Splashdown Remastered and Housecat

"Let me taste it," she mumbled, almost inaudible due to the throbbing member that was currently lodged in her mouth. Her tongue curled around the base, sliding between her lips to lap at his balls again, and suddenly the stimulation was too much to bear.

He gritted his teeth as the first ropes of his ejaculate hit the back of her throat, Zhari drinking it down as it came, her eager tongue circling the tip to draw more out of him. His muscled wrenched, pumping his emission into her waiting mouth, every thick wad accompanied by a searing rush of burning pleasure that set his nerves aflame. It was like someone had dialed up his sensitivity to eleven, every cruel lash of her tongue making him buck and writhe. Pleasant shivers shot up his spine, and he slammed his fist on the table, doubling over as she drank. An orgasm was one thing, but to have your very essence sucked out of you was quite another, he felt as if his heart was about to explode.

She was so tender and indulgent, dragging out his climax for longer than he would have thought possible with her gentle tongue and slow rubbing, her throat milking him as she swallowed. She held him tightly, as if afraid that he might escape before she had her fill, her cold nose pressing against his belly as she swallowed his member to the hilt.

Every spasm of her throat and every twitch of her tongue sent a fresh bolt of acute pleasure tearing through his body. It was like he was no longer in control of his own faculties, his heaving erection pumping load after load into her narrow gullet, her muscles clinging to him with a cruel pressure.

She held him there for what felt like an eternity, lapping eagerly at the underside of his member as she let it rest in her warm mouth, keeping up the stimulation until he had given her every last drop that he had. Finally she drew back, catching a stringy mass of her clear saliva and his pearly come as it fell from her lips, watching the gelatinous mass wobble in her furry palm. She made sure that he could see what she was doing, and then her sinuous tongue snaked out of her mouth, lapping at the mess to clean it from her fur. Her little bell rang all the while, and she batted her long lashes at him, leaning in to plant a sucking kiss on his still rigid cock when she was done. He was sore, aching, but one last jolt of pleasure lit his nerves up like a Christmas tree all the same.

He sank into his seat, wallowing in the afterglow as she kneeled eagerly at his feet, as if awaiting praise. He reached down and took one of her fluffy ears in his hand, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, hearing her sigh appreciatively.

"Good girl," he muttered.

CHAPTER 9: RESTRAINT

"I can't believe you wanted to watch Gone with the Wind," McGregor complained, Zhari shushing him as she leaned forward in her seat. She was transfixed, watching the two leads as they argued. Apparently she had found her preferred genre; romance.

Rather than forcing her to wear gloves, he had given Zhari her own oversized bucket of popcorn this time, and she was currently engaged in licking it clean of butter with her long tongue. There was a final swell of music as the movie came to a conclusion, the ending title crawl beginning to roll past.

"If she wanted him so badly," Zhari began, "why didn't she just take him? Put him on his back, he'd stop protesting before long."

"That's not how humans do things," McGregor sputtered, choking on his drink as he began to laugh at the thought of it.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't know," he replied, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "It's just the idea of Scarlett sexually assaulting Rett in one of her frilly gowns, it's absurd."

"Well maybe humans should do things that way," she shot back, crossing her arms and leaning back into the couch. "Nobody got what they wanted in the end. He might have decided to stay if she had taken the initiative."

"I think period dramas might be lost on you," McGregor chuckled.

"You humans create so many problems that need not exist. You make simple things complicated, and you make easy things hard. It's like you self-sabotage without even realizing it. Two people who like each other should just fuck, that's all there is to it. But you introduce all these factors that make it more complicated, class and race and social standing. You tiptoe about, never saying what you're really feeling, never communicating."

"Hang on," McGregor said, "social standing plays a huge role in Borealan courting."

"That's not the same. Social status doesn't mean that you can't be with someone. Anyone can be with anyone if they're strong enough to take them. But with humans, the social castes can never mingle."

"To be fair, things are different now," McGregor explained. "A lot of these movies are very old, and human society has changed a lot since they were made."

