Invasion Covert.jpg



E. E. Nalley

I suppose we should all consider ourselves lucky. Humanity had been found 'worthy' of enslavement by the Brutes. Many races, species, as I understood it, had not. Entire solar systems scrubbed clean of life down to the microscopic level. We hadn't gone meekly into the night, but it hadn't mattered for all our skill of war fare, century upon century of honing our ability to kill, the Brutes were as far above us as we were above dogs.

Someone said given a high enough disparity, technology is indistinguishable from magic.

That's how the Brutes were to us; are to us. When we resist, when we try and murder them, they just laugh and compliment us on our spirit. It's what they love about us, they say. That we can so eagerly submit and resist at the same time. Earth was conquered in a week, functionally. Their ships, breathtaking things of beauty, all gold and shining, kilometers long, as if the love child of a tall ship and some fantastic fever dream of a futurist. Space Sailing ships, came down, a fleet of nearly a thousand led by a smiling devil who called himself the King of Earth.

Somehow he took over every radio station, every television, the internet, billboards, all of it and announced he was our new master. He laughed that he understood we would resist and told us whether we resisted or submitted, he would prize us, but there was nothing we could do to stop him.

Everything was tried.

First there were nuclear missiles, launched at the fleet in space, visible to the naked eye as they came for us. For a moment, there were hundreds of new little suns and then we could see we had done nothing to them. The ships settled over over the major cities and we fought with fighters and bombers, tanks, artillery, nothing could stop them. Their soldiers disembarked and with a gesture, a beam of light would fly out and entire tanks and platoons vanished.

Most of the planet was subjugated in a week.

I didn't live anywhere near a big city. My town had put together a militia, quickly expanded some underground storage into an ad hoc base of sorts. Three of the Brutes had been sent to deal with us. We fared no better than the Army's of the world had. We shot but our bullets flared as they impacted the shield around the Brutes. It was terrifying, three meter tall, muscled Olympians they were, glowing as if somehow empowered by the very air. It was like a Greek or Roman statue brought to life, all with the same amused expression on their faces as if our fighting them pleased them.

I watched friends and loved ones vanish into thin air as they pointed and a beam of pure white light vaporized whoever it touched. I flew into a rage like I'd never experienced and when they passed by, I took the rifle I had with it's bayonet and I flung myself at the leader who was now closest to me. I was determined to break through that damned shield and have some blood in vengeance.

The blade struck him between his shoulder blades and the small of his back and with all of my weight, he actually staggered forward. One of the others turned to point at me, but the leader held up a hand as he laughed. “No!” he thundered. “I want this one! It has spirit!”

I kept trying to stab him, and he just smiled down on me and white light blinded me. It was my turn to die. But here I would learn just how cruel our fate would be.

The light was gone and I was in darkness; there was no floor under my feet, the rifle was gone from my hand, all I could remember was his damned smile, and the smell. The pungent, cloying smell of being so close to a Brute. My amazement of not being dead was short lived as something snaked around both wrists and feet forcing me to be spreadeagled. They were soft and fleshy, but their grip was unyielding and nothing I could do would so much as loosen them for a moment.

It was here that I realized their damned rays weren't a weapon, but some kind of teleportation device that rounded us up for them. One of the tentacles touched my face covering my mouth and nose. I tried to turn or pull my face away from it, but couldn't. The need to breathe finally forced my mouth to open and I felt something warm and mildly sweet slide into my mouth over my pallet just as two other tendrils that smelled like honey invaded my nose.

I tried to fight, to bite down, but my mouth was held open at a pleasant, but fully open extension. My head was forced back and the thing slid down my throat. As the panic started, suddenly my lungs were full of air and I could breath normally. I could feel the thing in my throat, but by some miracle it had suppressed my gag reflex.

But this wasn't the end of my humiliation. My clothes were pulled from me without breaking the grip of my bound wrists and ankles. What felt like a mouth enveloped my manhood and began to suckle even as I felt my Urethra opened and something snake down, into my penis. I closed my eyes as the tears of frustrated rage came and the final, ultimate humiliation as something pushed past my sphincter and snaked into my rectum. It was tiny at first, slimy and slick with something that was lubricating my opening, but the tendril got thicker and thicker. It started to hurt, then there was a tingling sensation and I lost complete control of those muscles.

I could feel myself being violated, but my sphincter went completely slack and it felt like I was stretched so far open and so thickly and deeply filled I'd never have control of myself again.

I couldn't resist. I twisted and squirmed but nothing I could do mattered as I was sodomized while a new mouth sucked my scrotum, encasing both of my testicles and the first continued to suckle my phallus. I'm honestly not sure what was worse, that I couldn't resist, or that it felt so amazingly good . The tentacle in my ass began to rub my prostate gland as it took me and I began to shake for a new reason.

Never have I been so ashamed of my self, but the orgasm that followed set my body on fire. I was actually suckling the thing in my mouth and a warm sensation filled my stomach as I was abused this way. I couldn't help myself. The bliss was without comparison, I just wanted to treat this thing in my mouth and throat as a cock and suck it at least half as well as my own penis was being sucked or my anus was being so wonderfully stretched and filled.

I felt my colon filled with warm wetness and my mind could suffer no more of this assault. Every muscle I had was in orgasmic spasm, but I'd long since run out of semen. It was like the filament that had invaded my Urethra had snaked all the way down to both testicles, draining me of sperm and seminal fluids. I had nothing left to ejaculate, but the sensations didn't end. The orgasm was constant now, flowing up and down my spine and my moans around the thing in my mouth went silent as I passed out.

* * *

Entiendewankimanchu, uchuy warmacha?

It was a voice that heralded my return to consciousness. It was a dusky, earthy kind of voice that made me feel sensuous and yet warm and cared for kind of feelings. I was on my side on a cushioned lounge or bed that was tufted in a warm leather. My back was sore and my head was spinning and everything felt wrong. Again, the voice, from above and behind me asked, “Entiendewankimanchu, uchuy warmacha?

Something touched my temple, it was warm and oddly moist as it pressed into the hollow of my temple and it soothed a raging headache I didn't know I was suffering from until that moment because of how much my back hurt. A long, low moan escaped me, but the room did something to my voice. It was mine, I felt my vocal cords, still recovering from their recent violation vibrate to make it, but it didn't sound right either. A second and third 'something' joined the first around my temple and the ache diminished a bit more and there was a much greater sense of someone near me. “Entiendewayta atiwaqchu,Little One ?”

I realized my head was in someone's lap and suddenly my sense of smell returned and a warm, spicy fragrance, like cinnamon, but sweeter was around me. I made my mouth and jaw work and finally managed to croak out, “Little One?” My throat was raw, but it wasn't pain in the strictest of senses. Sore would come close, but also wasn't quite right. It also had to be the reason my voice sounded so off to me.

The soft, moist somethings on my temple changed their touch slightly. One stayed on my temple while the other two bracketed the bridge of my nose, right beside each eye. “Atiwaqchu, understand me, Little One?”

There was a definite sense I was not alone in my own skull, rather like the feeling of the fleshy tentacle that had invaded my rectum, but it took the budding panic of having my mind read away as if it were something I was holding in my hands and was relieved of. “Just kill me and get it over with,” I moaned, then I was over whelmed with a sensation of pity and warm reassurance.

“Can you understand me, Little One?” the throaty voice asked again. I weakly flailed at whatever was touching my face, but the pads withdrew and a hand with very thin fingers wrapped around my arm and effortlessly forced it to my side. “ Wañuyqa manam qampaq hamuchkanchu, Little One,” the voice scolded me. I felt a sense of resignation from behind and above me, then the fingers left my arm and were on my face again. Do not be afraid, something in my mind told me. You will not be harmed.

I refused to answer and would have drawn myself into a fetal curl if I could move, but I couldn't. “Do not resist and make things difficult for yourself,” the throaty voice scolded me. “Your life will be as pleasant or unpleasant as you cause for yourself.”

