“When I enter you, you are going to come,” Flin informed her, and he drove his huge penis into Laila, filling her so she could feel her lower stomach pressing into the cargo crate. It was enough, as his balls smacked into her clit, to send her over, and soon she was contracting around his huge cock, screaming, as her orgasm was almost too much to bear. It went on and on, as Flin fucked her hard and came inside her, filling her with liquid. He continued to fuck her as her orgasm kept going, and his seed spilled out of her.
After she came, she had no recovery time, because Flin was still fucking her. His skin was cooling against her hot, freshly spanked bottom. She started to build toward another climax.
“I hope you’re not thinking of coming without permission again,” Flin growled in her ear, “because I would have to spank you again. Hard.”
Laila gurgled incomprehensibly. She had no real thoughts by this point, every ounce of consciousness was preoccupied with sensation, and her throat was becoming hoarse from vocalizing her feelings.
Flin pulled his penis out until only the tip was inside her, then reached around and stroked her clit, rubbing it gently in circular motions. Laila sighed at this new feeling, then gasped as he drove into her again. He continued to attend to her clit as he fucked her.
“Please, can I come, Master?”
“Not yet. I want us to come together this time.”
Laila thought it was so wonderful that Flin was able to have multiple orgasms; otherwise he would have either stopped or imploded from the pressure by now. With every stroke, his cock pressed against her G-spot, sliding upwards toward the second pleasure spot, just before her cervix, then he withdrew again.
Laila was ready for an orgasm to end all orgasms, then Flin turned on the vibrations in the butt plug again. She could feel them travel through the wall into her vagina, so she vibrated against Flin’s cock in all the right places. She gurgled again as he fucked her faster. He was holding her hips now; his release had to be imminent. She couldn’t hold herself back for more than a couple of seconds…
“You may come now, Laila,” he breathed into her ear.
Writhing, screaming, wiggling, and pushing back to take his huge cock even deeper, Laila came as she felt him spurt liquid inside her, his cock pulsing slightly as he came, growling, pulling her onto his length. She shook as she continued to come. The feeling of his liquid inside her heightened her orgasm, until her voice broke and she couldn’t breathe, and she melted into a puddle of happiness.
“You are forgiven for your behavior. Your orgasms are mine from now on, unless Basil wishes to claim them in the future too. Unless you’re with him, or doing something he’s told you to, you don’t come without my say-so. Got it?”
“Yes, Master,” Laila replied. Anything you want, Master, she thought. It wasn’t for a few more hours that she realized how neatly Flin had distracted her from stressing and moping about going back to Pombos and confronting Gar-Kon.
Chapter Eleven
“We’re approaching orbit around Pombos,” Basil said.
Flin nodded; he knew what he had to do next.
“I’ll go sort her out.” Flin stood up and went to the galley, where Laila was practicing her reading with Where’s Spot? again.
“We’re approaching Pombos now, and I need to take you to the cargo bay.” They had already discussed this with Laila, and she hadn’t been thrilled with the idea, but nor had she flatly refused.
“You’re really going to do it, then? I was hoping you’d both see how ridiculous this is.”
“It’s not ridiculous, Laila. It’s for your own safety, and it’s the best chance we’ve got at protecting you if anything happens to the ship while Basil and I are on the planet surface. We talked about this.”
“I know, I just thought you’d change your minds between talking and doing,” she grumbled, closing her book with a snap.
“Come on. It’ll be fine. You’ve been in it for practice; you know you’ll be comfortable,” Flin said. “When did you last go to the bathroom?”
