings of his ship.
“Commander,” said his second-in-command. “We are nearing the outer beacons of Frallien IV.”
Bendrick glanced over, maintaining his rhythmic thrusts into the woman in front of him. “Very well, Sub-commander. Put us into a holding orbit just beyond the beacon and kill the drive engines. I don’t want anyone to know we’re a little early.” His sharp teeth glinted in the subdued lighting of the command panels, and his lips peeled back as he neared his climax.
Hissing now, his ears reddened and his tail curled up on itself. Suddenly, there was a shriek from the woman as she froze, rigid, leaning over the life support system panel.
Commander Bendrick had begun to orgasm, flooding her body with his acidic sperm. His tail quivered and then slowly straightened into a rigid length that stretched nearly to the floor behind him.
The woman writhed as the Sub-commander watched his boss take his relief. He knew that the barb on Commander Bendrick’s cock was now tearing through the sheer membrane that protected the womb of the female Magan. It could be painful, or it could be exquisitely erotic.
There was no doubt in the Sub-commander’s mind which category this fuck fell into. His commander had no time for the sexual niceties that paved the way to a genuinely magnificent coupling. A quick bang and he was done, and the hell with the woman whose body he was invading.
He was the Commander. It was enough.
And truly, it seemed as if it was. He’d heard some races believed that power was an aphrodisiac, and his Commander was certainly demonstrating that fact. The females on board ship were more than willing to offer their bodies for their Commander’s pleasure, even though it would result in pain for them.
The Sub-commander shrugged. Who the hell could understand a woman anyway? At least he knew that his three females were well content with his fucking. No screams of pain from them, just screams of pleasure. His cock throbbed at the thought of them, waiting, naked, in his quarters. Soon he would be able to leave this damned ship and take them home, to start the family he’d always wanted. Perhaps he’d add more mates as time went on…
His idyllic daydream was rudely interrupted by the rough hoarse bark of a Magan male completing his climax.
In a businesslike fashion, Commander Bendrick pulled his now-softening cock out of the dripping body of the female, shook it slightly and tucked it back into his dickgard.
The woman slithered to the floor, sobbing quietly.
Bendrick’s eyes slipped to a uniformed guard and he gestured at the woman. The guard, used to such displays, moved forward and helped the woman to her feet and out of the Command Center.
“Good.” Bendrick ran his hands through the sparse strands of hairs that dusted his scalp. “We’re ahead of schedule.”
The Sub-commander dipped his head respectfully, and stepped aside so that Bendrick could see for himself their position in relation to the planet.
“I want continual monitoring of all communications between Frallien IV and any incoming or outgoing vessels. Is that clear?”
The Sub-commander nodded, although he knew that order was violating at least twelve of the current rules and regulations concerning inter-species relations.
“Anything pertaining to the Olympiad is to be reported to me immediately. Anything pertaining to the current status of the sexual qualifications of competitors is to be reported to me immediately. I also need to know the current status of our TUNG units. When the modifications will be ready for use and whether they work or not.”
A leer curved the thin lips away from the sharp teeth and Commander Bendrick fixed his subordinate with a particularly unpleasant gaze.
“We’ll give these pissy little Fralliens a surprise they won’t soon forget.” He turned and looked out of the viewportal toward the gentle light of Frallien IV. “I intend for us to triumph at these games. I intend to have the SPT Technology in our hands before the games are over. I intend for the name of Bendrick to go down in the annals of Magus Prime as the male who brought victory and wealth to our planet.”
“And then?”
The question seemed to catch Commander Bendrick by surprise and he darted a look at his officer. “Then?” He looked away again. “Then, my lad, I intend to take command of Magus. It’s time for a new High Prime.”
* * * * *
Rory McAllen heaved a sigh of relief as he realized that whatever had held him to the bed had disappeared.
He stretched and turned on his side, facing Major Boralle North, who was frowning at him quite dreadfully and trying to keep her eyes from drifting downwards to his cock.
He bravely stifled a grin and let her look. His manhood was resting easily against its nest of curly red pubic hair. But he knew damned well that if she kept looking at him like that his body would react in the way of all men.
Sure enough, she kept looking.
And sure enough, his cock responded.
Her eyes grew bigger as his cock grew longer. Finally, he could stand it no more.
