Monday, May 28, 2018
To: Professor Elibsa
Historical Preservation Campus
Archives of the Empire
Imperial University of Kalquor
From: Matara Anrel, Doctor of Fertility Sciences, retired
Hetlad Territory, Capital District
My dearest Elibsa,
First of all, forgive me for sending along a text in response to your kind message, rather than a live vid. At my advanced age and declining condition, it is necessary for me to dictate correspondence in short sessions. I trust you will excuse a very old woman for taking so long to answer, especially in a communication as lengthy as this will be.
I am delighted you received the journal of my mother, Matara Shalia of Clan Seot. I agree it will add greatly to the archives, detailing the early experiences of Earther women immigrating to the Kalquorian Empire in the wake of their planet’s demise. I was shocked when you told me that so few kept diaries of that period—but with all the upheavals of the era, perhaps it’s not so surprising, after all. That my mother noted down what she did, and in such detail, is a credit to her. However, I doubt she expected it to be enshrined for posterity. Indeed, had she guessed it would become a ‘treasured artifact’ as you describe it, she might have written a good deal less about the more personal details.
I will do my best to answer the questions you posed, clearing up the matters and detailing the history her earliest journals don’t answer. I can only answer from my own viewpoint, limited as it is. Also, the passage of years and my subjective opinion of my mother may have dimmed a few of my memories. The woman I knew as Matara Shalia bears little resemblance to the Shalia Monroe who began her journal as a desperate survivor in the wake of Armageddon. For me, Mom was confident, in control of her destiny, unafraid to face anything or anyone. Well, maybe with the exception of her own mother. Reading her thoughts has been a revelation.
That’s one thing that opening those old journal files did for me, for which I will be forever grateful: understanding Mom better than I could have hoped for.
In answer to your first question: as far as I’m aware, Mom never did see Clan Dusa again. She didn’t speak of them to me. For many years, I knew nothing of their existence. If she continued to wonder as to their fate and lives after she left them, I suppose I will never know. However, if you will forgive me for saying so, perhaps there is another question behind what you asked. Am I accurate in supposing you wonder if my biological sire was pinpointed?
I understand the reluctance to come right out and ask such. We do not question parentage in our society. As it should be; Clan Seot was my parent clan, in every way. My fathers gave me no reason to be concerned that I was the sole child of their clan not blood-related to them. They treated me with the same love and care as they did my siblings. In fact, I believe I was doted on more than the rest, by virtue of being the firstborn.
I wouldn’t have thought twice about the matter myself, had a message not once gotten through to me from Dramok Nang, held in a criminal psychiatric ward off the planet. Somehow, though it shouldn’t have happened, he managed to send a vid to me when I was twelve years old. In it, he affirmed he was my father, that he still loved my mother, that we would all someday be together as a family. Naturally, I wasn’t sure of what to make of the message from this white-haired, bent, scarred, and wasted creature. After my parents’ excitement died down, it was explained to me that Mom had known this man before she’d met my fathers, and yes, there was a slight chance he could be my biological sire. Being the mischievous and outspoken pre-teen I was, my initial reaction was to tell my mother that I was glad her taste in men had improved since Nang. I believe my exact words were: “Were you blind or did you feel sorry for the ugly old thing?” Her response was, “He didn’t always look sickly. And he wasn’t always confused about reality.”
Except for some tension in the following weeks, that was all that was said about the matter. Dramok Nang never sent out any further messages. He didn’t leave that penal colony until his death a few years later, when his clanmates claimed his body and put him to rest. And yes, my mother did continue to train like a Nobek, even after his supposed threat died with him. I hope it was due to her enjoyment of being strong, rather than living in some sort of post-traumatic fear for the rest of her days.
But returning to the issue of Clan Dusa. I didn’t discuss them with my mother, nor would I have gone out of my way to meet them. However, I do have an interesting tale to relate.
I believe I was fourteen when my grandmother, Eve Monroe, came for a surprise visit. It never failed that Mimi would show up unannounced when Mom had a gazillion things going on and was at her most frantic. I don’t know if that was done on purpose. Mom swore it was. Mimi had a habit of being contrary, as well as outrageous, for the sake of her own amusement. Maybe it was her means of driving Mom crazy. (I’ll discuss your question about their relationship post-surgery in a bit.)
