by Gary Starta
Mavra reasoned if Alzabreah could willfully condemn all male Olvidians to a life of ignorance, she was also quite capable of sacrificing her own sister. Was Mavra correct? Could Alzabreah take the life of Katyana? The woman was largely responsible for procuring the lifestyle she now possessed. Without Katyana, Alzabreah may have never found a way to biologically engineer drones, much less cure Olvidian ailments with neural modification processors. Although Katyana endorsed holistic healing, it was she who convinced her parents to fund Alzabreah’s genetics lab. Despite losing Jodek’s love, Katyana felt she had to repay a debt to Alzabreah – she had in essence cured him of his mental ailments. Alzabreah always maintained Katyana wasted her time treating Olvidians. Why try to correct biological failings, Alzabreah argued, when you could start from scratch? Genetic mapping would allow the sisters to create healthy male partners who would never become susceptible to disease or mental disorders. It would also free woman from the burdens of physical childbirth.
But, were all Alzabreah's followers content to spend their days in study and silent reflection like her? Alzabreah did not take into account that her Olvidian followers were not genetically designed to live the contained lives they now experienced on the island.
The Olvidian followers still had free will and Mavra – to Alzabreah's horror - was a prime example.
The first shards of daylight threatened to bring Mavra and Thorpleen's secret meeting to a close. Before that happened, Mavra clung to her lover like it might be the last time. The awful events of yesterday would not deter Mavra from bedding Thorpleen in another unscheduled liaison. It only made her more determined and desperate to secure his love because if that was all possible, she had little time to do it. Instinct told her Alzabreah was not the benevolent woman who convinced her to leave the mainland. Either the high priestess changed or she never had the best intentions of her disciples at heart.
“I love you, Thorpeen.” She paused, her lover was fully inside of her, lying underneath her body in a bed of white sand.
Mavra had forcefully taken Thorpleen as soon as they cleared the watchful eye of Alzabreah’s recording devices. She ripped off his sleeveless shirt and shorts without concern that he might have to walk back to the village in torn apparel. Her lips navigated the distance from his chest to penis in seconds. Her hand fumbled for his cock, already hard and ready to go - as usual.
Aware another unscheduled rendezvous with Thorpleen might very well condemn him to whatever punishment Alzabreah deemed fit, Mavra didn’t want to expend much time on foreplay. It sickened her to think of what Alzabreah might do to Thorpleen – she had already accused Doldruss of murder – without presenting one bit of evidence.
What would Alzabreah do to Doldruss – to Thorpleen – or any drone she deemed guilty? Would she conduct corrective surgery upon them, taking away more even more of their intellect or worse - their manhood? Maybe she would imprison them? Or the unthinkable – terminate their very existence?
For these reasons, Mavra dove into Thorpleen as if he were a pool of love. She wanted to drown in his embrace. His hands instinctively fell upon her small shoulders, massaging them while she fell to her knees before him and began fellatio. She licked and sucked with newfound fury. She didn’t know if love, lust or anger at Alzabreah was fueling her aggressive behavior, but no matter, Thorpleen was not resisting, and Mavra resigned herself to the fact that no one – no person - no idea – would ever take Thorpleen away from her.
Her fingers clawed into his buttocks as her mouth swallowed his cock with no regard for its size. Her mouth eagerly accommodated his fullness, while her heart raced in her chest, and her lungs gasped for air. As her mouth worked on him, she mumbled incoherently, but Thorpleen’s enhanced hearing could decipher it perfectly. She was saying:
“Your mine, all mine Thorpleen. No one is going to have you but me, my love.” She finally freed Thorpleen from her mouth and began to rise from her knees. But she rose only enough in height to gain position. She butted her head into Thorpleen’s abs, sending him sprawling on his backside. She flung herself on top of him. With one hand behind her, she guided his sweet stick inside of her. Mavra would make love like her life depended upon it. A small part of her believed enough passion just might free Thorpleen from his chains.
