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From: Rachael Ross <rache696@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Misfits 14 by Rachael Ross (MFmf, SciFi, Aliens, Bisexual, Herm, TG, Incest, Oral, Anal, First)
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Date: Sun, 11 Jul 2010 08:10:03 -0400
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You tipped my cow!


      
<1st attachment, "misfits 14.txt" begin>

Misfits

   Copyright 2010 Rachael Ross all rights reserved.  Adults Only. 
rache696@yahoo.com

   Note: This story consists of 15 chapters.  Please see Chapter 1 for
details.

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   The Misfits

   Chapter Fourteen



   The Grand Atrium of Hern served as the Royal Gardens.  It lay open to
the public with its stone pathways winding between flowering plants of
every description.  From the smallest picklillies no larger than a pin, to
expansive wetfruit trees whose limbs could stretch a hundred yards or more
in every direction, the Gardens were a carnival for the senses.  One could
be overwhelmed by the sights and smells, the ripe flavor of the air itself,
and the unavoidable texture of leaves and grasses caressing the skin.  A
curious sound would steal into the ears as the whispered, secret language
of life itself, or so some would claim.  Those people were most often found
in the center of the gardens, speaking in hushed tones and sharing a
selfless faith in the universe.

   Fronting that temple to our worldly origins, the Royal Theatre stood as
an annex to the Citadel of the Royal Court.  With a brilliant façade of
rare onyx and broad steps rising between marble columns, it was for many
people the only glimpse they would have of that portion of the ship I
called the castle.  Admission was free and organized by lottery, I believe,
although I'd never had occasion to learn the details.  Every performance
would be offered to an audience liveried in such splendor as they could
afford, or sometimes borrow, as the case may be.

   Attending the Theatre was an event and nearby were restaurants and
cabarets catering to the evening's nouveau gentry.  Balls were held and
grand masques upon the rooftops overlooking the Gardens.  Nobles and
commoners would debate on topics great and small.  A baron could dance with
a barmaid, a princess with a plumber; the music would swell until the late
hours and then wane with drunken laughter and lonely tears.  Lovers would
quarrel and strangers would fuck, and all would feast until they became
gorged with unsated pleasure.  It was a paradox, aye, and a good and
necessary one.

   The Royal Theater would occasionally feature films, as a human would
interpret them.  Dramatic stories with characters and plots which truly are
universal irregardless the specific details, and visualized through the
magic of holography.  The Duchess much admired swashbuckling romance and
her court would sometimes be treated to the Imperial equivalent of a
Hollywood epic.  Not often, however; such entertainment was considered by
many as too pedestrian for nobility.  The average citizen wanted his
royalty to act, well...Royal.

   On this particular evening, in a tradition far more usual and pleasing
to proletarian sensibilities, the Eyasian Ballet performed to the ethereal
strains of The Ghostly Slipper, as it would be called in English.  The
Royal Symphony accompanied, of course, and by all accounts the first act
had been breathtaking.  I'd found it interesting, or I should say that
Tristam had enjoyed it, but I wasn't in a mood to cater to his pleasure. 
I'd made a conscious effort to dislike the music, the dancing, and most
especially Helena's rapt fascination with the whole affair.

   We were rather displeased with each other.

   "I've drafted a letter to my father," Helena said, leaning her arms on
the ornate railing and looking at me over her shoulder.

   "Oh." I nodded from my chair, the one usually occupied by my cousin
Talis.  We were on the balcony, in the royal box, and supposedly we had the
very best seats in the house.

   "It only requires your signature, my Lord."

   "Rubber stamp it," I replied with a shrug.

   "Excuse me?" She narrowed her emerald eyes and English isn't a simple
language even for people who grow up with it.

   "Just sign my name," I sighed.  "I don't need to see it, do I?"

   "I thought you'd like to review it," she said, turning her head so she
could look down at the impatient crowd.  The ballet was always popular.

   "How many men do you think Talis has fucked up here?"

   "I'm quite certain I wouldn't know, my Lord."

   "Or women, for that matter," I said.  "She does have a penis, after all.
Have you seen it?"

   "Obviously not," Helena replied.

   "I'd be jealous if you had."

   "I don't believe you."

   "Well, not jealous maybe.  Hmmm...Concerned?" I shrugged.  "Whatever.  I
bet she's fucked Ellicent, right here in this very chair."

   "You're acting like a child."

   "I'm acting like I'm sixteen," I retorted.  "And I hate the ballet. 
Bunch of faggots.  Let's go somewhere else."

   "You can't leave now," she told me, pushing off the rail and turning
around.  "It would insult the performers."

   "Fuck," I sighed.  "What good is being the king if I can't do what I
want?"

   "You're not a king, my Lord."

   "And you're not my mother!" I snapped.  "I'm leaving."

   "Please," Helena said quickly, stepping close enough to push me back
down.  "Stay, my Lord.  It's important."

   "Alright," I agreed.  "If you'll sit down and jerk me off while we watch
the rest of the show."

   "Leave then." She crossed her arms over her smallish tits.  "The dancers
can spare the humiliation better than I, my Lord."

   "Sensitive," I snorted.  "I'm just teasing you.  No need to cry about
it."

   "I'm not crying."

   "Sit down," I said with a nod towards the empty chair beside me. 
"They're about to start the second act."

   "I won't play your games."

   "Just..." I rolled my eyes with a sigh.  "Sit down already; you're
making me nervous."

   "Me?" She smiled unhappily.  "What's wrong, my Lord?"

   "Nothing a little ballet won't fix," I said as the house lights dimmed
and only the great chandeliers burned above the audience.

   The chandeliers were a half-dozen in number, crystalline clouds formed
of Tartian diamonds, thousands of them and each with a glittering gold
flame burning tirelessly inside.  It had something to do with the radiation
saturating that world's unique geography and the stones themselves were
quite worthless individually.  Diamonds, of any size, shape, or color, are
among the most common rocks in the galaxy, as a great many women on earth
were going to discover to their disappointment.  On the other hand, rubies,
emeralds, and sapphires were always a precious commodity, along with a
number of lesser gemstones.

