Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  Wet, naked Larten. What a wondrous creature to behold. His black hair was an oil slick cascading down those scarred, beefy shoulders. His muscles gleamed, making him look more impossibly chiseled. He was too yummy not to be licked like ice cream, so I did. I chased rivulets running down his gorgeous abdomen and chest with my tongue, somehow always ending with one of his stiffened nipples. Normally Larten takes the lead, but he must have enjoyed the attention. He let me turn him into a lollipop for a decent stretch—until I remembered how satisfying loud it is when a hand smacks wet flesh in a closed-in space like the shower. I’m foolish to do such things to a Nobek, but Larten’s ass is too damned hot not to slap every now and again.

  He returned the favor with interest. He bent me over and spanked me for what must have been a full minute. Not that I’m complaining. Oh no, I enjoyed each second of it. Then he pulled me up and put me against the shower wall, lifting me so that I could wrap my legs around his waist. I was wet after Larten’s thorough discipline, and I don’t mean because of the shower spray. Though I was tight enough that his claiming made me burn, he went in easily, as if our parts had been greased. He drove deep in one thrust, right to his groin. Prophets, I was ready to burst.

  Because I’d been so naughty, he allowed me no time to adjust. My Nobek shoved in tight, grinding hard against me, chafing my clit to cause passion to billow thick within me. Then he began thrusting, pounding hard and fast, fucking me with no mercy. His kisses landed on my lips, applied with bruising force and nipping until my mouth was swollen from his attentions.

  I rose and fell against the hard, smooth wall, shoved by each surge of Larten’s desire. I hung onto his shoulders as he claimed his pleasure, clinging because that was all I could do. He was a force of nature, punishing and rewarding my pussy and ass all at once. With me holding on for dear life, he shoved his hands between us to squeeze and pinch my tits.

  Passion rose quickly, violently. It was a wallop, twisting me taut until I was sure my guts were in knots. He was relentless, bulldozing me towards climax in short order. Control was failing, as if Larten grabbed at it and tore it from me in tattered shreds. I flailed and kicked. I scratched his shoulders and back as the maelstrom built with ballistic strength.

  I came hard, my pussy clenching down on my Nobek’s primary, squeezing to make him groan. He refused to stop, but he slowed down as my sex tried to force him to explode. He smashed his fist against the wall, fighting for control. My cunt pulled at him, trying to milk him, taunting him with pleasure as I moaned with release. I moved against him, rising and falling to meet his rocking hips, making the orgasm last as long as I could. It felt glorious as sweetness crested and ebbed.

  A few seconds after I quieted, Larten apparently felt in enough control to pound at me again. Satiety fled. He took me with him on another wild climb to ecstasy, until I was on the verge once more. I added plenty of scratches to the collection I’d already given him, much to his primal joy. His growls rose to echo in the small space, making it sound as if we fucked in a bestiary. I soon added my shrieks to the din, my pussy spasming with as much ferocity as before. Moments later, Larten’s cocks jerked. He plunged in as deep as he could, flooding me with his passion.

  We clung to each other for a spell under the spray, relearning how to breathe normally. He at last lowered me. I unwound my legs from his waist. I was amazed I remembered how to stand. Heavens, wasn’t I sore—but very, very satisfied.

  “Whew,” Larten sighed, appearing far more wrung out than jousting with his students had rendered him. “Do I need to fetch you some pain inhibitor?”

  “Yes. Now don’t go looking guilty,” I admonished when he winced to hear I was not ache-free. “It’s the kind of hurt I adore receiving. You know how I am.”

  He switched off the water and activated the air jets that would dry us in a few seconds. In a rueful tone, he said, “I’m always too enthusiastic when we fuck.”

  “Have you ever heard me complain?” I picked up my clothes and inspected them to be sure they weren’t torn after our fervent stripping. My things were a tad wrinkled, but that was all. “I enjoy the best of all worlds with my three men. Cifa is often gentle. Seot is demanding and thorough. You give me the wild passion I need after our more careful clanmates. Don’t you dare tone it down, my Nobek.”

  He acted as if he felt better hearing that. He should. Each word was true. I have all I could want when it comes to lovemaking with my clan. Variety truly is the spice of life.

  February 16

  I have a new toy. Okay, so maybe ‘toy’ is the wrong word for it. My clan bought me a shuttle. My very own. Kalquorian shuttles, even the modest four-seater one I picked, are so much nicer than Earther vehicles were. Only the really rich could afford them on my home planet. Most of us had to settle for electric ground-bound cars, a large number of which were converted and stitched together from petroleum-burning models from waaaay back when. I did pilot the government shuttles for work, but they were clunky. They were used to transport vid equipment as well as me and whatever crew went on location. And talk about crazy traffic patterns! Regulations hadn’t caught up to Earth’s brief shuttle era. There were weekly stories about near misses with drones and low-flying commercial aircraft. Plus the occasional crash.

