Friday, October 31, 2014

Weekend Wakeup Call - First Mataras: Michaela

Even if Korkla had not tied her down, Michaela would have been pinned helpless by his stare. Seeing him looming over her, so profoundly in control, made her soft and accepting. There was nothing she could do to keep him from taking what he wanted from her. There was nothing she wanted to do to keep him from taking all that he desired of her.

The Dramok took his cocks in hand. Still staring into her face, his hips lowered, bringing his sexes towards hers. She felt her body strain towards his, eager for the impaling. Her cock, so recently emptied, was hard again and nearing yet another climax. Her entire being prepared for release.

The tapered tips of her lover’s pricks nudged at her pussy and ass. They found their sanctuaries and nestled there, an anticipatory pause before taking their rightful shelters. Then they drove inside, slowly but steadily and with no hesitation. 

Michaela arched as Korkla pressed in, interlocking their bodies in one smooth thrust. He did not wait once he had embedded himself within her. He took her as if by divine right, as if her body existed purely to give him the pleasure he craved.

Yet it was not a selfish possession. Even as his hips pumped back and forth, fucking her in increasingly quick thrusts, his firm grip closed on her cock. Again he saw to her needs, even as he sated his own.

Michaela sobbed in delighted abandon as he filled her over and over. The fullness of double penetration, the amazing friction against her pussy’s hotspot, the rhythmic contact between her clit and Korkla’s groin, the constant pulling on her prick ... all these sensations combined into a frenzied rapture of fire that banked higher and higher. Her gasped cries seemed to incite Korkla to move with more force and speed. She burned and blistered and at last ignited. Had she been able to think coherently, Michaela would have expected to see sparks flying from the tips of her toes.

While she boiled under the inferno of Korkla’s lovemaking, she saw the Dramok’s mouth open wide. His fangs unhinged, and then there was a blur of motion. The bite on the side of her neck came so swiftly that Michaela never registered pain.

He screamed against her throat, his cocks still battering inside her as his body shuddered. Michaela convulsed with orgasm, her pussy and cock both spasming with excruciating delight. Even when the last of her seed had exited, her prick continued to jerk between her and Korkla’s bellies.

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Thursday, October 30, 2014

First Mataras: Michaela - Excerpt 5

Michaela had known better than to look. Right away one particular dress caught her eye, a frothy pink confection that looked like it should be worn by a fairy tale princess.

She sighed with longing. The color and cut would suit her perfectly. It figured that such a dress would be here to tempt her on the very day she had resolved not to purchase a single article of clothing. Damn it to hell.

A voice purred in her ear. “You should buy it.”

Michaela jumped and whirled around. Feyom stood there, looking down on her from her superior six-feet-plus height. The woman smiled at her, but the expression was not pleasant. It looked like a predatory leer.

Eyeing the other woman warily, Michaela answered, “It’s lovely, but I have more than enough clothes. My clan has been very generous.”

“Those three have always been that way with the less fortunate.” Feyom chortled as Michaela’s face fell. “I am only joking, like that Imdiko performer over there. He is funny, isn’t he? He called me too grand for the Empire and crawled after me like a pet begging for a treat.”

“How nice for you,” Michaela managed to say. Feyom did look stunning in a long purple gown that matched her eyes. She wore it easily though it looked quite expensive and more suited to attend a ball than shopping.

Feyom looked from Michaela to the pink dress in the vid and back to Michaela again. “Seriously, that dress is perfect for you. It would help disguise how broad your shoulders are. You’d look more feminine, if that’s what you’re going for. Not so much like a boy trying on his mother’s clothes.”

It didn’t matter that Michaela knew Feyom deliberately baited her. Her insecurities reared up anyway. She struggled not to hunch her wide shoulders and give the Kalquorian woman the nasty little victory she strove for.

Her only real defense lay in doing the opposite of what Feyom expected. Michaela answered in a voice deeper than usual. “It’s not just the female side of me that delights my clan, Matara Feyom. They enjoy everything I have to offer, very much.”

Feyom smirked. “Maybe for now. I do worry about how they’ll feel should you have difficulties producing children for them, however. The novelty of your amazing body will wear off sooner or later, and then what?” She tittered. “You’d better be able to be more woman than your appearance would suggest. If I were you, I’d distract Korkla, Govi, and Raxstad from their wishes for fatherhood for as long as you possibly can.”

Michaela couldn’t come up with a reply, and Feyom didn’t wait around to give her the opportunity to do so. With a hateful smirk still curling her lips, the Kalquorian sauntered away.