   Such circumstances were one of the many countless issues we had to deal
with.  Like Europeans trading glass beads for land in the New World, we had
to prevent unscrupulous traders, speculators, and carpetbaggers from
bleeding earth dry.  Humans were our newest children and they had to be
protected.  I'd spent much of the day to just that purpose, reviewing plans
for the new cities already being built on the ashes of the old.  New York,
Chicago, and Los Angeles would be the first and from the ground up they
were designed to be modern, efficient, and functional.  They would be the
beautiful hubs from which Imperial culture would radiate.

   The rest of my day had been spent brooding over Windham and every drop
of my blood yearned to crush that measly space into dust.  The military was
on full alert, all its personnel on duty, every ship being prepared for
battle.  Plans were being drawn up, forces being gathered like the pieces
on a chessboard.  The logistics were staggering.  Thirteen fleets were
being assembled with over fifteen hundred warships.  Assault forces, over a
million shock troops for the planet Windham alone, were loading onto their
transports.  It wasn't going to be the largest invasion ever conducted by
the Duchess of Cepheus, not even close, but still a significant operation
and I hated the inevitable waiting.

   "Wine, my Lord?" a soft voice tugged at my ears, small and female.

   "Who might you be?" I whispered in reply, not wishing to interrupt Lady
Helena's balletomane pleasure.

   "Alys Piern," she replied with a fine curtsy, holding her silver tray
steady.

   She had elfin features, wide lavender eyes and a small nose between her
sharp cheeks.  A very angular sort of girl, tapering all over with a thin
smile and a long neck rising from her slender shoulders, the rest of her
long and lithe to the very point of her toes.  Alys had no breasts at all,
but a soft, hollow chest and a tiny waist indistinguishable from her hips
as her body seemed to flow into her thighs.  Her yellow hair had been
pinned into a tight bob at the crown of her head, each strand drawn
severely, and her small ears were pink and pointed with a filigree of woven
silver, like the costume she wore.  A metallic lace of intricate design
covered her pale flesh, hiding and revealing the child beneath.

   "Are you a student, Alys Piern?"

   "Yes, my Lord," she agreed as a smile teased her brightly painted lips.
"I performed the Fantasia Aperitif."

   "I remember," I agreed.  "You were very good.  How long have you been
studying?"

   "Since I was three, my Lord." Her eyes shone and I gestured at a small
table.

   "Put the tray down and join me." I patted my thigh.  "Here.  You may sit
with me, Alys."

   "My Lord." She widened her eyes and blushed, drawing a glance from
Helena.

   "What are you doing?" she asked, leaning close and touching my arm.

   "Entertaining," I replied, watching graceful Alys place her tray and
goblets on the table.  "It's why I'm here, isn't it, my Lady?"

   "Hmph." Helena returned her attention to the stage and I ignored her
blunt displeasure.

   "Like this..." I whispered, taking the girl's hand as Alys very
carefully arranged herself on my lap.  "Put your arm around my neck.  I
want you to be comfortable."

   "Yes, my Lord." She shivered and I took a deep breath of her sweet
scent, holding her with my fingers clasped at her boyish hip.

   "Are you cold?  Shall I find some way to warm you, Alys?"

   "I'm not!  I assure you..." She shook her head.

   "Shhhh...Since you were three years old, did you say?" I smiled at her.
"And how long ago was that?"

   "I'm fifteen, my Lord." Alys licked her lips and she looked much younger
than that, I thought.

   I felt her warmth pouring from beneath the fine web of silver that clung
to her body.  The lace had become infatuated with the girl's heat; it
wasn't cold to the touch at all and seemed more like silk than metal.  The
design was of a floral motif, with stems and leaves entwining along her
legs and crawling across her lithe body.  Flowers bloomed with delicate
petals carefully arranged to conceal her sex, but only in the most illusory
sense.  The eye was tricked into focusing on the composition laid upon the
soft canvas beneath.

   "And very beautiful, Alys," I murmured, bringing my right hand upward.

   Her nipples formed pink pistils for the delicate florets adorning her
chest.  They were pinched and deliberately exposed that way, enticing and
teasing in league with her coquettish smile and elusive eyes.

   "Mmmmm..." She compressed her lips as I massaged her left nipple,
coaxing the rubbery nub to life as it began to swell.

   "Much better like that," I sighed into her ear.  "You're going to bloom
for me, aren't you, Alys?"

   "My Lord..." she offered with a ragged breath and I pulled her closer,
letting her trim bottom settle upon my cock.  The girl stiffened slightly,
arching her back as she felt the unmistakable ardor of my erection
straining against my breeches.

   "Have you been plucked, little flower?" I asked, flicking my thumb
across her right nipple and it too grew quickly stiff with the attention.

   "Noooo..." She licked her lips, tightening her right arm around my neck
as I licked the soft skin just beneath her ear.

   "Why not, Alys?" I pinched her nipple, pulling her immature breast into
a cone barely fit for girl just entering puberty.

   "I'm saving myself," she answered, arousing her innocent smile with
another blush.

   "Such a long, hot wait," I sighed, dragging my teeth along her florid
neck to kiss the girl beneath her jaw.  "I admire your courage."

   Alys was Ovellean and her newfound adolescence would stretch another
twenty years probably.  She'd descended from a rare species and a well
regarded one, coming from a very distant star coreward of the March.  I
wondered how she'd made the journey at such a tender age, for she wasn't a
slave or even a servant, but a student of the Royal Academy and perhaps in
a dozen years the prima ballerina, if Alys possessed the talent and
determination.  If the child wasn't deterred from her art by the inchoate
desire reflected in her lustrous eyes.

   "Give us a kiss, sweet Alys," I whispered.  "Brave, beautiful, obedient,
Alys.  You'll come to me soon, won't you?"

   "My Lord, I..." the words were caught in her throat as I touched her
lips with mine, tickling her with tip of my tongue and letting her go.

