Starr vs the Emperor of Space Pt. 03

"Oh, you don't like a kiss, Princess?" Mark asked.

Then he kissed her again, catching her other hand -- she had been about to slap him. Now, both of her hands were pinned above her head. She writhed, her belly grinding against his, her achingly hard nipples pressed to his chest. When Mark drew his mouth back, she was gasping, her amethyst eyes flaring with anger...and lust...

"M-My father would have you flogged for this...this...uncouth behavior! W-What are you doing with your mouth?" She asked, biting her lower lip.

"It's an Earth custom, called kissing. People about to make love kiss, Princess." He leaned down. This time, his kiss was gentle. She moaned into his mouth, her hands relaxing in his grip, her fingers slipping down to intertwine with his. When he drew back, her eyes were half closed.

"S...Show me more of this...Earth custom..." she whispered.

Mark leaned forward and kissed her -- but not on the lips. His mouth found her throat and the Star Princess Zella rolled her head back, moaning hungrily. His lips traced down to her breasts, sucking first on one nipple, then the other. He found that her body was as silky smooth as she had looked, and when his hands slid along her shoulders to her breasts, he rolled her nipples between his fingers -- wringing soft moans and confused gasps from the princess. "I...Cy...Cybrid never does this!" she panted, softly.

"Hmm?"

"C-Cybrid, my...usual love slave..." Zella whispered. "She never touches me like- Oh by the Mount of Mars!" Her eyes widened -- because one of Mark's questing hands had dipped between her thighs and found the soft folds of her cunny. His thumb rubbed against her clit and found that that had been the source of the odd metal bump he had felt before. Looking down, he saw a small glittering green gemstone had been set into her clit, with a little barbel to mount it. His eyes widened as he rubbed it, and provoked a mewling moan from Zella. "Ah! S-Stop! I...I am so close to...I am going to...I..." Her eyes widened and she arched her back, wailing as her sex twitched and juices frothed along his fingers and palm as she squirted against him -- orgasmic sensation sliding through the sensual star sultana.

As he looked down, Mark saw that her little gemstone had gone from green to red. His finger caressed it once more -- and it was green again.

"What a curious little thing," he whispered.

"Ah...ah...what?" Zella sounded dazed. "I..." She looked down, then bit her lip, hard. "I-It...it is my Conception Ring. When it is green, I am...fertile. Ready to be sired with the next heir in the glorious line of Zardo. When it is red, then I am safe to enjoy my many love slaves. When it lacks a golden hue around the edges, it's unlocked-" She shivered, then gasped as Mark gently twisted it to the side -- the red edge gained a golden hue around it, locking it firmly into place. "M-Mark!"

"It brings you pleasure too?" he purred.

"W-Well, if it was on my finger, it'd fall off!" she exclaimed, then gasped as Mark grabbed onto her and swung her around. Her body bounced as she landed on the bed, her thighs snapping open. "Mark, what are you do-OOOOHING!"

Her back arched and her thighs twitched wider, one of her legs kicking spasmodically -- for Mark had leaned forward and was leading an assault upon her sex, as if he was parachuting into Normandy again, with the same coordination and skillfulness he had shown in those darkest of days. But rather than bringing death, his touch and caresses and licks brought nothing but pleasure to the nubile nebular royalty. His mouth closed around the Conception Ring and tugged gently upon it, teasing her clit, while his two fingers plunged into her pussy, finding her center of pleasure. Zella bit her knuckle, looking to the side, unwilling to watch as Mark ate her out...and the spoiled princess of the stars felt a growing, burgeoning wave of...something she had no word for.

For out on the fringes of Zardo's mad empire, there was not a place for gentleness. No room for kindness or camaraderie. The honest affection of a Christian man and his wife had no call to be seen within the icy halls of Aytan Zardo's castle -- and so it blooming here, as a grizzled G.I used what skills he had to bring joy and pleasure to his partner, his lover, would have been more shocking and unsettling to the despotic tyrant than an entire plot of the Underground of Free People's. Did the Star Princess Zella Zardo know such a momentous event was occurring within her bedroom?

Or was she merely lost in the bliss and pleasure of Mark's confident, manly figure?

