Aurora - Blood Moon Tribute Pt. 03

"Orthopaedic surgeon to be exact."

"Well there you go then. That's ten years in the making, just to pick up a scalpel. How are you gonna get through that with some snotty little rug rat hanging off your tit?"

"I'd find a way." Maya said dreamily. "Just imagine," she pointed between the old man and herself, "you and me, having a daughter. Wouldn't she be incredible?"

"What if it was a boy?" Watson rumbled. "He'd be all antisocial and self-absorbed, with absolutely no dress sense and delusions of literacy."

"Just think." Maya said wistfully, "Our son. The first man on Mars."

"Better get cracking then, that's only a few years away."

"Jupiter then. Somewhere. I know he'd do something great."

"Aye aye!" a voice said and Maya looked up. "What's all this then?"

Watson craned his neck, looking upside down, to find Hayley standing in the doorway. Looking over her shoulder, Hayley yelled downstairs, "Cancel the undertaker, Aunty Tan. Damon's back from the dead!"

"Thank god you're here, Comet." Maya said. "Damon won't get me pregnant."

Hayley strolled in and sat down beside them, stroking and squeezing Maya's perfect round butt. Running a finger down the cleft of her ass, she swiped it through the froth of girl cum and semen, bubbling out of Maya's tight pussy, then withdrew the better to study it. "He won't?" she piped, staring at the goo on her finger, before giving it a sniff and licking it clean. "That's not very nice."

"Don't you start." Watson said.

"Why not?" Hayley asked.

"I've got enough trouble with her."

"I mean why won't you get her pregnant?" Hayley said. "She'd love it. Hell. So would I."

"And don't forget Beck," Maya cut in, "and Vicky."

"What about Ally?" Hayley asked.

Maya thought about it. "Mmm... nahh... different species. They couldn't breed. Unless he's got a little Tassie devil in him. What do you reckon?" she asked giving Watson's balls a gentle squeeze, "You got any Tassie devil in you Damo?"

"A touch of sewer rat." Watson replied. "Would that do?"

Watson heard footsteps and Tanya appeared at the door. "Aye aye. What's all this then?"

"Jesus Christ." Watson said and looked around. "There must be an echo."

"We're starting a cult." Hayley said brightly as Tanya strolled in, her hair in disarray, looking all hot and bothered from a recent tongue-lashing. "Damon's gonna get us all pregnant."

"We'll have a tribe." Maya concurred. "You can be queen."

Tanya sat down on the other side of the bed and ran a hand down her niece's back, before feeling for herself, exactly as Hayley had done, the sloppy union of Watson's body with hers. "Don't think I haven't thought of it." she said and Watson slapped a hand over his eyes. "I'm telling you, if I hadn't taken the cure."

"What would poor old Roger say?" Watson protested.

"Oh, he wouldn't mind." Tanya said airily. "Anyway, he could make the next one. That's how they did it, you know, back in the olden days. The strongest, smartest, most viable males got to mate with the fittest of the females. That's how we kept the species alive."

Watson teased a long tress of Maya's dark, silky hair between finger and thumb. He nodded. Tanya was right. There would have been millions of Mayas and Becks over the ages, not to mention Vickys and Hayleys and Tanyas. Billions even. Young and beautiful, still in their teens, first-time mothers giving birth by firelight, on a bear skin in the back of a cave. Nurturing, protecting, raising their young. Gentle, loving, sometimes stern when the situation required. Guiding, teaching, fun-loving, fearless and fierce. Braving all that nature could throw at her young family- floods and glaciers, droughts and famines, disease. Through war and turmoil, never relenting, until their own children were old enough to pass on the spark. Watson opened his mouth to agree and Tanya stuck a finger in his face. "And if you say one more bloody word about being too old..."

The old man raised his hands in self-defence. "I wasn't, honest." Still, all this talk of procreation had made his cock go soft. Feeling it wilt, Maya Sat up, then elevated slowly off his partial erection.

He came out with a 'plop', followed by a gush of clotted sperm. "Well don't waste it." Tanya huffed, rolling Maya on her back and pushing her legs apart. Dipping her head, she snuffled and sucked, slurping up the overflow before worming her tongue into Maya's slippery entrance.

Looking at Hayley, Watson realised for the first time she was wearing briefs, plain old cottontails, simple and comfortable, dark blue covered in sunflowers. She shrugged self-consciously. "Yeah, sorry, came on this morning. Disgusting I know."

"Disgusting?" Watson scowled. "Your body, purifying itself with every moon? That's not disgusting, it's a miracle."