   "You'll save your budding treasure for me," I told her.  "We've kissed
upon it now, Alys."

   The roe's eyes closed and she nodded quickly.

   "Yes, my Lord."

   "Off with you then," I said, pushing her from my thighs and she only
just caught herself with a marvelous plié and pirouette.

   What a talent!  And I felt too pleased with the unexpected performance
to wonder why I'd let her go.

   "Soon, Alys," I whispered as she slipped between the thick brocade
covering the doorway.  "Come to me soon."

   "You should be wary of the girl, my Lord." Helena looked at me and I
suspected she'd been observing us for some while.

   "Her curiosity is piqued," I replied with a smile.  "Yours as well, my
Lady?"

   "You've terrified her.  She hardly knows what she's doing."

   "The best way to plant the girl is in the fertile soil of her
imagination.  She'll want to be courageous in the face of love and test
herself against me."

   "I understand she's already been gifted; an arranged marriage with a
squire of Paramus," Helena informed me.  "A spoiled knave, from what I've
heard, and quick with his temper."

   "Do you keep tabs on everyone?" I narrowed my eyes with mock suspicion.

   "Only you, my Lord."

   "Whoever the boy is, he's too old for her in any case..."

   "And you're not?"

   "...I'll merely put some color into her cheeks; a bit of expectation
into her loins, as they say."

   "Rather more than that, if I know you."

   "Did you see the way she quivered?" I sighed.  "Her heart demands
enslavement, you'll see.  Beautiful Alys.  It's in her blood now."

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   "It's all Helena's fault." I shook my head, tromping through the empty
hallways and muttering to myself.

   "You should sleep, my Lord." Ransom echoed my footsteps, if not my
thoughts.  He didn't understand; nobody could.

   "That bitch!  That slut!" I felt the pommel of my sword under my fingers
as the scabbard slapped my thigh.  "I can't think when she's around."

   "She's a beautiful woman," he offered with a chuckle, but I refused to
be cheered.

   "She's a whore for that bastard Tristam," I snarled.  "Fuck!  He's
stronger when she's with me."

   "My Lord, you are Tristam."

   "I can't fight them both." I turned a corner and entered one of the old
libraries.  We were getting deep into the castle now.

   The place should have been covered with dust and grime, the thousands of
books moldy with the decay of years, but it wasn't.  The cleanliness
offended me.  The efficiency of the chamberlain and his staff.  The air
filtered so thoroughly that I felt like an insect beneath a looking glass.
I kicked a chair out of the way, onto its back with rigor mortis.  I had
half a mind to perform an autopsy on the beast, cutting into the fine
tapestry of its skin and the overstuffed flesh beneath.

   "Stupid chair." I searched my memory for a book and found it, tilting
the fifth volume of Ahkruhk's tepid History of the Ancients.

   "Where are we going, my Lord?"

   "Behind the scenes, my friend." I grinned at the black giant as a
section of the bookcase surrendered with a groan.  "Didn't know about this
one, did you?"

   "No." He smiled back at me.  "Where does it lead?"

   "I just told you," I replied, slipping into the narrow passage.  "Mind
your head."

   At last I found some must to itch my nose and the darkness swallowed me
whole.  I felt the wall with my right hand, keeping my left on my sword. 
My feet knew the way and I kept my eyes closed as I counted the steps.  One
hundred thirty-four...Not yet, my legs were shorter...One hundred
sixty-seven and I felt a draft upon my cheek.

   When I opened my eyes, the faint light seemed as the mid-day sun and I
winced, looking left and right.  We'd come to an intersection of sorts and
Ransom's breathing seemed to echo through the crooked flume.

   "Hold your breath," I hissed.  "I can't hear myself think."

   I couldn't hear anything and I went left out of habit, following the
light towards an ancient balcony overlooking a disused chamber below.  The
ceiling was a lattice of pipes and cables, the nervous system of the great
ship exposed and out of place.  The room had once been used as a salon, but
the furniture had been broken up to feed the fires of yesteryear.  The
stone walls were mottled and once majestic tapestries were now tattered and
eaten through, clutching at their sprits like the sails of derelict set
adrift.  No fancy rugs here, just dull stone worn smooth and uniform grey.

   What light there was came from the balcony opposite mine, and from that
yawn I could hear the rutting grunts and gasps I sought.

   "This way," I breathed.  "We'll cross the pipes one at a time."

   "These pipes, my Lord?" Ransom offered me a doubtful look, reaching
upward to take one in his fist and pull.

   They were long and narrow, bundled together by threes and fives, a
half-dozen at the most, and slick with mildew.  The metal groaned as Ransom
gave it some weight and a loud snap issued from somewhere in the shadows.

   "We'd best go around," he suggested, letting go and slapping his palm
against his thigh.

   "You go around," I said.  "I'm going across."

   "And if you fall?"

   "It's only thirty feet." I shrugged.  "It won't kill me."

   "Unless you land on your head," he said with a chuckle.  "Come along, my
Lord.  We'll find another way."

   "Too late..." I grunted, leaping from our perch with my hands over my
head, catching two pipes with a third above and between them, denying me a
firm grip.

   "Tristam!" Ransom growled.  "Son of a..."

   "Shhh..." I hissed, almost laughing as I turned my hips and shoulders,
walking my hands quickly as I dangled above the stones below.

   I'd been too old for too long and it felt good to have some vigor in my
blood.  But I wasn't Tristam.  Without Helena he was weak and I had my own
thoughts, not his.  I should have fucked that baby ballerina.  Taken her in
the royal box in front of Helena.  That stuck up bitch!  Fuck!  She
pretended like she didn't care, but I knew better.  She had Tristam
whipped. The bastard had never even fucked her.  I'd made her kiss my dick;
he couldn't even get the slut on her knees!  I'd fuck her next.  I'd do it
while he watched.  Do it while she wept for her precious virginity.  Stupid
whore.  Let her marry Wren, she could make her vows with my sperm burning
inside her womb.  It would serve them right, all of them.

