Shalia's Diary # 6

by Tracy St. John

  “Oh, my poor twat.”

  “Are you hurt? Let me look.” Oses moved down to inspect my girlie bits.

  “No, not really. I just came so damned hard ... shit, it hurt like hell. I’m feeling better now. All floaty, like after a good spanking.”

  It was true. Endorphins were running high now, giving me a sense of euphoria. Jeez, what a crazy ride though.

  “You look okay.” Oses sat up and frowned. “I think we’d better stop entirely.”

  He was so aroused that I was walloped by guilt. “No, I want you to make love to me. I just can’t handle the level of intensity we were going at. Come on, Oses, I’m fine.”

  He eyed me speculatively. I could tell he wanted me with all his heart and groin, but protectiveness was asserting itself. As always, Oses put me first.

  He is wonderful.

  I tried a different tact. Making my voice as plaintive as possible, I begged, “Please, Master? Please put your cock in me. I promise I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it. Please?”

  Oses drew a deep breath. He straightened, looming over me like a savage god. Lust lit his gaze as he looked me over, all pinned down and helpless beneath him. I thought I saw his cocks give a little jerk.

  Then he moved, slinking like a panther to crouch over me. He was careful not to come into contact with my ass, but the attitude was one of carnal threat. Excitement rolled through me, wakening my ridiculously enhanced libido once more. Sheesh, you’d think my pussy would have thrown in the towel after that last series of orgasms.

  “You ask so nicely, pet,” his deep voice rumbled. “It would be wrong of me to disappoint such a delicious little plaything when she asks like a good girl.”

  “Thank you, Master,” I whispered. Oses’ feral face filled my gaze. Oh hell yeah, I was definitely wanting to get more of him right then.

  His primary cock nudged at my opening. Oses planted his hands on either side of my head, like he was going to do a pushup. Braced, he slipped inside me. We were both sloppy wet with our combined natural lubrication. He went in easy, filling me with that amazing cock.

  Because I lay on my side and Oses was doing me from above, his secondary cock couldn’t enter my anus. It still had to go somewhere. Oses’ only recourse was to tilt his hips in such a way so that his cock slid against my ass. The effects of the lotion were fading by then, fortunately. It still hurt to be touched, but it was a level of hurt that played into my love of being vulnerable. In other words, it was enjoyable hurt. Yes, I realize that wouldn’t make sense to most people.

  Despite the primitive want that filled his expression, Oses checked in with me. “Still too much?”

  “Just right, Master,” I sighed. “The sensitivity is easing off.”

  “Good. I’ll still try to keep the contact gentle. Let me know if you get overwhelmed again.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  With that, Oses’ hips began a slow swinging back and forth. His main cock emptied and filled me over and over, gently abrading my sex with a delicious friction. The secondary cock rubbed over one ass cheek, sending exciting little smarts through the flesh. Within seconds, I moaned my delight, hanging onto the pillow with a death grip.

  “That’s right, pretty little slave,” Oses growled in my ear. “Master’s cock is inside you. Master is fucking his captive pussy. Master is going to fill it with his cum.”

  Yes, yes, he owned me. I was his to do with as he desired. His to play with. His to enjoy in whatever way he wished. His to fuck over and over until he was satisfied.

  When climax claimed me, it didn’t do so with the brutality of before. It swept through me, gorgeous and fulfilling in all ways. My cries were glad things, not screams of tortured ecstasy. I rode the swells with buoyant pleasure. Oses soon added his groans, and we cried out together.

  Oh hell yeah. Who needs shore leave?

  May 10, evening

  Candy and Katrina came back from shore leave in good moods. I had my own to match after spending quality time with Oses. Sure, strolling through a village in pastoral settings under a sunlit sky is undoubtedly relaxing after spending weeks in a tin can in the unending night of space ... but I’ll still take sex with a big, yummy Nobek any day.

  I do admit to a little pang of regret after getting my belated birthday presents from Candy and Katrina. The art market my friends visited was a cornucopia of wonderful things, apparently. Which I should have anticipated, having a couple of magnificent outfits made by a Darotkin.

  Katrina bought me a drapey blouse made of the lightest, most shimmery fabric imaginable. She also had a baby’s dress in matching fabric for my daughter made on the spot. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a dress instead of just a shirt, but I’d didn’t run across the seamstress until I’d bought a few other things. My funds ran low,” she said, her expression hangdog.

  “Oh my gosh, Katrina, this is gorgeous!” I gasped, holding up the tiny iridescent dress. It glimmered in shades of pink. It was simply cut with far fewer ruffles than one usually sees on a baby girl’s dressy gown. A smart choice given how the fabric was a statement all on its own. Ruffles would have been overkill. “Don’t you dare apologize. I love both of these.” I inspected the blouse and grinned at my friend. “I love the way this drapes. I think it will fit for most of my pregnancy and then I can still wear it afterward.”

