by Ashe Barker
“Not getting any drier down here,” he observes. “Maybe some soothing lotion on those delectable stripes of yours will help calm you down.”
“Okay, Llianna, turn over. We want you on your hands and knees now.” I issue the instruction, half-expecting a protest. There isn’t one, and she dutifully positions herself as we wish.
I move around to sit behind her, and Sylvan takes my place. We both allow ourselves a moment to savour the delightful sight she presents, her punished arse uplifted, her curvy breasts hanging loose, begging to be squeezed, her rosy nipples demanding to be pinched, pulled, twisted.
And of course her just-fucked-but-oh-so-ready pussy glittering with new arousal.
Sylvan takes one swollen, pebbled nipple in his fingers and applies pressure. We both watch as Llianna’s face registers first the pleasure, then the jolt of pain that follows. Sylvan only slackens his grip when she squeals.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks her softly.
“No, sir. No, please do not stop.” She turns her face to regard him, her expression imploring.
Sylvan smiles at her, offers her a slight nod, and twists her distended nub in his fingers once more.
Llianna is panting, her upraised bottom swaying from side to side as I apply a generous squirt of the lotion to her glowing buttock. It’s cold, I know that, and I suspect this is what causes her next little squeak though Sylvan is already playing quite rough with her nipples. He has both in his hands now and is tugging hard.
I leave him to his play and start to massage the cooling cream into her reddened skin. It won’t do much to alleviate the soreness, and I don’t want that in any case. We went to a lot of trouble to leave our marks on her gorgeous backside and Sylvan and I agree that a decent spanking really should last a while. For myself, I like my females to remember it every time they sit down, every time they move, for at least a day or two.
The lotion is quickly absorbed. I apply more, and extend the area I am attending to. My fingers slip into the crevice of her bottom, sliding down that slick crease to circle her puckered little anus. Definitely a virgin here, I muse. Maybe another time…
Llianna whimpers. I glance over at Sylvan.
“Too much?” He tilts her chin toward him with the tips of his fingers and she nods.
“Yes, it hurts. I do not think…”
“Is this better?” From my angle I cannot see what he is doing, but her face relaxes, and she is clearly enjoying his new approach. Sylvan winks at her, then leans forward to kiss her parted lips.
I return to my task, moving on from her untried-but-soon-to-be-thoroughly-fucked arse to her damp, tight little pussy. There’s no real need for the lotion, but I apply it anyway since she clearly likes the sensation, paying particular attention to the folds around her outer pussy lips. I cream those thoroughly, then spread them wide open to reveal the delicate inner petals. Her body quivers under my touch and I see the moisture gathering afresh, her cunt again dripping with need. I lean in to blow on her sensitive labia and she wriggles sinuously.
“Llianna, tell me what you want now.” I pause in my ministrations, and wait for her response.
“I… I…”
So, either our little Fyorlian is incoherent with lust or she’s just plain lost for words. Tough, because I need her answer. I repeat my question, this time punctuating my words with a long, slow caress from her sweetly furled anus to her plump pussy lips.
Llianna sighs, then moans as she quivers beneath my hand. “I want you to fill me again. Please, I need that. It is becoming harder, more difficult. I cannot bear it, I am so, so…”
“Hush, sweetheart. One long, slow fuck coming up.”
I don’t waste time undressing. Instead I simply release the fastenings on my pants to free my cock. I’ve been hard as terran granite for what seems like hours now, certainly since the first moment she so reluctantly explained her delicate state to us. We still need to get to the bottom of why she was so unwilling to tell us her needs, but the moment has passed for now. I line up my cock and prepare to ease inside her.
Tight. So. Fucking. Tight.
I press my hands against her hips, my fingers leaving paler marks on her skin as I hold her in place. Her cunt opens to accept my length and I slide inside. She’s no longer a virgin, but I reckon she’s as near as makes no real difference. I take it slow, sensitive to any squeal of pain or discomfort. Sylvan, too, is now caressing her shoulders, his lips to her ear as he murmurs encouragement.
I let go of her right hip and reach around and under her to strum her clit. She responds instantly, lifting her hips and thrusting back. I need no further urging and plunge forward to settle my erection balls-deep within her velvety cunt.
Llianna rotates her hips slowly and her pussy tightens around me. The sensation is indescribable and so soon after watching Sylvan fuck her a few minutes ago, it’s all I can do not to shoot my cum into her right here and now. But that won’t do, not at all. I pull back then drive my cock deep again, keeping the strokes slow and even for now. Llianna squirms around my cock, her walls convulsing to send sensuous ripples the length of my erection. Christ, she feels so good, so snug, so hot, so impossibly tight.
I pull back until just the head of my cock remains inside, framed by her yielding pussy lips. I start to move but this time using short, stabbing strokes, in and out, in and out, setting up a fast tempo. She writhes under me, panting as she grips my cock hard. The friction builds, intensifies, and I fight the urge to seize her hips and jam my cock as deep into her as it will go. But I don’t do that. I continue to tease her, to work her entrance hard and fast until she cries out my name.