   "There now..." I breathed, crawling through the balcony and onto the old
dais overlooking the Harlequin Stanch.

   On that oval stage sat a chair, heavy and handsomely carved from a
single stone, and I ran my hand along the back.  Three short steps led to
the floor and makeshift torches burned in wrought iron cradles, linens
soaked in wine so nearly gone to vinegar that the cloth would hardly burn.
They smoldered and sputtered, heaving black smoke into the air.  Broken
chains lay rusting where they'd fallen and of the many clever devices I
remembered, none could be recognized.

   "Ho-ho!" I grinned at the three men and their victim, a pink-faced whore
flat on her back.  "What gallant pursuit!  Saving a fair maiden from her
virtue, are we?"

   They stared at me, the woman with her skirts around her waist as she lay
on the floor.  The laces of her bodice had been undone and I judged her
heaving breasts had been roughly kissed recently.  The flesh looked red and
swollen, with dark splotches where bruises had begun to sprout.  I reckoned
the whore hadn't minded awfully as she wore only pleasure beneath a mask of
surprise.  Her chestnut eyes matched her curling hair as it clung to her
face and neck, and she wasn't so much plain as just plain dirty.

   They were all filthy, but especially the men with their mismatched
clothing and hairy, haggard faces.  These were the lost children of the
Royal Court, young men whose excesses had bankrupted their welcome.  They
were drunks or unlucky gamblers perhaps; debtors and thieves most likely,
living in the walls and stealing scraps to survive.  Patchwork knaves
without a shred of decency between them.

   One of the men had his pants around his ankles, his bare ass between the
woman's bent knees and his prick buried within her cunt.  Another must have
recently finished with her, his semi-hard cock still dewy with passion and
his threadbare trousers likewise undone.  The third was still dressed at
least, although he held his crotch mid-squeeze and I cocked my head,
wondering if that wouldn't begin to hurt after awhile.

   "How far the Empire has fallen, eh?" I asked in the gutteral tongue of
low Imperial.  "Do you know this room?"

   "Bugger off, boy," the man on his knees replied, throwing himself into
the whore with a vile grunt.

   "I say we bugger him," one of his companions offered, the one massaging
his crotch.

   "Pretty little thing, what?" The other stroked his slick penis, pulling
the foreskin back and pushing it forward.  "I'll give him a go."

   "My master wouldn't care for that," I said, grinning as I fondled the
hilt of my sword.  "He's a mighty Lord.  You'd be foolish to cross him, I
think."

   "We won't be telling," the one holding his cock said.  "And neither will
you."

   "Not after I cut off his tongue." His companion had drawn a dagger from
behind his back, waving it back and forth as he lurched towards me.

   "Only the two of you?" I narrowed my eyes.  "Perhaps we should wait for
your friend to finish."

   The knife advanced before the grinning scarecrow and now that I could
get a good look at him, I felt something akin to pity for his wretchedness.
That would faggot, I thought, and I pushed his feelings aside with an
effort.  He drew his strength from Marcia and she was another whore I had
to watch closely.  She should have been mine, not his; I'd made her a slut.
She belonged to me!  Bambi as well and I had it in mind to sell them both
and be free of those ghosts forever.

   "Don't be frightened, boy," the man whispered, extending his empty hand
and clawing at the air with his cracked fingernails.  "Come to me now. 
There's a good, lad.  I won't hurt you...Come on."

   I stepped from behind the chair with a flash of steel, cutting through
nerves and tendons and very nearly severing the vagabond's right hand at
the wrist.  The knife clattered on the stones, tumbling from twitching
fingers he no longer controlled.  I took him through the throat a second
later, with his eyes turned down and a screech forming behind his curdled
grin.  Blood sprayed across my boots before I could pull my blade free and
I danced around the chair as he gave staggering chase.  The man took three
steps and the fourth led straight to hell; he landed face first on the
stones with a heavy thud.

   "Cowards!" I shouted after the other two, taking the steps one at a time
with my sword pointed down and away from my body.

   They'd run like dogs, with their tails between their legs and
whimpering.

   "Don't hurt me!" The woman had pushed herself upright, hugging her knees
to her breasts.  "Please!  I'm innocent!"

   "Innocent of what?" I asked, frowning as I'd intended to kill all three
of the fools.

   "Everything!" she cried, rolling over and prostrating herself at my
feet. She sobbed and kissed my bloody boots, and I was taken aback by her
grotesque display.

   "Nobody's that innocent," I reminded her, finding the whore's throat
with my blade and lifting her head.

   She choked down a breath with wide, blinking eyes as I held the edge
tight beneath her jaw.  Upright on her knees, the girl's unfettered breasts
jutted from her meager form.  I'd thought her a woman, but now I could see
through the cloak of poverty and she wasn't so much older than me.  She
stank of fresh cum and stale vomit, the bright odor of piss rankled my nose
and I turned my head and spat on the floor.

   "P-Please, my Lord...My Master...Don't murder me!"

   "What's your name?"

   "Whaaahhh...Swan!" she said quickly as I turned the cold steel across
her wax-like skin.

   "Swan...Swan?" I narrowed my eyes and considered that for a moment. 
"No. I don't know anyone by that name."

   "Ohhh..." the girl rasped with a shiver, closing her eyes and plainly
expecting me to slice her throat.

   "The Harlequin Stanch.  Do you know of it?"

   "N-No."

   "I do," I sighed.  "Look at me.  I have to tell you a secret."

   Swan arched her spine as if she might grow a fraction taller.  Her head
remained very still as I spoke, her eyes dulled and diluted by tears.

   "Before the rule of Talis, her father began the Spinward March. 
That..." I looked at the empty chair "...was his throne and this place,
this gloam of glory, was his butchary.  It's said that only Duke Hern's
favorite jester could stop the slaughter in this room."

   I paused, listening to her ragged breathing and the slow beating of my
heart.

   "So much blood.  They say visitors to Hern's court would have to wade
knee-deep through the bodies.  Men, women, children...pretty dells like
you, Swan, all hacked to pieces."

