Mission to a New World Ch. 04

Chapter 4: First Contact

D+1

Summary: An X-rated science fiction story. Debbie and Brian are two explorers from Earth sent to an alien planet to recover a crashed surveillance satellite. On the surface live the Longtons, a humanoid, pre-industrial revolution culture where the women are subservient to the males. Debbie soon discovers why the women willingly allow themselves to be subservient, and in the end she wants to stay (M/F, F/M, exh, size, bond).

* * * * *

Warning: The following story is fiction, and the acts depicted in the story should remain fiction. It is intended for the entertainment of mature adults only. Be advised explicit sex is contained within and should not be read by minors.

* * * *

First contact is sooner than expected, but surprisingly uneventful.

After a long jack-off session and a short lunch, we set out again. His cock does not erupt nearly as much as the first time, but it takes him a lot longer. He must stroke himself over and over and over again, making himself wetter and wetter in the process. I wait for him to cumm, but I do not mind the wait. In fact, I enjoy the waiting, and I enjoy the watching. I like the sight of his hand running up and down the long length of his hard cock. Even when I model my topless body in front of him, first bending over and then heaving up my tits with my own hand, he must pump on his member for a long time before it finally squirts. It is something I must remember for later. I must remember that repetitive masturbation sessions will make him to last a long time inside me.

It is early morning when we finally get going, I guess about 8:00 AM - I think. I didn't know the time for certain because I do not wear a watch - or little else for that matter. I put my top back on and again carry my own backpack. I purposely wear the bikini because it is the most conservative article of clothing I have, but when I look down I see it is not conservative at all.

The ground no longer slithers away from beneath my feet. Sand remains in the occasional island where nothing grows, resembling a small oasis in reverse, but we leave it mostly behind. Brian wisely keeps on harder soil nearer the trees, and this provides us with life-giving shade at the same time. The walk quickly turns pleasant and we make good progress. The trees grow short and sparse this close to the desert, standing far apart with little underbrush to impede our progress. It feels as though the temperature has dropped by 10 degrees.

Brian acts less intimidated after his sexual performance this time. We start talking almost right away, ignoring his masturbation session, and going over the last minute details before the inevitable contact. I think my witness of his eruption might even have served to calm him - and perhaps me as well.

As we talk, we practice a form of a dress rehearsal, spending the time quizzing each other over little facts of our common cover story. Each of us has a head full of useless facts - or more appropriately, lies - about our home tribe and the names of the various villages and tribes we passed through our journeys. It will probably be unnecessary, but we want to be sure we don't raise any suspicions. We want to have a common story in case we may be questioned separately.

Despite our sexual escapades, the apprehension gradually accumulates once again. 'Here I am on an alien planet,' I think to myself, 'about to make contact with an alien life form.' In a few hours I will be speaking Longtonese and trying to convince a alien intelligence I am one of them. Concerns about my big boobs and lack of clothing gradually diminish. I have more important things to worry about.

"If we don't know it by now, we never will," Brian concludes after about an hour of near-continuous talking and quizzing. "I think we should just relax."

"You're probably right," I take a deep breath and agree. "All this memorization is just making me more nervous."

"You'll do fine," He comforts. "Just remember the Longtonese are a peaceful race. They aren't going to hurt us if we make a little mistake."

I look to see a change all around us. It is a subtle change, one I fail to notice but quickly feel. It is as though the forest tries to trap us. The trees grow closer. The undergrowth grows thicker. I soon find myself following Brian, unable to stand at his side.

A minute later I hear the sound of flowing water. We reach a stream, a sizable stream that flows parallel to the desert. Brian barrages his way through a thicket of grass that rises above our heads and almost leaves us lost in a sea of green. We exit the opposite end to suddenly find ourselves standing at the edge of a riverbed.

I find myself shocked at the sight of so much water all at once, especially after a full day in the desert. It looks far bigger than the water of any oasis, about a hundred feet across and extending for a long distance in either direction. I realize this is what fuels the greenery all around us. This is what keeps the desert at bay. I feel thankful and relieved at its sight, but it also fills me with anxiety. I know the sight of water indicates we are near the Longton village.