Michaela watched as her tormentor floated through the market square, heading towards the outer square and tunnel. She noted the appreciative glances of the men charting Feyom’s passage, the obvious admiration in their eyes for the Kalquorian who oozed womanhood.

Too late, her arguments against Feyom’s assessment of Michaela’s ability to bear children arose. She came close to making a spectacle of herself, wanting to scream after the departing woman that she had been confirmed fertile back on Plasius by Israla’s own physician. Michaela had all the requisite female part, she had the eggs, and she had been getting her period since the age of 12. There was no medical reason why she couldn’t give her clan all the children they desired.

She dammed the too-late words rising in her throat, twisting away from Feyom’s departing back and the cascade of heads turning as she walked by. Michaela again faced the pretty pink dress. It was like many of her other clothes, displaying the trappings of femininity. It was exactly the kind of outfit that she hid behind so often, helping her to assume the mask of the girl that lived inside her. 

A woman on the inside, but not outside.

It’s all a farce. On me, that would be no less window dressing than it is in that hologram, she thought miserably.

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Shalia's Diary Thursday Post

Butt in a sling.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

First Mataras: Michaela Release Week - Excerpt 4

Michaela had never danced with such passion before. Maybe it was because of the thousands of intoxicating flowers ornamenting the city’s center. They sent their aphrodisiacal scent to fill her lungs and erase her nervousness of sexual promise. Maybe it was the sight of the stone altar across the square. It was upon that surface where she’d watched Plasian youths give their virginity in celebration of reaching the age of consent. Maybe it was the sheer joy of dancing a wild entreaty to violent sex, with light manacles and chains around her wrists. 

More probably it was the sight of three Kalquorians at the foot of the stage, glowering at her with barely contained ferocity.

Seeing those purple eyes riveted on her made Michaela’s head swim more than the aroma of the flowers. Korkla, Raxstad, and Govi were obviously pissed off. They were also blatantly aroused.
Michaela was barely aware of anything else. She knew Jessica danced on the other side of the stage with the Crown Prince Clan watching her. Many Plasians crowded against the massive Kalquorians and the stage, watching them perform. Some fucked each other in broad daylight. The festival looked primed to descend into a mass orgy at any moment. It probably would the moment the dance ended.

Michaela paid the Plasians no mind. She didn’t even think about the hideous statue that loomed over the altar several yards away, though it was the vision of nightmares. To Michaela, the thing looked like a winged Plasian, if said Plasian was half bat and half dead oak tree. Jessica had said it was one of the planet’s ancient and forgotten deities. Michaela thought the thing should not just be forgotten, but also destroyed. Seeing the young people shedding their virginity under the leering creature had been downright creepy. 

Then Clan Korkla had shown up, and all of Michaela’s thoughts of the ugly statue had ceased to exist. Her heart leapt with savage joy to see them arrive, looking furious enough to storm backstage where she watched them while hidden behind curtains. Her plan to make them jealous had worked. Now she had to make them mad with lust as well, mad enough to claim her without any more caution.

She’d taken the stage with a vengeance, matching the men’s black stares with her own. They had courted her and turned her away. They had teased her and left her wanting. Spurred by agonized wanting and the inhibition-killing flowers, Michaela was determined to have her way.

I will have you, she thought at the men as she defied their anger with a dance every bit as ferocious as their expressions. Every step she performed was a blatant dare for them to take her. 

You cannot resist me. Make me yours.
She’d watched the newly matured Plasian girls give up their virginity on the altar. Now it was Michaela’s turn. She would not be denied. Not this time. Not ever again.

You want me. Take me now!

The fierce drumbeats suddenly ended, finishing the dance. Michaela dropped to the stage, playing the role of the reluctantly vanquished slave girl, overcome and submitting to her masters. Tumultuous applause crashed against her ears, applause she cared nothing for. She lay gasping for air, waiting to see if fantasy would consent to become reality.

Something low and dangerous rumbled over the cheers. It started off like a distant roll of thunder, and then grew to the sound of an enraged animal growling. Michaela’s heart, already galloping from the exertion of the energetic dance, pounded faster than ever. She raised her head and looked toward the bestial noise.

There was the blurred motion of something leaping from the ground onto the stage. Then Raxstad appeared, standing over her with fangs bared. The huge Nobek looked bigger than Michaela remembered him being. His muscular shoulders were a mile across. His reaching hands were bear paws. He resembled nothing remotely civilized.

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