   "Please...I'm sorry, I..." Her hands fluttered like butterflies.

   "For the good of the Empire, he used to say." I took a deep breath and
focused my eyes on hers.  "Do you know what happened to the Duke?"

   "No."

   "He went mad and his daughter and her lover murdered him.  They had to,
you see?  He was suspicious of everyone and sooner or later, he would have
brought them down here.  He would have cut off their heads, Swan, and
nobody could have stopped it, not even his favorite harlequin."

   "D-Don't cut off my head, sir," she begged and I felt the palpitation of
her heart through my steel.

   "We had to do it," I whispered.  "I used the walls and came in through
the balcony, quiet and clever, imagining each step to be my last.  Talis
knelt before the throne, soothing her father the way a daughter shouldn't,
and..."

   I looked at the chair.

   "...I cut old Hern's throat and saved us all," I told her. 
"Regicide...It's the last time I knew fear, Swan.  After killing a man like
that, what's left?  The terror supping at the very marrow of your bones. 
Can you feel it?"

   "Yes!" she gasped, shutting her eyes with a shiver.

   "And now you know the secret," I sighed.  "The only one I have.  Oh,
Swan...Whatever shall I do with you now?"

   "P-Please!  I don't want to die in this place!"

   I pulled the sword away, giving the girl one quick breath before finding
her left breast with the tip, pricking the skin for a red pearl.  A thin
rivulet of sanguine milk followed the curvature of her flesh, gathering
into a single, bloated drop that refused to fall.

   "Stubborn life." I lifted my blade.  "Kiss the sword, Swan, to seal our
pact.  Kiss the brittle blood of terror and never forget the taste of it."

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   I had Swan bathed and her clothing burned in the hearth while I stirred
the ashes myself.  Precious oils were soothed into her chestnut hair until
it glistened, curling as the liquid evaporated and leaving behind only the
scent of sweet acacia.  Likewise, a rare balm of dragonseed burned away the
bruises and the girl's veteran skin turned pink and supple with youth.  She
grew vigorous before my eyes, stretching her asthenic body as a smile crept
across her face like sunrise after a long, dark night.

   "Am I beautiful, my Lord?" she asked, pointing her dark nipples towards
the ceiling as she reached above her head.

   Her fingers found the edge of the mattress and I could count her ribs
and see the bones beneath her scrawny hips.  Swan spread her legs and
pointed her toes toward the corners of the bed, exposing her sex through a
veil of curling brown pubic hair.  Her labia were long and ruddy, pulled
apart to reveal the pink meat inside, and her clitoris extended beyond its
wrinkled sheath.

   "No." I shook my head.  "Not yet, but soon perhaps.  How old are you?"

   "I don't know, my Lord."

   "Where are you from?" I unsnapped my tunic as she furrowed her brow and
finally laughed.

   "I don't remember, my Lord."

   "Have you any other name?" I wondered.  "Lady Swan?  Slave or servant?
What must you be now?"

   "Lady Swan," she sighed, watching me with her doe eyes full of humor. 
"I am dreaming, my Lord.  Or have you murdered me and this is heaven?"

   "There is no heaven," I replied.  "Hell, perhaps...but no heaven for the
likes of us."

   I removed my breeches and took my languid penis in my fist, stroking
myself to erection as I mounted the bed and then the girl.  I put her legs
over my shoulders so that I could see her helpless and yielding.  The moist
folds of her sex surrendered without so much as a whimper to mar the
moment.

   "You've been a whore for a long time, I think." I felt her hot inside,
and wet, but hardly tight.

   "Yesssss...my...Lord," she breathed, licking her lips as I pumped her
famished cunt.

   I had her bent nearly double, groveling on her shoulders with knees high
and her ass rolled off the bed.  My balls slapped her upturned flesh, my
scrotum lapping at the exposed pucker of her asshole, freshly scrubbed and
oiled like the rest of her.  The loose walls of her vagina felt like butter
around my cock, melted and slick with Swan's greasy arousal.  She might
have been seventeen, I thought, but was probably a few years older than
that.  I'd know soon enough and it hardly mattered with her frail existence
impaled upon my prick.

   Her fingers scratched at my hips and thighs, urging me into her deeper
and faster.  I sought the nadir of her cunt, determined to kiss some part
of her that would resist, but Swan took the length of me without a murmur
of protest.  Her sex seemed bottomless, like the pleasure in her warm,
brown eyes as she stared up at me.  She fucked quietly, panting through her
open mouth and teasing me with her long, pink tongue.  I dipped my head to
kiss the cusp, closing my lips around it for a moment and nursing greedily.

   We kissed while I pummeled her sex and that effort brought the girl to
climax.  My cock had found her strutting clit, stroking that bit of flesh
as the angle had changed.  Swan's cunt seemed to collapse around me and I
felt the tongues of her alien cervix growing long and firm inside her,
flicking along the shaft as she sought to embrace me.  Once experienced,
the sensation of fucking a Dysrosian nymph isn't one likely to be
forgotten.

   "Ugh...Fuck!" I gasped, feeling her tongues like sandpaper as they
wrapped themselves around my penis.  "You could have warned me."

   "Forgive me, my Lord," she groaned through the obvious ecstasy of her
orgasm.  "I thought...you...knew...Ahhhh!"

   Trying to pull out of her would have been painful as millions of
microscopic barbs were embedded along the length of my erection.  They were
poisoned with a powerful stimulant and my cock grew longer and thicker, the
skin drawn so tight that I winced beneath the pressure.  Swan's cervix
descended even as her tongues tried to pull my penis inside that hungry
mouth and soon after she'd engulfed my prick, I began to cum.

   Like a cunt within a cunt, the Dysrosian's cervix took every inch of my
spurting penis, her tongues keeping me stiff and steady within the tight,
hot throat leading directly to her ovaries.  Swan's vagina was little more
than a sheath for her real sex and we were fucking the way her kind liked
it.  I couldn't get any deeper and I certainly couldn't escape, and so we
were grinding in concert as my semen burst directly into her uterus.  We
rocked together, kissing frantically while my balls emptied with lusty joy.
The unnatural swelling of my cock, combined with the intense contractions
of her cervix as she swallowed my semen, made for a brief, sublime
eternity.