“Boralle, sweet, if you stare at a man that way he’s going to want to answer your needs.”
“What way?” she asked absently, running her tongue over her lips.
Rory groaned and swung himself and his cock off the bed. “The way you’re looking at ma cock right now, lass.”
“Your…your what?” She raised her eyes to meet his, questions trembling in their blue depths.
Rory grabbed the blanket from the be
d and quickly wrapped it round his hips, tossing the spare length over one shoulder. He was now clad as a warrior should be, albeit in a very dull green. Of course he rather missed his broadsword, but knew it would be a little out of place in this strange universe he’d been sent to. He sighed and stepped over to Boralle, reaching past her to the mug she’d put down earlier.
He raised it to his nose and sniffed.
Aye. Coffee, or something like it. Close enough to feed the addiction he’d developed on Anyela for this strange brew. He sipped and felt the warmth down to his toes.
With a sigh of relief he smiled down at the woman in front of him.
“Now, Boralle, m’dear. Let’s talk about what it is you want to know, and then I’ll have a few questions of my own. And mebbe we’d best leave my cock out of the conversation for now, or we’ll end up taking our lessons in the wrong order.”
“What lessons?”
“Why your lessons in loving, of course. Lessons in how to make you a real woman. Enough of a woman to satisfy even a Scottish laird.”
Boralle’s eyes narrowed. “Like you, I suppose?”
Rory looked down at his cup. He’d made a strategic error. Rule number one—charm the target.
“Sweetheart, sit by me. Let’s talk for a while, so I can watch those blue eyes of yours light up like the sky over the loch just before the moon rises…”
Boralle snorted. “I am still not convinced by all this rassing nonsense you’re spouting at the drop of a hat. I have never heard of anyone correcting ‘problems’ in the time continuum, nor would I be likely to believe that even if there were such beings, they’d send someone like you to fix them.”
Rory was offended. “What do you mean by that? Someone like me? Am I no good enough to take care of a problem? Do you see this arm?”
He held out his arm in a classically muscular pose. Boralle could definitely see his arm.
“This arm has protected my people for fifteen years. Ever since I was old enough to raise my Da’s broadsword, I fought at his side. And when he passed on, I continued to protect our people. Do not tell me I’m no good enough to fix the piddling problems of your…your…hygienic little planets. There’s naught that says you must be privy to the secrets of the galaxy, young woman. What makes you think that you should be told these matters?”
Rory took a breath and continued, even though he’d seen Boralle’s mouth open to protest. “And as far as awakening your sexuality goes, there’s none better than the man you’re looking at for the job. Tales are told of the prowess of the Laird McAllen, and that, Major North, is me. No woman has left my bed unsatisfied. Ever.”
His mouth closed with a snap, and he stared at her, challenging her to meet his gaze.
“Ah.”
The response was inadequate, but given the amount of information he’d just thrown at her, probably the best she could do at the moment.
“So who was Tiryus North?”
Rory’s question bounced around in Boralle’s mind, and she absently sat down on the bed next to him.
“He was kind of like my grandfather. He passed away many years ago, but when I was little, he told me the most wonderful stories of beings he called ‘fairies.’ He’d invent all sorts of different ones and make up little tales about their adventures. He’s the one who encouraged me to think of leaving home and traveling through the stars…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered the old man, and his voice as he took her on imaginary journeys to magical places.
“So his message to you, it was not unusual?”
“No indeed. And it caught me by surprise too. Although I could never quite accept the fact that he was gone…”
Rory gently touched her arm. “Perhaps those we love never really leave us,” he said quietly.
She looked down at his large hand as it covered her wrist. “I’m…I’m…unused to being touched, Laird McAllen.”
The hand moved gently, just brushing the soft skin of Boralle’s wrist and hand. “I know, lass. That’s something that this visit of mine must put right. Touching is one of the most important parts of interaction between life forms. To lose it is to lose something very special.”
“It’s…it feels strange. But not unpleasant.” She lifted her eyes to his.
He gave her a wonderful smile that warmed her down to her toes, and made his eyes twinkle with joy.
“There’s a lot more to learn, sweetling. About what feels good and what feels wonderful. And I’m here to teach you all of that and more. Will you let me show you what you need to know?”
“I…I…need time to think about this, Rory,” she said, and tried to pull her common sense to the fore. But she stumbled over a rather large set of female hormones that seemed to be running around waving flags and cheering loudly at something.