Anyway, Mom couldn’t take off from her crazy schedule for an impromptu invasion from Mimi. I was more than happy when my grandmother suggested to me that us ‘women’ go off for a shopping jaunt. My oldest sister was ten, and I thought myself far too grown up for the likes of her. I had such an attitude until I reached my twenties! Maybe later than that. I’d been the only daughter for far too long and didn’t want to share the limelight at that precarious age.
Anyway, I went to the market with Mimi for shopping and lunch, just us two grand ladies having a ball. I always had the best time with her, and having her to myself was a real treat. We were walking along as she whispered her usual shocking observations of the people we passed by. No, those I will not repeat. Mimi’s mouth was unfailingly profane when she knew it would spur a reaction, and I typically reacted with wild giggles and unconvincing pleas for her to stop talking that way. She was offensive to the point of absurdity, and I got such a kick out of it. I adored Mimi with all my heart and wish I could have had longer with her than I did.
So, there we were, her murmuring scandalous suppositions about the men we walked past, when she suddenly stopped and gazed at a man walking in our direction. Her brows drew together fiercely, the expression of someone trying hard to remember something.
I peered at the man too, who was unaware that he was being stared at with such unwavering interest. He was handsome to be sure, almost adorable in fact, and sweet-faced as most Imdikos are. His straight, casually-styled hair hung to his shoulders, and he moved along, smiling at everything and everyone…not because they pleased him, but as if it was the natural expression his features fell into when he wasn’t reacting to anything in particular.
Maybe nothing would have happened if he hadn’t glanced in our direction and caught sight of Mimi. She’d stopped to watch him with that quizzical expression. I was about to ask her if she was okay when the man said in a deep and gentle voice, “Hello, Matara Eve. It’s been a long time.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Mimi said, gazing up at him, her expression relaxing. “Where do I know you from?”
“Earth.” He smiled at her, delighted. “I used to take care of you at the rescue site. You knitted me a cap. I’m—”
It was at then that he glanced at me. He froze, his words cutting off and his eyes rounding.
“My granddaughter,” Mimi said. She frowned at him. “Well, don’t stare at her like that. She’s only fourteen, bub.”
“My apologies, Mataras,” the man said, still staring at me. “I—I mistook the young lady for someone else for a moment. Forgive me. I won’t hold you up. It was good to see you again, Matara Eve.”
As he hurried from us, he kept glancing at me over his shoulder, a weird mix of fear and longing on his expression.
“Freak,” Mimi muttered, taking my arm and leading me onward. “The older you get, the stupider they’ll act. I’m glad you listen to your mom about self-defense training. You’ll be fending them off sooner rather than later.”
It was a bizarre encounter, but I forgot about it soon enough. I didn’t remember it until I opened Mom’s journal files and began to read them after she’d passed.
I was eager to watch the clanning ceremony vid she’d recorded for Clan Dusa. After the loss of the woman who’d been there my whole life, I was damned near desperate to catch a glimpse or two of Mom. I also wanted to see her younger and at the start of the journey that would ultimately bring her to Kalquor. The added bonus was catching peeks of Aunt Candy and my grandfathers Nayun, Bitev, and Rak.
Right away, I recognized the man who Mimi and I had run into at the market so many years before. As I’m sure you have already guessed, it was Imdiko Weln. Younger than the day I’d seen him, but it was the same open friendliness, the same easy smile. It was Weln who Mimi and I encountered, no doubt about it.
It made me consider his reaction to me. I might have assumed he saw a resemblance to my mother, but the truth is, she and I looked almost nothing alike. I’ve inherited her nose shape, and that’s it—I appear to be a full-blooded Kalquorian in all respects. So, what was it that gave Weln such pause when he saw me? Was it the fact I was with Mimi? Before she told him, did he guess I was her granddaughter and thus the daughter of Shalia Monroe, with whom he’d once had a relationship?
Somehow, that didn’t click. It might have made sense after Mimi told him those things, but his response beforehand had been too extreme. Curious, I went digging, checking into Imdiko Weln of Clan Dusa, trying to find out more about him.
He wasn’t hard to trace, as it turned out. Working with the information Mom had put in her diary, I was able to find out quite a bit about his background…and his family. Imagine how startled I was when I came upon an old still of him and his parent clan, and found my own face staring at me!
It was no wonder Imdiko Weln was so shocked to meet me. I’m his mother’s doppelganger. Except for the shape of my nose, she and I are otherwise identical. I will send you an attachment of her picture as well as one of me at the age of my encounter with Weln, and you can see how strong the similarities were.