   My erection wouldn't go down either.  Even after I'd spilled the last of
my human seed inside the nymph's alien body, her tongues refused to set me
loose.  The poison kept me hard and the desire to piston my prick inside
her became so strong I could taste it, but all I could do was hunch my
pelvis against hers.  Swan's cervix did all the work anyway.  Every time
she'd orgasm, and they were relentless, that elongated tube of hot flesh
would spasm around my cock.  I came again, fucking her mouth with my tongue
while jetting hot semen down her nether throat, tossing potent sperm into
that fertile abyss she called a womb.

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   "What is it?" I blinked with annoyance as someone had opened the veils
and light from the earth poured into the room.

   "Lady Helena is waiting for you," Jericho said.

   "Doesn't she ever sleep?" I licked my lips and looked at Swan, curled
beside me and smiling in her slumber.

   Twenty, I decided.  She had to be twenty years old if she was a day, but
no older than that.  She needed to put on some weight.  Her cruel
circumstances had disguised her well, but I had a better one in mind.  Swan
would be beautiful soon and I felt an affection, but not my own.  Tristam,
perhaps, or more likely faggot falling in love the way he does with
everyone who fucks him.  It was getting harder to keep them out of my head.
Why hadn't I killed her?  I'd wanted to, but that room and Tristam's
memories and...Haven't we seen enough blood, my Lady?  No!

   "Fuck!" I rolled away from her, letting Swan's arm fall off my chest and
onto the bed.

   "Mmmm..." she sighed, but her eyes remained closed and that damned smile
wouldn't go away.

   "Scan her," I told Jericho as I found my uniform where I'd dropped it
the night before.  "After she bathes, and lock the file.  Don't let her
leave this room, nobody is to know she's here."

   Aside from Srah and Troy, of course, since they'd been the ones to wash
the girl.  I'd been explicit enough with them, but I'd keep them locked in
the Pillow Room in any event.  Marcia and Bambi as well, having no doubt
they'd weasel the truth out of their friends.  Esya was still with the
gentechs and would be for several weeks.  I missed him for a variety of
reasons, not least his utter loyalty; more than any of my other slaves, I
trusted him.

   "Lady Helena already knows," he replied.  "My apologies.  She asked if
you were with anyone and..."

   "Does she know who?"

   "No, Lord Admiral.  I found no record of the female in my database."

   "None?" I frowned as I buttoned my tunic.  "Did you sample her DNA?"

   "And a retinal scan, brain waves, and a perotinal survey," he replied.
"Your Swan does not exist."

   "Hmph." I looked at her as I fixed my sword.  "Yet there she is."

   I used the comfort room, as toilets were called, washing my face and
combing my hair.  I brushed my teeth and examined my chin for hair, but it
wasn't time for another shave.  I should have taken a shower and I knew I
wore a long night of sex on my skin, but that wasn't entirely bad.  Helena
deserved to get a good whiff of what she'd been missing.

   "Good morning!" I smiled as I walked into the study, a room put to use
only when I wanted to cool someone's heels.  "How's my favorite virgin
today...Oh."

   "Lady Preston, may I present Lord Admiral William, Fifth Earl Tristam of
Pleiades and High Marshal of the Spinward March."

   "My Lord." She lowered her head, pressing her hands against the golden
robe hanging off her left shoulder.

   "Contessa Roesus a'Juire Mistress Avion of Pleiades," Helena continued
the formal introductions with a tilt of her head and I ignored her frosty
countenance.

   She was undoubtedly peeved at being denied entrance to my private
chambers, but she'd do her best to hide it.  We had very few secrets and I
could read her just as easily as she could me.  Fucking Tristam.  I wanted
her more than anything else in the galaxy and Lady Preston only made him
stronger.  This was getting wearisome!

   "My Lady." I bowed as well.

   "They told me, um...you're my, uh..." My daughter pursed her lips and
glanced at Helena.

   "Lord William is your benefactor," she replied gently.  "He's going to
watch over you."

   "Yeah, um...Yes.  Thank you, my Lord." Lady Preston bowed again and she
had the mind of an eight-year-old, I judged.

   "You're welcome," I said, smiling as I took in her undeniable beauty.

   Lady Preston, Trista, looked much like her mother.  They shared the same
raven hair, a wild tangle only barely contained in a thick ponytail.  Her
eyes were black as well, the iris and pupils inseparable and giving her
defiant quality she otherwise lacked.  The woman's heart-shaped face seemed
too open, her smile too innocent for that mirthless stare.  Oh!  How her
mother could confound me with her gaze, but her embrace had always been
simple enough to understand.

   My daughter had inherited a pale, candid complexion to contrast her hair
and eyes.  She'd grown tall and perfectly proportioned, with long legs and
a svelte body, fluid shoulders and graceful arms.  Trista liked to conduct
her conversation with a symphony of gestures and such behavior must be
instinctive, I thought.  Her mother was the same way, the Ephori being a
race of great dialogists.

   Just standing there, Trista could barely contain her animation and every
thought passed unguarded across her beautiful face.  Curiosity tinged with
an anxiety for the unknown.  Doubtless her amnesia worried the girl and
she'd spent a full day learning the rudimentaries of life.  Languages and
math, some small bit of history and the etiquette of polite society; all
the conventions necessary for a child and that education would continue at
her own pace.  She'd learn quickly and mature over the next few years,
finally achieving intellectual adulthood and the responsibility it entails.

   But for the moment...

   "Jericho will prepare a room for you next to mine, you can arrange it
however you like, but..." I smiled at her, "...try to be practical.  I'll
find a tutor for you and servants, whatever you need."

   "Alright, um..." She narrowed her eyes as Helena whispered something. 
"Oh.  I mean...Thank you, my Lord."