The river blocks our way and we must cross, but I do not mind the crossing. Although wide, it is not deep. The water only comes up to our waists in the center. On the opposite bank it rises not much higher than our ankles. We walk along parallel to its length rather than to challenge the grass standing like a sentry on the bank. We walk along until we find a path.

The path looks used and well-worn, probably used by the Longtons to fill canteens or perhaps gather water for a nearby settlement. It clearly indicates use by many Longtons, which only serves to fill me with even more anxiety. I grow nervous at the thought of walking along the same path as so many Longtons placed their feet before me.

"All we need to do is follow it," Brian points. "And we will almost certainly find ourselves in a Longton village."

The insight fills me with apprehension.

"How soon do you think it will be before we meet one of them?" I point to it. "Think we're close?"

"Shouldn't be. Not yet," Brian answers. "The village should still be a good two miles away."

"That means another hour," I think out loud.

"But just in case," Brian suggests. "From now on I think we should try to talk only in Longtonese. You know, just in case one of them might be walking this path to gather water."

"I agree." I think it a good idea, so I answer him in the Longtonese language.

Brian doesn't seem to understand for a moment, but then nods his head. I must remember he does not know the language nearly as well as I do.

"Try no worry," Brian attempts to speak Longtonese himself. "Imagine we home instead. Walk in home forest."

I almost have to laugh at his broken attempt to speak, but I understand him well enough to take his advice. I look around and have little trouble imagining I am home, on Earth, or at least what I remember of Earth after so many years. Subtle differences exist, like the thicker leaves of the Longton trees and lack of any flowering plants, but it still looks quite lovely. I turn away from the logic of science and take a look around me. 'This could be made into a good vacation planet if not for the Longtons,' I think to myself. It looks peaceful and makes me feel almost relaxed - until I think again of the Longtons who we will soon meet. A strong sensation of anxiety bubbles up from deep within me.

Along with the view, I also get to experience the increased wrath of the Longton climate. It is near noon. The temperature continues to climb, and the sun continues to rise. So does the humidity. Even though we walk in heavy shade and wear practically no clothing, it feels the equivalent to a hot August day. It even feels like a thunderstorm might be brewing, although my knowledge of the Longton climate teaches me otherwise. It virtually never rains at this latitude. The Longtons who populate this part of the forest live via the water that flows down from further north. It flows in great rivers like the one we crossed, and eventually empties into vast desert lakebeds where it slowly evaporates and creates the incessant humidity.

"They should be less than a mile away," Brian interrupts my pleasant thoughts. "We should meet up with some of the Longtons in less than an hour."

I am once again reminded of our mission. The scenery and my internal ecstasy almost made me forget, but now I remember again. The apprehension returns. A feeling of nervousness adds to the tight jungle of thoughts already inside me.

* * * * *

We make first contact sooner than expected. We stumble upon two farmers almost by accident. Around the corner of a thick clump of trees and a sharp bend in the path, we suddenly come face-to-face with two Longton men casually talking and supporting themselves with what looks like hoes.

"Hello," One of them yells to us from a small parcel of land with rows of budding crops peeping through the soil. "You smakoes not?"

I nearly jump off the path in fright. His words sound broken. I do not completely understand him. My first instinct is to hide, but I quickly come to my senses.

"Me traveler," Brian answers calmly. "Me valley many away from. Travel quest. You valley from?"

One of the men answers. I recognize the word "Nabo." It is the village we seek. We have found the correct village, the one nearest to where the satellite went down.

They introduce themselves. One of the names sounds like the English name Jelick. The other is like Daniel. Names will be a problem, I know, because of the language barrier. I have trouble enough with English names. These will be even more difficult.

Brian introduces himself and his own village. He says we have been walking since before dawn along the edge of the Northern Forest, exactly like we rehearsed. He tells them how we have not passed another Longton in six days, and then names a village from far away.

