A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 08

The shuttle dropped them on the sparse roof, an unassuming elevator taking them down, their stomachs dropping alongside. In seconds, the whirring hum of the lift was overridden by a thumping, pulsing beat, more bass than boom. The doors opened and for a moment, it was like being in the info-brokers office once more, a layer of smoke. But not just cigar smoke, it was fog machines at chest height, matching with the darkness to cover the patrons who stared up at the lit platforms. Circular stages, elevated and lit with halo lights, all to highlight the gyrating dancers.

Even amongst the seediness, their moves — hair flips, ass-shaking, pole-slides — were somehow given a little respectability by the fog, like a modern callback to legends past, to sirens emerging from foggy seas, water nymphs disappearing eager pirates. The fog slithered along, revealing cred-papers covering the platforms in a mass of pink and purple. Only clubs and brothels used cred-papers — there was an old joke about how if you wanted to have a long marriage, you needed to open your wallet to your wife, but never let her see it.

"Wow." Ana muttered, her mouth agape, her eyes darting all over.

Nate took her to the desk and got his cred-sticks converted into cred-papers. He pushed them into Ana's hand, but she wasn't paying attention to him, her eyes drawn to the split legs of a pretty blonde as she pulled herself up a pole with just her arm strength.

"Ana. Ana!"

"Huh?"

"Here's some cred. I'll get you a drink. Go find some seats — don't throw them up on stage, but you can flash it once they come down."

"Oh — okay. I mean, yes. Right!"

She scampered off, eyes sparkling.

*She didn't like my dances this much.* Isabelle grumbled.

Nate ordered two lemon sodas, mixed with Telenesian coconut rum. They filtered it through the intestines of a flying Volkonut — which had no benefit to the drink, but provided great pleasure to those that remembered the child-snatching epidemic after the Volkonuts had bred too wildly. It was one of the few products in the world that sold so well based on pure righteous spite.

*Next time, try using a pole.* Nate mused, watching a tan brunette rub her pussy up and down a pole, to the cheers of the watching crowd. She flicked her head back, drops of sweat flying out. These girls did put in the work.

The room was too dark, everyone just shadows in the light of the dancers.

Where is she?

*Watching a black-haired girl at the back of the room. Ana's in the front row.* Isabelle helpfully lit her blue in his vision.

Nate made his way to her just as the black-haired beauty finished her dance, legs behind her head, glass high heels high as she span on her bottom, cavorting in the papers that rained down. She was good, unbelievably light-footed. Nate blinked through the smoke machine and then he saw why.

She was a Lops girl, big floppy ears sitting high above her head, shifting opacity and color with a thought. From the sparkly sequins to match the skimpy one-piece discarded on the stage to their default and 'innocent' pure fluffy white. Her 'human' ears poked through her black hair. Lops were less populous than the Fed, the Lunari, the Reverts and even the Voor — but they had less discrimination and less to war over than anyone, which meant they thrived on their small ring of planets.

Safely ensconced in between Fed and Revert space, well away from the bug borders, they were safe to have many children, children that generally emigrated away across the galaxy as soon as they were able, eager to explore the big city life that wasn't found in Lops space. Thanks to the famous Lops libido and the raring display of prejudice against alien races, they often found themselves as sex workers.

Easy going girls get going easy — that was the slogan for a Lops-dominated club that Nate had found himself in, more than once, he wasn't proud to admit.

Those ears were adorable — the girl had easy control of them, and her audience, lifting one of her pert breasts as one ear rose high, stiff, dropping it and her big floppy ear folded with her. The crowd loved it.

"Isn't she amazing?" Ana squealed, barely audible over the music and the buzz. "She's so graceful. That's what they say! Lops have got more grace even than us Lunari!"

The girl shook her ass teasingly as she left the stage, shaking that adorable white rounded fluffball tail just inches above her asshole. Little bots emerged out of the stage to suck up all the creds.

An announcer boomed out over the speakers. "A big thanks for all our beautiful girls for the last Sync-Stage performance of the night. Ten girls, one song, a beauty to fit every tastes! The girls will be back out to mingle after they wash their faces, and I know they'd love to share a drink or a private dance, but in the meantime, please welcome our next big stars!"

Nate tuned out their names as they were announced, Ana leaning into him as she drank too quickly from his offered soda.

"Nate, can we get a private dance?" She bounced in her seat, face red. "I have so many questions for her!"

Nate twirled his finger in her hair, creating a ring from her waves. She was adorable. "We'll try, sweetheart. What do you want to ask her?"

