Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  Fortunately, the spot we’d shot and I’d written was close to perfection. Cifa was delighted to see how well it married his concept of family and adventure. His praise for my efforts was effusive. It gave him one less project to worry about when it came to the ship’s upcoming public debut.

  Overall, I was pleased too. I wrote about half a dozen notes to Zendar to tighten a scene here, extend another there, and to beef up the natural sound in some places.

  “Half a second?” Cifa laughed as he noted the tighter cuts I wanted. “I thought I was nitpicky when it came to the tiny details.”

  “Half a second is forever in a two-minute promo,” I told him, sending the file and my instructions to Zendar. “Trust your Matara on that. I’ve been doing this gig for a long, long time”

  “Of course I trust you,” Cifa said, his gaze on me warm. “In fact, your diligence deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

  He pulled me onto his lap, kissing me with a thoroughness that left no doubt as to what my trophy would be. The moment I was able to come up for air, I called out, “Door lock. Computer, leave a message to anybody who coms or visits. I cannot be disturbed until further notice.”

  “Don’t you love being your own boss for the most part?” Cifa snickered, peeling off my blouse and bra to nuzzle my breasts.

  “I love that you’re my boss and you approve of my executive decisions,” I groaned as his mouth closed on a nipple.

  He sucked first one then the other with great enthusiasm, making me squirm. He laughed and gripped me tight, holding me still for his continued attentions. As his rough tongue scraped over sensitive flesh, my insides fired hot. He bit gently, indenting the mound. I gasped as need, immediate and fierce, barreled through me.

  “You’ve been a very good Matara lately,” Cifa purred. “I don’t suppose you’ve been naughty behind my back? Been up to any shenanigans I should bend you over this desk and spank you for?”

  Ugh, it was awful to deserve no punishment. My desk had not yet been christened in a sexual manner. It seemed important we do so. Lucky for us, I had a suggestion to make up for being on my best behavior as of late. “I’ll find trouble to get into in the future. You should remind me why I should ignore temptation.”

  “That’s an excellent point. That means a thorough spanking you’ll feel for the next couple of days whenever you sit down.”

  My panties were soaked in an instant. “Yes, my Imdiko. Thank you.”

  His cocks pulsed against his pants and my leg. “Up you go then. Let’s clear a space so you don’t knock off any breakables while I discipline you.”

  I cleaned off the surface of my desk with unladylike haste. Cifa maintained a stern expression, but I saw amusement in his eyes.

  To hell with pride and decorum. I love what I love. I’m not the kind of gal to waste time grabbing it.

  I kicked off my slip-on shoes. He opened my desk drawers and rummaged. In the one where I keep a few toiletry items, he fished out my brush. Oh. Ouch. Yay.

  “This will do a decent job,” he said. “Bend over for your spanking.”

  I did so, shivering with anxious anticipation. Being with Cifa in the middle of the workday is a perk I’d looked forward to enjoying, especially since Candy can take Anrel off my hands every now and again. Benefits. I’m all about the benefits.

  Cifa placed the brush on the desk in front of my face, freeing both hands to raise my skirt with slow care, pulling it up and over my waist. I peeked to see him smiling with pleasure at my silk-covered backend. That thin barrier drifted to my ankles, exposing me.

  He started by gripping my buttocks in his strong hands, rubbing and kneading them in preparation for more extreme measures. Though pain was coming, possibly a great deal of it, I couldn’t help but relax under his ministrations. Is it weird that I enjoy a lovely ass massage? Considering all the other kinks I’m into, it’s not so strange. It might be one of my lesser odd leanings.

  I ended up a limp puddle on the surface of my desk. When Cifa left off and picked the brush up, I didn’t budge. Ditto for when his hand settled between my shoulders, pinning me. I was all contentment, my head drifting in clouds of pleasure. Butt massages. All women should have them, at least once a day.

  Then the brush thudded against my butt cheek, and the soft, dreamy serenity vanished. Good night, it hurt! I’d only started my first yelp when the other cheek got an identical wallop.

  Okay, maybe not a wallop. Cifa didn’t beat me black and blue. But honey, I felt that damned brush. I felt it, and then some.

  One cheek then the next, he paddled my ass. All of it. That man did not miss an inch of my poor, defenseless rump. I howled, kicking air and pounding the desk as he wore me out. It was as thorough a spanking as if I’d committed a transgression to deserve it.

  I wasn’t consciously trying to escape the discipline. I’d invited it. I wanted it, even with my rear end burning as if it had caught on fire. Still, Cifa had to hold me down to accept it, because the instinct to run overloaded the need to surrender to my Imdiko.

  Instinct knows when it’s beaten, however. At last I lay with only my butt jerking in reaction as the brush rose and fell, rose and fell, putting me in my place. Reminding me who was in charge. Who I lived to please. I sobbed softly as Cifa corrected me in advance of my next sin.