“Who are you?” I got my voice to finally say.

The fingers left my face and began to run through my hair. I was still very muddle headed as it seemed like there was more of it than there should be. Enough for the thin hands to gather up and tug on gently as though trying to make my hair longer by pulling it out of my head. Strangely, it was also soothing. “My name is...a flower that you have never seen.” This statement caused a cavalcade of images of flowers to run through my mind until the presence picked a bright red flower in full bloom. “Call me, Rose. I am the Chief Slave of our master and your tutor. Do you understand me?”

“Rose,” I repeated dully. “Are you learning English from my mind?”

The voice seemed pleased with my progress. “No. I am teaching your mind Qallu, or The Tongue. It is the language of our master.”

“Fuck him,” I growled.

“You will,” Rose assured me and a chill went down my spine. “Our Master is very taken with you. Throughout the entire invasion, you came closest to harming him.”

I tried to raise my head, but Rose's grip on my hair wouldn't let me. Rose made an odd noise as she read my mind which some new knowledge labeled laughter as I imagined killing the golden bastard I had tried to bayonet. “It is one thing to show spirit, it is another to court wrath. It will be far better for you to resign yourself to your fate. As I said, Master is very taken with you. He may even be considering making you his Maman, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Fuck you,” I snarled at her, and she made the laughter noise again.

“If it pleases our Master, perhaps you will. For now, young human, it is my task to teach you the manners you are expected to display as a member of Master's House.” Her hands left my hair and she almost lovingly caressed the side of my face. “Now, remember I will not harm you, and open your eyes.”

A part of me wanted to disobey, just for the perversity of disobeying, but my practical side argued that I'd never escape this torment if I didn't open my eyes to see what my prison looked like. As for Rose, who I was now certain was the presence in my mind, she only laughed the kind of amused chuckle mother's make when they watch children be defiant. Finally, I got enough control over my body to open the eye that was facing up and I saw her face for the first time.

Humans, for the most part, have a deep set revulsion to reptiles.

For myself, I wasn't one that felt disgust or fear looking at snakes or lizards, nor was I one of the smaller number of humans who were fascinated by them and kept them as pets. 'Rose' was some kind of reptile, but almost cartoonish in a way. She had a bulbous head, most of which was taken up by a pair of extremely large eyes that were almost human in a surprisingly comforting way. There was something about her face that announced female, although not in any way I could easily relate. For a face so dominated by her eyes, it was remarkably expressive, and just now it wore 'reassuring' like some kind of meme. “See?” she asked softly. “Things aren't so bad.”

Her skin was a rich, emerald green, nearly the same shade of her eyes, that lightened to a yellow green hue down the front of her neck and chest. She wore a collar of what looked like solid gold and I could see that it had been her frog like hands on my face and arm, with long, thin fingers and bulbous pads on the end of each finger. “If you're going to eat me, have the decency to kill me first,” I managed, but she actually looked smaller than I was, not that I felt like I was in any kind of shape to best her. I could barely breath I was so tired and sore from my previous experience.

“No one is going to eat you,” she assured me and she actually rolled her eyes as she said it in a very human gesture of exasperation. “In fact, you should probably eat. Are you hungry?”

“No,” I croaked, tried to clear my throat and demanded, “What will happen to me?” I had been ignoring how off my voice sounded, because of the soreness in my throat, but now, I couldn't look past it. It was a sultry, contralto as the music majors used to say in College. It was very pleasant to listen to, but it wasn't my natural voice. “What's wrong with my voice?” I added when her answer to my other question wasn't forth coming.

“There is nothing wrong with your voice,” she corrected me. “Like the rest of you, it has been healed and corrected to our Master's tastes.”

The previous chill down my spine was nothingcompared to the ocean liner sinking sized iceberg that ran the entire length of it now. I had no strength, as I've mentioned, but through shear force of will I commanded my trembling arms to push me out of her lap into an upright seated position. I was in a pillared chamber of rose marble, close to the size of a baseball in field. There was a massive, double door in a Gothic arch on one wall that was shut. Clockwise from it was a colonnade with white gossamer curtains fluttering in the breeze that opened out onto a courtyard filled with shady trees I didn't recognize and the gurgle of some water feature.

We sat on a lounge that was big enough to serve as a bed in the center of a room that had been decorated by someone who had read all the naughty bits of A Thousand and One Arabian Nights and was presenting their take on what a harem must look like. The other wall from the court yard was dominated by a bed that would make a California king bed blush not done in red, but greens for pillows, coverlet and bedclothes. Between it and the lounge was bath or tub of marble that matched the rest of the room that steamed rising off the water.

I turned to look a Rose to find the rest of her body as lithe and reptilian as her head had been. She sat, curved and sensuous in a way a human could not and a tail flowed down from her hips to hang near her feet. She wore a sarong of purple gauze around her hips that was transparent and I could see the petals of her opening through it. Gold bands bound each wrist and ankle, and an impossibly delicate chain, also in gold, hung around her waist.

My eyes turned down to see a pair of breasts hanging from my torso, both nipples pierced with a delicate silver chain hanging between them. A matching chain encircled my waist and below that, was a soft mound of reddish hair between my legs, with no sign of either my recently over worked penis or testicles. Around my right leg was a silver band without hinge or seam with no clue how it had been applied to my ankle. “You've turned out quite lovely,” Rose declared from next to me. “For a mammal.”

The room spun and I fell back onto the lounge and knew nothing else.

* * *

In my dreams, I threw myself at the Brute, the nameless Bastard who was conquering our world, intent on the simple pleasure of stabbing him to death. At the last moment he caught hold of the rifle and relieved me of it, snapping it between his fingers like I might a toothpick. Suddenly I was nude and his rough hands had hold of my manhood and they were ripped from my body slowly, like pulling off a scab but infinitely more painful. I screamed myself horse and he laughed as he emasculated me.

* * *

I awoke with a start from the strong odor of a clothe that Rose was holding next to my nose, her finger on my other temple now as the memory of the nightmare was soothed away by whatever power she had over my emotional states. It wasn't a chemical or medicinal smell, like ammonium carbonate, this was natural, musky and colored, if that was the right word, with the cinnamon spice smell I was coming to associate with Rose. It gave me a feeling of strength or, even power, rather like those first few moments as alcohol goes to your head and your self doubt is muzzled, but well before the fog of drunk sets in.

My body was much more responsive to my will and I sat up, instinctively went to cover myself which was a significant mistake. My arm brushed the piercings on my breasts and the intense burst of sensation, soreness, pain and a deep, primal arousal, took my breath for a moment. When I could speak, I asked, “May I please have clothing?”

Rose's smile was consoling. “Your species is not used to nudity, is it?”

“It's a deep taboo for us,” I replied, ashamed of everything that had happened to me. She held out her hand, flat as if offering something and a bundle appeared out of nothing into it. I took the bundle, it was a rich, hunter green and the fabric was as delicate as everything else in the room. I found it to be a sarong, like hers, that hung from a silver belt with a harp or lyre detail on the buckle.

It was also as transparent as her purple fabric.

The anguish threatened to over whelm me and my voice was trembling as I asked, “May I have something opaque?And to cover my...chest...?”

“No,” she told me sadly and I think she genuinely meant her condolence. “Our Master is a connoisseur of the female form in all it's guises and so we are to be on display at all times.”

My eyes sought hers and I demanded, “How can you sit there and not only accept this outrage, but actively take part in it!”

Rose's expressive face showed anger that was tightly controlled. “Because I have accepted there is nothing that you, or I or anyone else can do to alter our situation. Our Master cannot be resisted, and so I accept what I cannot change. You would be well advised to do the same. Whether you enjoy your time here, with him or not is entirely in your own hands.”