"Her moves, how did she get started, maybe she can teach me how to do some things. I love her hair flick and she seemed so strong! And how does she walk in those heels—"

"That is a lot of questions." A slightly raspy voice sounded, and Ana's eyes widened as she found the dancer behind her, wearing a gold sequined leotard and black fishnets — her floppy ears were colored in gold sequins too. Her glass heels had been switched out for gold ones.

"Oh, that was so wonderful, I loved your grace and the story you told. And you're so beautiful. I'm Ana." Ana reached out to hold her hands and tug her down into a seat, because one couldn't deny an audience with the Princess. The stripper descended, amused. Behind Ana's head, Nate flashed a cred-clip so the stripper would see it and waved down a drink for her. It would just be water, but it would keep her here to keep Ana happy. More importantly, nobody stalking them would miss them engaging with the eye-catching stripper.

"Hi Ana." The stripper slid a hand onto her knee. Ana squeaked. "I'm Skyla. You're so sweet and beautiful yourself. You don't see many Lunari this way out. Is this your man?"

"I'm—"

"Yes!" Ana grabbed Nate's arm. "This is Nate. This is my man." She said proudly.

Skyla and Nate shared an amused look, both her ears folding forward in laughter. "Well, he looks like he makes you happy. Is that what you're looking for, tips on how to return the favor?"

"Tips." Ana took a long noisy sip on her straw, flushed. "Yes, tips." She leaned forward and whispered something into Skyla's ears.

"Mmm, well, that is something to be done in private. Shall we? Nate, she'll need another drink for that liquid courage. Will you join us in booth nine? The bouncer over there will let you in."

"Sure. Ana, be a good girl."

Ana giggled, draining her drink. "Yes, sir."

Lightweight. Isabelle chided.

At the bar, Nate kept his eyes training on the bottles, looking for the reflections that would tell him if he was being watched.

Nothing. Perhaps he was being paranoid. More likely, they were just hidden — it wouldn't be difficult to stay discreet in the dark foggy club.

The bored bouncer let him through, and the door to the booth opened before he could open it. Inside, the ceiling and the back-room were mirrored on every inch, while a bar and a red velvet sofa made up the rest of the room. In the center, a pole, where Ana was clumsily twirling herself around. She was wearing Skyla's discarded pair of glass heels. Skyla plucked his cred-clip out of his hand as he entered, one hand on his chest.

"Take a seat, handsome. No refunds if your girl sprains her ankle, though huh?" She teased. She was good, smoky eyes and deep red lipstick, her long black hair fluffed and well cared for.

Skyla was at Ana's side as she dropped to a clump on the floor in a giggling mass of limbs.

"Okay, beautiful. Let's that try again. Remember, the strength we're using is in the thighs — you've got great toned thighs — and the ankles."

Ana tried again, climbing up and trying to bend her spine back to display her chest to Nate, holding on with her thighs. Again, she slipped to the ground, frowning, her skirt rising up to display her bare lips, peeking out from her thighs.

"That was better." Skyla said. "It might be better if you wore some panties, mind. The fabric helps."

Ana shook her head. "Nate likes it when he sees how wet I get."

Nate just coughed when Skyla shot him a look.

"Alright, well, let's try something else. Let's forget the pole for now. I just want to see you do a good bend at the waist. Then, do a slow rise up, back at him, while you flick your hair back. Watch me."

Nate sipped his drink, enjoying Ana's little flashes as she copied the experienced stripper.

"Perfect. Now, let's try a little booty shake. Keep your legs straight. You've got such an incredible ass, you'd earn so much money if you worked here, it makes me sick."

"Really?" Ana beamed. "Nate, did you hear that?"

"I heard, honey." Nate said drolly.

Cheeks shook, twerked, clapped.

"Nate, what did you think?" Ana asked from between her legs, hair touching the floor.

"It looks like he liked it." Skyla eyed the hard rod in his pants. "He's hard for you, not me."

"Good work, babe." Nate drank his beer. Why did he feel like a cad? All he was doing was trying to keep them alive. Hell, he hadn't even fucked her. He was basically a hero, he told himself. Everyone else would have fucked her by now. Fuck, life was simpler when he just had to follow orders and try to keep himself and his boys alive.

"It doesn't mean much." Ana told Skyla. "Nate gets hard a lot."

"I bet." She said. Her eyes said more than her tone. Nate could read the question loud and clear. Why the hell was this innocent babe with this guy?