   "Go with Jericho," I said.  "We'll talk more after you're comfortable.
I'll give you the grand tour and we'll have lunch together.  How will that
be?"

   "Great...my Lord." Trista nodded and then remembered to bow as Jericho
appeared to escort the girl - the woman - to her new home.

   "You've gotten your wish," Helena said once we were alone.  "Whatever
information she had is gone now."

   "Would you think me a villain if I divorced her mother and married
Trista?"

   "Quite." She stared at me, deliberately posed in yet another brilliantly
tailored catsuit; there was nothing accidental about this woman.

   The mustard leather set fire to her emerald eyes and when Helena shook
her rich, crimson hair loose around her shoulders...She wore her sword
today as well, the jeweled hilt of her rapier protruding from a blood red
scabbard attached to a double loop of silver chain.  She wore the blade low
and lazy off her narrow hips and it wasn't mere decoration, not for a
Cephean.

   "I believe the Countess would probably kill you," she continued without
a hint of emotion.

   "I'll send her a gift," I decided, resisting the impulse to take Helena
in my arms and just fuck the daylights out of her.

   My cock ached with desire and my gaze lingered on the fluted leather
between her thighs.  I could see the impeccable shape of Helena's vulva,
along with every muscle and tendon in her body.  She crossed her arms over
her perfectly insignificant breasts and fixed me with a petulant smile. 
The teasing signature of the artist after painting her latest masterpiece.
She knew I wanted her and everything she said and did was calculated to
that end.

   I fingered the hilt of my sword and imagined pushing the woman over the
desk, holding her down as I slit the leather along her spine.  I could tear
it away from her hips and expose Helena's ass, firm and round and so
miserly compared to most women.  She had the ass of a prepubescent boy and
the meager hips to go with it, but her cunt would be ripe and full and
tight inside.  I'd hold her down and rip through her virginity once and for
all.  Let the bitch hate herself afterwards.  She'd be disowned and exiled
by her father for my betrayal, but I'd own that slut forever.  I'd fuck
Helena in public just so she could hear the gossip and know she was a only
whore after all.

   I took a step towards her and my blade slipped free by an inch, possibly
two as she narrowed her eyes.

   Then it passed and I felt a surge of guilt rising like bile from my gut.
Tristam punished me and I spun away, hiding my face as my fingers became
white fists punching at my hips.  So futile this existence.  We couldn't go
on.  I felt her hands on my shoulders and nearly collapsed.

   "Are you alright?  William?  What's wrong?"

   "Leave me!" I gasped, twisting away from her touch, darting out of reach
and backing away from the woman.

   "Are you sick?"

   "Get out!" I screamed, clawing at my sword and knowing I would never get
it loose.  "Go!"

   Helena hesitated with a look of genuine concern haunting her face.  She
wished to speak and her mouth opened, but she didn't and finally left me to
sprawl on the floor.  I knew what I had to do.  They'd lied to me and I
couldn't live with these people in my head, Tristam and all the others.  He
was trying to control me.  He did control me.  I was him more often than me
now and if I tried to fight him, neither of us could win.  But he grew
stronger.  Tristam's allies were everywhere.  Helena, Ransom, Trista...I
was alone.  Fagboy Orion had Marcia and Bambi as well.  Fuckers.  Traitors.
They were all against me now.

   "You thought you could trick me," I breathed.  "I told you what I'd do.
I warned you..."

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   "Okay, faggot...You wanna play?" I asked myself, but I didn't get an
answer.  It didn't work like that, but I knew he could hear me.

   "My Lord?" Nurse Seyasesa smiled at me and she was a little hottie, but
not the one I'd come looking for.

   I wished she'd dressed in one of those slutty nurse outfits like my mom
wore sometimes.  You know, with the micro-mini skirt, fishnet stockings,
and peek-a-boo bra beneath a tiny blouse?  Fuck yeah.  This chick was ten
times better than my mom and I wouldn't even have to share her with my dad.
I licked my lips and dared the slut to read my thoughts.  Just in case she
couldn't, I grabbed my dick and gave it a squeeze.

   "Is Doctor Yes available?" I asked, grinning lewdly at the blue woman
and of course he was.  That's the nice thing about being Tristam,
everybody's available.  Except that bitch Helena, but I was gonna fix that!

   "Of course!  I'll get him for you, my Lord," she agreed quickly and I
watched the nurse's ass wiggle away inside her white trousers.

   I had to wait two minutes before the guy showed up and he wasn't all
that.  Fagboy loved the man though and so I loved him too, sort of.  I felt
a hunger inside and my butthole puckered up at the unwanted memory of
getting my ass reamed by his alien prick.  He smiled when he saw me too,
that homo fucker.  Doctor Yes probably figured I'd come around for a hot
meat injection and the weird thing was that I actually had.  Tristam didn't
like it and I could feel the doubt like a dagger through the middle of my
skull.  My alter-ego wasn't a happy camper and I couldn't do anything about
it, but neither could he.

   "What's up, Doc?" I smiled at the blue alien and I'm not sure how to
describe it, but let's just say I let the faggot drive for awhile.

   "My Lord," he replied in his sing-song voice.  "How can I help you?"

   "Don't talk so much," I whispered, stepping closer and pulling his mouth
to mine.

   Kissing Doctor Yes was a lot like kissing a girl...except I was the
girl. His tongue filled my mouth and I tickled it with my own.  His hands
found my ass and I'd already removed my sword.  I wouldn't be needing that
for the moment.  He pulled my hips to his and I felt that huge penis
bulging beneath his white pants.  He jammed it into my crotch, trying to
fuck me while we stood there and I concentrated on faggot's pleasure.  This
was Orion's moment to shine and he didn't let me down.

   I felt my body growing warm inside and out.  My tummy grew tight and my
balls ached beneath my growing arousal.  I felt like a fag.  Letting a man
kiss me almost made me want to puke, except it didn't.  I had to push it
away.  Fagboy was driving and I hoped this sacrifice would be worth it as I
reached between us.  My hand found the doctor's bulging blue muscle and I
pulled my mouth from his, sinking to my knees.  His silver eyes shone as he
smiled down at me, playing with my hair while I opened his pants.