“Come on. Come on.” She pleaded. Thorpleen could not take the inference any other way. In his mind, she simply wanted sex. He could not comprehend that she was unleashing her passion in an attempt to unlock his soul, as if the gyrating, twisting motion of her hips could use his penis like a key and free them both from their mental prisons. She continued to ride him harder, faster, hands spread on his chest for purchase. Her intensity scared several small animals from their nests. She gazed into Thorpleen’s eyes as she rode him.
Oh no. Did she see fear staring back at her? Was she scaring her lover?
No. It cannot be. She blocked the thought from her mind, angered that it might be one of Alzabreah’s genetic tricks.
Damn you, Alzabreah. You won’t make me choose a career over love. We’ll all be walking corpses if you have your way. Love connects us spiritually to our minds. We’ll all be incomplete without it. Walking corpses…walking corpses…
The sentence echoed in her head. Her hands now beat upon Thorpleen’s chest.
“Don’t let her take you away from me.”
Fear began to overcome Thorpleen. He surmised Mavra might become injured by her overzealous lovemaking. He began to tip her to her right, rocking his body left.
He could not free himself. She continued to ride him, humping him, her buttocks moving at such an accelerated rate, Thorpleen had no alternative but to let Mavra utterly and completely devour him.
Her pouting lips parted revealing her teeth, but she was not smiling. Her jaw was clenched, eyes rolling up in her head, dizzy from the torrential flood of cum she was unleashing in response to the first of what would become multiple orgasms.
Thorpleen fell into a trance watching her round breasts bounce up and down. They were somewhat shielded by sweat streaked strands of her auburn hair, which had become plastered onto her erect nipples. He raised his hands to squeeze her breasts. The sensation became too much for Mavra to bear. She paused, head lolling downwards, her long hair falling forward into Thorpleen’s face. He gently turned sideways allowing Mavra to fall off of him.
She gasped for breath, landing face first onto a patch of sand.
“Oh no.” She dared not look at him, keeping her face buried in the soil. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Thorpleen caressed her shoulders gently, realizing Mavra’s actions were for some purpose, a purpose he could not fathom. He realized this was about love. Although he could not comprehend it, he understood that love made Olvidians act irrationally and recklessly.
Is this why Alzabreah is so against it?
He had never formulated such a question in his mind before, but he had no time to contemplate further. Mavra had covertly worked her body underneath him while he caressed her shoulders, lost in thought for maybe the first time in his short life. He found his cock was in perfect position to enter her. And so he did, not only because he desired sex or wished to please his master, but because he was intrigued. His mind desired to know just what love was.
Mavra began to squeal in staccato bursts, accenting each and every thrust of his cock into her vagina. His hands coupled her jiggling breasts as he thrust, forcing him forward and deeper into her than each previous entrance. Just when she didn’t think she could come anymore, she did. A final squeal of delight shattered the island’s placidness. With or without cams, Mavra knew Alzabreah must surely be privy to her rebellious defiance by now. Mavra smiled with satisfaction as Thorpleen gently whisked away small specks of sand from her face.
-Secrets-
She needed it, right here, right now. The idea sickened her.
Was this the path to perfection? Settling down to bed a drone created expressly to keep the disciples in line? She told he
rself she didn’t need this. This was a distraction, for the disciples. They needed this because of their biological trappings, their twenty something bodies had to copulate to quiet an internal clock inside them, to release sexual tension so they could get back to the books, so in time, they too could learn how to free themselves of this compulsion through genetic manipulation.