It's certainly not the money. Isabelle chimed in. At present, your Federation bank account holds only—

Thank you, Isabelle. Nate interrupted her.

Ana straightened up, her eyes locked on his bulge. "Skyla, can you help me with that thing we spoke about?"

"Honey, I'm the most helpful girl in the galaxy if you got the creds."

Ana reached down into her top and pulled out a cred-stick. Where had she been hiding that? Was that her own money?

Analysis indicates the cred-stick was hiding in her cleavage. Isabelle said, ever sarcastic.

Skyla plugged it into a terminal that popped out of the bar, checked the figure and then pressed a hidden button.

"Whoa." Nate startled as the sofa suddenly turned into a bed, making him fall back into the pillows. Skyla threw her hair back and took out her earrings, her ears becoming that famous Lops white and fluffy, shaded the slightest pink within. Ana jumped onto the bed, scurrying up to his ear. She entwined her fingers with his.

"I want so badly to give myself to you." She murmured, making him shiver. It felt like she was speaking to his soul. "But I'm scared, Nate."

"You don't need to do anything you don't want to." Nate said.

"But I want to. By Vashayna, I want to. I can't, not yet, maybe not...yeah. But I want you to have her." Ana nodded her head toward Skyla. "Fishnets and heels only, Skyla." Her voice suddenly turned commanding.

"Yes, boss." Skyla smirked, amused at the tone change.

Ana traced her fingers over his abs. "I bet you had tons of girls before you came for me. I feel bad."

Nate thought it best to say nothing.

Ana nuzzled his neck, hand stroking his cock. Both hands. "But I can still take care of you." She reeled him forward, towards Skyla, who was playing with her clit, making herself wet. Nate just clasped onto Ana's behind, waiting while Ana played around, mushing Nate's fat mushroom head onto Skyla's pussy, giggling as her two playthings stiffened, arched. She ran his cockhead down the stripper's wettening pussy and up again, letting Nate fuck through but not into the now-eager girl. Ana stood behind him, breasts against his back, stroking him, aiming him with both hands, using little bumps of her pelvis to encourage him to thrust.

"She wants you, Nate." Ana told him happily. "I can see it."

"Fucking what—" Skylar muttered, seeing her own pussy get covered in the thick creamy lances of Nate's pre-cum. "That's so hot."

"Right?" said Ana.

Just the tip then, just the head, enough to make Skyla's eyes go wide in shock.

"Fuck, that thing is going to tear—ohhh!" Mischievous Ana fed Nate deeper, giggling all the while. Nate groaned, letting Ana set the pace into the squealing stripper — and the Princess wasn't merciful. She pushed his creamy cock into the tight girl quickly, one hand dropping from his cock to spread the girl's squirming thighs even wider.

"Fuck fuck fuck—" Skyla chanted, eyes rolling back as Nate deepened. Her Lops-ears went high, stiff, vibrating quickly.

"Does that feel good, Nate?" Ana asked. Nate just moaned, unable to describe the heat and wetness, the sheer naughtiness of being controlled by his Princess to fuck another woman, of having his balls kneaded, shaft stroked, ass shoved forward, every inch of his shaft fed slickly into the hot wet stripper.

He was stretching her, he knew, her mouth agape once he hit her back, not even fully in. He didn't want to hurt her, pulling out and then, before Ana could protest, fucking back in, not fully in. But more than enough.

"Ooooh!" Skyla trembled.

And then he took over, grabbed her thighs, spread them wide, held them open, used them as leverage to start a steady fucking pace.

Schlapp-schlapp-schlapp — skin on skin, his thumb finding hers on her clit, feeling that familiar pleasure start boiling up, his balls tightening. They were getting messy, creamy, and Nate flinched suddenly as Ana appeared, tongue darting out to clean, lapping at his balls, hands everywhere.

"Yes, Nate, fuck her, fuck her real good—" She pleaded. "Cum in her, pretend it's me, pretend you're fucking your Lunari Princess, your good girl—"

"Ana!"

"Yes!" Ana looked up at him from between the girl's thighs. "Fuck me, Nate, fuck me!"

Nate's pace quickened, the girl's joint moans getting to his head, the slick wet heat feeling so good around his cock. He slipped out for a second, into Ana's compliant throat, a few pumps before she fed him back into Skyla's reddening cream-spattered cunt.