The Longton men answer. Jelick asks if we passed a neighboring village, and Brian answers that we must have traveled too close to the desert and missed it. Daniel then comes up with the name of someone he says he once knew from the village we said we passed through. Brian pretends to think about it, and then laughs about there being too many names to remember.

Jelick and Daniel laugh along with him. The Longton men talk in a pleasant, friendly tone. They seem genuinely pleased to meet us. I notice they have degraded their speech in response to our own, switching to simpler words and fewer syllables for our understanding. I soon find that I understand everything they say, although I can tell Brian does not.

Through all this, I remain silent. I desperately want to participate, but I know the custom of the Longton people. I am a woman, and I must therefore take a back seat to my male partner. I must remain quiet even though I feel a tremendous desire to correct Brian and the occasional mistakes he makes in his speech. But despite his mistakes, the Longton men are very forgiving and don't seem to mind. They quickly accept him as one of their own.

"And this slave?" Jelick finally asks of me.

"Slave Debbie," Brian introduces me.

"Debbie," He nods to me and then poses a question Brian. "You be high chief?"

I am appalled. I know, of course, exactly what he means. He looks right at them. So does Jelick. I can see the eyes of both men riveted on my sparsely clad tits. The comment about "slave" or "high chief" does little to improve the situation. I know the reason they ask Brian of his social position is because of my big tits.

"Hello," I bow, as it is customary for Longton women to do when introduced. This, I know, exposes my cleavage even more. It allows the men to witness my big tits as they drop straight down out of my chest, but I must resist the embarrassment. "Me happy meet new people after so long journey."

"You speak good," Jelick notices immediately. "You speak more good than master."

I go through the agreed-upon explanation. I tell them Brian is from a land much further away. He purchased me during his journeys, and is therefore less familiar with the local dialect. Luckily for all of us, he allows me to speak better than he does - to show him up, as one could say - for the sake of accurate communication. This simple explanation seems to satisfy them.

The more I speak, the more relaxed I grow. Pleasant to my surprise, I find myself able to understand almost every word they say. They, in return, seem to understand me.

As I relax, I admire the two men. They look to be typical Longtonese men, tall and muscular - especially Jelick. He looks like the younger of the two, perhaps only in his late teens or early twenties. His skin looks dark brown and he is drenched in sweat. I see he has been working out in the field, hoeing his crops just as any normal gardener might do on Earth. And he is also so tall - just as I like my men - and his bulging muscles seem to burst out all over. The tallness, I know, is due to the lower gravity of the planet. And the muscles are because of the lack of an advanced technology and the high reliance on manual labor. His lack of clothing and the small loin cloth around his waist further amplifies my admiration of him.

Daniel looks older, like maybe in his 30s, although still tanned and very good looking. If not for the continuous eyebrow and large noses, both men could be handsome Earth-men.

"It late and village long away," Daniel points out. "We stop now. Take noon sleep in cabin. You join us?"

Brian accepts the offer. Longtons like to take a short rest at about noon - the equivalent of a siesta, similar to the equatorial cultures of Earth. They traditionally stop work at about noon and rest during the hottest part of the day. We gladly follow the same tradition.

* * * * *

The two men live with their wives - or slaves - in a stone cabin built low to the ground and into the side of a small hill. Longtons construct all their homes virtually identical. The stone provides insulation, and the half-submerged construction keeps it cool. The temperature drops noticeably as we enter.

The place resembles my Grandfather's hunting cabin. A fireplace is built into the stone wall on one side. A large iron pot hangs down over the cold coals. Beside it sits a small tub and a thick wooden table; I assume the equivalent of a kitchen sink and counter. Of course, no modern appliances are present. I see only bowls, a pan, and a single knife neatly set on a shelf. A water pump stands next to the tub. Jelick and Daniel appear poor, but I am sure they live just like everyone else.

The men introduce their wives. Naturally, the wives wear little in the way of clothing. One is topless and the other wears a vertical swimsuit that covers only a little more. This makes me feel more comfortable, but it also reminds me of what I must look like myself. I notice the wives have relatively flat chests, which only serves to amplify my own size. Jelick and Daniel seem to notice too, for I see them take a look at my tits every chance they get.