I suppose that puts the question of my biology to rest. I often wonder what Imdiko Weln thought after our surprise meeting. Yet it is no shock to me that he didn’t seek me out again. The Kalquorian code of parent clans ensured that. My fathers were Seot, Cifa, and Larten. They raised and loved me, and that’s all that needs to be said about that. Mom seemed to have put that matter at rest, since she never spoke of it.
Since I’ve mentioned a little about the relationship between my mother and her mother, I’ll skip to your question on that next. It did improve after Mimi finished recuperating at the rehab center, run within Galactic Council space. She ended up moving to a colony near there. I had no doubt whatsoever how much she and Mom loved each other. Yet there was a sort of distance too, one they would have given anything to get past. Their continued issues might have been attributed to Mimi’s biting humor, her insistence on showing up when it was least convenient. Mom had a tendency to walk on eggshells around her, as if waiting for a blowup that never came…no doubt a habit from their history before Mimi’s surgery. Then, when Mom was finally pushed too hard by Mimi’s ill-timed criticisms or crude jokes in the hearing of the kids, she’d snap and there would be an argument. Sooner or later, they’d calm down, apologize, and so it went until the next time. I honestly think they couldn’t figure out any other way to be with each other.
I doubt that’s why there was that sense of them gazing with longing at each other from a gulf too large for them to cross. I caught Mom crying one day after Mimi had gone home, though they’d parted on good terms. Guessing she was missing her mother’s presence, I gave her a hug. “She’ll be back before you know it,” I said.
Mom whispered, more to herself than me, “She’s never coming back. I sent her away with that procedure.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “You two were okay when she left.”
Tears spilled down Mom’s cheeks. “I’m not talking about today. I meant when I signed for her to have the surgery, against her wishes. I had no right, though she seems happier now. Even if she doesn’t get so mad anymore, it wasn’t my call.”
At that time, I knew enough of the history to believe I had a glimmer of understanding. “She seems fine to me. She laughs all the time. How could the surgery have been a bad thing if her life is better?”
Mom stared off, her gaze shadowed. “Because sometimes, she looks lost. Like she feels something is missing, a piece of herself that she can’t find. I took it from her.”
The guilt was mutual, it turns out. Mimi sometimes told me, when we had our serious discussions, that she’d made mistakes with Mom, mistakes that haunted her to that very day. Their shared remorse was what kept them from being as close as they wanted to be. To me, it’s an indication of the huge amount of love they had for each other, so much that they couldn’t excuse themselves for the hurts they’d exchanged. Can you love someone to the point that it drives a wedge between you? Mom and Mimi seemed to bear that idea out.
Hopefully, I’ve answered your question on that to your satisfaction.
Moving on, you asked if I believed the number of Clan Seot’s children was linked to Mom’s personal egg donations. Her second baby, my brother Nayun, was not the last to be conceived at about the same time she helped someone close to her achieve a successful pregnancy. It became a kind of running joke when Aunt Hina, Ila, or Bazi started talking about adding a child to their families. No sooner would their clans make some mention that they were thinking of another baby, then my father Seot would call to Imdiko Snoy, “Start preparing the nursery!” Not for my aunts and uncles’ new child, but for the one Mom would suddenly crave for herself.
Poor Mom. She couldn’t get past the idea she was somehow handing over a baby of her own when she gifted someone close to her the eggs they needed. Only by giving birth within a few weeks herself could she seem to distract herself from that notion. My fathers were perfectly willing to accommodate that urge. Dr. Cafir railed against them for being enablers.
A side note: Dr. Cafir did not take Mom up on her offer of a direct donation. However, she and her clan did end up with two children, courtesy of the Family Fertility Foundation.
Fortunately, each of my aunts’ clans stopped at three children each. With me and my nine siblings, the home was always in a state of happy chaos. But hardly was it only us ten kids dashing about. Often, some or all of those nine cousins and Aunt Candy’s two (also counted as our cousins), were there as well. Mom called it controlled bedlam, but I don’t recall anyone complaining. Certainly not Imdiko Snoy, who lived for the announcement that a new baby was on the way. He lived with Clan Seot until old age took him from us…one of the saddest days of my life, though I had grown up and moved out before then.
That leaves us down to your questions about the rest of those who had been important to Mom and where their lives took them.