  The best part happened, the part where my mind drifted off. Once again, I was easy with tranquility, not at all interested in what happened to my body. My rear smarted and raged as Cifa delivered punishment, but euphoric calm overcame me.

  The steady thwacks of the brush stopped. In their wake, all I heard were my own soft moans and Cifa’s quick breathing. He tossed the brush to clatter on my desktop and rubbed my ass again, making the delicious pain sink deep into my flesh.

  “Are you my good girl, Shalia?” he asked, massaging hard.

  “Always,” I sighed.

  He slid his fingers against my cunt and found me soaking wet. My pussy clenched. He grunted, spreading my honey up to coat my rear entrance as well. “I’m going to fuck my good girl now.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. I stepped out of my panties so I could spread my legs for him.

  “That’s right. Open for your Imdiko.” There was the familiar sound of his crotch seam pulling open, freeing his cocks. I shivered, anticipating them shoving in me.

  Yet Cifa took his time, entering slowly, as if to make up for the spanking. His main cock dipped into my rear entrance and then retreated. Re-entered, and drove a smidgeon further in. Pulled back so the tip of him barely remained within. Slipped forward once more, allowing his smaller prick to tease my pussy.

  Back and forth, joining us more with each gentle surge. His hands gripped my hips, holding me for the slow invasion. I imagined him watching as he forged within my accepting body.

  “Such a nice, tight ass. Excellent, wet, warm pussy,” he sighed as he took me. “You make me glad to be a man, my Matara.”

  I’m pretty damned happy he’s a man too. It is astounding when he’s inside me.

  When he was in as far as he could go, he paused, his groin shoved up tight against my aching ass. I didn’t move. I wanted the hurt that reminded me of how I’d surrendered to his strength. It melded so well with the delicious sensation of being filled with him.

  His weight pinned me to the desk. He reached beneath, his fingers searching out and finding my clit. He played with it, rubbing and stroking so that I clenched around his shafts. I jerked as harsh jolts of pleasure barreled from his touch into the pit of my stomach, but I had nowhere to go.

  “Sweet little clit,” he murmured in my ear as he continued to tease the sensitive nub. “I adore how you squeeze my cocks when I touch it.”

  He fucked me slowly, keeping his body resting on mine, continuing to rub my throbbing nub. Within seconds I was gasping, my toes dancing up and down on the floor. The illusion of helplessness is a major turn-on for me. One doesn’t feel more helpless than when she’s pinned by more than two hundred pounds
of muscled male.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispered, his voice husky. “Show me how much you like it when I fuck you and you can’t do anything about it. That’s it. Moan for me. Take it.”

  His pace continued to be slow, but he shoved with growing power. He pulled and pinched my clit, forcing rapture on me. I slapped the top of the desk, unable to resist the tide of desire. My innards turned twisty as excitement built.

  “My Matara loves being fucked. She needs to come for me.”

  I did need it. All that ecstasy was coalescing into a bright point of light and sensation, readying to tear loose and consume the whole of me. I whined a desperate, pleading sound.

  “Almost there? Good. Let it go, pretty Shalia. Come for your Imdiko. Come hard.”

  I was on the verge. His thrusts were brutal against that magic spot in my pussy, and his ceaseless toying with my clit made my tightly wound senses fray under the pressure.

  “No escape. You have to come for me now. You have no choice.”

  Maybe it was the words, snarled right in my ear. Or maybe my body simply gave up whatever resistance it had held onto. Pleasure billowed all at once, igniting my whole body. It felt as if even my eyeballs climaxed. I screamed in rapture. Pulses rumbled through me in lesser but still shocking quakes that had me kicking the air.

  Having forced me into orgasm, Cifa’s cocks pounded me fast as he chased his own gratification. The quick friction kept me spasming with unchecked glory. I continued to climax as he had me, his animal growls signaling the loss of control. He shoved. He pushed. He thrust with growing desperation until at last his whole body jerked. Then he emitted a long, drawn-out groan as his cocks jolted within me. He came as hard as I had. His shafts lurched as they spent their passion.

  Fringe benefits. I highly recommend them.

  February 4, early

  I have a cause. An honest-to-goodness campaign to make life better for those who need the help I might be able to provide.

  It all started with my therapy appointment today. This was my personal session, not one with Hina. Dr. Cafir posed the usual questions about how I was doing with my abandonment issues, what triggers had made me feel insecure with my clan, and so on. Things are not going badly on that front. I have my moments, but I’m learning to recognize when an instance of temper or sadness is a result of worry. Seot, Larten, and Cifa are beyond patient with me. It may not be perfect, but I’m getting there.

  I guess Dr. Cafir believes so too. After we discussed a few new coping skills to try, she asked me, “What’s in the overall picture for you, Shalia? What do you hope to accomplish beyond being a clanmate, a mother, and head of a department in a large, successful business? What’s next for you to strive for?”

  I considered. “I’m not sure. I haven’t thought beyond my work, my clan, and Anrel. It seems that would be more than enough to keep me occupied for a while.”

