“After I have the legal stuff done, I can work on promotion and fundraising.” I took a deep breath, thinking of all the work that was behind that seemingly innocuous statement. I could hardly believe I was tackling such a huge task.
“You’ll have to put together a support staff at some point,” Seot mused.
“Dr. Flencik has offered to come on board. Emperor Egilka also said he’d like to be involved as often as his duties will allow.”
“Quite the influential panel. Congratulations.”
“I want to be certain you’re really okay with this,” I said. “Particularly the part where I give up my eggs to others. Those are children we could have had as a clan, after all.”
“Didn’t we cover this already?” Seot hugged me close. “We have plenty of opportunities for adding to the family when the time comes. Your eggs aren’t my children. They aren’t children at all; only the building blocks for them. With such potential, you’re right to share your good fortune.”
I realized I’d been projecting my own concerns on my clanmates. “I guess I’m the one who considers the eggs to be our future children. I’m the person second-guessing this.”
“Does it change your mind about providing to those in need?”
I considered for a few seconds and shook my head. “No. It’s a strange possessiveness I didn’t realize I was felt. Now that I recognize it, I’m okay to go ahead. It’s just another of my weird Earther idiosyncrasies.”
“You’re not weird,” Seot laughed. “The fact you’re going ahead with it despite protectiveness over your hypothetical offspring makes me prouder of your efforts. I admire your generosity.”
“Enough to show me? You did lock your office door.” I nuzzled his ear and let my fingers go low to do some exploring. “Ooh, look what I found. It’s big and hard. Aw, it has a friend. Come out and play, guys.”
Seot chuckled at my teasing, but I was naked, on my back, and covered by Dramok in a twinkling. The moment he’d confirmed I was wet, he pushed into me. Then he stilled, pinning me on the seating cushions with his weight and gazing down at me with a kind of smirk.
“What’s that expression for?” I asked, wiggling in hopes of getting him to move. That first slide in had hit all the happy parts, and I desired more of that incredible friction.
“I’m enjoying being inside you. I could stay in this position all day.”
“Not moving? Not fucking? You’ve got better control than I do,” I told him. Ugh, I wanted him to do something rather than hold me down.
“If I don’t move, you have no choice except to stay where I have you. You’re stuck here with my cocks in you, unable to do anything about it.”
“You don’t really want to spend the day like this.”
“Why not? It feels incredible.” His naughty grin grew bigger.
“Tell me you’re joking.” I was starting to wonder.
Seot laughed. “Okay, so I’d have to fuck at some point. It would be an interesting challenge to see how long I could hold off.”
“Interesting for you, maybe.” I scowled to show him how little I wanted such to happen.
“Who’s the Dramok, Shalia? Who’s in charge here?” The smile remained, but a note of command in his tone grabbed my attention.
I didn’t hesitate. “You are, my Dramok.”
“And if I want you to lie under me with my cocks in your pussy and ass? If I told you to keep still for the pleasure I would take in being inside you?”
My eyes lowered from his gentle but demanding gaze. “I would obey.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, letting me remember I wished for his control. “Someday I’ll indulge in that experience. I’ll lay on top of you, enjoying having my cocks in you. When I’m ready, I’ll fuck you until I come. Then we’ll relax with me within your sweet, warm body until I’m ready to fuck you again. It’ll go on for as long as I desire. What do you think of that, my Matara?”
When he put it in those terms, it sounded similar to the tormenting pleasure I adore. “If my Dramok wishes it, then I am happy to give him any pleasure he wants from me.”
“Very good. I’m glad we cleared that up. I am ready to fuck you.”
Which he did. Slowly, at least at first. He kept his weight on me, not letting me move as he ground his cocks into me. He slid out about halfway, and then ground in again. It felt marvelous. It was exciting. The slow pace had me desperate for more, which Seot would not grant. The steady tempo was all titillation, with no sign completion would come soon.
His kisses were a confusing mixture of hot and gentle. They were the softest, sweetest kisses ever, not the kind I think of when passion is involved. Yet they were thorough, giving me gooseflesh with how meticulous Seot was in making sure I knew I was being kissed.
In short, I was suspended at a point where I wanted more, harder, faster…and no opportunity to get any of that. It was a crazy-making limbo. Arousal was set to a high simmer, not allowed to boil. With Seot pressing me down, I couldn’t push against him, rise to him, or do anything that could relieve the gnawing need. It was an itch that couldn't be reached for a scratch, an ache that refused to ease. Seot may not be into harsh, punishing measures, but I believe he’s a sadist all the same. He knew what he was doing to me. I had no choice but to accept it.
I wandered between loving the weight of him on me, with our bodies fused together in that most delightful of embraces, and suffering the anguish of being taunted forever. Who knew good old missionary position could be such a tease? Seot showed me ‘regular’ sex could be an extraordinary persecution if done right. The same with a kiss. He is an amazing man to serve.