Mom’s friend Megan did become the Matara of Clan Aslada. They and my parents ended up good friends, and we saw them about twice a year. Their kids were pretentious snots, but they learned to act decent in the company of me and my siblings. We didn’t put up with that nonsense, and a few bruises proved our point when debates did not.
Clan Wotref’s transport, dubbed by Grammy Katrina as the Pussy ‘Porter, went to Earth and came back with none of the adventures that had plagued it when Mom was on board. Imdikos Tep and Feru, so central to Mom’s welfare (and mine!), often visited once they returned with Mataras they’d wooed into their clans. I was particularly close to Tep, the reason I lived when the ‘It’ invaded my mother while she was carrying me. He opened a practice on Kalquor and became an important part of the fertility foundation.
Grammy Katrina herself lived to be fully reconciled with her son, enjoying her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, who often visited her and her clanmates on Kalquor. They seemed happy with each other, so I assume that Matthew got over his beliefs that put distance between him and Grammy. He treated my grampies with great respect, at least in my presence. As for Grammy, she remained as unapologetically bawdy as she’d been from the moment Mom met her. All my relations adored her, especially Mimi. When Mimi, Grammy, and Aunt Hina got together, everyone else often made themselves scarce and took the children away, because those women would get outlandishly crude in a hurry. Mom said their language could peel the paint off walls. I can still hear their laughter in my memories as they tried to outdo each other with lewd comments. What a gang they were.
Clan Resan was in and out of our world as their duties to the fleet allowed. They did their best to come to many celebrations throughout my life. Yes, Uncle Resan showed up, and yes, he and Mom were polite to each other, if strained. I understood they did not like each other long before anyone confirmed that to me. However, Uncle Resan was kind, and willing to offer any help I needed. I have to give him and Mom credit, especially after reading the diary…despite their enmity towards each other, they never said a word of disparagement in my presence. At least, not when I was old enough to understand what was being said.
I was closer to Uncle Betra and Uncle Oses. I talked to them more often via com than in person, unfortunately, but short of settling down on Kalquor, they did all they could to be a major part of my life. I counted the days until their visits, and the parties Grandmother Elwa threw when they were home were legendary. Better still were the jaunts they took me and my siblings on, from hunting near Uncle Resan’s ancestral home, to riding kestarsh in the mountains. Uncle Betra knew all the best places in the Empire to explore.
Grandmother Elwa had called it when she said Uncle Betra would never stay in one place for very long. Even after Uncle Oses’ death, years after they’d clanned, Uncle Betra’s wanderlust kept him and Uncle Resan constantly moving, always seeking new places to discover. Things must have stayed good between them, despite Uncle Betra being heterosexual. They always appeared content with each other, and they never clanned another Nobek. When Uncle Betra died of age-related complications, Uncle Resan was inconsolable. It was probably why he died less than a month after his Imdiko.
As you know, Aunt Candy and Uncle Stidmun’s union was the first recognized ‘nontraditional clanning’, when the laws changed. Sure, the civil war started by the Basma was the final impetus to allowing unions between two people, or however many wanted to be together. Still, I’m glad you and other prominent historians agree that Aunt Candy started the ball rolling with her early campaign to have legal recognition for those who did not wish to go the four-breed clan route. I credit Aunt Candy for being the reason there is a House Anrel instead of me belonging to a clan headed by a Dramok. Not that any of the Dramoks I’ve been fortunate to love haven’t been worthy to lead our household (or Imdikos, Nobeks, or Merges for that matter). But as I invited my mates to be a part of my life, it’s only fair I’m named mistress of my home.
I believe that answers all your questions, though you are welcome to ask if you have any others. Reflecting on all those who have passed on is bittersweet—I’ve laughed and cried in equal measure as I’ve revisited these memories—but I’m proud to have been guided in some way by each and every one of the people who appeared in the diary. Especially my mother, whom I hope looks on me with pride from the realm of the ancestors. Matara Shalia of Clan Seot was not only my mother, but my role model. I only wish I could speak with her once again and tell her so. But as my old, tired body sees fit to remind me often these days, I’ll soon be able to.
Be well, my friend. I thank you for keeping my mother’s words safe for those who would read her story and take what lessons they will from it.
And there you have it. Our journey with Shalia has come to an end. I’d like to thank all the faithful readers who came along for the ride. It has been a privilege writing this adventure for you, and I’m eternally grateful that you joined me and Shalia, whether through the books or on the blog where it all began.