The rage that led me to bayonet him flared and I shot to my feet, flinging the sarong onto the lounge. “Lie back and enjoy being raped?” I shouted at her.

“Enjoy it, or not, as you please,” she replied primly. “I will do as I was commanded so I will give you fair and straight forward training. Our Master is not vicious or cruel but he will be obeyed.”

“How was this done to me?” I shouted as I grabbed her arms, proving that my previous thought of her was right, I was significantly taller than she was. “Why?” Faster than I thought she could move, she raised her hand that had the cloth in it and covered my face. The smell wormed it's way into my brain , I released her and grabbed at the cloth so it couldn't be taken from me. I held it to my face, even as my knees buckled and I began to fall. She half caught, half guided my fall to the lounge as I breathed deeply through the cloth.

The pad of one of her fingers opened me in a way I'd never been opened before and slid up and pressed down. White hot pleasure exploded from her touch as I trembled and shook as my nose and groin fought over who would talk to my brain. As my stomach convulsed, under her touch, my hands fell by my sides, leaving the cloth on my face. I lost all track of time as she did this to me, reduced and helpless more than any beating could have done.

Finally, her finger left my drooling vulva and she took the cloth from my face. I weakly tried to get my arms to resist having the cloth taken, but I couldn't get them off the lounge. Rose loomed up in my vision, a smile on her face, as she sucked her finger clean. She held the cloth to her own face and a pair of nostrils I hadn't noticed before opened and she inhaled deeply. Her entire body trembled for a moment, then she opened her eyes and gave me a stern look. “Now, you begin to understand, I think. Rest, and while you recover, I'll have food brought.”

I panted after my breath in a post orgasmic haze. It was very difficult to think, but I found I could focus if I turned my thoughts to whatever had been in the cloth. I wondered what could have made that wonderful, wonderful smell. I tried to discern if I was high, suffering under some narcotic, but it didn't feel that way to me, if that makes sense. And yet it was now apparent whatever was in the cloth affected Rose exactly as it had me. Was it how we were controlled? Some chemical in it, and yet that didn't seem right either. What I experienced seemed to be pure dopamine produced by my own body because of the orgasm Rose had fingered me to.

When I had been male, even the slightest trace of homosexuality had been taboo, shied away from and suppressed, but now, as a woman it didn't bother me nearly as much that another female had so intimately touched me. Let alone the concept of different species.

With great force of will, I turned my head and looked out into the garden. Twilight had fallen and there were only the soft noises of crickets from outside. The air coming off the courtyard was cool and as it whispered across my skin, it made my nipples stand up erect which sent another jolt through my already over worked nervous system and within me, deep down stirred the smallest little feeling of becoming aroused again.

During my misspent youth and teenage years, I could hardly think straight for the bombardment of hormones of puberty and the frequent arousal that was so hard to deal with. That was nothing compared to what I was experiencing now. Being a woman was like living in a constant battle to maintain focus and rationality over a desperate need to be sexual. I wondered if that was how a normal woman felt, or yet another 'taste' of our master I'd been 'Corrected' to.

Rose returned with a silver tray that held jug, a pair of wine glasses and a single plate piled with little morsels of bite sized food. There were pieces of meat that steamed along with sliced apples, figs, dates and other fruits I had no name for. She poured the wine from the jug and handed me the first glass, then filled her own. “Eat your fill,” she offered as she picked up a little cube of what looked like rare beef steak and popped it into her mouth. Licking her bulbous fingers, she declared, “The meat of your world is so succulent! I will enjoy living here.”

The wine washed across my tongue, a strong, yet sweet and fruity red that I felt like I could taste with every surface of my mouth. “Is that why they've come here?” I asked her. “Our meat?”

She gave a very human dismissive gesture as she tasted her own cup. “We have come here because conquest is what our Master does. Were every planet barren of any thing of value, save your species to be conquered, they would have still come. It is what they do.”

“Did your people fight them?” my curiosity demanded I ask her. She sighed and looked at the wine in her cup.

“My people were more advanced that yours,” she told me. “We had colonies throughout our system and even faster than light travel between several of the stars near our own when the Masters found us. I was a soldier, and male, once too. My people fought for a century, but...” she trailed off and spread her arms to indicate her situation.

I reached over and took up a little morsel of chicken by its smell and ate it. “Conquest just to conquer? That seems inconceivably wasteful, given the distances.”

She shrugged again. “When Master took me, he was just a common soldier. Conquest is how they advance in their society. In my time, he rose to sergeant, then Lieutenant. In the Conquest of Earth he has been Knighted and is now Captain Sir Amar. Though, we greet him as 'Master' or 'My Lord'. You and I may address him as 'Sir' as we are favored.”

“If you are Chief Slave,” I asked, dreading the answer, “what am I?”

Those green eyes looked up at me and I wasn't sure if I saw pity or envy in them. “My people are one of the few the Masters cannot breed with. You are his Concubine, and if you please him and he truly favors you, his Maman.

I felt something deep inside me. I wanted to say it was disgust, but somehow I don't think that would be honest. “The mother of his children?” I guessed, but she only smiled and shook her head.

“He will have children by you,” she told me in a matter of fact tone. “The tests show your species is compatible with their sperm. Their seed is remarkably potent and adaptable. Children is a given. You fought him, nearly wounded him. They prize that spirit. No, if you are made his Maman, your children shall be recognized as legitimate and raised as Masters, not slaves.”

It is an exceeding curious feeling to be told you will be having children with someone and that if you're very lucky they won't be treated as slaves. I put my wine glass on the tray. “I already hate the bastard, you don't need to keep giving me reasons to loathe him.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” she warned me. “You've tasted The Kiss. You already know how you'll act when you see him next.”

“The Kiss?” I demanded, feeling certain I'd just learned something important, but from the expression on Roses' face it was clear she regarded me as a slow learner. “There's something in that cloth, isn't there? That's how they control us?”

She rolled her eyes and drank her wine. “The only thing in that cloth was the smell of him,” she told me primly. “And that was a dull taste of it. When he is here, you will do anything to please him. They don't control us; it is we who want to be controlled.

I stood and picked up the sarong from where I'd thrown it and buckled it on. It wasn't much, but it was ever so slightly better than being completely nude save the jewelry. It hugged my form exactly as though it had been made to my measure and the gain of a single pound would disallow it fitting me. As a man, I'd never been fond of close clothing. Yet, somehow, this didn't bother me as much it otherwise might. It fell to my ankles down one leg, then back up the other to the buckle, leaving that leg completely exposed. The fabric covered my groin, but only just and the manufacture was so exact, it literally would only close one way so I could not cause more of the fabric to cover myself. “What I want is to be away from this place before I'm raped,” I growled at her. “Will you help me or not?”

She sighed as if thoroughly exasperated with me. “To what end?” she demanded, picking up a morsel and eating it. “Your entire world has been conquered. There is no where you can go to escape or hide from them, and they all can see his mark on you.”

Around my ankle, the silver cuff glowed and a complicated glyph appeared like the Black Speech of Mordor for a moment. “How do I get this damned thing off then?”

“You can't!” she yelled at me, raising her voice for the first time. “Listen, and understand! They have the ability to alter matter and energy at whim! He caused this to form around your ankle and nothing short of cutting off your leg will remove it!”

My jaw fell open in disbelief. “If they have that kind of power, why waste their time in conquest?” I demanded, at the very edge of hysteria. But Rose only frowned at me.

“Because they enjoy it.”

* * *

It was full night now, not just early evening as I walked through the court yard garden off the room I'd awakened in. The crickets and other animals serenaded me with soft calls and the grass under my bare feet felt like a thick, luxurious carpet. Over head, the stars shone brightly, but now it was a cold, dangerous sky for the sharks of the Milky Way had found us. Rose had conjured up a full body mirror at my request and I honestly gawked at the beautiful woman I saw in it. Hers was an unearthly beauty, with full bust and hips, the kind of rarely achievable, iconic beauty of a statue come to life. I could see the ghost of my old face in hers, but hers had no freckles despite the perfectly alabaster skin of a red head, full, perfect teeth to make her smile shine and my own blue green eyes looking out from under a luxurious mane of scarlet tresses that fell halfway down her back.

