Intergalactic Courtesan Ch. 11

"That's a good kitty," she murmured, grasped his mane, keeping his mouth aimed at her hips. Her pulse was racing, her breasts swelling as his talented tongue coaxed her towards a waiting orgasm. "Lick my asshole as well."

"No! I--" His protest broke off in a scream as she gave him another jolt of electricity. His tongue quickly lapped her puckered hole, leaving sheets of saliva coating her perky cheeks. She sighed with the sensation, somewhere between pleasure and tickling torture. Her legs were bent as she crouched over his face. She could feel the saliva running down her thighs; she quivered from the sensation of his tongue probing her anus.

"That's enough," she said, stepping back. "Now, kitty, you will stick your tongue out like this." She demonstrated, making her own tongue a spear. "Do you understand?"

Turok swallowed, staring up at her. "Yes, mistress." He did as she commanded.

"Very good," she smiled. "You're finally learning how to be obedient. I will consider giving you a reward. But first . . ." She grasped his ears and lowered her hips to his waiting face.

Desirée sighed when she felt his tongue pushing his way into her sopping pussy, sliding deep inside her. Her face clenched with pleasure, her hips started pushing back and forth, establishing a rhythm.

"Stay in this position until I order you otherwise," she said breathlessly, increasing the tempo of her thrusts. She fucked his face, concentrating solely on her own pleasure, accelerating until she was slamming her hips into his muzzle, her hair flying around her sweat-covered face.

"Yes! Yes! Good kitty, good kitty, good . . . yes! Yes! Yes!" She gave one last scream as she climaxed, slumping against the monster's face before sliding limply to the floor. She panted, feeling the pleasure race through her tissues. She closed her eyes, taking great gulps of air, feeling her hair sticking to her face, neck and breasts.

She finally opened her eyes, looking up at Turok, still caught in the binders.

"Have I done well, mistress?" he rumbled.

Desirée pretended to think about the question for several seconds, ignoring his expectant expression.

"I suppose you have . . . barely," she said, lifting herself towards his waiting cock. She touched it lightly, running her fingers along the hard length. Both of her hands couldn't encompass its girth so she settled for sliding her fingers over the muscles and veins that made up his penis. She could feel his breathing change, his cock swelling under her ministrations.

She bent her head, licking the tip. Turok groaned, his penis twitching, a bead of precum gleaming at the slit. She kept on gently stroking his member with one hand, gauging the success of her strokes by his groans and gasps. Occasionally, she would lick the tip, tasting the tang of the viscous fluid that dripped from the tip.

Her questing fingers found the remote. Choosing her moment carefully, she gave him a quick jolt. He yowled, nearly shoving his cock between her teeth. It became even darker and hotter to the touch, a warning lurch telling her that his orgasm was imminent.

Desirée bent her head, licking his cock, always keeping her caresses random. She could feel his muscles clench beneath her hands, his hips starting to thrust upwards more rapidly. His breathing became more laboured, his groans even louder.

His hips started to buck, gouts of milky cum jetting from the tip. Desirée leaned back, letting him watch as his semen splashed her shoulders and breasts, rubbing his cock against her skin. He groaned in satisfaction as she milked his penis, occasionally licking the tip of his cock to make him come some more.

Finally, he slumped onto the bed, his eyes closing. Presently, she heard his buzzing snore. Standing up, Desirée unsteadily made her way to the ensuite bathroom, a trail of cum and saliva marking her path.

She took a leisurely shower, carefully cleaning every part of her toned body. She then took a few minutes to order her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. She then walked out into the main room and slipped back into her clothes. She took some wet wipes and towels and gently cleaned the various fluids from her sleeping guest. She also wiped the lubricant from his buttocks after removing the dildo from his ass. She took towels and toys to the cleaning system tucked into the wall near the cabinets, placing them in the appropriate trays before starting the cycle.

That done, she stared down at the Leonorilla for several seconds. Turok was dead to the universe, his snores reverberating about the room. She slowly, discreetly began removing the force binders from his ankles, wincing at the marks and welts she had inflicted on him.

Making no sound, she started gently removing the binders from his wrists. A massive hand closed about her own wrists, the claws sliding out with a snikt sound. She bit back a scream.

"Breathe a word of this to anyone." Turok's fangs dominated her vision. "And that breath will be your last."

Something rose up inside her. "Are you suggesting that a Guild courtesan could be indiscreet?"

Silence for several seconds. A drop of saliva slid down one fang.

Turok laughed. "Good answer, Guild Courtesan Tanner. You have my respect." He released her wrist.

Desirée let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Thank you, my lord. Would you like anything else?"

"You don't like me, do you?"

"I am a Guild Courtesan," she replied calmly. "I am here to entertain you. Would you like anything else?"

He expelled a quick breath through his nostrils, still amused. "I'll have an Ybarran beer, Guild Courtesan. And get something for yourself as well. You have nothing to fear from me."

"You're too kind." She went to the remote caterer on the far wall and punched in his order, adding a eruzhi juice and soda for herself as well. Within seconds, the slot slid back to reveal the two drinks in their frosty glasses. Desirée brought over the 2 liter stein for Turok before picking up the smaller glass for herself.

"Having me lick your genitals like that," Turok said. "This is a submissive act among your people?"

"Sometimes, my lord." She sipped her drink; eruzhi was the closest Confederation equivalent to cranberry juice.

"What do you mean?"

"In a healthy relationship, our males and females submit to each other, to give our lover pleasure. We have an old term for it: quid pro quo." She wasn't sure how the UTD would translate the Latin phrase.

