Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  “Yes, Master.”

  With that, Oses’s 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 rubbed over one cheek, sending exciting smarts through the flesh. Within seconds, I moaned my delight, hanging onto the pillow with a death grip.

  “That’s it, 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 take sex with a big, yummy Nobek any day.

  I do admit to a pang of regret after receiving 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 sewn by a Darotkin.

  Katrina bought me a draping blouse made of the lightest, most shimmery fabric imaginable. She also had a baby’s dress in matching fabric for my daughter sewn 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. It should fit for most of my pregnancy and then I can 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 can wear it afterward. 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 weepy, imagining 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 shaped 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 fooled the eye so it seemed fragile. Finely etched, patterns swirled in fabulous loops and fantastical shapes that defied description. In the middle was a glass oval, within which emerald green liquid swirled like mercury. I’d never seen anything so gorgeous.

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

  Candy grinned. “Actually, the vendor I bought it from didn’t know 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 feeling cold 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. Those cuffs weren’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 appear sallow.

  I love this cuff. It’s beautiful. Unfortunately, when I took it off before taking my shower, a piece of it stuck me, leaving a tiny pinprick that bled a couple of drops. Bitten by fashion, ha ha. Whatever it was that stabbed me, it apparently came off of the bracelet. All my searching and touching couldn’t find whatever it was that poked me.

  I’m saving the blouse and bracelet for a special occasion. Maybe the grand opening of the dance club, though it’s not half done. Not for trying; the transport and destroyer crews are helping to pull 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 install the sound system, bar, lighting, and such. I just hope the club is done in time for us to enjoy it before we show up at Kalquor.

  May 11

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

  I showed up to help with the club renovations. Okay, so I went to give my opinion. They fuss at me if I do any actual labor. The women are 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.

  I perched on a seating cushion in the middle of the club in the style of a queen, telling people when a detail 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 took up space. Others applied colored veneers to the walls, hung mirrors, set down flooring, and all that kind of heavy lifting.

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

  I was discussing surface options with one of Candy’s pet Nobeks, the guy 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!” Her tone was the angriest 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 rear of the room, Candy and Katrina stood facing each other. Our would-be cheerleader was red-faced while Katrina appeared exasperated.

  “I’m not treating you like a child,” the elder woman said in a clipped but controlled tone. “I simply noted that maybe metallics would look more adult than pastels in the dance club. I doubt the men would enjoy being 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. Let’s do neon if you prefer color.”

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

  I was shocked that she became so emotional over the color scheme. Surely more was going on between the two women than a difference in decorating opinions. Candy never got mad over such minor stuff. I 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 our club and not just yours?” Candy sneered. “The rest of us are allowe
d to contribute decisions too?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Hey, what’s up ladies?” I neared the pair. 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 making all the calls as far as how our club is supposed to turn out.”

  Katrina’s eyes widened and her face turned 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 hear 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 ugly words were spoken. The best I could do was the lame suggestion, “Maybe we should all take a break, huh? Get out of here for a few minutes, take a short walk—”

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

  She stormed out, not even acknowledging Ama as he called after her, “Candy? Should I come with you?”

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

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

  I hurried after her. I thought she might be chasing after Candy to try and talk things out, but I felt it would be better for our angry friend to have some space to calm down first. However, Katrina stopped outside the door, shaking and crying and staring around as if she were lost.

  “Hey.” I slipped an arm around her waist. “Let’s go to my room.”

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

  I escorted Katrina 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 needed to clear the matter up. “Candy couldn’t be mad 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 insisted everything was fine when I prodded her about it. When we showed up to work at the club, every time I requested her opinion about something, her response was, ‘Whatever.’”

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

  “Candy was mad first thing? With no explanation?”

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

  She was right. We’d had a big meeting days ago to decide the vibe of our club. At that point, Candy had loved the idea of shiny, mirrorlike surfaces that would help the club seem 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 sleep well 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 returned to the club to continue work. Meanwhile, I hunted 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 returned to the destroyer he serves on.

  I’d still be out and about searching for Candy, but Betra commed a few minutes ago to request if we can have dinner in my quarters. I can 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 he’s ready for dessert.