I’m sure the question will come up whether we’ll ever see Shalia or any of her friends again. The answer is, I don’t know. If a story worthy of these characters occurs, of course we’ll revisit. To me, Shalia and the gang are a very special moment in my writing history, and all I can do is hope lightning might someday strike twice.
For now, we will leave them to their happily-ever-after, assured that Shalia found the life she’d hoped for. Thanks again for cheering her on.
Thursday, May 24, 2018
“You’re conscious? I’m impressed,” Cifa grinned. “Open your mouth for this stim tab.”
I obeyed, certain that wouldn’t bring me to life. All hail Kalquorian pharmaceuticals. Less than a minute later, I was awake once more.
I didn’t tell Cifa, but I worried Larten might have sapped me of all the amorous inclinations I’d had to give. I’d come fucking forever for my Nobek. Surely even my admittedly ridiculous libido would pack it in for the evening.
Ah, but I have a resourceful Imdiko. Perhaps he intuited my situation, because the first thing he took from the shelves was a jar of sensitizing gel. “Let’s keep you feeling excited,” he said, scooping a generous dollop onto his fingers and smearing it on my pussy.
For heaven’s sake, his touch alone sent happy thrills through me, even before the gel sank in. I am a nymphomaniac, at least where my clanmates are concerned.
Cifa rubbed some on my breasts as well, paying extra attention to my nipples. “There we go. Such pretty breasts and clit deserve to look their best. I have just the things.”
Another trip to the shelves rewarded him with weighted nipple clamps and a clit clip. I gazed at the jeweled adornments with valid concern.
Cifa squeezed one clamp open, settling it to circle my nipple. Before he tightened its grip, I was moaning. The gel had begun its work, making me vulnerable to the slightest pressure. Hurt stabbed into me as he set the tension, the weight of the sparkling multicolored stones hanging from the clamp adding a ferocious ache to the torment.
“So pretty,” my Imdiko sighed, tapping the dangling length of gems to make them swing. “You enjoy looking beautiful for me, don’t you, my Matara?”
It was his way of asking if I would submit to his wants. If I would allow him to push my surrender. Of course I would. Forever and ever.
“I’m yours,” I whimpered, despite the tiny shards of pain that continued to jab my breast. “What my Imdiko wants from me, he has.”
Cifa smiled and rewarded me with a kiss that warmed me to my toes. Then he placed a matching clamp on my other breast and watched with love shining in his eyes as I struggled with the pain without complaint.
More kisses, sweet and gentle but hot enough to have curled my toes if I could have moved them. Those kisses alone made me glad to give him anything he wanted. As did his whispered approval and vows of love.
He knelt before me, and pushed my legs apart to gaze at my vulnerable pussy. His thumb stroked over the clitoris clip, also weighted by dangling jewels. “So swollen from coming for our Nobek,” Cifa sighed, his gaze filled with pleasure. “This is going to be tight on you. Are you ready?”
I probably wasn’t, but I wanted to be. So I said, “Yes.”
The clip resembled a huge bobby pin without the ridges. Cifa pried the metal blades apart and slid the clip around my clit. It was tight all right, almost snug enough to hurt. When he put it on me, the first of the jewels dangling from the rounded end tapped against my clit. That got my attention.
Maybe Larten hadn’t taken everything after all.
“How lovely,” Cifa complimented. “So beautiful. You deserve a kiss.”
A kiss he delivered to my clit as he held the jewels out of the way. A kiss that involved sucking and rubbing my engorged flesh with his tongue. He didn’t relent until I was crying out with need, my poor pussy throbbing with want. It was as if Larten hadn’t already satisfied me to near unconsciousness.
Giving my slit and nice, slow lick to gather up the honey that coated it, Cifa left off the decadent attention. “Did you enjoy that? I believe I want something similar too.”
He stood and worked to rearrange my pose to his liking. His liking turned out to be my face on level with his groin, my body laid out horizontally so that the weighted jewels on my nipples and clit hung straight down towards the floor…a painful position made more so when he set the jewels to swinging.
Cifa sighed happily as he combed his fingers through my hair, gripping the sides of my head, holding me in place for his glistening primary. “Open, my Matara. Open that pretty mouth for my cock.”
Trembling with equal parts anticipation and hurt, I obeyed. Hot, slick flesh tasting of sweet cinnamon slid over my tongue, traveling all the way back, reaching into my throat. I swallowed, surrendering to my Imdiko’s desires.