She was regal when she held her self erect, haughty despite being all but technically nude and when Rose had just lightly waved that damned clothe under my nose, the woman in the mirror became the most insatiable whore that every man dreams of but secretly knows only very special men have the ability to satisfy.

I admit, I was afraid of this woman in the mirror. Afraid of her appetites and desires, afraid of losing myself in her, so I walked out into the courtyard, wishing I had some kind of shirt as the cool on the air made my nipples painfully erect. Each step rattled the chain even slightly which tugged on the engorged nipples and the fire below got a little hotter.

Rose had asked me what I wanted to be called and I'd petulantly told her my old name. She teased me with the cloth and I fell to my knees, panting, desperate and she commanded me to come up with a name he would like.

In fairness, I had no idea what the monster who had invaded my world liked, and I told her so. Then she patiently explained his interest in botany of the worlds he had helped conquer. I'd told her 'Nutmeg' as I did like the spice and the pun of it being a hard nut to crack I thought suitably defiant, though her ability to read my mind showed her that under the shell was a warm, sweet spice, greatly desired and so she had accepted the name and shortened it to simply 'Meg.'

So, it could be said, Meg walked the garden and while she wanted to weep for her world, her people the damned chain between her breasts keep sadness from her thoughts. It was a magnificent garden, even in the pale light of the moon, the flowers closed for the night it was stately and manicured, like something from a French palace.

“What a perfect image,” someone declared behind me. “Meg in the moonlight garden.” It was a male someone and dread filled every part of my breast. The shear masculinity of the voice terrified me, it was a voice of life and death. “Do not be afraid, Warmacha,I won't hurt you.”

“Is that apology for the hurt you have already done?” I asked softly, wondering why I hadn't lost my mind. Rose told me he would be coming and it seemed my sanctuary in the garden was at an end.

The voice was in good humor. “Your people fought well,” he complimented me. “Despite all odds they clung to the bitter last. There is nothing dishonorable in such a defeat.”

“I am told your people have the ability to alter matter and energy at will,” I told the fig tree I was looking at. “Yet you waste time and energy on brute conquest.” I stood erect and steeled myself as I turned to face him. “Why?”

I remembered him being taller, or, perhaps I was now. The top of my head would come to his shoulder, so he still loomed over me, but not the untouchable giant I'd tried to stab. He was every bit the statue perfection the body I had become had. Every muscle perfectly formed and bulging under bronze skin and a flowing mop of sandy hair. His face was too human to be human if that makes any kind of sense, with a jaw so sharply defined it could only be called chiseled. He was dressed in a kind of belted tunic that only went over his left shoulder, leaving the right nude to display his manly chest and arms and the bottom of it only came to his knees. He gestured, and a bench appeared next to him that he sank onto with all the regality of a throne. “Because you were here,” he replied matter of factually. “Conflict is the natural state of the cosmos, but my Warmacha, I did not come here to mince politics with you. Come, attend me.”

Despite myself, I walked over to him. Here I could see his hair was wet, as if he'd just come from a bath, which might explain why my response to him was so muted. “Will Sir be pleased to rape me, now?”

A slow grin bloomed on his face. “Rose said you had spirit. I am pleased. My Chief Slave informs me you chose to be called Meg?”

“Yes...sir...” I replied, unsure of how I truly wanted to feel about this creature.

“Meg, I am Amar. Captain of the Night Wings Company, Knight of Montana, and you are my bound concubine.”

“I was informed that was my fate,” I told him. “After I was abused in every way a person can be by some tentacled horror.”

He smiled his movie star smile. “The Hampiq can be disquieting the first time. Still, you should certainly be pleased with the results. I am.”

My hand clinched into a fist. “Perhaps Sir would enlighten me why so advanced a people should keep slaves? My people have learned the evil of it and abolished it.”

His eyebrows ascended his forehead. “Have you? So you all live independently on subsistence farms?” My cheeks burned at his condescension. “No? Then perhaps your world is a collection of farmers and sole proprietor tradesmen then? Again, no? The vast majority of you spend your life in toil to a hand full of oligarchs who owned staggering amounts of wealth at what are essentially technological plantations. Ah, of course, you call it wage slavery,and think that a pittance of salary does not make you dependent on these corporate masters. You are not as free as you imagine yourself, my dear. Freedom is dangerous and unpredictable. What you crave is comfortable slavery. Easy tasks, light chains and the security of knowing your needs will be met. Well, we have given you that.”

I could think of nothing to say that would be truthful and still not run the risk of enraging this bastard, so I kept my mouth closed. He looked at me sidelong, as if reading my mind. “We are all slaves, Meg. You are my slave, like many others of your people, and people of previous worlds I have helped conquer. I am a vassal to the Duke of the Mid West, which is just another name for a slave. The Duke is the slave of the Prince of North America and the Prince the slave to the King of Earth. Even the King owes fealty to our Emperor. So, we better our station through conquest. I came here, and was rewarded with a knighthood, lands and you. Your station has improved from whatever drudgery you were doing to become my concubine, so both of us are better off.”

“Does Sir truly think being raped by a Knight is preferable to the common variety?”

I expected to get slapped for that, to be honest, but to my immense shock and surprise, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. When he mastered himself again he grinned, grinned at me like I'd told the funniest joke he'd ever heard and shook his finger at me. “I will not rape you, my Warmacha. When my seed enters you, it will because you have given yourself to me. The Kiss will be your reward for that decision, but as you give birth to every child I sire on you, you will know you choose and submitted yourself to me.”

He stood from the ad hoc throne he'd made and smiled at me. “You have the freedom of my house. So long as you act honorably that is how you will be treated. You will assist Rose in her duties in the mean time. Sleep well, Meg.”

“It doesn't bother you that I will devote myself to finding some way to kill you?” I demanded as I glared up into his face.

“I would have you no other way!” he chortled. “It will make watching you climax on my phallus that much sweeter to know I conquered everything about you from your hatred to your very soul.” He reached out and took hold of my chin and made me look him in the face. “What a perfect vessel I've found for my seed. Yes, I am definitely looking forward to it.” Then he winked at me for good measure and strode confidently in doors and the little scent of his hand on my chin had my womanhood burning with desire and frustrated lust.

God Damn Him.

* * *

He had his revenge in my dreams. All through the night he sat as I begged for him, debasing myself as he watched me cool, aloof and unmoved by my needs or desires. He would just smile as I begged him to fling me to the ground and have his way. By the time the dawn came to peek through the curtains over the courtyard, I was a nervous wreck. I set my fingers to work to touch myself and my other thumb hooked around the chain on my breasts until I had it out to it's fullest extent.

It wasn't that I couldn't cum, that would be too easy.

Within seconds of my fingers finding my clitoris and gently spreading my ample fluids to it so it was well lubricated my stomach was already trembling in my first climax. Soon the spasms were up and down both legs and my nipples fully swollen around their piercings as I held the chain at it's length. My vagina, and my mind still shies from the word, was grasping at the empty air, my juices soaking my fingers as I moaned and thrashed. I'd had dozens of orgasms, and not one had satisfied me.

Not one gave me the relief, until, desperate, I imagined him on top of me, my space stretched to it's limit the head of his enormous cock driving under my navel that a final spasm locked up my whole body. I could not move as I imagined him claiming and finally, when the spasm passed, I collapsed, breathless on the bed, unable to move as I imagined him standing before me, massive member slick with my secretions and swaying between his knees and I heard myself moan, “Master...”