  Kalquorians have been doing the personal shuttle thing for a long time. Parts of their system let the pilot take their hands off the controls and relax. I’ve been practicing with my clanmates’ vessels these last few weeks to earn my piloting permit, and it couldn’t be easier. I program my destination, follow the navigation guide at the speed dictated through the regulatory system to the nearest traffic pattern, let the planet-wide nav web take over until I’m near where I’m headed, and land the thing. It’s no wonder shuttle crashes on Kalquor are few. Most tend to occur when criminals are trying to escape from law enforcement. You have to work hard to have a shuttle accident on Kalquor.

  I love my little shuttle. It’s sleek, silver, and shiny. The seats, even in the cockpit, are super cushy and comfy. Anrel enjoys the entertainment package in the cabin portion that plays songs and vids, though few of those are aimed at small children. I noted that this was a market that needs to be investigated. When I would find the occasion to do so, I can’t begin to imagine. Maybe Candy, with her concentration on kid-centric activities, would be interested in a side project with me.

  Yeah, I have visions of a vid empire, ha-ha. Well, why not? I’ll clone a few more of me to accomplish the list of projects I have underway.

  At any rate, I have my own shuttle. No more chauffeurs on a daily basis. I’m loving the freedom, even if all I used it for today was to zoom around to my meetings.

  Despite my new vehicle, I had to be responsible for a good portion of the day. I met with my foundation’s lawyers, its slowly growing board which now consists of Dr. Flencik, Hina (yay!), and Katrina (yep, I roped her into our merry group too)—and Emperor Egilka, when he can make it. Today, he couldn’t. Imagine that. A royal leader of an empire couldn’t take out time in his schedule for me. The nerve of that guy.

  The rest of us gathered in a conference room down the hall from my office at the cruise headquarters. I introduced everyone. I’m totally pumped that Katrina signed on. With the liaison to the Matara Complex on the board, I feel like I have the inside scoop on how Earther women might react to donating their eggs to Kalquorians.

  Just as important, Hina decided she’ll talk to the Earther gals, which has me over the moon with delight. She had a major surprise for us today: she mentioned the foundation to a friend of her clan who happens to be a news reporter. He requested an interview with us about it. Since publicity is a huge deal, the rest of us said yes. Hina commed him to let him know. He offered to come over to discuss it.

  He showed up five minutes after we started our formal meeting. Imdiko Poknos was content to listen to us discuss our first steps as background for the piece he hoped to run. He heard Flencik and I discuss the donation procedure I’ll undergo tomorrow an
d how Flencik’s Matara Amelia has already done so. We talked about the upcoming presentation to Earther Mataras as well.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it when Poknos asked afterward how this became such a serious interest for me. I sure as hell wouldn’t reveal that Hina had run off with Anrel. Fortunately, Hina herself came to my rescue.

  “Shalia became aware of the pain I’d suffered from losing daughters to the chromosomal abnormalities that plague our people. Being the mother of a beautiful daughter herself, it became a passion for her to see that Kalquorian women don’t continue to suffer from such grief.” Hina gave me a brilliant smile. “She’s a hero.”

  I wanted to run and hide, especially when Poknos gushed over my selfless cause. Hero, my ass. Later, I whispered to Hina, “I think I might strangle you.”

  She snickered, her purple eyes dancing with mischief. I have a feeling that when she’s not devastated over her losses and guilt, Hina is an absolute imp. She was far too merry about making me into some sort of saint.

  One of Poknos’s questions gave me serious pause. “The women who wish to take advantage of the donor eggs—do you have a contact for them? No doubt when the story runs, they’ll want information on how to sign on.”

  I hadn’t set that up yet, along with a million other little things. For heaven’s sake, we were barely a foundation yet. Fortunately, Katrina saved my butt.

  “Until we hire a manager to coordinate the whole mess, they can com this frequency.” She gave him her personal com link. When he did some follow-up questioning of Dr. Flencik, Katrina muttered, “We should have held off on the news story. I’ll handle searching for a manager. Hopefully, I’ll find an applicant as soon as possible for you to approve.”

  “Don’t wait for me,” I whispered back. “I trust you to employ someone to field those coms. Crap, I’ll have to license a link for the foundation immediately.” My head swam with all that needed to be done in short order. We definitely should have waited before letting the press in on what we were doing.

  Yet it fed our excitement for the project. Maybe we’ll get a good response. Poknos seemed to think so, at least where the Kalquorian would-be moms are concerned. I just have to acquire those egg donations from their Earther counterparts.

  If that doesn’t happen, this whole campaign is off to a bad start. In fact, it’ll be dead on arrival. Yikes. The pressure is on.

  February 17

  I’m clanned to a bunch of overprotective hens. Today’s oft-repeated phrase, uttered by me every five minutes was, “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

  I had the procedure to donate my eggs. There was next to nothing to it, as it turned out. Nevertheless, all my guys, with Anrel in tow, insisted on coming along. I thought, ‘fine, okay, suit yourselves, be bored out of your minds waiting for me to come out of not-actually-surgery’. Yeah, it was invasive since the medical tool that fetches eggs had to go into my twat, but it wasn’t as if there would be an incision or blood or anything similar to that.

  Dr. Flencik showed us all a vid on how it would go. I hoped that would calm my inexplicably nervous men’s nerves. Nope. Seot exchanged glances with Cifa and Larten and announced, “We’ll go into the treatment room with you, Shalia.”