A chime pinged and made Rory jump a little.
“Attention. Attention. The outer beacons of Frallien IV have just responded to our signals. Our presence has been acknowledged and our official request to participate in the Olympiad has been taken under advisement. Stand by for further announcements pertaining to this matter.”
Rory turned to Boralle. “I don’t know how much time we have, love. It seems we’re close to Frallien already. I have to start your lessons now, I think. Will that be a problem for you?”
Boralle stood and paced the length of the small cabin a couple of times, trying to sort out her options.
It appeared that Rory was content to watch, as he stretched himself comfortably along the bed and sipped his javeine.
If he was telling the truth, then something big was happening. Something she could not begin to comprehend.
There were scattered rumors about the manipulation of the space-time continuum, and many theories about how time worked. She’d not paid attention to many of them, stopping at the point where the discussion of the shape of time had taken her into realms that were populated with crashing headaches and a buzzing in her ears.
It was also rumored that the small multi-legged inhabitants of Karplon 12 were the only ones who fully understood time. And they exploded if they tried to explain it.
In Boralle’s opinion, legal clerks didn’t need to understand cosmological concepts. At least they hadn’t, not up to now.
And then there was the message, purportedly from Tiryus. It had been too close to something he’d say for her to dismiss it.
And, finally, the one compelling argument for the validity of all this mystery was stretched out on her bed, sipping his drink and looking her up and down with the finest eyes she could ever remember seeing anywhere.
What did she have to lose?
If he was a sex-droid from some off-world development lab, they’d done a rassingly fine job with him and she’d be a fool to turn him down.
If he was what he said he was, he could certainly teach her a lot of things and she’d be a fool to turn him down.
And if what he taught her could help her win some respect in the Frallien Olympiad—then even better.
All things considered, it appeared that she’d be a fool to turn him down.
“Oh rass,” she muttered to herself.
The sharp ears of the Laird picked it up immediately.
“Hmm. Rass. You say that a lot, I’ve noticed. I wonder if it would be the local equivalent of one of our most valued expressions.”
“Possibly. What would that be?”
“Fuck.”
Chapter Five
Boralle seemed lost in thought for a few moments. Then she straightened her shoulders, gave a little nod and looked Rory straight in the eye.
“Very well. I agree to your request. You may begin.” She lay down on the bed near him, and straightened her arms and legs.
Rory chuckled.
“You look more like someone who is awaiting a death blow than a woman waiting for a lover,” he said, trying very hard not to laugh.
She glared at him. “You are not my lover. And how should I be lying? And what do we do first?”
/> “How about we talk a little, and you tell me about this place you live in, the things you like, and things I should know about the Fralliens.”
Unbeknownst to herself, Boralle pouted. “I thought you were going to awaken my sensuality.”
“Oh I will, lass, never fear.” Rory answered her quietly, leaning over and sliding his big hand up her neck, over her ear and around to cup her head. “But there’s steps to be taken. Small ones at first…” He dipped his head and just barely touched her lips with his. “So let’s take it slowly, shall we? At least right now.”
He moved away, delighting in the small sigh he heard as he withdrew from her mouth.
In truth, his mind was spinning a little. Just that one touch had been enough to tease his senses, tantalize his palate, and tell him that this was a woman who would be unlike any other he’d loved in the past. He’d been told that he would be compatible with his target, otherwise the entire exercise would have been futile, but he’d had no inkling of exactly what “compatibility” meant.
Now he did, and the realization had shaken him a little.
He attempted to regain his balance. “Tell me of this…this…thing, will you, sweetheart?” He nodded at the TUNG booth.
Boralle sighed and swung her legs off the bed.
“It’s called a satisfaction booth, and it allows space travelers to find sexual release whenever they want it. It comes in both male and female versions—this one is the latest female version, obviously—and it delivers an orgasm in approximately five minutes or less, depending on the subject.”
She stood in front of it dispassionately, considering how best to explain the workings. “One can achieve either direct stimulation of the clitoris to orgasm, or one can also program internal stimulation, with or without G-spot interaction. The programs are entered here…” She placed her fingers on several small indentations. “And once you step in, the system is self-activating.”
Rory found himself coloring at Boralle’s blunt description of the sexual functions of the machine.