Tanya looked up from feasting and curled her lip. "Told you so."

"What?" the old man asked.

"I said you'd say that. Pretty much word-for-word. And anyway, Comet. Your mouth's still working, isn't it?"

Hayley squinted at her. "W... what do you mean?"

"Well look at that poor man, all covered in cum. And take a look at those balls! There's enough protein there to feed a family for a week."

Still on his back, Watson watched in wonder as his shrinkage slowed and began to reverse.

"Umm..." Hayley hedged, "Damon... would you like me to... you know..."

"Depends," Watson shrugged, "would you like to... you know..."

Hayley licked her lips. Fresh, hot semen was relatively new on her menu, but if the taste was give-or-take, the serving suggestion was definitely moreish. Tucking her shoulder length brown hair behind an ear, she nodded.

Tanya pushed upright. "Tell you what. You know how much fun it is to share a milkshake with three straws?" Up on her knees, she held her hand out to Maya. "How about it? The three of us tuck in?"

Hayley looked at Maya with a big, goofy grin, her cheeks pinking. It was simply uncanny, how the older woman could so accurately foretell her fantasies. While Tanya settled down between the old man's legs, Maya lay down on his left, and Hayley on his right, and between them they snuffled and sucked, duelling tongues and taking turns to throat his cock. Their combined skill was astonishing. Not only was he soon sporting a rejuvenated erection, but in five minutes flat it was once more spurting cum. Straight down Hayley's throat as it happened. For the next few minutes, she shared the warm, salty slime, passing it to-and-fro between Tanya and Maya, until they all swallowed his sperm with satisfied sighs. Propped up on his elbows, running a sweat, the old man watched the whole, lurid performance, wondering once again at the miracle that had delivered him, from existential decline to the shores of paradise.

"Well," Tanya said, getting to her knees, "that was breakfast. Wanna get moving gang? We're about to have a visitor."

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Beck hammered the door with her fists, kicking as hard as she could with her running-shoes. The inch and a half thick, solid wood door with its inside layer of thick, gilded silk, absorbed her rage without batting a doornail. "LIZA? LEAVE HER ALONE! STOPPIT! WHAT ARE YOU ASSHOLES DOING TO HER?"

Ear to the door, Beck listened to the muffled shouting outside, to Floraliza's cries. "MONGRELS!" she screeched, pounding the wood, "I SAID LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Another door flew open behind her and Doctor Khan swooped in, drawn by an alarm from Beck's golden FitBit. "Miss Rebekah," she said, "what's the matter?"

"There's a bunch of thugs outside beating up Floraliza. Out in the hallway."

Khan put her ear to the door as Beck had done, and picked up a snippet of conversation. "Who was it?"

"Some raghead prick in a black nighty and tea towel." Beck panted, "And his goons."

Khan hurried to the window. When her eyes lit upon the low, black gunboat, tied up at the dock, her shoulders slumped. She looked at Beck, still beating on the door, hair like spun platinum strewn over shoulders of jet. "Lord in heaven," Khan breathed, "did he see your hair?"

Beck looked at her, aghast, then took several long strides and seized the doctor by the arm. "I don't care if he saw my frikken' butthole! Get over here and unlock this door!"

The doctor threw her off. "Unhand me, whore! That's His Highness the prince out there. Are you telling me he saw you?"

"I don't give a fuck if it was the emperor of Mars. Hear that? They're beating up on Liza. Open the door."

"Stoppit! Miss Rebekah, stop! You must not intervene. It's illegal."

Beck put her face in the doctor's. "Did you hear what I said? He's beating Floraliza."

"We are not allowed to intervene. Floraliza is his to do with as he wills."

Beck's jaw sagged. "She's what? To do with as he what?"

"I said he owns her. She is property of the crown. And if she transgressed..."

"Transgressed? Looking after me? Doing her job?"

"Did he see your face? Did he see your hair?"

"What if he did?" Beck demanded. "Floraliza's being beaten out there."

"I'll take that as a yes, yes? Then this is Satan's fault, and His Highness is not to blame."

Beck clenched her teeth. "Are you for fucking real?"

"You must understand. Once Satan casts his spell-"

"Open this fucking door!"

As Beck spoke, the door swung open and Floraliza fell through, hand over her nose and mouth, blood pouring through her fingers.

"LIZA!" Beck cried, jumping to her side, throwing an arm around her. Guiding the sobbing young woman to her bed, Beck sat her down, then looked around for the doctor. "Get me a towel."

Doctor Khan hurried to the bedside. "You slut!" she hissed, seizing a fistful of the Filipina's bloodied shirt. "Get off Miss Rebekah's bed."