  I expected Flencik to have something to say to that, but he didn’t react. He merely said, “The nurse will show you where to put on sterile coverings. You’ll have to wrap Anrel in a tunic too.”

  It was up to me to glare at my clanmates. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You saw how quickly it’ll happen. What’s the point of going in with me?”

  Seot wore his Dramok-of-the-Universe expression. “We’ll be present,” was all he would say.

  The procedure itself was laughable, but only because I had to deal with three men hovering over me. Flencik started by giving me an injection to convince my eggs to wander in the direction where the harvester could collect them. If I heard, “Are you all right?” from my clanmates once, I heard it a million times.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I spluttered. “Am I screaming? Am I crying? Begging for mercy? The only discomfort is the three of you acting like frantic nursemaids. How in the world will you act when I give birth to an actual child?”

  I snuck a peek at Flencik, who worked between my splayed legs. I swear that man was biting his lips together to keep from laughing at us.

  When it was over, I told him, “When we do this again, either sedate my clanmates so they aren’t freaked out, or sedate me so I don’t have to listen to them.”

  “Their reaction to a gynecological procedure is quite common for clanned men,” Flencik said. “Their reaction is ten times worse for a first child’s birth. Nobeks have a habit of fainting.”

  Larten appeared scandalized at that tidbit. Flencik hastened to add, “It’s because childbirth appears dangerous to the Matara. It makes a Nobek father-to-be crazy, because it’s not something a warrior can protect his lifebringer from. You can’t challenge the baby that’s being born to a fight, can you? Or the doctor delivering it? Not being able to act overloads Nobeks’ emotions. The majority pass out from the stress.”

  Seot and Cifa snickered, though when Larten jerked around to confront them, their faces were void of emotion. Our Nobek was between dumbfounded and pissed off to hear he was the most likely member of the clan to hit the floor during birth. I think the rest of us are looking forward to seeing what happens to him the day our second child arrives.

  The collection itself went well. I donated fifteen eggs, which Flencik claimed was a high number. I declared myself an overachiever to everyone’s amusement. My clan relaxed when it was all said and done. Only Cifa remained standoffish to Flencik afterward, which he did his best to cover with polite smiles.

  On our way home, the mystery of my clan’s overly-enthusiastic concern came to light. “We understand Flencik is a doctor. We know he’s doing his job and not staring at you in a sexual manner,” Seot sighed.

  “He’s still looking at you. Touching you. In contact with parts of you that only we should touch,” Larten continued.

  “It’s uncomfortable,” Cifa chimed in. “I get cranky when Seot or Larten have physicals because our regular physician is an Imdiko. I despise another Imdiko touching my clanmates, even if it is to keep them healthy.”

  “Jealousy run rampant,” I said. “Flencik acted as if it wasn’t anything new for him.”

  “He was quite understanding.” Seot wore agreeable expression. “One of his patients is the empress. I can only imagine the stress he’s under when she’s pregnant and he’s delivering her children.”

  Cifa continued to appear unhappy. “Dr. Flencik is on your board. That means I’ll have to see him on a regular basis, won’t it?”

  “He may be the man to eventually deliver your children,” I reminded him in my gentlest voice. I appreciate Flencik’s kind nature. He’s a sweetheart, and I would love for him to be my regular doctor.

  The idea of more kids brightened Cifa’s outlook. He bounced Anrel on his knee and asked her, “Do you want brothers and sisters, sweet girl? Oh, you do, don’t you? I can tell you do!”

  Ha. I wonder how Anrel will act when she has to share the spotlight. Maybe I should work on that while she’s still young enough to not remember a day of her life without siblings. But with my schedule—we’ll give it a little while longer.

  February 18

  Oh my gosh. I’m really in over my head with the foundation. I just received a com from Katrina.

  “Shalia, it’s a damned, dirty lie that there is a shortage of Kalquorian women,” she said by way of greeting. “A million have commed since the news vid ran last night about the egg donor drive.”

  “Slow down, woman. There’s been a big reaction to the story?”

  “I think that’s what I said. I’ve had to record an automatic message to handle the requests. I swear that every Kalquorian woman in existence is demanding to sign up to be impregnated with Earther eggs. The story hadn’t finished running the first time before the ne
ws headquarters started fielding coms. Their frequency was overrun. The foundation’s didn’t stop buzzing until I forwarded it to the messenger service.”

  “That answers the question as to whether or not Kalquorian women have issues with using Earthers’ baby ingredients,” I said weakly.

  “A resounding ‘no fucking problem’ to that one. Thank goodness I established that frequency before the story ran. We’re almost to five thousand requests already, with more trying to get through.”

  “Between me and Amelia of Clan Rajhir, we have less than twenty-five eggs. Candy is supposed to donate next week.” I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. We’d jumped too far into the future by doing the news story before we had a supply to meet the demand.

  “I hope your presentation at the complex next week goes well, or you’ll be spending a lot of your waking hours on your back with a harvester up your twat.” Katrina was finally finding some humor in the situation. I’m glad someone was.