“Luca, please. Please…”
I slow down, and renew my efforts on her clit. The swollen bud is fully engorged and exposed, the hood peeled right back. Plump and slick, it throbs between my fingers. I rub hard to make sure I have her full attention, then gentle my touch to a mere whisper.
Llianna’s hips are thrusting hard, her movements rapid, almost frantic as she fights to create the friction she craves. “More, I need you to rub hard. Yes, like that. Yes. Yes!”
I increase the pressure on her clit, and drive my cock deep again. She screams as I deliver several long, hard strokes, her slender body shivering as her arousal mounts, builds, then peaks. I maintain the tempo as her release ripples through her, savouring the snugness as Llianna’s pussy contracts around me like a glove.
Only when she stops writhing and sinks face down into the mattress do I follow her, taking care to keep my weight on my elbows. I slow my strokes, enjoying the final tremors as my own climax twists and curls deep in my balls, forming, readying, then surges up to spray a warm jet of cum across her cervix. I grunt, then hold still as the ecstasy of the moment engulfs me. Only when I am sure we are both quite spent do I roll to the side and gather her into my arms.
I turn my head to find Sylvan grinning at me like a fool.
“Good, yes?”
I see no immediate need to justify such an inane question with an answer, though it occurs to me moments later that Llianna might like to know as well.
“The best,” I affirm. “Fucking perfect.”
* * *
Sylvan places a cup of Acheric coffee in front of me, and his own customary Venusian celeric tea in his own place. Llianna drinks plain water, never anything else. She’s wearing the shirt that Sylvan took off earlier and that he seems to have no pressing need to reclaim at the moment and she sips from her glass nervously.
Eric lopes about our feet as we gather in the galley that passes as a canteen on board the Zephyrean. Neither Sylvan nor I are especially bothered about formal dining protocols, we tend to eat as we go, but this always seems like the natural place we gravitate to whenever we have anything to discuss. I daresay we’ll find our way back to one of the cabins soon enough as Llianna is showing signs of becoming more than a little agitated again.
I don’t mind that, especially, and I doubt if Sylvan does either, but we re
ally do need to get our heads around this phase thing she seems to find so distressing.
Sylvan wraps both hands around his mug and smiles at Llianna across the top of it. “So, honey, tell us about the phase.”
I might have approached the issue with a little more delicacy, but Sylvan was always inclined to go straight for the jugular. I guess his approach lacks something in finesse but what the fuck?
She looks from Sylvan to me, and back again, her eyes wide. “Do human females not experience this then? This… time when they must mate.”
We both shake our heads.
“I do not know how best to explain,” she murmurs. “It is difficult to find just the right words.”
“Okay, so shall we start with something simple?” I suggest. “For example, these rather beautiful markings of yours. They change colour, yes?” I wait, and she nods at me. “And those changes have significance, am I right?”
She offers me another small nod, but nothing else.
“Llianna, spill. The markings, the phase, all of it. Just do your best to explain, if you would.”
She hesitates, but this time I sense she is collecting her thoughts rather than dissembling. Sylvan and I exchange a look, and we settle in to wait.
“You need to understand about our culture,” she begins. “Fyorlians are—were—not like humans. At least, not the humans I have met, which in fairness is only you two males so perhaps not a truly representative sample. But you do appear to have a rather more… expressive attitude toward those aspects of interaction which would be deemed personal and very private on Fyorli. We just do not discuss the mating process, we have little if any vocabulary for it, which is why it is so difficult for me to describe it to you. We make only the most fleeting references to the matter. That was always our way, our preference, our habit. The markings you have observed, which all Fyorlian females bear, serve the purpose of communicating that which biology demands be shared but which we prefer not to verbalise. They indicate my status as an unmated female, and they also announce my need to mate when that state occurs. The aroma, too, serves as a signal. Nothing need be said, but everyone knows and we find that a more acceptable way of addressing the issue.”
“So, you say nothing and just leap on some passing male, then fuck like rabbits, is that how it works?” Trust Sylvan to apply his customary bluntness, though my own thoughts were along much the same lines.
“Rabbits?” She shrugs. “I do not know this phrase.”
“Never mind the rabbits,” I sigh. “We mean, do you just make your needs known to the first male you encounter and go from there?”
She looks aghast. “No, we do not! Of course we do not, that would be… unacceptable. Females rarely succumb to the urge to mate, even in the phase. We wait in seclusion until it passes then we continue with our normal existence.”
“What about males?” enquires Sylvan. “Do they experience this phase as well?”
Llianna shakes her head. “No. I have no direct familiarity of course since for the last several helio-cycles there were only females on board the Renascient, but Fyorlian males experienced no sexual urges at all to the best of my knowledge, though in the past they would attempt to serve females with whom they shared a bond of affection. It would have been cruel to do otherwise. And of course, our species requires that we do this, for survival. Or we did, it is immaterial now, of course.”
“But, what about that aroma? The musky scent that acts as an aphrodisiac? That would work on Fyorlian males too, yes?”
“An aphrodisiac? Intended to…? Oh, no, it is not that! The aroma merely serves to signal that a female is experiencing her phase, since those in her vicinity need to be aware of it.”