“Just now. It was maybe ten minutes ago.” Laila got up and followed him down to the cargo bay, still clutching Where’s Spot? in her hand. Flin opened the door of the cage they used for carrying precious cargo. It was five feet square by four feet high, and Laila had already been shown how to lie out in it diagonally if she wanted to rest stretched out. The floor was covered in squishy padding that was coated with some sort of rubber or plastic, so she would be comfortable. The bars were about three inches apart and made of solid duralnium, the strongest metal alloy ever invented. The cage was welded to the floor of the cargo bay, with a backup electromagnet to hold it in place, and the lock was the sort with a dual thumbprint and number code. If Gar-Kon’s men boarded the ship, they would need a lot of specialist equipment to get into that cage, or even to remove it from the ship. That was why Laila had agreed to it. She’d told Flin it was the only place on the ship where she even felt slightly safe while they landed on Pombos; not that this was immediately obvious from the fuss she was making.
“Can I have a cushion, and a stuffy and… and a blankie, please?” she asked, as she crawled inside.
“I’ll get you a blankie, but you won’t have enough room to move around and change position if you fill the cage with lots of things. You can either have the cushion or I’ll get your favorite stuffy, Mr. Unicorn.”
“Mr. Unicorn, please,” Laila said at once. Flin went to the cabin she shared with Basil to fetch it.
“Here you go. Try to remember that this is the safest place for you at the moment. Nobody can get you if you’re in here. You’ll be very safe while we deal with that no-good gangster.” Flin stroked her hair through the bars, then he closed the door. “As soon as we’re out of Gar-Kon’s immediate reach, we’ll let you straight out.”
Laila nodded; she sat against one side of the cage, legs outstretched, and she squeezed her unicorn.
“When you land, could you cover me with a sheet or something, so that if anyone gets in, they don’t see me straight away, please?”
“I’m one step ahead of you, my dear. I’ve put a sheet over there ready to hide you with. Are you okay in there? Everything comfortable?” he checked.
“I think so. I just worry about going to the toilet.”
“We shouldn’t be gone for that long, but if you’re very worried, I can get Basil to… uh… put a diaper on you?” Flin didn’t even want to mention it; diapering was one of his hard limits, one of the main reasons he didn’t generally participate in ageplay. But that was fine, he thought, because Basil would never do some of the things that Flin got to do with Laila.
“No, thanks! I’m good.” Laila said in a squeakier, quicker voice than usual. Flin suspected that Laila was almost as opposed to the idea of diapers as he was. It would be easy to check—Basil almost certainly had a written list of her ageplay soft limits somewhere—but now was not the time.
“If we’re in orbit for more than a few hours before we can land, I’ll come get you for a bathroom break.” Flin walked to the steps.
“Thank you. Flin?”
“Yes, Laila?”
“If we’re… uh… on the planet, and I need the bathroom… I’d rather have a diaper than leave here. I… uh… I hate feeling so weak, but I don’t want him to get me.” Her eyes filled with tears; those baleful, beautiful brown eyes.
He looked at her from the foot of the steps. She looked so helpless and fuckable in there that his heart contorted at the idea of her being so sad. Shaking his head to help him focus, he left her alone in the cage. He and Basil had to keep clear minds if they were going to sort out Gar-Kon.
* * *
Basil decided the ship was much quieter without Laila’s inquisitive voice. As he and Flin landed on the planet surface—having bribed the customs officials to bypass the space station—he worried that his little girl was being left on her own in the ship. While Flin was making preparations to disembark, Basil went down to see Laila in the cargo cag
e.
“Hey, little lady, how are you doing?”
She looked up from Where’s Spot? and her face broke out into a grin.
“I’m okay now I’m used to it, Daddy; just a bit squinchy.”
“Squinchy?”
“You know, like scared and wriggly at the same time.”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘scriggly’ then?”
“No, silly! Scriggly is sexy wriggly.” She had a word for everything, Basil thought with pride. It was interesting that the Speakeasy chips didn’t translate her made-up words. Not that he really knew how the chips worked.
“Okay, well, we’ve landed on Pombos. I’m going to put the sheet over your cage now. This is a blaster gun. If anyone gets in and takes your sheet off, and it’s not Flin or myself, you point this end at them and press this button here. Just be aware it might injure them, so be sure you want to use it. I’ve locked the settings so it can’t kill anyone.”