  May 12

  As crappy as yesterday was, it ended quite well. I’m still wearing a smile on my face, in fact, even though I had a nasty nightmare last night.

  I’d prefer to bask in the happy parts. I was ready for dinner with a few minutes to spare when the door announce went off. “It’s Oses,” the deep, thrilling voice informed me.

  I was equal parts delighted and chagrined to hear the Nobek had dropped by. Delighted, because I’m always happy to see Oses. I could show off my pretty blouse and bracelet. I’d balanced out the shiny bling with a simple long cream skirt. Forever stupid when it comes to up-dos, I’d managed to sweep my hair into an easy chignon Candy had taught me. I felt pretty and wanted Oses to see.

  Yet I experienced a stab of concern, since Betra had arranged for dinner. I didn’t like the thought of Oses feeling odd man out. He’d been through so much recently, and I worried over it.

  Fortunately, I hadn’t been fully informed of what the night was to entail. I opened my door to find Oses spiffy in his uniform. “You’re on duty?” came out of my mouth by way of greeting.

  Oses looked me up and down with obvious appreciation. “Betra told me to report to your quarters for dinner and to dress well. Since my uniform is the nicest thing I wear, I put it on. You are gorgeous, Shalia.”

  “So are you.” I was thrilled Oses was part of the party. “Come in. What is – oh my goodness.”

  I was cut off by the arrival of an Imdiko I recognized from food services showing up at my door with a hovercart. On top of it were sealed meal trays. Apparently, a feast was in the making.

  On his heels came Betra. My liaison was dressed in a silky shirt and well-cut trousers. Oses and I both looked him up and down with appreciation. He grinned at us in return. “My timing couldn’t be better. Go ahead and set the meal up on the table,” he directed the food service worker.

  Betra turned to me and Oses. “Weapons Commander, I’m glad you made it.”

  “As if I have anything better to do,” the Nobek grumbled. His grumpiness lasted only a moment. “Thank you for the invitation, Betra. I’m not quite sure what a ‘romancing dinner’ entails, so you’ll forgive me if my manners are lacking.”

  The Imdiko grinned at him. “It’s a romantic dinner. My research says Earther females love this kind of thing. All that’s required is treating our Shalia like a queen.” He gave me the once-over, then a twice-over, his expression growing brighter. “You are certainly as beautiful as an empress tonight, Matara.” He bowed to me.

  I had the absurd urge to curtsey in return. “Thank you, Betra. This is nice of you. What’s the occasion?”

  He chuckled. “I felt bad that you two missed out on shore leave. It was a nice one, which I’m sure you’ve heard all about. I thought you deserved something special to make up for it.”

  Aw, what a sweetie. I got a lump in my throat over Betra’s gesture. Darn hormones were making me emotional again. “This is so amazing of you, Betra.” My voice had a catch in it.

  “Indeed, it is.” Oses gave Betra a rare smile that had no sign of his usual feral personality. It had sincere warmth in it.

  The Imdiko blushed. He was saved further embarrassment by the food service worker stepping away from my sitting room’s table, now set for dinner.

  “Will there be anything else, Liaison Betra?” the younger man asked.

  “No, thank you. It looks wonderful. Your handheld, p
lease?” Betra pulled his portable computer from his belt.

  The other Imdiko did likewise, and the two men tapped their handhelds together. The food service worker’s eyes widened at whatever appeared on his screen, and he bowed deeply to Betra. “Thank you, Liaison. Let me know if I can be of further service to you.”

  He left, his grin as wide as his face. I guess Betra is a good tipper.

  Betra swept his hand towards the table. “Have a seat, my friends.”

  We gathered around the table. It wasn’t that big, and our plates crowded against each other and the floral centerpiece that had been brought in with the food. A spray of pink and white flowers sent a lovely perfume in my direction. The man from the kitchen had also placed my few seating cushions around the low table, rather than have us crunch together on the lounger. It was still a cozy situation with us rubbing knees as we all sat cross-legged on our pillows. I’m not complaining. I love being close to my guys.