I lay, panting, ashamed and confused at what I had imagined, until the door opened, and Rose slinked into the room with a hip gyration that would make a noir femme fatalejealous. “Pleasant dreams?” she cooed at me and I only just had the strength to flip her the bird. “You're only making it harder on yourself,” she scolded me, then extended a hand and helped me up.

“I'm sorry about the bed,” I found the strength to mutter. From here, the wet spot of my imagination was impressively large.

Rose was unconcerned. “It's normal,” she assured me as a gesture summoned a clean sarong for me that seemed identical to my previous one. Another gesture and the bed had been remade with fresh linens and coverlets. “Come, he wants me to bathe you.” She didn't lead me to the tub in the center of the room, but towards the door and I stopped.

“I'm not going out there like this...!” I protested.

She only looked at me sidelong. “I am the Chief Slave of this house and this is my attire. Do you think you'll be any different from any other slave in this house?” I lowered my eyes and meekly got in step behind her.

The door opened to a grand hallway that ran parallel to one of the walls of the courtyard. At the end it joined a larger room that was evidently some kind of bath complex of the house. There were other slaves here and it was here that I got my first real shock of my situation. My memory of Amar from our base wasn't wrong, he had been something like three meters tall because here were other humans, people I'd known and so their heights were also familiar to me. I was taller than all of them and based on how my height compared to Amar's I realized I was over seven feet tall now.

The humans all stepped aside as we passed, eyes down, heads bowed. Had our resistance been crushed this easily? Over night people I'd sworn to die fighting beside were behaving like meek little servants, content with their lot. Having seen one or two I recognized but who obviously didn't recognize me, I began to look closer and found many other members of our ad hock militia. There was Mrs Grant who now looked like she'd dropped fifty pounds and a hundred thousand dollars on cosmetic surgery. I almost hadn't recognized her, she looked thirty years younger, her skin was tight over an athletic body that suggested she had earned those gymnastics trophies in the High School, but the Chinese dragon tattoo that curled around her left arm was unmistakable. There was a chain around her right ankle, a slight, delicate thing that was more jewelry than bondage and she even had her wedding set on her left hand.

She was otherwise nude, head bowed from where she had been folding towels for the bath. In fact, there wasn't a soul in the room who was over weight or looked older than twenty five or so.

Rose sharply clapped her hands, making a louder report than I would thought she could and the heads rose to look at her. No one dared to look at me. “Everyone! You are released to breakfast. You may take your time with it as I have work to do here. You will be notified when you may return. Dismissed.”

As one, the humans bowed and filed out. When we were alone, and the doors closed, I dared to raise my head to take in this Roman bath in miniature. To the sides left and right by the door were little dead end hallways with multiple shower heads lining the north and south walls, but no dividers for any kind of privacy. In the center of the room was a steaming pool that had to be Olympic sized. It was rectangular and around it were chairs and massage tables, some in human scale, some in other scales I didn't understand. At the far wall was a little dais with a pair of chairs that were large enough for Brutes and behind them, a massage table in the same scale.

Rose walked deeper into the room, beckoning me to follow her. She indicated the right of the two Brute chairs and I sank into it. A shudder passed through me when I realized it fit me like a glove. “He turned me into one of them?” I demanded as Rose returned from fetching a pail from some alcove I hadn't noticed.

“No,” she told me as she walked by towards the pool. “You were already one of them.” She dunked the pail into the steaming pool and returned with it. “How else do you think you can breed with them? Their DNA was seeded all over this region of the galaxy. Even I have some of it, but nothing close to yours. We discovered that towards the end of our resistance. Sir Amar choose to have yours express fully so that you are a better physical match to him. That is what the Hampiq did.”

She sighed and looked at me with a sad expression. “Please forgive me for what I am about to do.”

“What are you...” I started, but there were suddenly bands about my wrists and they wouldn't let me raise my hands off the chair. “Rose...?”

“I warned you that you were making things hard for yourself,” she told me with great sadness. “Usually this is reserved for the worst of transgressions before death becomes the punishment, but you demanded it, and he has ordered it. I'm so sorry.”

“What are you going to do?” I demanded. She took a ring off one of her fingers I hadn't noticed she was wearing and brought it towards my face. The ring opened of its own accord and the cinnamon smell of her skin was in my nose, then came a sharp prick and a little flash of heat and my sense of smell vanished. She withdrew her hand and looked down, ashamed of herself, and there was a new weight on the end of my nose. “What did you do?” I shouted and she just flinched.

Suddenly there was a mirror in her hand and she held it up so I could see my face. The most delicate little silver ring ran through my nose, just at the bottom of the nostrils and laid against the very base of my nose. There was no blood as evidently the heat I had felt was the cauterization of my septril. “You brought this on yourself,” she whispered. “I hate denying the Kiss to anyone! Especially someone who has experienced it as deeply as you have!”

I blinked, almost not believing what I was hearing. “ freed me? ” I whispered.

“Free?” she asked, her eyes finally rising to mine. “No, Meg. That isn't freedom. You are immune to the Kiss now. He said he promised you that you would choose him of your own volition and commanded me to do this. I'm so sorry.”

“What is it?” I demanded. “Some chemical cologne they wear?”

Rose reached down to unbuckle my sarong and it vanished as she did so, then she went into the bucket and came up with a sponge that she began to gently soak my skin with. “It's not artificial,” she whispered as if someone might hear, even though the room was empty. “It's a pheromone their bodies make naturally in their sweat glands. We nearly lost an entire research laboratory when we tried to dissect one of them to discover what their secret was.”

I turned my head to whisper into the little opening on the side of her head I took for her ear. “This is how we can fight them!” She shook her head sharply and looked me in the eye.

“Still you don't understand,” she languished. “No one here will help you harm him. No one, understand that! You've been in the air with one of them, you've smelled him. He owns you! This isn't freedom, it's the worst punishment we have short of death! I have been his slave for three hundred years and I've only had to administer this punishment twice. And those punished never disobeyed again! Soon you will beg me to smell him and I can't allow it! It's his command, only he can remove the ring now and only when you give yourself to him.”

Now that my body was wet, she put on some kind of glove that gave her hands more surface area and poured some kind of liquid soap that she worked into massive foam of lather and began to rub it all over me. My mind was reeling from what she said and I realized that there was a certain...spice...I'd only just been aware of in the air that was gone now. My head was clearing and I was just starting to turn my thoughts to vengeance when the mitt she was wearing came to my breast.

Instantly, every thought that was not sexual in nature left my brain. She was just gently rubbing soap on my breast, but it was the most erotic moment of my life, then she rubbed across my nipple and it's chain and my entire body locked up as though I had been struck by a taser. Lightening flashed between my nipples to my groin and back, my neck could no longer support my head, and it lolled back as a low long moan of ecstasy came out of me. How do women live like this? I thought to myself, then she bathed the other breast and I came again, jerking and shaking with pleasure, but, like before in my dreams, it didn't satisfy. Her washing my belly was like hovering on the edge of climax for what seemed like hours. “Touch me,” I moaned at her and, obediently, she arched the sponge into my groin.

The back of my soul arched and seemed to float out and above my body as the orgasm consumed me, every muscle, every nerve, but I was empty. So terribly, terribly hollow and instantly my thoughts turned to him, smiling over me, guiding his massive penis into me, filling me to my limits and the orgasm somehow became better.

And yet, as I thrashed, helpless, wanton, the more orgasms I had, the easier they were to have. Now it didn't matter where she touched me; my knees, the soles of my feet, my arm pit, I was just a shivering, insatiable whore, desperate for her man and then, like a white hot iron in my brain I realized why this was a punishment. I could sit here and climax for a year and it would never be better than the feel and smell of him planting his seed into me. I was as addicted as a drug addict, trapped by my own body.

The tears came then, and I wept, tormented, orgasmic and denied. In my ear, I heard Rose apologize again as she keep touching me, trying through orgasm to give me what solace she could.

All my life I'd heard there is a fine line between love and hate.