They invite us to sit down at a small table with two simple wooden benches. I sit down next to Brian and we talk about our travels. Jelick and Daniel sit across from us. The women, naturally, remain standing.

The Longton men appear tremendously interested in our travels. We find neither has been more than two-day's walk from there own village. They express interest in knowing what adventures lay beyond the furthest hills.

They also remain interested in my breasts. At least one of the men seems to have his eyes upon them all the time. They look at me much more blatantly than Brian, seeming to express no shame at all. They stair at my boobs as though it is perfectly normal to do so - which I know it is on this planet.

Unexpectedly, it gives me a twinge of erotic excitement as I can't help but wonder what they are thinking. 'Is Jelick trying to picture me topless?' I question to myself. 'Or is Daniel fantasizing what it would be like to play his hands upon my chest?'

We thankfully talk for only a short time before one of the women taps her men on the shoulder.

"It much late," The woman speaks only after her husband-owner gives her a nod to do so. "Strangers much tired."

"Yes, much tired," Daniel answers. "Rude I am! Must rest first; talk later."

"Bed must," Jelick points to a door at the back of the cabin. "Bed for visitors sleep. For harvest! You sleep there."

I know separate rooms serve as bedrooms. As with all Longton homes, two small rooms are dug into the hillside.

* * * * *

Jelick hands Brian a lantern and shows us down to the bedrooms. He leads us into a cool cavern; almost a cave, like a tunnel dug into the hillside.

I almost stumble on the narrow rocks that serve as stairs. My shoulders scrape against the brick-and-mortar that makes up the wall. No expense is given for extra space. I notice the men must bend down low at the waist to prevent their heads form hitting the ceiling. This is the first time I've seen so far into a Longton home, so I take in every detail.

We descend into the equivalent of a basement. Every Longton home has at lease one room like this to serve as a cool, comfortable escape, cool enough for someone to sleep during the incessant blaze of the noon-day sun. This house had three cave-rooms.

"You sleep there," Jelick points to the middle of three solid wooden doors branching off at right angles to each other. "Sleep room for food pickers. Extra pick food put there. No pick, no food now. Much room rest."

Brian leads the way. I think the temperature drops by another 10 degrees when we walk in. It is enough to make the room feel a little chilly. From what I can decipher from Jelick's words, it sounds like this room is normally used for storage and to house extra workers who come to pick the food at harvest time. To my delight, it appears as though I am correct. The room gives off a strong but pleasant order when we enter. It smells like my Grandmother's root cellar. I also notice several dirty brown bags standing just inside the doorway. They hold what looks like potatoes.

"My God!" Brian speaks after the door closes and the Longtons leave us.

I hardly hear him. The room is long and narrow, shaped like a cave with stone walls and a dirt floor. To my surprise, it is lighted, although not by very much. Two small glass windows take the place of bricks near the top of one wall. I figure they must connect to shafts that run up to the surface and bring in just enough sunshine to bath the room in a light glow. In combination with the lantern, it provides enough light to see around. Additional bags of food stand on the opposite side of the door. A simple bed and blanket sit on the floor on the far side of the room.

"Oh my!" I then see what Brian has already seen.

I look closer and notice chains hang down to my right. They extend from hooks anchored between stones in the ceiling, about 10 feet apart. At the end of each, dangling down by about a dozen links, I notice leather cuffs. Another pair of hook and chains poke up out of the floor, again with leather cuffs at the end.

"Oh my!" I say again.

I know the purpose of the chains and shackles the moment I see them. In this culture of subservient women, it is obvious. They can be for only one thing. I know the upper chains are meant for a woman's wrists, and the lower ones are for her feet. They extend at just the right height to anchor a short person - a short woman of just about my height.

I step further into the room. I lay my backpack down on the bed and notice more chains and cuffs. They lay on the bed, one in each corner. These are meant to secure someone - no doubt again a female - in the lying position. The bedroom looks like a dungeon.