As the minutes of delicious agony stretched, I ached to beg for more. To demand, even. Yet Seot had made his point clear. He was in command. I had said I would give him whatever he wished and be glad about it. To protest what he was doing would negate that.
I had to accept what was happening. No complaints. No pleas. No negotiations.
My pussy, after enduring the torment forever, decided it would generate my demands for me. It gave an insistent flex, drawing hard enough on Seot’s cock that he shuddered and groaned. His gaze was a cross between amusement and rapt excitement…with a little remonstration thrown in.
“Can't help it. That thing has a mind of its own,” I quipped.
He chuckled and gave me one of those kisses that makes my head spin. My crotch spasmed harder than before. His breath caught. “Okay, message received. You’ve been a lovely girl. Time for our reward.”
I was delighted to hear it. I ached from need.
Seot didn't change position and pound me into ecstatic oblivion, however. I suppose he’d hoped to draw things out longer. My body had waited enough, thanks so much. Even though my Dramok’s pace was the only thing that increased, grinding hard against me, that was all it took. Pleasure escalated quickly.
Orgasm bloomed, opening wide at the point where we joined, its heat suffusing me from head to toe. I lay beneath my lover, shuddering with bliss as his breathing quickened and grew heavier. Seot’s groan as he surrendered to rapture shook my bones, renewing the surges that had begun to dissipate.
Once need stopped riding me, it was pleasant to lie with my clanmate, our bodies linked. I could finally appreciate Seot's fantasy of spending a day in such a fashion. What can be sweeter than being held by one of the men I love, feeling him around and inside me, looking into his beautiful face and understanding this is how the rest of my life will be?
The day got even better when Cifa brought Anrel home that night. She reached for me, calling out, “Mom-mom-mom-mom.” It wasn’t nonsensical baby chatter. She called me Mom. Clear and loud. Naturally, we threw an impromptu celebration, inviting everybody who could come to dinner and comming the rest to share the news.
My life is perfect. There is no other word to describe it.
February 11
Poor Cifa. My Imdiko is on the brink of losing his mind.
We're coming up fast on the g
igantic rollout of the cruise line’s newest ship, the amazing yacht I went on with my clan. How fast? The campaign starts tomorrow. Our ad will premier on all the broadcast feeds around Kalquor. We’re throwing a huge party aboard the ship. Ila has confirmed a guest list featuring a veritable who’s who of the empire. Celebrities and dignitaries—including the Imperial Clan—will be in attendance.
After the initial excitement of such an impressive roster, Cifa promptly tailspinned into doubt. He voiced his greatest fear as we reviewed the final cut of the promotional vid in my office. “Why would the Imperial Clan care about such a small ship? It doesn't have a fraction of the entertainment the larger ships boast. It doesn’t have the numerous cuisines—”
“Or the crowds, or the option of personalizing the itinerary. I imagine that getting free from everyone else and not having to follow official schedules would be a huge thrill for people like them,” I suggested. “Calm down. Enjoy the attention the royals will bring to your company. Even if they never book a cruise, this is a major marketing win.”
“That’s easy for you to say. If this thing fails with such attention surrounding it, it won't be your face on the cruise journals that discuss where Cifiler Ocean Cruises went wrong.”
“Such a handsome face would be forgiven anything.” I sighed and gave him my most besotted gaze, batting my eyes. “You could commit murder, and the judge would say, ‘He’s sooo dreamy! Look at those eyes, that sweet smile, those kissable lips. Let’s give him a pass this time.’”
Cifa glared at me for not taking his concerns seriously. I kept giving him Sappy Love Face, having been warned in advance how he fretted over new campaigns. My goofiness won through, making him laugh in the end.
Here’s hoping things go well at the giant party in a couple of days. Otherwise, Cifa might fling himself off the bow of the ship.
February 13
The big party for the small ship’s debut kicked off this afternoon. Whew. What a shindig that was.
It started off as the maiden cruise had: the Zelts had returned to play their lively music as people boarded. The three clans of the owners were on deck with the crew to shout happy greetings to those arriving—albeit doing so soberly for this particular occasion. The men wore short pants and loose shirts. We women had our soaksuits and sarongs on, reflecting the ease of vacation. Our guests were similarly dressed, having been warned ahead to keep it casual. Only the Imperial Clan’s contingent of Royal Guards in their red armored formsuits strayed from the beach-going attire.
Speaking of the royals, it was unsettling to see them dressed down. I have trouble perceiving monarchs as casual people wandering around in shorts and soaksuits. I have to say, Empress Jessica was shorter than I’d expected. One only had to look in her flashing eyes to know not to screw with her. She seems to have been born for ruling, though she was extremely nice to me. We had plenty to talk about, what with having our kids with us. Her son Prince Wayne is an adorable toddler, with a head full of long, black hair. He and Anrel were fascinated with each other. Anytime they were close enough to do so, they jabbered back and forth. It was as if they were having an intense conversation, much to our amusement. Prince Wayne had a few words he could say, both in English and Kalquorian. His favorite is ‘cookie’. Anrel hasn’t gotten past ‘Mom’, which she delights in yelling when I’m out of the room, as if to scold me for leaving her sight.