Now I understood what they had meant. I loathed him. I burned with a hatred the likes of which had spawned every human atrocity in history and still nothing I could do to maim and murder him would reduce one tiddle or jot the fact that I was addicted to him, like it or not. That he stood in the center of all that hate, and I loved him.

God Damn Him.

* * *

After what felt like days, Rose gently let me down from the orgasmic frustration. I sat in the chair and panted, utterly spent and yet also completely aroused and ready to go at the mere whisper of a command. Whatever magic was holding my arms to the chair released me and the bands disappeared from my wrists as they slid off the rests into my lap. Rose stood before me and held out her hands. “Come,” she commanded softly. “I'll help you into the bath. It will help.”

I looked up her, unable to raise my arms, barely able to raise my eyes. “I didn't understand,” I whimpered, feeling so ashamed of myself.

“I did tell him that,” she told me as she reached down and took my hands. “I am allowed to plead your case to him tonight, though I warn you he rarely goes back on his word. It may be that the price to feel the Kiss again will be giving in to him. And that's not such a bad thing,” she was quick to add as she got me to my feet and one arm over her shoulders as she helped me towards the pool. “They can be very noble, and even merciful. The real casualties of your world were quite small. Only a few hundred.”

Despite my listless addiction, some part of me flared the outrage anew at my predicament. “I should be thankful my entire species was gently conquered and enslaved? ” She sat me down on the edge of the pool, then straddled my hips to take my face in her thin, padded fingers.

“Would you prefer to have been hunted to the edge of extinction?” she demanded, her odd salamander like face inches from my own. “That's what befell my people. Entire solar systems wiped out. They could not breed with us and we resisted so hard it was easier to be harsh! Only a few thousand of my people are left, keep as curiosities or from mercy like Sir Amar! I am alive because of his mercy!”

“They murder you to the very brink and you still defend him?” I asked her.

Her face became sad and angry all at once. “Don't make me,” she pleaded with me.

“Don't make you what?”

Suddenly the cloth was in her hand and I have never in my entire life wanted something as badly as that cloth. To smell him again, to feel that amazing love and fullness. To be satisfied. I grabbed it from her hand and pressed it to my face, but no matter how deeply I inhaled, I smelled nothing. “He ordered me,” she whispered, on the edge of tears. “That if you still resisted after...” and the pad of her finger touched the nose ring. “That I could turn off the Denier and give you another taste. But it won't last, and I can't remove it. Only he can.”

“Yes!” I swore at once, the listlessness gone at the prospect of getting to feel that again. “Let me, please!”

“It will be so much worse the second time without,” she whispered. She took the cloth and held it before me, her eyes sad. “I don't want to make you go through that.”

I panted, panted like a beast as my eyes flicked to the cloth and her face and back. I wanted to smell him so badly. And yet, something about the way she said it gave me pause and the tiny part of my brain that wasn't drowning in dopamine or addiction realized she was right. If I gave in, if I allowed myself to feed the addiction, I could never really be said to have a will of my own after. It would just be the need to have the pheromone. I licked a dry tongue over dry lips. “Get rid of it,” I commanded softly but evidently her hearing was quite keen.

The cloth vanished into the nothingness it had come from. She held her hand to her nose and inhaled, her eyes closing in ecstasy. She relaxed into my embrace and I held her as she trembled softly in my arms. Her skin was remarkably smooth and soft and I was very much enjoying the feeling of it against mine. I felt the flame in me start to flicker again, but I was so tired my anger was able to clamp down on it and hold the little alien until she could collect herself. “Don't hate me,” she whispered in my ear. “I am doing all I can for you and your people.”

I reached down and unbuckled her sarong and put it beside me as I eased both of us into the pool. The water was wonderfully hot and she trembled in my arms and I wondered if she was warm blooded or not. I found the pool came up to my arm pits which let me lay one arm on the lip of the pool while the other held her. An idea came to me, as sweaty as I was from my previous orgasmic convulsions that I was actually drenched in sweat. I raised my free arm and used it to twist her face into my arm pit.

It was a gamble, I knew, a terrible risk, but if I was right...

I felt her draw in a breath and instantly she relaxed, rubbing her face into my arm pit, mewing softly as my guess had been proven correct. If I was one of them, then it was only natural my body would produce the same pheromones. Perhaps not in the strength or potency of his, but generally with biology the goose had a reply to everything from the gander.

I lovingly cradled her head, almost as if she was suckling as her nostrils flared and she trembled with each inhale. Then I leaned my head down to whisper into her ear opening, “I am going to over throw him,” I whispered and one of her eyes fluttered open in panic. “I won't harm him,” I assured her. “But I mean to rule him, and you are going to help me, Rose.” Her nostrils flared again and she trembled.

“Yes...mistress,” she panted softly.

I grinned an admittedly evil grin while I rewarded her with my scent. Turnabout is fair play. And everyone even remotely into BDSM knows, bottoms make the best tops. And this way, I could have my cake, and eat it too. After a long while of just holding her like this, she laid her head on my breast and one of her eyes lazily opened. “Please, mistress, please don't hurt him.”

I smiled at her and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Don't fret,” I soothed her. “He will live and I will bear his children.” Except, I'll be sure they're raised to be my children,I added silently to myself. “We're just going to help him see what he's doing is wrong,” I whispered. “We're going to fix him.” I let my voice become stern. “And you will not breath a word of this to him.”

“Never, mistress,” she promised me. “May I finish bathing you?”

“You want to get up so soon?” I teased her.

She mustered the strength to raise her head and smile at me. “I want to show you how much I care.” I released her from my arms and, eagerly, she snaked through the water like a serpent to a place, half way down the side of the pool and pulled herself out and gestured for me to join her. There was something sensuous about the way she moved that captivated me, even if she was an alien and a reptile.

I joined her to find there was a sink in the side of the pool here, with a head rest and a shower wand. I laid my head in it and she quickly wet my wild mane and began to wash it for me. My breasts pulled me up in the water and made floating easier, so I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of my hair being washed and began to plan how I would attack this new problem. I was an addict, and knowing that, knowing I would have to partake in the substance I was addicted to, I hoped would give me an edge so that I could enjoy the Kiss, without losing myself in it.

Everything depended on making Captain Sir Amar as addicted to me as I was to him. And once I had my hook deepinto him, then it would be a literal whisper campaign. A gentle nudging of his views until, before he could ever realize it, I had changed his mind. It wouldn't be easy, I remembered how easy it was to be lost in the Kiss. But this moment of cold turkey denial was actually the best thing to happen to me. It allowed me the rationality formulate my evil scheme. “Rose, can Sir Amar have more than one Maman?”

“Yes, mistress, but it is frowned on,” she admitted. “A Mamanis meant to be a deliberate choice. To take another, or demote one is something of a mark of shame amongst them. It shows poor judgment.”

I smiled my evil grin again. “Perfect.”

* * *

From the bath, I returned to the room I'd awoken in with it's garden. Rose conjured us a breakfast of fruit and breads I didn't recognize. There was apple juice and, thankfully, coffee as we broke our fast together again of the little bite sized pieces that seemed to be how meals were served by these strange invaders. My thoughts went back to seeing Mrs Grant and I asked Rose, “How much time has passed since Sir Amar attacked Havre?”

“Four months, mistress,” she replied quickly, licking the juice of the fruit she'd eaten off her fingers. “Give or take a day.”

“I was in a coma for four months?”

“Yes,” she replied as if it wasn't a matter of concern. “Changes as drastic as yours require longer periods in the Hampiq, but nothing occurred that was a cause for alarm. Mostly it was a time of administrative tasks, dividing booty to Sir Amar's Night Wings Company.”

Somehow, I found the patience to get a hold of my temper to hear about my family, friends and fellow townsfolk being 'booty' and divided out as payment. “Was a record kept of families that were broken up?” I managed.