Hugging Floraliza with one arm, Beck fought Khan off with the other. "What the FUCK?" she shrilled. "You fuckin' savage! Fuckin' leave her alone!"

"You moron!" the doctor growled. "Did you take Miss Rebekah abroad with her head uncovered? You slut! You harlot! Now look what you've done."

"So sorry," Floraliza whimpered, trying to staunch the bleeding, "it was just a short walk."

"Straight into the path of His Highness."

"I fuckin' made her do it!" Beck seethed. She grabbed a hank of her platinum hair and gave it a yank. "It's all my fault! If I'd known my hair was gonna have such a drastic effect... if I'd known it would pitch him into uncontrollable sexual hysteria. What would the idiot do if he saw me naked? Spontaneously combust?"

"You got everything you deserved!" the doctor told Floraliza. "I should have you flogged."

Beck sprang to her feet. "BITCH!" she roared, hand in the middle of Khan's chest, "Can't you see she's hurt?"

The Doctor pushed her away. "She failed in her duty. To His Majesty. And to you. She was meant to protect your purity."

"She has! She did!"

"I should have her thrown in jail."

Beck pushed her chest out. "Yeah? Well, you'll have to throw me in with her."

"There is only one place you're going, young lady. Jazirat Alkunz."

"Is that so?" Beck sneered. "What if I don't wanna go?"

"Don't want to go?" Khan demanded. "You are forgetting. You are His Majesty's property."

Beck ripped her robes off overhead and struggled free of the voluminous black folds. "Yeah? Well guess what? I'm not a virgin. I'm not even a teen. So there."

Khan looked her up and down with a withering glare. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No, it's true. I've had more cock inside me than a hen in a chicken stud. Handled more pricks than a porcupine."

"Enough!" Khan raised her hand. "Enough! Don't think you can lie your way out of this. You made a promise."

"It's not a lie." Beck smirked. "I am a whore, it's all true."

"Rubbish. I examined you myself."

"Then you'd better turn in your medical degree. Cos' I'm a whore, like you say. A floozy, a hooker. And not just men. I've eaten more pussy than you've had hot dinners."

"You lie!"

Beck raised her arm, fist clenched. "Wanna know where this has been? In my girlfriend's pussy! Halfway up to the elbow!"

Khan drew her arm back to slap her, and while Beck flinched, she held her ground, smirking. "Go ahead." she said as Floraliza hurried to her side.

"Miss Rebekah," Floraliza cried, trying to drag Rebekah out of harm's way, "I beg you, no."

"Go on." Beck urged, "Hit me. Let's see what the king thinks of damaged goods."

"Filthy harlot." Khan spat. "You western dog."

"Got it in one." Beck nodded. "Know what I like? Being fucked doggy style by a big, fat cock, while fisting some hot chick's slippery pussy."

Khan looked at her, trembling, wanting badly to smack some contrition into this little white harlot. To think, this complete waste of birth pangs was to be blessed with the King's seed, while she, the doctor, had to make do, the wife of a petty official, one of 3, forever competing for crumbs of attention.

Beck turned her back on the woman. "Don't worry, Lizzy," she said, hands on Floraliza's shoulders, "I'm getting us out of here. Both of us. I'm gonna tell the king, and when he-"

An arm seized Beck in a headlock. While she was fully occupied, trying to struggle free, she felt a sting in her backside and Khan let her go. "What the fuck?" Beck scowled, rubbing her stung bottom, watching Khan cap the needle. "Bitch! What did you just... what did you... what..."

Beck signalled her legs only to find them offline. Double-vision set in, everything swimming before her in duplicate... Khan, Floraliza, all the furniture in the room. The dimmed, filtered light streaming through the window now resembled the surface of the sun. She felt like she'd wet herself. An arm rose in front of her, finger pointing at the woman in the white coat and floral hijab. "You're gonna..." she slurred, "...pay for...."

The threat was left hanging, as the floor rose slowly to the vertical and the lights went out.

**********************************************************************************************************

The King's Royal Residence sat atop the sprawling sandstone palace, a dozen opulent rooms, interspersed with natural, landscaped spaces, sweet sand and all, open to the sky, harbouring gardens and swimming pools, reminiscent of a desert oasis. The King was in the process of being dressed by several stewards when, to a fanfare of threats and expletives, son number three bullied his way through security and barged into his father's apartment. The old man looked down from the low, wooden dais, 2 stewards at his feet adjusting the hem of his gold-trimmed dishdasha, 2 more adjusting the sleeves. The king was yet bare-headed, but the day's red-checked keffiyeh sat draped over a bust nearby, patiently awaiting installation.