Other guests for the ship’s premiere included a couple of Royal Council members and their clans, members of the Kalquorian Cruise Board, and a few travel promoters. We started the festivities with cocktails and a tour of the ship.
It went well. Everybody was impressed with the small cruise that offered enormous amenities. The rooms with extendable balconies received a lot of compliments.
We cast off for an afternoon jaunt along the shoreline. Leshella flowed, incredible food prepared by a famous chef was laid out on the main deck, and the Zelts played their happy, rollicking tunes. The whirlpool was popular, as was a scavenger hunt put on by Captain Carip while his first mate piloted the vessel. The passengers enjoyed themselves. Cifa relaxed.
As afternoon turned into evening, a feast was laid out in the enclosed cabin on the main deck. The food was scrumptious and the crew entertained us. Members of the Nobek historical group put on a couple of their violent dances, others performed a dramatic skit, and an Imdiko told jokes that made us laugh so hard we were crying.
The moment neared for our promotional spot to air over the broadcast vids. A large vid monitor was lowered from the ceiling at the front of the cabin. All at once, my hands started to sweat. Sure, the dignitaries had viewed the wonderful attributes of the ship itself, but they hadn’t witnessed the places it would go. Others within the empire would be getting their first taste of the new vessel via vid. All at once, I second-guessed the entire piece. How could I have captured the coziness alongside the grandeur of this offering?
Convinced I had failed to bring Cifa’s project to life, I sat in my chair and waited for doom to descend upon me. For my Imdiko’s radiant expression to fall as he realized I’d failed to do the stellar job we’d been so sure of in my editing suite.
The vid flickered on about one minute early. It had been tuned to a news feed. I had to sit through the humorous story of a man surprising Esofu spaceport officials the day before. Apparently, this below-economy-class traveler had leaped out of a self-guided seed capsule that had returned from a trip to Haven.
The Imperial Clan was sitting close enough to me for me to overhear Clajak tell Jessica, “He must have been one of Ospar’s political opponents.”
She snickered. “Probably the Earther governor. Hoover and Ospar aren’t the best of friends.”
I barely restrained an urge to tell them to quiet down, that I couldn’t take meaningless prattle at that moment. I doubt the empress and emperor would have understood, even though my promo was starting to air. I was ready to scream from a sudden case of nerves.
Fortunately, the vid was as satisfactory as I’d found it at the office. It was well received by our guests, with applause echoing through the room as it ended. I was embarrassed beyond belief when Cifa credited me for having been its mastermind and cheers broke out, but I grinned like a loon. I was relieved to have not destroyed the meticulously planned campaign.
We floated into home port. Cifa and his siblings took it as an excellent sign that nobody was in a hurry to disembark from the ship. It was late when the last guest drifted down the gangplank, congratulating us on an amazing venture and promising to book a trip as soon as possible.
We got through it. I think it’s going to be a huge success for the cruise line.
February 14
Fresh on the heels of our big party introducing Cifa’s ship, I got a com from the lawyer handling my egg-donor foundation. Everything is in place as far as red tape is concerned. I’m official.
My first formal act as the director of the Family Fertility Foundation was to head over to the Matara Complex’s liaison office. I poked my head in the door and waved at Katrina. “Look at that busy lady toil under the yoke of career.”
“Hey!” she shouted, her face split in a huge grin. “Wait a minute. Where is my grandbaby?”
“We’re all working women around here.” I gave her a hug. “She’s helping Candy train more childcare personnel at the cruise line.”
“Fine, I’ll try not to pout. We need a girl’s afternoon soon though, all three and a half of us.”
“You look terrific. How’s the clan? The family?”
We played catch up for a few minutes. I’d spoken to Katrina only a couple days before, and nothing had happened since then. Her son, daughter, and their families were enroute to Haven Colony, which would put them near enough for Katrina to visit regularly. I’m so relieved her son relented about Katrina belonging to a clan, though he avoids the topic in conversation.
As for that clan, Katrina said all was well with her men. I was delighted to hear it, especially since I haven�
�t heard from Betra or Oses for some days now. It’s a relief to find out the Pussy ‘Porter is encountering no problems as it makes travels to Earth for another load of refugees.
As for the lack of communication with my former sweethearts on the transport, it’s been acknowledged we need maintain some distance. I don’t want my clan to feel threatened in our relationship, so I get the latest news about the guys from Betra’s mother Elwa. I have to say, she’s been tight-lipped lately. She’s not told me much beyond Betra and Oses being ‘healthy and happy’, as she puts it.
I miss those two. However, I need to concentrate on my relationship with the hunks I’ve chosen as my happily-ever-after. I send Betra and Oses frequent updates on Anrel, with recordings of her being adorable so they don’t have heart attacks once they see her in person again.
Shalia's Diary Omnibus Page 226