  “That was my hope.” Katrina grinned. “When I was pregnant, I always appreciated clothes that I could keep using once I’d shoved the kid out.”

  “I am beyond thrilled. I don’t have to wait until I’ve gotten the baby weight off to wear it, and I’ll get to keep wearing it. It’s perfect!”

  Candy had also purchased a dress for my baby, one that made up for the first one’s lack of ruffles by far. Since it was a demure pastel blue with tiny yellow flowers embroidered on just the hem, the frills were fine. I even got a little weepy, thinking of my baby looking adorable in all her finery.

  “Stop crying,” Candy begged. My emotions had invited her tears out too, and she rubbed at her cheeks. “Open your birthday present from me.”

  I did so and gasped at the cuff bracelet she had bought me. It was not the typical Candy-girly-precious thing, but it was still beautiful.

  It looked made of some sort of polished stone, with bronze metal embedded in the porous surface. About two inches wide, it wasn’t delicate, and yet the design on it made it seem so. Finely etched, patterns swirled in fabulous loops and fantastical shapes that defied description. In the middle was a glass-like oval, within which emerald green liquid swirled like mercury. I’d never seen anything like it.

  “Wow. Just – wow. The Darotkins made this? It’s amazing!”

  Candy grinned. “Actually, the vendor I bought it from didn’t know who made it or where it originally came from. He’s a trader who buys stuff to re-sell. Do you like it? Really?”

  “I love it.” I put it on. It fit my arm perfectly when I closed the hinged clasp. It was warm against my skin, not like metal at all.

  “Good,” Candy grinned and fiddled in her pocket to bring out a duplicate of the bracelet. “We have a matched set then!”

  I laughed. “Where is Katrina’s?”

  Candy gave a pout. “There were only two. I was bummed out about that.”

  Our elder friend chuckled. “I know you were, and I appreciate the sentiment. Anyway, you know how I am about my jewelry. One of those cuffs wasn’t right for me.” She patted her necklace affectionately, a simple silver chain with a birthstone pendant given to her by her children. Katrina only wears silver. She says other metals make her look sallow.

  I love this cuff. It’s beautiful. Unfortunately, when I went to take it off before taking my shower, I got a little pain from it. Something stuck me, leaving a tiny pinprick that bled a couple of drops. Bitten by fashion, ha ha. Whatever it was that stuck me, it apparently came off of the bracelet. All my looking and touching couldn’t find whatever it was that poked me.

  I’m going to save the blouse and bracel
et for a special occasion. Maybe the grand opening of the dance club, though it’s still not half done. We’re getting help from the crew to put it together, but they’re a busy bunch of fellows. They fit working on our play-place when they can. I’m not griping. I’m grateful we have all that manly help to put in the sound system, bar, lighting, and such. I just hope the club is done in time for us to enjoy it before we get to Kalquor.

  May 11

  Ah, what a day. It could have been better.

  I went to help with the club renovations. Okay, so I went to give my opinion. I get fussed at if I do any actual work. The women are getting just as protective as the men as my pregnancy progresses. All I heard for most of the day was, “Sit down, Shalia.” “Take it easy, Shalia.” “Get off your feet, Shalia.” Sheesh.

  So I perched on a seating cushion in the middle of the club like a queen, telling people when something was off-center, telling them where the lights needed to be aimed, picking out music for the sound system’s library, etc. I suppose I helped a little, but I mostly felt like I took up space. Others applied colored veneers to the walls, hung mirrors, set down flooring, and all that kind of heavy work.

  Overall it was fun because I was hanging out with friends. Then Candy and Katrina got into an argument over the color scheme, of all things.

  I was discussing surface options with one of Candy’s pet Nobeks, the one named Ama, when Candy’s voice rose above the noise of construction and conversation.

  “I’m sick and tired of you treating me like a child!” she said in the angriest tone I’ve ever heard her use.

  She didn’t quite yell, but she was loud enough that we all stopped what we were doing and stared. Near the back of the room, Candy and Katrina stood facing each other. Our would-be cheerleader was red-faced while Katrina looked exasperated.

  “I’m not treating you like a child,” the elder woman said in a clipped but controlled voice. “I simply said maybe metallics would look more adult than pastels in the dance club. I doubt the men want to be surrounded by pink.”

  “Well, it’s not for the men really, is it? It’s for us. Metallics are cold.”

  “The clubs in the Xniktix station were metallics or bright neon tones. So let’s do neon if you prefer color.”