"I still see it now," she protested, "the officers are off at their own tables in the recreation center while the ground pounders keep to themselves. The pilots have their own clique, the engineers don't play pool with the Marines. It's like the different groups are afraid of mixing."

"I don't think that a pilot is going to overlook a girl that he likes because she's an engineer. You're a shock trooper and I'm a shuttle pilot, yet we're together."

"Well, that's my point," she stammered. "You're very...direct. You behave more like my people than your own at times."

"I don't know if that's true, I'm just learning to understand how you think, and what you expect of me."

"Well, you're doing a good job so far."

It was a rare compliment from the usually reserved alien, and it put a smile on his face. She seemed embarrassed, as if she had slipped up, and immediately changed the subject.

"So, what are we doing next?"

"It's pretty late now," he replied, "we probably have time to watch another movie or play another game if you don't mind getting up late tomorrow. Not that we have anything to get up for. Might be nice to have a lie-in actually."

"That'll be a nice change," Zhari said, staring into space. "Not having to get up at oh-five hundred sharp for duty. You know, back on the homeworld we slept quite a lot, much more than we do here. Maybe the higher gravity put more strain on us, made us more tired. It never gets cold on the station either, the temperature is always constant. It kind of messes with my internal clock."

"Isn't Borealis a sweltering desert?"

"For most of the time, yes. But twice a month, the secondary star eclipses the primary for a couple of days. The temperatures plummet, because the secondary is a lot cooler than the primary, and everyone sleeps through it. We gorge ourselves the night before the eclipse, and then we hibernate until it gets warm again."

"Interesting...and do you respond to cold temperatures that way in general, or is it more of an internal clock thing?"

"When it gets too cold, we get tired," she replied. "In fact, it's a very useful parenting technique. If you have a kitten that gets excited before bed, or won't go to sleep, just shut them in a meat locker for a few minutes. It slows them right down."

McGregor laughed at the mental image of a struggling kitten being lifted by the scruff of its neck and thrown into a walk-in freezer.

"Does every home on Borealis have a meat locker?"

"Yes, where else would they store the meat?"

"You've got me there. So, what next?"

He watched her consider, noticing that she was pressing her thighs together. Bed usually meant sex, that was the way things usually ended up. Borealans had a voracious appetite for sex that was matched only by their love of food, and scarcely a day went by that she and McGregor didn't make love at least once or twice. When neither one of them was deployed at least. To her, asking for sex would be presumptuous, and so he decided to make the decision for her.

"Let's go to bed."

Her face lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically. She rose from her seat, straightening her skirt, and waited eagerly for him to follow behind her.

"Go on ahead," he said, "and keep your clothes on. I have some more...items, that I need to get from the box."

Her face reddened at the prospect, and she lingered there for a moment before scurrying off towards the sliding door that led to the apartment's bedroom. She vanished into the room, and McGregor hopped to his feet, sauntering over to the cardboard box that was still sitting on the kitchen counter.

***

Zhari closed the bedroom door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as she composed herself. She could hear her heart pumping in her ears, and she was feeling that fluttering sensation in her belly again. What would McGregor pull from that mysterious box next? What other maddening toys and implements of pleasure had his people invented?

As much as she enjoyed the toys and costumes, she was starting to long for him. She missed the feeling of his warmth inside her. She hoped that he would make love to her tonight, fill her with his seed as he usually did, though she wouldn't mind if he kept the vibrator in...

What should she do before he arrived? He had told her to keep the clothing on, should she make an attempt to look 'sexy' for him? The more she saw how he responded to the clothing, the more she began to understand what about it appealed to him. Should she spread her legs on the bed, an invitation for him to mount her when he opened the door? No, the purpose of the clothes was to conceal, not to reveal. Its design was strategic, showing choice parts of her body, but covering others.

She looked herself over, trying to determine what McGregor must be most attracted to. He had chosen the garments after all, had them specially made, and so the result must in some way reflect his tastes. Her midriff was showing, exposing her abdominal muscles. She knew how much he liked those. He would lick them, rub his face on them when they made love, take any opportunity to rest his head on her belly when they were relaxing together.