She looked at me sidelong. “That isn't allowed. Families are respected and kept as a single unit.”

“One less thing to concern myself with,” I managed around a sigh. “What can you teach me about what I am expected to do besides bear children as Sir Amar's Maman?”She looked at me and her large eyes blinked in confusion.

“Nothing, mistress. The Maman is solely concerned with the birth and raising of her lords children,” she told me and in that moment, a plan, fully formed dropped into my lap and I knew I had him.

My grin obviously was making her concerned, so I reached out and stroked the little strip of flesh between her nostrils and her eyes. “Not to worry my beautiful Rose. Your Mistress has things well in hand. I want you to create me a garment, it can be transparent so you aren't breaking his rules, but I want it to hang over my left shoulder and stop just below my breasts in front and down past my ass in back.”

“Why?” she asked, confused.

“A wise pornographer once said, 'It's not about what you show, it's about what you cover up.' With it, I want a pair of sandals with just a bit of a heel and stockings that come up to here on my thigh and will stay up by themselves.”

“I...alright, mistress.”

“Then when you have all that to me, I want an appointment to speak with my lord Sir Amar. If he asks, tell him I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse. That should peak his interest. And your word, my emerald Rose, not a word of our plans.” She held up her hand as if swearing an oath and I caressed her face. “Off you go. And hurry back.”

“At once, mistress!”

* * *

Rose came through in fine fashion. I looked at myself in the mirror wearing this diaphanous emerald silk that whispered over my skin and just the feeling of these wondrous fabrics would be arousing, but looking at me in the mirror, in this outfit that would be daring by any scale with one leg completely exposed where the chance breeze might reveal my treasure or the bared midriff with a cape behind would set any heart to racing. But the fact that my nipples and their chain and the scarlet tuft of my groin were plainly visible was something beyond sexy. Just looking at myself in the mirror was making me horny. It was perfect.

Then I followed Rose through this palace, for lack of a better word, watching those who had been my fellow humans quickly make way for me as I held my head up high and tried to balance between a sexy walk and loosing my balance. Thankfully, the heels Rose had provided were only an inch or two and I'd probably owned higher in cowboy boots. We arrived at a doorway into a kind of miniature throne room, complete with a dais and a chair that Captain Sir Amar was lounging on.

“Master,” Rose greeted, coming to the center of the room and bowing. “Your lady Meg craves to be admitted to your presence.” He nodded indulgently and without waiting for Rose to come to me, I chose to sweep into the room dramatically. His eyes threatened to leap from their sockets as he caught sight of me, never leaving my form as I came beside Rose and did my best to give a proper curtsy.

A bulge became prominent under his tunic and he actually had to adjust how he sat. “My Chief Slave has informed me you have an offer,” he managed and a little smile tugged at the corner of my lips over the dryness in his voice. “You certainly have my complete attention.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I told him. “My conversations with Rose, our Chief Slave, have given me cause to reconsider our arrangement.” He arched an eyebrow at 'our' and steepled his fingers of both hands together.

“I see. Do I take this to mean you no longer intend to seek my death?”

“You are correct,” I replied as evenly as I could.

He actually chuckled. “Rose will have earned much favor from me then at this welcome news. Tell me, my Warmacha,what ambition has made such a change in your heart, and what is it you want from me?”

“I remembered my Seneca,” I lied to him. “'Where better to influence Caesar's mind? Shouting out side his villa, or whispering in his ear'?” He picked up the wine glass off the table next to his throne and took a sip. “I make no bones about my issues with the Foreign Relations choices of my master's people, but suffering myself will change nothing. You, my lord, can change little as a lowly Knight, but as your history has taught me, stations change.”

His grin was less guarded now. “Go on,” he encouraged.

I took a few steps forward to press my case. “My lord has done well for himself, none can deny that. But I can show my master how he can truly better himself; with my aid. Our Chief Slave informs me a Maman has no duties for her husband other than the birth and care of their children. What a fantastic waste! I desire to be your Maman, but that is not the limit of my offer. First, I wish the authority to run your house to prove myself.”

He pulled at his chin as he considered what I was proposing. “Why? Rose does a fine job. I have no complaints of her service.”

“Nor do I,” I assured him quickly. “But, with my help not only will my master's house be run with the precision of a fine watch, I will make it the destination for those with ambition to court your favor and for your betters to be entertained beyond their wildest dreams. I will build you a foundation to wage politics to gain the favor of your lords. Your ambition can be advanced without the risk, expense or burden of conquest.” I arrived at his throne and picked up the pitcher of wine and refilled his cup. “All while being everything you want in a woman. An ornament to show off to your betters and earn their jealousy, a whore for your bed such that every fantasy you could have be fulfilled and a mother who will give you sons that your armies compete for their commissions and daughters to be lusted after by the crowned heads of this planet. What say you to that, my lord?”

“And what do you require for this gift you offer?” he asked.

I leaned forward and drug my tongue on his lobe. “Caesar's ear,” I whispered into his.

His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his lap. “You would willingly do all of this and give yourself to me? On just my word?”

I reached up and ran my hand through his hair, which had the bonus of putting my armpit by his nose.
“Is my lord's word not to be trusted?” He smirked at me and I saw his nostril flare. Under my buttocks I felt his manhood stiffening. “That was not my impression, but if my lord needs to offer a token, among my people a husband and wife wear a ring on this finger, to show their love has no beginning and no end.”

He put his wine cup down and stood, picking me up as he did so. A luxurious looking lounge appeared before the throne that he walked toward. “Rose,” he commanded. “My Mamanand I are not to be disturbed. See to it.”

“Yes, master!” she replied, hurrying out of the room. He sat me down on the lounge and waited until Rose had left the room and shut the door. For myself, I steeled my will and reached under his tunic and took hold of his other head. For a moment, I was worried it felt as large and thick as I had imagined it; fantasy was one thing, being stretched to one's limits was quite another.

At my touch, it stiffened further and swelled in my palm. “Do we have a deal, my lord?”

He pulled the tunic over his head and grinned down at me. “Deal?” he managed around his chuckle. “I would have been delighted just to have you come to me as a traditional Maman. Now you lay the world at my feet and offer to make me the envy of my race? We have accord, my wife!” He gestured and a ring appeared around my finger and its mate around his. “What an empress you will make!”

He reached towards my face and I gathered all of my will. He touched my nose and I was hit with the Kiss like I'd never experienced it before. My eyes closed as every part of me relaxed in pure bliss. I was level with his groin and his phallus was in my hand and the smell. Dear God, the smell was so amazing. I could feel it course through my blood, I could feel it saturate my brain, so close, so close. Without a second thought, I opened my mouth and leaned forward.

I have no idea how he walked with this python between his legs. It was the length my forearm and thickness such that my middle finger and thumb only just touched around it. Yet, it slid into my mouth as easy as if I was some jaded porn star. The warm, salty potency of his pre cum let him glide over my tongue and the taste was like the smell but more. I had to bury my face in it, I forced myself forward, feeling him slide into my throat. I should have gagged, technically I was gagging, I could feel the little trembles of my throat wanting to gag, but the Kiss was everything.

His moan pierced the Kiss and made me want more. His hand lovingly took the back of my head and the first orgasm claimed me. I took a deep breath through my nose, amazed this thick cock didn't completely seal my airway and the Kiss beckoned me. I reached up to take his hips, and used them to pull myself forward, down him, until my nose was buried in his hair and my lips were pressed against his abdomen. He grunted, making his stomach buck against my forehead and then his cock pulsed against my tongue and throat and something warm filled my stomach.

It was so much, I was losing myself, I could feel it and nothing mattered to me. Nothing but this man and whatever I could do to keep feeling and smelling... I shook with my own orgasm, then with all the strength I had left, I used my hands to push myself away, back off his magnificent phallus. As his head left my throat, I was rewarded with a blast of salty and sweet power into my mouth It was instantly my favorite flavor.