  “In the short term, perhaps. In the end, most people’s satisfaction stems from a larger worldview, a quality that comes from outside family and work. What can you see yourself doing to turn Kalquor into a better environment for you and your family to live in?”

  “Wow, you dream big,” I laughed, wondering if she was pulling my leg. What in the hell could I do to make some a difference on such a large scale? I’m no scientist working on medical cures or a philosopher with an incredible truth to share with anyone. I’m Shalia Monroe, a monstrous mess of a woman.

  I had an idea. “I’m helping my best friend to convince the empire to redefine the legal definition of a clan.” I briefly explained Candy’s cause.

  “That’s nice of you to assist your friend. It’s not your cause though, is it? Outside of wanting to help Matara Candy, it’s not a project you’re invested in. Or am I wrong?”

  She wasn’t. I could understand Candy’s point of view, and her relationship with Stidmun deserved legal standing when it came to property and all that recognition stuff. But no, it wasn’t near and dear to my heart. If not for Candy, I wouldn’t think twice about it. It doesn’t resonate with me in a meaningful fashion.

  “Outside of your clan and Anrel, what sparks the most emotion for you these days?” Dr. Cafir prodded. “Don’t ponder it; just answer.”

  “Matara Hina.”

  “There you go.” She smiled at me as if I’d done something particularly clever. “What about Hina’s situation resonates with you most?”

  “That her daughters died. That she probably can’t give birth to a living girl.” My heart throbbed in painful sympathy.

  “Is there no hope for her?”

  “How can there be?” I scowled, not liking that we were on such a hurtful subject.

  “What kind of support existed on Earth for those who couldn’t have children?”

  “There were fertility procedures. Donated sperm and eggs. No science that would help Kalquorian females, not when all of you have that issue with your chromosomes. You’d have to get creative, such as use Earther DNA, like the eggs—” I stopped. I stared.

  “That’s an interesting idea,” Cafir said in her soft voice. “Our doctors have looked into it, and it’s feasible for us to be impregnated with fertilized Earther eggs. However, few of us have become acquainted with you Earthers. We can’t very well walk up to random females and request you to donate to us.”

  “There should be a registry.”

  “A registry?”

  “A list of Earther females willing to donate their eggs to Kalquorians who want children. It could be anonymous. Would it be hard to put that sort of program into place?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps someone motivated to see it happen should check into it. Maybe spearhead a campaign to start it.” A corner of her lips lifted.

  “I could even get it rolling by donating some of mine.” I was excited. Would-be mothers in the same boat as Hina could have daughters. I could help make it happen.

  “You’ll want to discuss the matter with your clan,” Cafir advised me. “This is not a small decision, Shalia. Harvesting eggs is easy enough from a medical standpoint. Understanding there are children out there that might have been yours is a bigger deal. Earthers are rather territorial when it comes to their biological children, aren’t they?”

  “Mothers, mostly,” I confirmed. I thought of my father, who hadn’t given a rat’s ass about me. I also recalled my once-rabid need to figure out who Anrel’s natural father was. I was still curious about that, but it wasn’t as desperate an urge as it had once been. Seot, Cifa, and Larten worked hard to be the perfect daddies.

  “That possessiveness may be why donation hasn’t been widely embraced by the Earthers who have come here,” Cafir said. “Also, many Kalquorian females worry about being little more than incubators for the children they would bear for their clans. Children they do not share genetics with.”

  I could see what she meant. “On Earth, some DNA from the mother-to-be was inserted in an embryo produced from a donated egg. Surely something similar could be done here.”

  “Again, that would be a project for someone interested in helping Kalquorian women. What about it, Shalia? Is it a cause you could take up?”

  My mind was already flying through the possibilities. I imagined Hina pregnant with a daughter, knowing she wouldn’t be faced with heartbreaking loss. That image alone decided me.

  “I’ll talk to my clan tonight.”

  February 4, later

  I’m not sure what I expected from my clan when it came to the notion of creating a donor-egg registry or my intentions to be the first to put her baby-starters up for adoption. One moment I believed it wouldn’t be a major deal. After all, Clan Dusa had turned aside from an actual baby cooking in my oven. Why should my guys care about unfertilized eggs?

  Then I would consider how I was a member of Seot’s clan. Did that infer that my reproductive bits and pieces should be their concern as well? Did it allow them a say on what I did with those eggs that could conceivably be their children one fine day? Would it matter,
though I potentially had hundreds of thousands of those eggs, more than enough to spare?

  Maybe it would hurt Seot, Cifa and Larten’s feelings that I considered helping others get pregnant before giving our clan biological children. Or maybe they wouldn’t give a hot shit about any of this. I couldn’t be sure without discussing it with them.

  I decided to go with the theory that it wasn’t earthshaking. I said in my most off-hand tone, “I’m considering talking with other Earthers about donating some of our eggs to Kalquorian Mataras. It would be nice for clans who have had reproductive problems to have healthy daughters. Do you have any clue on how I would start such a project?”