Her skirt was hopelessly short, exposing her long legs, accentuated by the bands of lace that rested high on her thighs. He liked those too, always squeezing and touching them, kissing them when he went down on her.

There was also her chest, the frilled top cut low to expose her cleavage. They were at head-height to the little human when they made love, and he was fond of burying his face between them.

Humans seemed more...particular than Borealans. They had varied tastes, and they tended to fixate on certain body parts. When her kind made love the focus was only on a fast, brutal copulation. Humans took their time, it took some getting used to, but given the choice she would go with a human every time.

She came to a decision, riding up her skirt a little on her thighs and shifting her breasts in their brassiere so that they were more prominent, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing her legs. When he came through the door he would get an eyeful of thigh and cleavage, and hopefully that would incite him to jump her bones.

Zhari heard his footsteps approaching, pressing her upper arms together to puff out her breasts a little more, making herself as desirable as possible as the door slid open and McGregor stepped inside. He was holding something long in his hand, and something else was bundled in his arms.

She felt his eyes play over her body, drinking down every curve and bulge. She could smell the arousal on him. He walked over to a dresser by the wall, and deposited the items on top of it, Zhari's ears twitching as she watched him eagerly.

"Are you coming to bed?" She asked, waiting for his reply with bated breath.

"Yes, but I have some more surprises for you first. Lie back on the mattress."

She hesitated for a moment, wondering what he was going to do with her, then her submissive instincts kicked in and she lay prone on the Borealan-sized bed. The frame was built from stainless steel rather than wood, heavily reinforced, not only to handle the extra weight but no doubt to withstand any coupling that might occur during their stay. The humans had made an effort, but Zhari could tell that it wasn't strong enough. Two Borealans going at it in earnest would probably trash the entire bedroom. They should have built it from chalky stone, so that one could buy their claws in it while being taken from behind.

She was distracted from her memories of past encounters as McGregor walked up to the bedside.

"Put your hands above your head."

She did as he asked, raising her arms, and she watched as he brandished a pair of fluffy cuffs. He secured them tightly around her wrists, their inner surface padded with plush material for comfort. They were linked to a flimsy chain, which he wrapped around the metal bars that made up the headboard, tugging them tight as he strapped her down.

She watched curiously as he did the same with her ankles, securing padded cuffs around them and pulling the chains taut as he tied them to the bottom of the bed. She might have been alarmed, was it not for the fact that she could easily have broken free if she so desired. The chains scarcely seemed sturdy enough to hold a human, let alone a fully grown Borealan.

"Is this more 'human stuff'?" Zhari asked, perplexed.

"Submissive humans are into this, I figure maybe you will be too. I realize that you can probably snap these chains like they're made of plastic, but humor me."

"What's it supposed to do?"

"Heighten your sensitivity, make you feel vulnerable, put me in control."

"But you're my Alpha, you're always in control."

Confident that her bonds were as secure as he could make them, he stepped back, looking her over. It did make her feel a little vulnerable, unable to protect herself, and she flinched as he reached down to brush his fingers lightly across her belly.

"Damn it," he grumbled, "I might have gone a little overboard on the maid costume. You look so fucking good that it's hard to keep my hands off you sometimes..."

"You're my Alpha," she insisted, "you need never keep your hands off me."

She sensed a change in the human, a new aggression rising inside him, and she gasped as he reached down to tear her brassiere open. The insubstantial fabric seemed to be designed to come apart, and her breasts burst forth from their confines, the silken garment falling away as they wobbled gently.

McGregor wasted no time, delving his hands into their yielding meat and mauling them, her spine arching off the bed sheets as he kneaded and squeezed. His fingers sank deep into her delicate fat, taking cruel handfuls and pinching her sensitive nipples, watching lecherously as her massive form bucked and writhed under his touch. He always seemed transfixed by her bust, the soft globes were larger than the human's head, larger than any possessed by females of his own species. She had no doubt that they were a symbol of fertility among the humans as much as they were in her own culture.