My hands began to shake as my will and the Kiss fought in my mind. Oh mother I love it so much. Let me just... I swallowed his seed and his cock gave me more. I came again and my hind brain screamed at me, I was drowning and I wanted to drown. I wanted to swim as deep as I could and breath in the ocean. I swallowed again and with the last of me, I took his cock from my mouth and forced my leg to sweep against his.

He was so orgasmic he barely noticed that I had struck him, let alone that he was falling. He flopped onto the lounge as I rubbed my tongue all through my mouth to savor every last morsel of him. Every cell of my body wanted to leap on his cock, to guide into my womb to plant his seed, but I hooked my thumb on the chain between my nipples and pulled it taunt.

The sudden sharp agony cleared my head for the briefest of seconds, and even as the Kiss turned the pain into yet another orgasm, I raised my leg, straddled his head and sat down on his face. His hands flailed for a split second as I came and showered his face with my juices. Then his hands grabbed my hips with such strength that I knew I'd have bruises, but he didn't cast me off, he held me where I was. His mouth opened under me and his tongue wormed into my folds. My stomach cramped so hard, I nearly threw up. Every muscle I had seized and the only outlet I had was to throw back my head and scream.

He lapped at me like a man dying of thirst at a well, drinking himself sick and I came as my juices flowed out like a river. I had done all I could do, either my plan would work, or not. Now there was nothing but the Kiss. So laid down on my enemy and took his cock in my mouth until my nose was against the balls that would give me my children and I inhaled as hard as I could and I drank oblivion.

I have no idea how long we made love like this. Eventually he pulled me off of him, rolling over so he pinned me to the bed and smiled at me for the first time with real affection. My juices were all over his face and I couldn't not laugh at that little boy smile. His arms went under my knees to support me and I reached down to guide him to my entrance. I was so wet and his cock so coated in my saliva that he slid into me as easy as if we had been lovers for decades. The sharp sting of my short lived hymen being broken by him just made it better. I felt him under my navel as his cock crowded up against my cervix and above it as he lay on top of me and I cleaned his face with my tongue.

His mouth opened and closed without making a sound as I felt his balls against my buttocks and I wrapped my legs around his hips. He tried to speak again so I kicked his flanks with my heels, trying to make him move. His hips flared and about a third of him slid out and back in,

“No,” he grunted.

“Yes,” I commanded as I took a great handful of his hair in my hands to use as a bridle as I broke my stallion to my will. His cock slid about a third of me out so again I dug my heels and he slid home. With my tongue, I gathered up a fair amount of my leavings from his face and drug it across his nose. His nostrils and his eyes went wide until he buried his face in my breasts took me as savagely as I'd dared hope.

It was all I could do, so I opened my legs wide in offering and gave myself to the Kiss. It was completely different than my experience masturbating. The orgasms were as ready and strong, but as I floated on the Kiss I was completely content. I was already satisfied and just enjoying his ministrations until he was. The pain from my still tender nipples gave a sweet note to this as he suckled me and I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or really whispering in his ear to make a mother of me. I had no fear, no trepidation, no past, no future; it was as timeless and perfect as can be imagined.

Then he finally grunted, and I felt myself flooded, I wrapped my legs and arms around him and pulled him down on top of me. Our scents mingled as our sweaty spent bodies rubbed against each other and a new Kiss flowed between us, from my mouth to his and back. My consciousness fled as I descended into the darkness happy.

* * *

I awoke to the feeling of something lukewarm against my mons. I got my eyes to open and raised my head enough to see Rose sitting on the edge of the lounge a wet cloth in her hand as she gently, almost motherly, cleaned my recently deflowered genitals. “Good morning, mistress,” she greeted softly, one eye turning to see me. She offered her hand and helped me sit up.

My vision was obscured by my hair clouding around my face in an arrangement that could only be called the love child of 'bed head' and 'rode hard and put away wet'. Her hand went back to cleaning me and I opened my legs a bit to give her better access. It was quite sensuous, but somehow not as arousing as such a touch might have been yesterday. “I have breakfast for you,” she told me from her cleaning, her free hand gesturing to the plate next to me. It was once again a plate of fruit and breads. Thirsty, I took up the juice glass and savored a long drought.

I looked about the room and there was no sight of Amar. Running a hand through my hair to bring it to a slight semblance of order, I turned back to Rose and asked, “Where is he?”

“Master is in the Great Hall,” she told me softly with a final wipe to my groin. “He awaits you, once you've eaten and are refreshed. We're told he has an announcement for us.”

A little evil smile pulled at my lips. “Does he?”

“I have clothing for you, mistress,” she went on, indicating the bundle laid out on the other side of the lounge. I looked up at his throne and found the first of many changes. There were two chairs now. I looked at the clothing and found it mostly identical to the clothes I worn to seduce him, with one important difference in detail.

They were opaque.

Light, airy, hunter green with beautiful silver accents, but I would no longer be put on display. She followed my gaze and gave a little giggle. “Your wise pornographer was right, mistress. These were the first thing he commanded me to make.”

She daubed at my groin to dry it gently with a wonderfully fluffy towel. “I will brush your hair while you eat,” she told me. “If that pleases you.”

“You please me,” I told her as I gathered her into my arms. Her nostrils flared and sagged into my embrace as if a complete junkie given a hit of the finest on the market. I kissed the top of her head then reached over to the tray, picked up a fig and fed it to her.

“I am unworthy, mistress,” she managed and I laid a finger over her lips.

“Savor your reward, Rose, you've earned it.”

Her eyes slipped closed and she sighed as she chewed. “Your word is law, mistress,” she managed around the fig. Finally, her mouth was free and one eye sleepily opened from her high. “How did you know to do that, mistress?”

I smiled at her and touched her nose. “My parents are ranchers. I was home on summer break, but I'm a Poli-Sci graduate student. And the desire for power is the true Universal Language, Rose.” I chewed thoughtfully on a piece of danish and part of my heart wept. “Where are my parents?” I asked, terrified to hear the answer.

“Their Ranch, lady,” she told me dreamily. “They were given their quota as their lands are within Master's fife. They are safe. I saw to it my self.”

“You'll have more of your reward later, my sweet Rose,” I promised her as I took another gulp of juice. “For now, get me presentable and let us find out what the Captain has to say.” She grinned and scrambled out of my arms to behind me and gently began to tame my hair into something like order.

“Shall I contact your parents, mistress?” she asked me innocently. “I could invite...”

“No,” I told her. I looked down at what I had become, not just the new gender, but the willingness to completely whore myself to accomplish what I wanted. To bear the children of a man I would have been happy to kill. And I imagined looking into my father's eyes and trying to explain myself. “No,” I whispered again.

* * *

I stood on the dais and smiled to the crowd as I listened to my husband call his slaves his children. Small victories, I suppose. I listened to him elevate me to his wife, for them to hold me as speaking with his voice. That changes were going to be coming to the house. Good changes, necessary changes, changes that would elevate everyone. He promised rewards for loyalty and I watched the little place where his head met his neck where I had been trying to aim the bayonet on my rifle. I meant everything I'd said. I would be his wife, he would sire mychildren, and for all the loathing I burned with for him, for his making this necessary, for him and his bastard race, and their conquering fetish, I made sure I realized I loved him.

He was a drug, my drug, my addiction. And I loved and hated him as I loved and hated myself, but, I consoled myself with the knowledge that if I was to be a whore, I would be a whore with purpose. That my ends would justify my means. That I could manage my addiction. That I would not be like all the other dictators in history, that I would keep my virtue even as I crossed this mental Rubicon intent to burn Rome to it's foundations.

So I remembered my Seneca as I put a loving hand on Rose's shoulder, the slave in the chariot with me at my Triumph and vowed to remember her warning that, “All Glory is Fleeting.”

* finis *

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