He gazed down at me, his eyes glazing at the sight of himself buried to the groin, his secondary pressed hard beneath my jaw. His cock twitched as he paused, soaking in the moment. “Yes. The most beautiful mouth that has ever existed.”
His approval discouraged me from useless struggles as my lungs begged for air, as it wanted to gag against the choking pressure. I relaxed and accepted, my spirit singing at Cifa’s delight in me.
He drew out to the tip, allowing me to pull in a desperately needed breath. I forgot about the painful weights hanging from me until Cifa reached down to set them swinging once again. I whimpered small, hurt noises as his hips thrust shallowly, fucking my mouth.
Despite the darts of brilliant pain filling my breasts and the ache from my pussy, I delighted in the pulse of the vein against my tongue, in the enthralled expression Cifa wore as he pleasured himself with me. Besides, the clip on the shaft of my clit made it throb in tandem with my heartbeat, offering as much joy as pain. Things were confused, with the torment and bliss swirling so close together that their boundaries blurred.
Cifa pushed in deep once more, making me take his full length. Again, he held still, enjoying the feel of being utterly enclosed in wet warmth. Seconds spun out. My throat spasmed, trying to expel the invader. My eyes watered and streamed as instinct tried to make me struggle, though the field kept me from doing so.
“Good girl,” Cifa grunted, drawing out so I could breathe again. His cock spurted a taste of passion on my tongue, rewarding me for my efforts.
As Larten had, my Imdiko took his time with me, drawing out his bliss and my anticipation. I had no idea whether he would climax in my mouth, feeding me the entirety of his desire, or if he would fulfill himself in some other fashion. My existence became a glorious eternity of him setting the clamps’ weights swaying to provide exacting hurt that somehow enthralled as well. An eternity of his delicious shaft stroking against my tongue, filling my throat, granting me sweetish-salty drops of his lust.
I would have been content with that. My lips pursed around the tip of him when he at last drew out, trying my best to retain some claim on him. He chuckled and bent down to kiss me gently on my lips, swollen from his extended use.
“That’s my good girl. A little more testing and a nice fuck for you. All right?”
I whimpered a sound that was half-plea, half-hopefully. Yes and please. Yes, yes, yes, and please, please, please.
Leaving me hanging facedown, Cifa patted my head and stepped around, ending up between my legs.
I shivered with excitement to feel his primary nestle against my ass. It burrowed against me, seeking tight shelter. I moaned as the tapered tip nudged the taut ring open, pushing inside until its smaller twin began to find its own home inside my pussy.
Cifa paused then, leaning over me, blanketing me with his warmth. The tension in my muscles eased as his body heat sank into me. The moment of ease evaporated when he tugged on a jeweled clamp, sending a slice of riveting pain through my breast.
I yelped. At once, Cifa brushed my distended clit with a finger, setting off flashes of rapture. My cry twisted into eagerness.
Cifa tugged on the other clamp, setting off another ripple of torment as he pushed iron into my ass and pussy. I fought the field holding me then, the tangled sensations of desire and pain too poignant to stay still against. However, the stasis was uncompromising, reminding me yet again that I had no escape.
A stroke to my clit, a rush of exaltation. An additional inch of invasion, incredible pleasure. A tug on a nipple, burning, biting agony. Stroke. Thrust. Tug. Ecstasy. Penetration. Pain.
It began measured, one thing at a time. I swung from torment to delight, my arousal on a pendulum, unable to discern which way I would go. However, Cifa increased the pace, crowding the actions close, twining the sensations together, until at the end, he was playing all the notes at once.
Ecstasy. Infiltration. Throbbing. Coiling, the lines between each blurring, melding them into one. Three separate sensations, becoming a single, incredible feeling filling my sex, my stomach. Heavy, billowing, massive pleasure with spikes of pure bliss. The strikes of brightness came with more frequency as Cifa fucked me with a steady, delicious rhythm, playing with the weights and my clit. I got that incredible tickly feeling that lit me within.
“My Matara.” Cifa’s worshipful groan told me he felt what I did. Not just physically, but the joining of so much more, the parts of us that truly mattered. Hearts and souls, we were one. That was what mattered. The incredible sex was icing on the cake.
But such delectable icing it was.
We chased gratification, Cifa making every effort to bring me along with him on that sublime path. Our gasps rose in concert, our moans growing in length and volume with each thrust. The occasional “I love you,” bound us closer yet.