   "You've got a big dick," I sighed, pulling ten inches of swollen prick
loose and stroking it with both hands.

   "Kiss it, my Lord," he urged me, pulling my face closer and I didn't
fight him at all.

   I peeled the foreskin from the glans, watching it snap beneath the
pronounced crown.  Except for the color, his cock wasn't all that different
from anyone else's, I thought.  Fagboy loved it and we were slobbering our
kisses over the smooth, pink head and along the shaft.  The doctor's penis
felt heavy, pulsing with a life all its own as it grew even larger somehow.
The muscle became firm as steel, but still soft and friendly as I stretched
my lips around the head and tickled his pisshole with my tongue.

   My fingers worked his scrotum free, blue and covered with fine, silver
hair.  He had big balls too.  Monster balls to hold all that alien sperm.
Just one of them filled my hand and I had to juggle them gently as I nursed
on his prick.  I crammed him into my mouth, as much as I could take and
that didn't seem to be nearly enough.  I could deep throat that huge penis,
I knew I could.  He wasn't much bigger than Mr.  Moore and I'd done him.

   No.  Faggot had done him, not me.  Never mind.  I closed my eyes and
concentrated on squeezing the head into the back of my mouth, opening my
throat and pushing myself forward.  I gagged briefly and then Doctor Yes
helped me.  He gripped the back of my head and pulled.  I felt the odd
popping sensation as his cock stretched my throat.  Perhaps I even heard it
as well, I couldn't be sure afterwards.  I couldn't breathe!  Fuck!  Fagboy
hadn't warned me about that!  Now I knew why Queyla had been so pissed and
I panicked, trying to push myself off, coughing and retching and spilling
spit and alien precum down my chin.

   "Are you alright, my Lord?" Dr.  Yes asked and I licked my lips and
nodded.

   "Yeah," I said, smiling weakly as if to prove it.  "I forgot how big it
is."

   "Only average," he replied with a chuckle.  "Try again."

   Fuck!  Of course the bastard wanted me to fuck his dick with my throat.
Everybody loves that!  Faggot loved it and I had to live in his memories,
that's a good way to put it.  I had to think about being him and that made
it easier.  I opened my throat and went down, feeling my esophagus burn as
the soft muscles were stretched thin by that fat, blue cock.  He must have
pushed it all the way into my stomach!  My jaw hurt and my tongue felt
crushed beneath the shaft.  My lips were taut around the base of the
doctor's erection and I felt his balls rubbing my chin.

   Oh, yeah!  I could deep throat a baseball bat!  Heh!  What a fag!  I let
him do me a dozen times that way and I was a sloppy cocksucker too!  The
front of my uniform became soaked with the juices spilling from my bruised
lips.  The doctor slapped his dick against my face and rocked his hips,
sliding it along my nose and across my eyes and into my hair.  His heavy
balls wandered across my mouth and I kissed them, licking his soft skin and
breathing his alien musk.

   "Do you wanna fuck me?" I asked him and he nodded.

   "Of course," he agreed and I had to admit it was a pretty stupid
question.  He wanted to help me to my feet just so he could bend me over,
but I stopped him.

   "I need something first," I said, still kneeling and jerking him off
with both hands as I looked up to find his silver eyes.

   "What do you need, my Lord?" Doctor Yes wondered slowly.

   "Kentang rasa," I replied.

   "Why?" He blinked at me as I felt Tristam pushing and I pushed him back.

   "I need to suppress certain functions in my amygdala," I told him. 
"I've used it before."

   "I'm not sure, my Lord." He frowned.  "That's never been used on a
human."

   "I'll take my chances."

   "What, uh...Exactly what do you need it for?"

   "The joining can be difficult at times," I said.  "Suppressing certain
memories, emotional memories, helps the transition."

   "I see," he said with a slow nod.  "I've heard you've been
acting...strangely, my Lord."

   "You've heard that?" I narrowed my eyes.

   "Lady Helena," he explained quickly.  "She's only concerned for your
health."

   "Of course she is." I forced myself to smile.  "You can assure her that
I'm well enough, Doctor.  Now, if you please..."

   "Yes, my Lord," Doctor Yes agreed, but not entirely happily and his cock
had gone soft.  "I'll get your Kentang rasa, but I'm not certain of the
dosage.  Perhaps we should run some tests first and..."

   "Don't worry," I told him.  "I've used it before."

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   I knew everything Tristam knew and a very large part of me didn't want
to take the medication.  It would block a significant portion of my memory,
the emotional ones to be precise.  I wouldn't forget who I was or what I
was doing, but only numb those precious moments when Tristam had looked on
Helena with love in his heart.  I'd remember her with detachment, with a
clarity of purpose...my purpose, not his.  Billy had no use for love. 
Women are sluts and should be treated that way, even hot alien chicks
dressed up like catwoman.

   Even beautiful daughters, so grown up on the outside; so innocent and
child-like on the inside.

   "Trista," I said, standing in the doorway of her new bedroom.  I'd been
there several minutes, admiring the woman's ripe breasts as they'd fallen
casually from her robe "I thought we'd have lunch on the terrace.  Just the
two of us."

   "Hi!  Okay, my Lord," she replied with a smile, bobbing her head and
completely oblivious to her near nakedness.  She'd redone her room as a
fairie tale boudoir, bright and cheery and burdened with the sort of
treasures any earth girl would have recognized.

   "That way we can get to know each other better." I smiled, adjusting the
golden cloth to hide her unabashed nipples.  The were soft and pink and I
gave them only the lightest caress of my thumbs.

   "Oh!" She watched my hands without blushing.

   That bit of chivalry done, I offered the woman an elaborate, playful
gesture.  "My Lady?"

   "Thank you!" Trista giggled like the child she was and put her arm
through mine.  I memorized that delightful sound, wishing to hear it again
when I popped the little girl's imaginary cherry.


   end 14

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