He leaned over the bed, squeezing her flesh so that it spread between his fingers, and plunged one of her erect nipples into his mouth. She felt his smooth tongue lash it, trapping it between his lip and his teeth as he tweaked and teased, her furry toes curling.

The little human could be so aggressive when he wanted to be, so commanding. Something about such a physically inferior creature treating her like this made her loins ache. She had fought so hard to suppress her attraction to him when they had been stranded together on EE-4. When her denial had come to a head, her desire had exploded, and she had come up with all manner of excuses to justify having her fill of him. She would have fucked him ragged on the floor of that cave in order to satisfy what she thought to be a sick xenophilia at the time. She would have left her mark on every inch of his skin, made him beg for mercy in the same breath that he pleaded for his ordeal to continue. He had come out on top however, and now she was the one on her back, a slave to his alien whims.

He always knew just what to say, just where to touch her. He could bring her to her knees with little more than a salacious whisper or a yank of her tail. He reveled in it, and perhaps that was why he was so similar to an Alpha, and why she responded to him in the way that she did.

Her human lover released her nipple from his mouth, watching her boob bounce as it settled, and then his hands began to roam lower. She lurched and gasped as he brushed her ribs with the back of his hand, tracing the channels that her firm abdominal muscles cut in her skin as he slid his fingers across her belly, his digits roaming beneath the waistband of her skirt.

She strained against her bonds, her meaty thighs snapping together as his clawless fingers slid beneath the damp lace of her panties, seeking out the hard nub of her clitoris between her swollen lips. Her juices were already flowing, making his fingers slippery as he probed, finally locating his target and rubbing slowly in the way that he knew would drive her crazy.

She rose from the mattress, baring her sharp teeth and loosing a rumbling growl, McGregor sliding a finger inside her as she struggled. There was something to be said for being restrained, it really was making her more sensitive to his touch, as if the idea that she couldn't protect herself was making her more receptive.

He teased her for a minute or two, and then released her, Zhari gasping as she sank back into the sheets. Was he going to make love to her like this? The prospect was exciting. He watched as a string of her excitement clung to his finger, breaking to fall to the bed, and then he turned away to retrieve something from on top of the dresser.

When he returned to her side, he was holding some kind of blue rod. It was about as long and as thick as his forearm, smooth and rounded, with a shovel-shaped tip.

"What's that?" She asked, furrowing her brow as he approached. It was a little floppy, as if it was made from a flexible material like rubber or silicone.

"This," he replied, "is a life-sized replica of a Krell's dick."

"What!? How? Why?"

"I figured that since you get off on xenophilia, I'd find you a suitable toy so that you can explore your fetish in a safe environment."

"I-I do not!" She protested. "Why would they make something like that!?"

He held it up so that she could see it better. It was enormous, bigger than both that of a human and a Borealan. The shaft was smooth and featureless, with no veins or bumps, and the glans was flared widely. The whole assembly was anchored to a round base, and from the base hung a transparent tube that trailed out of sight.

She couldn't wrap her head around why the humans would make something like this, or how they even knew the exact dimensions of a Krell's reproductive organ. She realized that her face was practically on fire, her cheeks burning bright red and her mouth drying up as she looked the brutish member over. He let it rest on her belly, and she felt its weight as it flopped down onto her stomach, it was enormous and hefty.

"I had to go out of my way to find this," McGregor continued, "turns out there's an adult toy company that makes these things. They had all kinds of models, but this was the one I went with. You've been with Borealans already, and you know what a Krell is."

Her muscles flexed beneath it as he dragged it slowly down towards her skirt, her skin tingling as it neared her loins.

"Look what it can do," he announced, lifting the other end of the clear tube. There was a large syringe on the other end, and Zhari thought that it was opaque at first, before realizing that it was full of milky liquid.

"Is that..."

"Oh, don't worry, it's not real. It is very realistic however. You know, Krell semen is especially thick and potent, and they ejaculate in quantities that will probably surprise even a Borealan."