“Take me with you,” I sobbed as he closed on the end, the sounds of his moans higher in pitch as they always became when he was on the brink.
“Yes. Yes, come with me, my Shalia. Almost…almost there.”
The telltale burst of hottest excitement flared in my clit. “Just…just a little more. Just…another second…”
“Oh! Come, Shalia! Come now!”
White-noise roar in my ears. Whiter flash of light before my eyes. And blinding brilliance blasting me from within, a detonation that consumed us both in a roiling, heaving cataclysm. Then delectable, delightful waves of shared release, our voices mingling in a joyous chorus of love.
And afterward, Cifa proved my assessment of how our joining was more than mere sex, holding me, kissing me, caressing me in the afterglow, whispering his everlasting devotion and adoration.
I have to applaud Seot for his patience. Somehow, he intuited the emotional wave that had swamped us and allowed his sensitive Imdiko and weeping Matara to process the moment. He said nothing to hurry us along, to demand his equal time with his female mate. He is all a Dramok should be.
At last, Cifa remembered it wasn’t just he and I. He removed all the pretty decorations he’d placed on me and stepped away, though it was clear he hadn’t yet come down from all the sentiments filling his big heart. When he sat next to Larten, appearing overwhelmed, our Nobek held him, stroking his hair while Cifa got himself under control.
Meanwhile, Seot saw to settling me down, acting as if his engorged cocks weren’t bothering him in the least. He gave me some water and then juice, and wiped my tearstreaked face with a cool, damp cloth. Whew, it’s amazing what feelings can be released during sex sometimes. I’d been swept up after the day. Ha, after the last year and a half.
Little by little, I felt less of the overpowering impact of being a part of my clan, and more of the magical specialness of it. I smiled at Seot, grateful to him for being the man he was: strong, understanding, always putting his clanmates first.
“Better?” he asked.
“Until I get hit again by the full force of how lucky I am.”
He chuckled. “You and me, both. We have the best clanmates.”
“And your clanmates have the best Dramok.”
He kissed me for that. The kiss kept going, his body strong against mine, until my libido stirred yet again. But how could it not? I can’t imagine a day when Seot won’t make me eager.
As he kissed me, my Dramok stroked down to my buttocks, which stung in reminder of Larten’s discipline. That was no deterrent to the delight warming me once more. Seot rubbed me, his exciting hands fondling with slow sweeps up and down. In no hurry, he kissed me once, twice, a few more times, pausing between each to whisper how much he loved me, how wonderful I was, how beautiful I was…oh, all a woman wants to hear from the man she adores as he gazes into her eyes. His cocks curled hard between our bellies, but he rushed none of it. He made me feel as if I were the most cherished woman in the universe.
He ignored whatever call of lust he felt even when his attentions moved in that direction. He set me floating in the field on my back, raising me high so that my pussy was on level with his face. Seot continued his slow, sweet seduction by bestowing those gentle kisses on my womanhood. More romantic than carnal, he brought me to a simmer and held me there. Only when my sighs turned to whimpers did he go further, treating my pussy to drawn-out laps of his tongue.
Ah, that tongue, so rough and exciting despite the care he used. It rasped against me, bringing the inviting warmth inside to a blaze that left me trembling. Each exquisite nuance of that magnificent tongue lingered over each fold as it explored every crease. More incredible was when it dove into me, tasting me as deeply as it could go.
Seot settled his thumb on my clit and rubbed, sending new spikes of need through me. But it wasn’t just that…he’d slipped a vibrating sleeve over his thumb. It shivered to life, a gentle thrumming sensation to awaken all the cells of my being. I gasped his name.
Seot said nothing in return, continuing to fuck me with his tongue as he drew circles around my most responsive flesh. My hips fought to move, to put that vibrating sleeve where I needed it to be, to grind my pussy against my Dramok’s mouth. I thought that he would torment me forever, as Larten had.
But no…that was not Seot’s plan. Instead, as my cries grew louder and more desperate, he settled the pad against my swollen nub, letting it play against the most sensitive spot. Ecstasy swept in, and tender convulsions moved through me. A quiet, lazy orgasm, one I could ride with lucid enjoyment rather than being blasted out of my skull.
When the spasms began to quiet, Seot returned to drawing circles around my clit, still pumping his tongue in and out of me. He gave me a few minutes to recover and regain heightened desire once more before setting off another pleasant climax.