  “I don’t want neon!” Now Candy yelled. “And I don’t want a bunch of silver and gray and industrial looking crap that reminds me we’re on a ship! I want pink! I want blue! I want pretty!”

  I was shocked that she got so emotional over the color scheme. Surely something more was going on between the two women than a difference in decorating opinions. Candy never got mad over such little stuff. I got on my feet and headed over.

  As I walked towards them, heat had begun to fill Katrina’s voice too. “You don’t have to scream at me. We’ll put it up to a vote, okay?”

  “Oh, so it’s finally going to be our club and not just yours?” Candy sneered. “The rest of us get to make decisions too?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Hey, what’s up ladies?” I said as I neared. They were now glaring with real animosity at each other.

  Candy spared me a quick glance before returning her furious stare to Katrina. “What’s up is that I’m tired of doing so much work and her getting to make all the calls as far as how our club is supposed to look.”

  Katrina’s eyes widened and her face turned just as red as Candy’s. “I’ve taken the lead on this, but everyone’s been encouraged to give their opinions. For crying out loud, I can’t count how many times I’ve asked, ‘What do you think about this?’ in the last hour alone!”

  “Sure, but when you get an opinion opposite of yours, you dismiss it!”

  “Um,” I began, not sure how to diffuse the situation but knowing it needed to be headed off before something ugly was said. The best I could do was the lame suggestion, “Maybe we should all take a little break, huh? Get out of here for a few minutes, take a little walk—”

  “I’ll walk, all right,” Candy said abruptly. She turned on her heel and stalked past me, past everyone. “Keep your stupid club. I don’t want any part of it now.”

  She stormed out, not even acknowledging Ama as he called after her, “Candy? Do you want me to come with you?”

  “What the hell was that all about?” someone else said.

  Instead of answering, Katrina burst into tears. She ran out of the club.

  I hurried after her. I thought she might be going after Candy to try and talk things out, but I felt it would be better for our angry friend to have some time to calm down first. However, Katrina stopped just outside the door, shaking and crying and looking around like she was lost.

  “Hey,” I said, slipping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go back to my room.”

  “I don’t understand,” she blubbered, looking heartbroken. “I really don’t.”

  I got Katrina back to the Matara section of the transport and into my room. I fixed her some coffee and myself the pathetic decaffeinated nightmare that pretended to be coffee. We sat side by side on my lounger while she gathered herself.

  “What started it?” I asked. “Candy couldn’t be mad just over color choices.”

  Katrina stared into her cup, sniffling and rubbing her nose red with the tissue I provided. “I don’t know. She was withdrawn at breakfast this morning, but said everything was fine when I asked. When we got to work at the club, every time I asked her what she thought about something, she said, “Whatever.”

  I’d missed breakfast with the gals because I’d overslept. By the time I’d made it to the dining room, almost everyone else was gone, including Candy and Katrina.

  “So Candy was mad first thing?” I asked. “With no explanation?”

  Katrina shrugged. “At first, she only seemed distant, like she was distracted. Daydreaming. I kept having to repeat myself, because she kept missing what I said. She didn’t seem angry. It was only when I objected to her suddenly wanting to put pink and blue tile accents on the walls that she got mad.” Katrina shook her head, looking at me with hurt confusion. “Shalia, we made our color choices as a group weeks ago! I swear, it was like Candy deliberately tried to pick a fight.”

  She was right. We’d had a big meeting some time back to decide the look of our club. At that time, Candy had loved the idea of shiny, mirrorlike surfaces that would make the club look bigger than it was. Pink and blue hadn’t come up in the conversation at all. I remember her laughing about being able to check her lipstick and hair at a moment’s notice.

  “Maybe she didn’t get enough sleep last night. Maybe she’s getting sick,” I guessed. It was so out of character for Candy to act the way she had.

  “I have no idea,” Katrina said miserably.

  “I’ll talk to her and find out what’s going on,” I offered. “I guarantee you, she’ll be sorry about this once whatever is wrong is fixed or figured out. We may never hear the end of her apologies.”

  After coffee and more bucking Katrina up, she went back to the club to continue work. Meanwhile, I went hunting for Candy. I couldn’t find her anywhere. She never answered my summons at her quarters’ door and she didn’t go back to the club. Ama didn’t see her either. He looked disappointed when he went back to the destroyer he serves on.

  I’d still be out and about searching for Candy, but Betra commed a few minutes ago to ask me if we can have dinner in my quarters. It looks like I get to wear my new blouse and bracelet tonight. At least one good thing will happen today ... maybe I’ll get a chance for more good things when it comes time for dessert.