Sylvan chuckles. “Honey, it does a fuck of a lot more than that. Didn’t it drive your males wild?”
Llianna appears horrified at this suggestion. She shakes her head emphatically. “Not among decent, law-abiding males, certainly. I understand that there were some, on occasions, who reacted in a manner not considered appropriate but if apprehended they were dealt with severely. The penalty for acting on such impulses was banishment to one of the off-world penal colonies.”
Sylvan and I exchange a look of pure incredulity. No sexual urges at all in half the population, and if any did surface those males were treated as criminals? And the other half of the population was more inclined to suppress and ignore their desires than to act on them? A species of eunuchs to all intents and purposes? Would it be unduly insensitive to observe that it’s small wonder they died out? If anything, it’s a miracle the Fyorlians survived long enough to develop the technology they did.
I leave such ungenerous thoughts aside and return to the discussion at hand. “So, the markings change colour when you enter the phase? And again when it passes? Is that how this works?”
“It is, yes. The vivid purple shade you see now is the most intense…” She tugs aside the neck of the borrowed shirt to show us, though both Sylvan and I have by now had ample opportunity to observe the changes.
“And the musky aroma is part of the phase too.”
Llianna nods unhappily and shrinks into her seat. “Is it very unpleasant?”
I reach for her hand. “No. It’s fucking wonderful. I can’t easily explain how or why, but believe me, it’s a powerful aphrodisiac and we love it. Both of us. The original biological purpose of the scent would have been to trigger the reproductive urges of your species but from what you’ve told us it sounds as though somehow the Fyorlians managed to overcome that by imposing repressive cultural norms. Why they would have wanted to do that is beyond me, but that aroma is heady stuff. I’m astonished that all of your males didn’t end up in jail.”
Sylvan takes the hint and chimes in. “That’s right. Pity we can’t bottle that smell, we’d make a bloody fortune.”
I shoot him what I hope is a suitably withering look. “So, Llianna, if you were back on the Renascient, or on your home world, and you went into this phase, what would happen?”
“I would remain in my residence, secluded, until my condition passed. Others would know, of course, since it is quite obvious, but no one would be so rude as to refer to it.”
“Everyone would just pretend it wasn’t happening, right?”
She nods again. “That is what I hoped for when I, I…”
“You hoped to sneak off before we spotted anything, and not to be found until it was all over?”
“Yes. I apologise for—”
I silence her with one upraised hand. “Enough apologising. We’ve been there, done that, and delivered the spanking. So, how often does this happen?”
“The phase? It is irregular, and usually triggered by the proximity of a suitable mate. I cannot account for why it has happened now. I have never experienced it before since there were no males in my vicinity.”
Sylvan nods, his expression thoughtful. “I guess that makes us suitable mates then, perhaps because of our bio-symbiosis, which means we can emulate the DNA characteristics of other species. Your innate sensors may have picked up on that, mistaken us for Fyorlian males, and it was enough to trigger the reaction.”
“But, I thought that was just you,” she blurts out, then blushes crimson. “I mean, I wanted you, and I wanted Luca too. How could that be, if… if…”
“Luca has some bio-symbiant characteristics too, all post-human males do. He doesn’t possess the ability to channel or direct his abilities as I can, just as I’m not able to interact with technology in the way that he does, but it’s there. This must all have felt very strange, to you. Frightening even?”
“Yes, though I was more scared by not knowing how you might react.”
I suppress a grin. “So now you do know, do you feel better? And did we manage to take the edge off for you?”
“If you are asking whether your—ministrations—were helpful in reducing my discomfort, then yes. But I fear the effects will be short-lived. I am starting to experience some recurrence already.”
Music to my ears. “Right, well, we can soon deal with that. Tell me this though. Once the phase has passed, how will you feel then? Do your sexual urges disappear? Do you become like the males on your home world?”
“Not exactly. The… feelings… remain, though they are less pronounced and I can manage to control them, or address the urges myself. Fyorlian females have devised many ways of alleviating the problem so you need have no concerns that I will be a nuisance to you.”
“Llianna, if we’re going to spend the next few months together, you need to understand that human males might share some physical characteristics with Fyorlians but this lack of interest in your sexual needs is definitely not one of them. We enjoy sex, and we fucking love it when you beg for our cocks. Please do feel free to make your wishes known whenever you feel so moved, and toward that end we will endeavour to assist you in the matter of a suitable vocabulary.”
“‘Fuck me, please’ should do nicely,” observes Sylvan drily. “Repeat after me, Llianna… ‘fuck me, please.’”
“I suspect that is not a word I should make use of on a regular basis.”
“I think you’ll be surprised how often you might want to use it, sweetheart, once you get used to the notion. Now, repeat after me…” He waits, one eyebrow raised.
Llianna draws in one deep breath, releases it, and inhales again. “Fuck me, please. If you would. Both of you…?”
I stand and extend my hand to her. She takes it readily enough and gets to her feet. She’ll need to learn to take both of us at once, and that will come. For now, we’ll take turns, and this time I’m at the head of the line.
Chapter Eight