It was lovely to indulge in such serene satisfaction. Which do I prefer—full steam ahead, gonzo obliteration? Or this calm, quiet bliss that let me remain in the moment as waves of rapture ebbed and flowed?
I like both equally. They are perfect for different reasons.
Seot finally ended his feast. He lowered me and brought me to a sitting position in mid-air.
“I do love it when your eyes have that unfocused glaze,” Seot teased me. “It makes me feel as if I’ve done something right.”
“You have yet to do anything wrong,’ I sighed.
He kissed my lips again, chuckling as he did so. I tasted myself on him, and found the proof of what he’d done exhilarating. As we kissed, he positioned me, setting my entrance against his primary. He pulled me down.
But only a little, just enough that I’d captured the tip of him. What followed was a slow taking, as Cifa had done, except I was tugged onto Seot rather than him pushing into me.
Without clamps and weights to distract me, I was as aware of my Dramok’s cocks as I had been of his tongue when he’d used that on me. I felt the heat of him against the rim of my ass, the lips of my sex. His slickness mingled with mine, making it impossible to know which of the two of us was the wetter. The slow nudging of his cocks as their tapered ends gave way to more girth forced me to yield inch by inch. When he was more deeply within, I could feel the throb of his pulse inside me. Our slow joining was profound in its simplicity, in the fact that he did nothing else but squeeze my breasts and kiss my lips. It made me aware of every sensation, every breath, every tremor.
Bit by bit, inch by inch, I sank down, joining us. When he wasn’t kissing me, we gazed in each other’s eyes, and I felt on the most profound level our union. Have I mentioned how I love that man? As I write this, I am swamped with the emotion all over again. I love him, all of them, so much.
At last, we were fused, man and woman, on all possible levels. I almost wept again at the perfection. How was it I’d been so lucky, had survived all I had, to make it here? Surely someone or something, whether it was the ancestors, God, whatever, had to have ordained it to happen.
With us so fully entwined, Seot stared into my eyes yet again. “Field, off,” he whispered.
Gravity drew on me, putting my full weight on Seot. Not that he seemed to notice. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, holding on, delighting in being able to cling so tightly.
We didn’t speak. When we moved, we went slow, reveling in our connection, making each shift, each undulation, each thrust mindful. Meaningful. Paying intent attention to how we slid against each other. We saw each twitch of a jaw muscle, intake of breath, flutter of eyelids. We moved and gauged the other’s responses, a slow, careful exploration of what caused reaction.
Desire rose slow and sure, a gradual increase in heat and excitement. We did not rush anything. We gloried in each passing moment, in perfection of our togetherness. When more profound surges of elation fired inside me, I didn’t hurry the pace. Seot’s soft moans rather than eager thrusting told me of his increased excitement. We didn’t go at each other with the usual desperate reach for culmination, chasing that lightning strike of completion. We coaxed it in with soft kisses, gentle friction, and love in our gazes.
Even with that careful ride that I believe neither of us wanted to end, desire mounted higher. My pussy tightened on Seot’s jerking cock with increasing frequency, warning we couldn’t go on forever. I was glowing from within, surges of the purest pleasure drawing me taut. Deliberate slides of our bodies brought fresh waves of luscious electricity, crackling my senses.
Seot clutched my ass, indicating his approaching dissolution. “I’m coming,” he gasped. “My Matara, I’m coming.”
The tension of oncoming release drew his brows tight. At last he broke eye contact, his head falling back, mouth opening as he tensed. Seeing him succumb was all I needed to break: rapture swept through me too, as if his jolting primary poured his release inside, to be expended by me.
Our cries rang through the room as we writhed against each other, holding on tightly, moving to coax each mote of pleasure from the other, not going still until the final sweet pulse of exhilaration bled away.
Keeping us joined, Seot carried me to the bed where the other two awaited us. I was placed in the center of the clan, my men’s warm bodies curled against mine, our limbs twined in a knot as if to tie us all together forever.
It had been a long, sometimes horrific journey to this point. From Earth with its repressive government, post-Armageddon starvation, and violent adherents to the old ways; to space with enemies at every turn waiting to spring on my transport; to Kalquor and the confrontations with my mother, Nang, and myself…yet somehow, I’d won through. I was here, a mother to a beautiful baby girl with another on the way. And clanned to men who uplifted me in all ways loving mates could elevate a woman.
Life is going to be fine from now on. I’m going to be okay. No, not okay…amazing.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is not the final post. Come back Monday for the last entry.