"You change roles depending on the situation? Sometimes you dominate, other times you submit?" He blinked. "Interesting. I had never looked at it that way before."

"I noticed you are married, my lord," she said. "Haven't you experienced this with your wife."

"My wife has informed me in no uncertain terms that my presence in her life is to be endured, not enjoyed," he said dryly. "I can't say I'm blameless but our marriage was an ill-fated experiment. But it's not all bad: she has given me 3 wonderful sons." Desirée noted the glow on his face when he spoke of his children. He sipped his beer, signaling that portion of the conversation was at an end.

"My lord, if you had communicated your wishes to us in advance, we could have offered you a courtesan more appropriate for your needs."

Turok took a large slug of beer. "You fulfilled my needs just fine, Guild Courtesan Tanner. And I have good reasons for keeping my needs secret."

"I fail to see why, my lord," she replied. "Plenty of beings in the Confederation enjoy pain. There is no shame in your proclivities."

The Leonorilla snorted. "There is among my people. Pain is to be endured, pain is there to teach us that life is a constant trial, with weakness to be avoided at all costs. The Leonorilla have no time for those who would embrace pain as a lover. It is seen as a sign of giving in to your weakness."

He studied his glass for several seconds. "I learned to conceal my perversion long ago. Honestly I never would have gained so much so quickly if I hadn't taken pleasure in that pain. It allowed me to withstand torments that would have otherwise broken me. It made me stronger than my fellows. It made me feared, respected."

He laughed mirthlessly. "It forced me to lie. If anyone outside this room learned exactly how I take pleasure in being tortured, in being humiliated, it would be the end of me, and of any chance I would have in bringing my people out of the madness that has infected us." He was silent, then he raised an eyebrow. "How familiar are you with my people?"

Desirée consulted her memory. "The Leonorilla have always been a militaristic society--"

"That's a dangerous understatement," he said. "We are a society of killers, ready to slaughter anyone at a moment's notice. It is the source of our pride but it is destroying us as a people. How can we continue living if all we do is fight? Our children are carefully bred for strength and aggression in battle; but many of them are overbred lunatics, willing to kill for even the slightest reason. Our people are inbred because the clans refuse to intermarry, causing our young men and women to marry too close to their bloodlines. We euthanize 2 babies for every one that lives because so many of them are born flawed.

"We have very few scientists and we're forced to import our food because those pursuits are not 'appropriate,'" he made the word a curse, "for a warrior. Our society is crumbling, infant mortality is shockingly high even among babies born without flaw, and we'd rather continue feuds whose beginnings are lost to history rather than grow as a people. The Leonorilla are destroying themselves; we will be extinct within 3 generations unless someone does something about it."

"What would you do about it?" she asked, somehow moved by his words.

"Simple," he answered. "Replace our code with the Confederation legal system. Bind ourselves more closely to the central government so that we can stop the constant clan warfare. Encourage more of our young men and women to turn swords into plowshares. I have already discussed this with the other War Lords; they too are equally sick of the slaughter."

"Then what's stopping you?"

He curled his lip before taking another swig. "Our pride. Our refusal to admit that our traditions are destroying us. The paranoid belief that this plan is just another phase in our interminable clan rivalry. Pick one reason; any one.

"My wife is from another clan; it was one of the War Lords' first attempts to heal the feuds by forcing males and females from rival clans to marry. It hasn't worked: she despises me because of who I am, she tells our sons that I am a pervert and not to be trusted." He was silent for several seconds, contemplating his half-empty stein. "I have only seen my 3 sons at the Agoge; they are on their way to becoming fine warriors. But we need them to become more than merely warriors."

"Have you talked with the Diplomatic Corps about this?"

"Of course," he responded. "That was the easy part. The harder part is convincing our own people. We've already outlawed all clan feuds but that has just driven them underground."

"It sounds like you have to begin with the younger generations," Desirée remarked. "Have you considered sending them to off-world schools?"

He cocked his head. "An interesting notion. Introduce our children to new ideas and the realization that we aren't necessarily superior to other races in the Confederation. But our children grow quickly; could off-world teachers control them?"

"If it was a Grankhauer, a Taurean or a Tekkamaru?" Desirée said. "Easily, and their children are physically quite powerful as well."

Turok's yellow eyes were distant. "I will have to explore this. The clan leaders will scream of course, butI think I can turn their arguments against them." He consulted his chronometer. "Unfortunately, I must leave." He swigged back his beer. "Thank you for your time, and your conversation." He stood up. She set her drink aside and waved the keycard over the pad to summon the elevator. The doors silently slid open. She stood aside so he could enter first.

He hesitated for several seconds. "May I visit you again, Guild Courtesan Tanner?"

Desirée surprised herself by nodding. "Of course. You will have to arrange it through our office, my lord."

"Certainly." He crossed his arms over his muscled chest and bowed to her. "But please; call me Turok."

"As you wish." She bowed in her turn. "And please, call me Desirée."

"Thank you. Until next time." He stepped into the elevator, leaving plenty of room for her to join him. They shared a companionable silence during the ride up to Ssurhuk-T'at's office.

Turok stalked out of the elevator as soon as the doors were opened, brushing past the senior courtesan without a word. Ssurhuk-T'at visibly flinched, trying not to press against the wall as the Leonorilla left the office.

"Are you . . . all right?" he asked Desirée. "He didn't hurt you in any way, did he?"

Desirée winked.