Seraphim Space Girls Vol. 01

Leanne was thankful for her CO's quick thinking. Oh well, large sums of money were nothing to her and at least she was safe again.

"So what happened to you dear?" asked Reynami.

Leanne pulled her cum-soaked hair behind her head to hide it, "N-Nothing I couldn't handle. I'm sorry I messed up." she said sadly.

Much to her dismay, Merkhail flipped her in the forehead. It really hurt! "Ouch!"

"You did fine Blondie."

"But it's still more training for you." said Reynami.

A lot more training. Leanne really wanted to be a good Seraphim Soldier, for herself and for her husband. Her husband. Reynami and Ania departed but Merkhail stayed to cheer her up. He was very funny and friendly for a commander. Leanne didn't know if she should be angry with herself for enjoying his company.

#

Pathetic.

That was the only word Francine could use to describe her attempt to meet Lieutenant Merkhail Denisuk again. After her ordeal on Bale II, the young little half-breed climbed asteroids and crossed galaxies to find out where he was. The last scrap of info she managed to steal indicated that he was supposed to be on some po-dunk cargo vessel called The Sarapatra.

The only way for Francine to get close to The Sarapatra was to take control of the sorry-ass sex slave ship she was on now. Her plan started out well, she managed to locate The Sarapatra and make contact with it.

Bam!

She slammed her fist against a wall. Everything went to hell when her horny minions captured some elf princess instead of Merkhail.

"You can bitch and moan all you want lady," barked the sorry sack of lard standing before Francine. "Capturing an elf princess was WAY more important than some earth guy. Besides, we got to fuck the shit out of her. Which is a kind of the objective here."

Francine massaged her temples. She looked around the rust bucket that was her ship. It had the crap blasted out of it. There was a heavy smell of burn metal and fried electronics. Life-support systems where shot to hell, the air was thick and stale.

"Ack!" Francine coughed.

She drew her inhaler and sucked down a plume of medicine. Her half-breed physiology was fragile to say the least. Her human genes refused to corporate with her alien ones, resulting in organs that operated less than perfectly. Her lungs were especially bad, they seized up on random occasions. If she didn't have a filled inhaler on her at all times, she'd die of suffocation.

All the sex slavers laughed, "Why did we ever agree to work for this bitch?"

The fat man closest to Francine agreed, "Yeah, she's too ugly to rape and she coughs up a lung every three minutes."

Angry blood flooded to Francine's head, making her pink alien eyes glow. She wasn't ugly. She was beautiful. Merkhail would agree! He knew she was more than just a post-rape mistake!

Francine opened her mouth. Being a half-breed came with certain advantages, one of which came in the form of a long, rubbery tongue lined with millions of poisonous thorns. She wrapped her tongue around the fat man's neck and squeezed.

Francine had unleashed her venomous tongue on those unfit for life many times before, and they all reacted the same way no matter the species. First they struggled, either in fear or bravery. As the venom entered their capillary system, they became weak, falling to the ground in a limp pile. Their eyes became bloodshot. Sometimes the victim lost control of their bowel muscles and pissed and shit all over themselves. The last and perhaps the most satisfying symptom before death was heart failure. Painful, slow, and lethal.

Francine withdrew her tongue from the now dead sex-slaver. "T-The boss is going to kill you!" The others shouted in fear.

"That brainless pile of tentacles piloting the ship? He was easier to kill than your friend!"

That being said, Francine produced the only picture of Merkhail that she had, "Now let me explain this to you again. I want you find this man. Not elf princesses, not little boys named Bobby, this man. Are we clear?"

No one responded. And Francine though her question was simple.

No matter, Francine thought, she wondered long they could stand up to her venom.