The prince waved the serfs aside and took his father's hand, dipping his head to touch the old man's knuckles with his brow. "Greetings, My Liege, may heaven keep and protect you, to reign over us all of our days."

"Rashiid, my son, pride of my heart. Welcome."

"You are as the sun in my sky," the prince waxed, "the very root of my existence, flesh of my flesh, light of my life."

The king chuckled. "It is you who brings the sunshine to an old man's heart."

Once the gushing blandishments were done, the prince straightened and looked around. "Out!" he said, waving the stewards away, "All of you. I wish to speak to my father in private."

"Majesty?" one of the manservants asked.

"Wait in the anteroom." the king nodded. "I will call when we are done."

The 4 young servants backed off then hurried away, out of the chambers past security. "You men!" the king barked and the officer of the guard threw a smart salute.

"Your Majesty?"

"Wait outside."

They, like the stewards before them, slipped smartly out of the king's private chambers, drawing the heavy wooden doors closed behind them."

"So," the king said, stepping off the dais, inspecting his sleeve, "to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

Ignoring the dig, or because of it, the prince cut straight to the chase. "There is a woman. In the Bird House."

"You are most observant my boy. In fact I believe there are many. A veritable treasure trove, fit for a king."

"I mean one in particular. A golden-haired girl." The prince levelled his arm at chest height. "A Westerner, about this tall, fair-skinned with sky blue eyes."

"What of her?"

"She's mine."

The king raised an eyebrow, then scuffed in his sandals to a window, overlooking the the green crescent-roof of the Bird House. "That's interesting. She's in my Bird House, in my palace, in my country, yet you claim she is yours. How can this be so?"

"I met her at the airport." the prince replied. "I asked her to join me to take some tea. But she insulted me. Called me a dog and spat on the ground at my feet. I instructed the police, 'counsel her on her manners, then deliver her to me so she may apologise'. I am still waiting."

"Are you sure this is the same woman?"

"As sure as the sun rises in the east. It's her."

"And what do you want with her?"

The prince hefted a shoulder. "Like I told you," he said shiftily, "I just want to be friends. After she makes her apology."

"Very noble, my son."

"There is none so noble under god," the prince said loftily, "as he who knows how to forgive."

"Indeed." the king agreed. "And you should be rewarded for your forbearance. And so I, the king, your ruler and your father, apologise on her behalf. There! Now you're done with her."

"But... Father..." the prince glared, "I'm sorry, Sire, but that's not good enough."

"Not good enough? An apology on her behalf? From your king?"

"She insulted me, Father, to my face. I demand justice. For the honour of the kingdom, of the family."

"Why should someone so lowly be of such importance to you?" the king frowned. "I'm telling you, forget her. Where she is she can do you no harm."

"But... but..." the prince blustered, "you don't understand."

"Oh yes," the king smiled, "I think I do."

"I'm begging you, Father. Give her to me."

"My son," the king sighed. "There are thousands of females out there, yours for the asking. But this one? This one is not for you."

"That's it? You refuse me?"

"Refuse you? Refusal is mine to give. I am your king. Not only that, I am your father. My word is law."

"But..." the prince pressed, "what could you possibly want with this girl? I could get you a dozen like her, a hundred. Now... I don't know how she got here, or how she wound up in the Bird House, but I saw her first and I want her back."

The king dragged his feet to a gilded, silk couch and sat with a groan. "Let me tell you how she got here, boy. She was flown here by her family in the family jet. She came bearing a gift, which I am bound by tradition to honour. It's a matter of courtesy. To refuse her now would bring dishonour to our house, not to mention our country and our culture. I am sorry, Rashiid, the answer is no."

"But father-"

"What part of 'no' do you not understand?"

"But why her?"

"Why not her?"

"But... but... but... she's a whore."

The king wagged a finger. "A virgin whore. The finest kind."

"Impossible."

"The doctor confirmed it."

"Khan?" Rashiid scoffed. "That raddled old hack? She couldn't diagnose a hard-on in a brothel. That girl is a prostitute, guaranteed."

"Madam Samia has been the family physician for fifteen years."

"My security has seen her in the company of men. Non-family men. Including foreign men. I have evidence she has taken alcohol."

"That does nothing to detract from her medical expertise."

"But it does mean she cannot be trusted."

The king waved his son's words away. "I choose to give her the benefit of the doubt."

"Very noble, oh mighty ruler, but the fact remains. That prize is mine. Give her back, I demand it."