But had she freed herself? She hadn’t joined with any man in years. The Olvidian males repulsed her. But the drones stirred something inside of her. Maybe because she had created them; it was almost as if some kind of power trip going on. In a way they did share her unique genetic mapping, but for them, desirable traits like intelligence and self-esteem were shut off thanks to she and Quan’s Fractal Eugenics Dynamic. So they were a part of her, but at the same time, not her. This feeling gave her an intellectual high. Her omnipotence would not only direct the living drones but those yet to come to life. Heady discussions between she and Quan were routine. Alzabreah never forgot to remind Quan she essentially ruled a new race of beings she herself had created. This sometimes annoyed Quan who felt Alzabreah should act a bit more philanthropic and less majestic in the eyes of her disciples. This power also fed Alzabreah’s sexual desire, something she would never admit it to, not even to the logically predisposed Quan. The very idea that she, their goddess, would allow them to share intimacy with her, turned on Alzabreah’s libido, she fantasized about them even when they were not in her presence. Eventually her preoccupation became a sexual itch in desperate need of scratching. A mix of disgust and lust filled Alzabreah during her first pairing. More pairings followed, discreetly. She could not let the disciples know she was ruled by such base urges. She hoped her indulgence was temporary. Alzabreah’s logical brain told her the novelty of the drones should have worn off after the first few weeks. Clandestine copulation. She abhorred it, but was fast becoming a slave to its sweetness. Alzabreah had it bad for one drone in particular. Elzeba enjoyed the most nights in Alzabreah’s bed. He fed a physical addiction she believed only her followers required, violating the very code she had set by choosing one drone most frequently - hating herself for not only enjoying the compulsion, but pining for the next dosage like it was some kind of drug. Alzabreah kept telling herself it would pass. She was just enjoying her godhead. Money had elevated her status before, but a caste system could never have offered omnipotence, the drones worshipped her. Yet, she couldn’t let the drone see her softer side. She couldn’t lose control over this addiction. She would have to put on a face for them. Alzabreah feared the face like any mask would in time reveal her true feelings, not only to the drones or the disciples - but also to herself. Could the ultimate power trip be responsible for this change?
Alzabreah had devoted her entire life to study. Working side by side with Doctor Quan, Alzabreah never felt slighted for resisting her early urges. She could have had anyone, anytime. Her wealth was a ticket to all the luxuries the caste system afforded. The rich got richer while the poor toiled to keep them there. She did feel pity for the lower caste women however. A part of her did want better lives for them, but a bigger part wanted control – the glory associated with creating a new life form, the power of becoming a God through simple gene manipulation. She was not about to let any man get in the way of this dream.
She also enjoyed the power of being a high priestess. She monitored everything and everyone with electronic eyes. She equipped her command center with a console capable of recording nearly seventy percent of the island and a database containing every known theoretical and practical application of eugenics. In addition to surveillance, Alzabreah maintained a drone monitoring system thanks to Doctor Quan. But most importantly, the center boasted an island wide screen shielding system (because if you couldn’t contain and defend your ideas, knowledge could no longer be used as a weapon of power).
Confident of her body, she unrobed, allowing her drone to ogle her body. It gave her a head rush. She was twenty years the senior of her disciples, yet her natural makeup afforded her a beauty equivalent to any of her followers. She looked enticing. She was mesmerizing. The drone before her confirmed this, his erection dangling like a long stick before her. Her breasts were firm. Her legs were long lean and toned. Her stomach sported no excess, flat and desirable like any one of the twenty-year-old disciples.
She had already ordered the drone to strip.
“Lay down on your back.”
He followed her orders. The instructions were the same as the time before, and the time before that.
He fell onto the bed behind him. Now his erection pointed skyward like some missile awaiting liftoff. She sauntered over to him, watching his eyes absorb her. The only giveaway to her age were a few errant flecks of white hair intermingled with her natural flaxen blondness. Her hair flowed freely, riding halfway down her back.
“Do you like what you see?”
She asked this question before each joining. She knew how he would answer.
He answered the same. His tone filled with fear and awe. “You’re the most beautiful female in the solar system.”
She locked onto the drone’s tone of voice, each time he recited the line in the exact same cadence. The words were mere afterthoughts. It was the tone that told Alzabreah everything she wanted to hear. The drone was in awe of her. Why shouldn’t he be? A goddess, the priestess of the order, the creator of his kind, stood before him offering the fruits of her body to him, a mere love slave.