He passed the gun to her through the cage. He’d had some serious reservations about giving her a blaster, but Flin was adamant that she needed to be able to keep herself safe. The cage was unopenable and stuck to the floor of the cargo bay, but it was still a cage, and people could shoot her while she was inside it. It was very unlikely, in Basil’s view.
He put the sheet over her and went to find Flin.
“You ready?” Flin asked, and Basil nodded. “She okay?”
Basil nodded again. He had a lump in his throat about leaving Laila in a cage, even if it was for her own protection, and he didn’t trust himself to talk.
They both left through the air lock.
The landing strip was thick concrete surrounded by temporary-looking buildings. They were parked beside a very expensive-looking ship that had, in true Pombos style, been copper-plated. The metal gargoyles around the outside made the whole thing look somewhat ridiculous.
“Someone’s got cash to burn,” Flin remarked.
“I’m surprised they even bought into off-world technology.” Basil knew how resolute Pombos was that steam power was the future.
“Porter! Porter! There is a most unsightly object parked beside our vessel!” a stuffy male voice bellowed. “Have it removed before we return next week. It is an eyesore!”
“Hey! That’s my ship you’re—mff… mff…” Basil’s response was muffled as Flin put his hand over Basil’s mouth.
“We’re supposed to be inconspicuous,” Flin muttered. Basil nodded. It was starting to become a habit that Flin was right.
“We’ll be gone before the week is through, anyway.” Basil planned to be gone by the end of the day if he could help it.
Walking out of the ship landing area, they were immediately presented with a dismal landscape. Pombos was the single most unusual planet in the Interplanetary Alliance, in the sense that it had been included as part of the Interplanetary Alliance without reaching a very high level of either technology or philosophy. Most planets had accomplished at least one of those before they joined. In fact, by Basil’s reckoning, Pombos’s version of steam-based technology was a dead end. They didn’t seem able to make the required shift to electricity, despite their now-regular contact with other life forms, most of whom had many more complex technologies than simply controlling the flow of electrons. Pombos was resolute that steam was the future. Of course, most steam-powered technology was obsolete everywhere else in the galaxy. So far as Basil could see, that just proved to the contrary Pombossians that they were onto something. As a result, the landscape of the towns and cities was smog-filled. A thick, dark mist clung low to the buildings and streets, barely pierced by the gaslights that lined the more well-to-do areas, and horse-drawn vehicles were the only way to avoid walking short distances, although there were railways and canals for longer journeys.
Basil summoned a horse-drawn cab and got in. Flin stared at it in horror.
“C’mon, Flin,” Basil said.
“I hate horses. They look wrong without horns!” Flin grumbled.
“I know you hate ‘em, but we need to get this done, and refusing to use a cab’s not gonna help right now,” Basil said in a loud whisper.
“Fine.” He got in and Basil gave the cabbie the address.
The ride through the city of Cragford was very obviously unsettling for Flin, and Basil remembered how horrified he’d been on his first visit to this miserable capital of industry.
“Those poor kids,” Flin said, as they clopped past children wearing rags, sitting in the gutter, too hungry to notice the spectacle of a gigantic half-elf with pointy ears. As the cab traveled deeper into the poorer part of town, the numbers of these wretched beings grew greater.
“This is awful. Driver! Why does nobody do anything about this?” Flin asked. Basil would have liked to stop the cab, too, but helping the children would have required an army of volunteers, which he didn’t have.
“Well, they clear them all into alleys when His Majesty the King visits, but afterwards, they all just come back again. Isn’t enough room in the alleys, see? My wife reckons they should be put to work in the factories, and maybe the new child labor laws will get more of them off their idle backsides. Everyone’s got to be somewhere, though, I s’pose.” He spoke with a strange accent that even the Speakeasy chip struggled to translate. Basil and Flin exchanged a glance, but neither of them could put into words exactly how they felt. Basil had been to Pombos before, and the state of the planet, the horrific living conditions showcasing just how much the upper classes could tread upon those beneath them, hadn’t escaped his notice. It was a more obvious version of what was quietly happening all over the galaxy. The rich people just kept getting richer, the poor people kept existing to be taken advantage of. He hated it.