And then his Princess was on her back, laying above Skyla, her own thighs spread, pulling Nate forward, arms around his neck, kissing him, so it felt like he was fucking her instead.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—" Ana's chants. Ana's moans. Ana's warmth, Ana's flesh. Ana's tight wet hot pussy.

"Cum inside me, Nate." Ana whispered to him, eyes wide.

He growled, mad with the sensations, thrust with rapid pace, Ana begging in his ear. And then he came, only Ana was no longer underneath him, slipping out so fast as he closed his eyes for a second. And he was not cumming into Skyla's pussy, but down Ana's throat, his balls against her chin, deep as he could go.

He roared, spurting hot thick ropes down her, head dropped onto Skyla's chest as Ana milked him, hands on his ass, pushing him deep so he could feed her, hosing her down. He vibrated, hands on her head, unable to be gentle as he fucked her face in his lust, cumming with short sharp rhythmical jerks, her eyes wide and bulging but gloriously happy.

He filled her to the brim, her throat-swallows feeling obscenely good, until he was finally tapped out. He let her swirl her tongue around his softening shaft, getting every drop until he finally withdrew with a satiated sigh.

His cock dribbled down her chest. Her smile wide and eyes sparkling.

"I think I want you to do that to me, damn the consequences." Ana breathed out.

Nate lost himself in her eyes, in the promise within. What she was offering to give up, so much more than her maidenhood, but a whole life, a royal life, her marriage, one that was meant to tie the Lunari together.

Somewhere outside, the music stopped. The song had ended.

Damn the consequences, she said, but was it really that simple? If Nate had learned anything about the galaxy, it was that the consequences always found you in the end and punched you in the race.

One, two, three. But not punches. Knocks on the door.

"Open up!"

"I—I can't move." Skyla giggled, her hand reaching down to readjust her fluffball tail underneath her.

*Nate, those voices don't sound friendly.*

The door smashed open, bouncing off its hinges in a explosion of splinters. Nate stumbled to his feet. Ana licked her lips clean. Skyla just laid there.

Five men rushed in, chestplates and helmets, a line of coral colored plasma etching around the armor in concentric lines. Powered armor. In their hands, they carried laser rifles.

Fuck. Nate thought.

*Fuck.* Isabelle echoed.

"Fuck." Ana murmured, uncharacteristically.

"Put your fucking hands up!"

"Can I put my pants on first?" Nate grimaced.

###

"How dare you lock me up? Do you know who I am?" Ana stomped her foot. "I am Princess Anariel De Lothien, daughter of —"

"Shut your trap, lady. The Lunari Princess doesn't go whoring in Dead Space brothels, and she sure as fuck doesn't have your titties—"

"I wasn't whoring—"

She got pushed back into the cell, where Nate sat in the straw. The straw was meant to be dry but a drip in the cell's stone roof had made it wet, rotten, stinking the entire cell. Stone floor, walls, ceiling. The only metal was the bars, which pulsed with a sapphire glow. There'd be no getting through there. How many volts ran through them?

"The sheer attitude." Ana muttered to herself. "So barbaric."

Nate ignored her, thinking to himself. They weren't dead, which was a bonus. The armored unit had grabbed them, blindfolded them, handcuffed them and put them in a shuttle. The shuttle took fourteen minute and three seconds, Isabelle told him, which meant they'd traveled pretty far at shuttle speeds, if they were going the legal limit. When the blindfolds were off, they found themselves in this poor attempt at a medieval dungeon.

Through the bars, there was just another stone wall, disconcertingly splattered with dried blood.

They'd asked no questions, made no demands and given no clue as to their employer. But they looked like the station's enforcement but powered armor wasn't given to any old cop.

Either they'd fallen foul of a merc gang or the station's Matriarch herself. And if they weren't dead yet, then that meant their captors wanted to know how much they knew.

And if a few innocuous questions had caused this much heat, it gave those questions a certain legitimacy. And it made the answers a lot more scary.

"Do I really look so different from my old self?" Ana bit her lip, frowning.

"No." Nate said honestly. "But it is difficult to believe your old self would be in this dump, and considering your—" he nodded at her belly, yet to deflate as her body consumed his seed "—temporary shape, I can't really blame them."

"If I could just contact my people, I could get us out of this mess."

*I wouldn't advise such a course of action.* Isabelle prompted. *It is likely knowledge of the worth and value of their jailee would only cause more trouble, especially with our proximity to bug space and the possible traitors in the Lunari leadership.*

Nate relayed her words to Ana.

"How is Isabelle still with us? Didn't they take your armguard?"