She walked closer until she reached the side of his bed, totally nude except for heeled boots. She stared at him a moment, and then pivoted 180 degrees, hoisting a leg over him, straddling her womanhood directly over his penis, both of her feet remaining on the floor. She hovered over both bed and man, enjoying his suspense, slowly lowering her beautiful round ass until his cock disappeared inside her vagina. She always rode him this way, back turned, allowing herself the opportunity to experience sheer sexual ecstasy without a need for intimacy or social contact. She still believed in the caste system when it came to males. The male she had mounted was no better than an animal in her eyes. She told herself this each and every time, but eventually her disgust for the drone would melt away as her body succumbed to the pleasure of his generous penis. Immediately wet, his cock smoothly slid in and out of her, her body bobbing up and down in rhythm to a song playing over the sound system. It was a song Alzabreah had played at every ritual, every meeting and every induction ceremony. A flute chirped a melodious harmony, intermingled with harps and oboes. At times, a chime segued in and out. Underneath the melody, an ominous beat kept time. Alzabreah converted her body into a metronome keeping time with the beat, swallowing Elzeba’s penis in a quick three beat succession, pausing a second, and then following it with five more rhythmic pumps of pleasure. And so the rhythm played on, her vagina swallowing his cock in syncopated time, almost offbeat, in stark contrast to a natural rhythm. Perhaps the song symbolized her manipulation of nature. However, the drone had no capability of processing this. He could only endure the strange syncopated lovemaking. He continued to ogle his creator’s backside. Her strong shoulders, tiny waist and full hips provided a perfect hourglass figure. She continued bobbing on top of him, taking his manhood in rhythmic beats. First three times, then a pause, then five times in succession…and on and on it went for nearly an hour. He dared not scream as he approached his orgasm. Right before he unleashed his semen, voices began to fill Alzabreah’s head.
Don’t you want him? Now and forever…
It’s only natural…
He’s yours for the asking…
Fuck him like you’ve never fucked before…
She could not conceive where these voices came from or whom they belonged to. She catapulted off of him, just as he exploded. She acted like they hadn’t been together, scurrying to retrieve a robe from a doorknob. He asked if he should go.
“No, I have another task for you.”
She didn’t resume talking until she had completely fastened the robe about her.
<
br /> “I have a problem. You’re going to correct it.”
-Predisposition-
Before she could confront Alzabreah, Mavra knew she would have to devote a large portion of the new day scouring the meadow for the processor. It would give her evidence to refute Alzabreah. Mavra already felt depleted from her intense lovemaking session. And there was also another pressing issue at hand, one that also robbed Mavra of her stamina. A wave of guilt washed over her at a sudden realization. She had entirely forgot about the fate of Doldruss until Thorpleen brought his name up. “I somehow feel partly responsible for his predicament,” Thorpleen confessed. “If I was not with you he would have a solid alibi regarding his whereabouts.”
“Speaking of testimony, I will appeal for the allowance of a jury trial. We certainly cannot depend upon intervention from the mainlanders. Even if they attempted to aid in our defection, the island's force field would disrupt the propulsion system of any sea or sky craft. How could I have freely consented to spending my life on a remote island shielded with an electronic fence?” Mavra asked out of sheer frustration.
“Doesn't the shield get dropped when the mainlanders come to export our Rose Berry wine?” Thorpleen asked. The drone was only really attempting to deflect Mavra's sadness with the question. He really did not intend his query to illicit a call for action. Out of respect for Thorpleen, Mavra offered a response. “Yes, but the next delivery may not be for another month and Doldruss does not have the luxury of time. I would not count upon assistance from the mainlanders as their only concern seems to center around the import of our fruits and spirits. They didn't seem overly concerned about monitoring Quan and Alzabreah's eugenic experiments back on the mainland, so I can hardly fathom why they would be concerned about the rights of one genetically-cultivated drone.”