“How do they end up like this? Where are their parents?” Flin asked. It occurred to Basil that Flin hadn’t seen this side of humanity up close before, having come from a planet that was basically a giant nature reserve, where due to whatever strange powers the elves possessed, they’d bypassed industrialization and overcrowding, and skipped straight to environmentally friendly futuristic technologies.
“Some of the older ‘uns are the parents, sir. Others are orphans, whose parents ‘ave been killed from disease or factory accidents. Then there’s the runaways, who come to Cragford on the basis that the streets are paved with gold; they make the most unbelievable journeys to get ‘ere, some of ‘em, then they find out the truth. It’s just life, sir, there’s nothin’ anyone can do to help these fourth-class waifs and strays.”
“This is madness!” Flin declared. Basil wished he would keep his voice down.
“Ha! That’s what I said to my wife when we heard about the new laws! But you’se should keep your voices down if’n you say such things, sirs.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The king don’t like hearing no criticism to his person, see? He has spies everywhere, an’ they’s look jus’ like you and me.” He glanced at Flin’s pointed ears, and then at Basil’s lilac eyes. “Well, they look jus’ like me, anyways.”
As the cabbie was talking, they passed a huge factory; the chimney stacks were so tall that they disappeared into the smog overhead. Looking like ants in comparison to the building, thousands of men and children stood lined up, waiting to start work. They must have been queuing for hours to get near to the front, to clock in on time, Basil thought. How much free time did any of them have to try to live? The thought made him shudder.
“I feel sick.” Flin looked green.
“Oh, that’s jus’ the smell of the glue factory, sir. Gets better as we pass it, sir.”
“People work in that? For eight hours a day?” Flin asked, although Basil suspected the unpleasant smell wasn’t what had sickened Flin. The factories in the less desirable areas were filled with workers who cheaply made items that were shipped all around the neighboring planets for much profit—yet the workers were barely paid enough to feed themselves. Their bodies and clothes were covered in soot and dirt, with their eyes shining through,
giving an eerie impression.
“Oh, no, sir, they keep ‘em there at least twelve! Nobody’d be able to eat if they worked eight hours a day. An’ if they don’t get there in time, they ends up at the back o’ the line. The factory only needs three quarters of the folks in that queue. The rest’ll be sent away with no work.”
Basil and Flin exchanged another glance, and the conversation sputtered out. The only sounds were the clip-clop, clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard cobbles.
“How far is the address I gave you, driver?” Basil inquired, after they passed the factory and the stench started to dissipate.
“Not long, sir. Coming up to the railway sidings now, where all the goods get loaded and unloaded for off-world transport. Your address is just after that, sir.” He turned back to the road and Basil closed his eyes to try to get rid of the images of the crowded, squalid conditions these people lived in.
Had beautiful, vibrant Laila really lived in this city? Was this where she’d spent every day of her life, seeing all this, and being told to feel lucky that she wasn’t sitting on the streets or waiting in that line? He realized that Laila’s family, as much as they had neglected Laila’s nutrition, education, and wellbeing, must have been third class, like the cabbie, not fourth class, like the children on the streets, or she never would have caught the interest of Gar-Kon, covered in all that filth. Rather than a matter of course, it must have been a low point for Laila’s mother to sell her sons to work in the mines.
The cab stopped outside a street blocked with crates being loaded by a mechanical crane.
“How much do we owe you?” Basil asked.
“Twenty, please,” the cabbie said. Basil thought the price was outrageous, but he knew that Laila was waiting in the cage on the ship, and thought better of wasting time on an argument, so he handed over the notes. The two men alighted the horse-drawn cab and strode toward the building marked ‘Corn Store,’ which Laila had said was Gar-Kon’s center of operations.
Her Daddy and Her Master Page 17