It was impossible to tell -- for all conscious thought was obliterated by the addition of his thumb rubbing on her clit as he looked up along the sleek planes of her body, watching her face. Those strong, confident eyes that had seen the hedge rows of Normandy, all the way to the blackened back alleys of Berlin, looked into hers and had but one order.

Cum for me.

"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!" Zella screamed, her back arching as she came for her Earthman. Her fingers clenched on his hair, holding so tight she nearly ripped them out by the roots. "Oh MARK! By the Rings of Saturn! Yes! By...by the Moons of Jupiter! Ah! Yes! YES!" Her body trembled and her breath became ragged, gasping...

And then Mark slid from her grip. His hands pinned her hands to the bed. His mouth went to hers. His tongue invaded her mouth and, oh, oh how her father would have gnashed his teeth, had he known how eagerly she surrendered to the heroic human that was, even now, preparing to take her virginity...not her paltry physical virginity, but the virginity of her heart, the virginity of her very soul. His member prodded, gently, against her sopping wet cunt -- and then, with a gentleness that shocked Zella to her core, Mark took her. His hips and hers met, and his balls gently clapped against her ass as the kiss broke, so that he could groan huskily against her ear.

His voice -- so strong, and yet, so gentle and loving -- filled her ear as a warm burr. "How is that?"

"Mark...ah...yes...by the Mount of Mars, it feels so good!" Her thighs closed, her ankles hooked -- now, Mark couldn't withdraw, even if he wanted to. But oh...oh Mark Styles did not want to. He leaned into her, his hands sliding off her palms to the pillows, to brace himself -- and to free her hands. Her fingernails dug into his back, into his shoulders, as she clung to him and Mark took the star princess as a man should. "Ah! Yes! Yes! Mark! Ah! Make love to me! Take me! Claim me! Ah! Stars! Yes!"

Mark glanced down.

Red glittered between her legs.

He thrust faster and faster, trying to think badly of America's best and most favored passtime...

Baseball!

"Cum in me! Cum in me! Cum in me!" Zella cried out.

Baseball, despite being the most loved of American sports and its enduring positive additions to culture and history, proved unable to the task of resisting the Star Princess' pussy. Mark bit back a curse, leaned forward and kissed Zella as he trembled and came within her. His mouth and hers met and she moaned into him -- her body trembling as he emptied himself inside of her. His mouth broke the kiss -- but purely to gasp, to pant, to moan softly. "Ah...yes...yes, Zella..."

She turned her head aside, her eyes half closed as she trembled, tiny beads of sweat gleaming on her body.

Then, suddenly, it was as if a great many doors slammed across her body -- the language of her posture and expression shifting from loving...to cold.

"That was...well enough, Pet." She pushed at his chest and Mark slid backwards, blinking.

"Zella-"

"I am your Princess," she said, sharply, then thrust her finger at the door. "You may leave. Now."

Mark stepped back, grabbing his discarded loincloth. As he held it, he looked at her -- and saw nothing but icy ire, the haughty disdain of a princess who had been caressed and touched more than she wished. He slid the loincloth onto his body, then turned and stalked from the room, the door closing behind him. He paused at the door, then turned his head back.

Within her room, Zella curled up, trembling slightly.

"W...What in the stars had t-that been?" she whispered, trying to understand -- not having the word for it...for it was an Earth word, not a word of Zardo.

Love.

***

The clink of wine glasses and the glitter of ruby red star wine drew Jasmine Starr's gaze from the slowly spinning starfield through the window. Prince S'Kye stepped towards her within the guest bedroom that she had been given aboard the Bird of Prey and held one of the wine glasses to her. "Ten years ago, the Star Kingdoms lived in harmony...but then the Empire of Space attacked." He sat in one of the stools that the Hawkmen preferred. Jasmine herself was seated against the wall, so she could support her back.

"But you say that his mad plans for domination started the instant the...Colony Rocket arrived in this system," she said. She had been listening to S'kye telling her the history of the solar system with an intense focus -- one that had been born entirely from the rage she felt over the death of Claudette. "A thousand years before?"

"At the time, Aytan Zardo was nothing more than the chief of security for the Arc, serving under the Last Captain. The colony rocket knew that it had left a solar system that was dying -- war had consumed the worlds again and again, thousands of times over millions of years."

"Did these wars involve...A-bombs?"

"Yes, and worse," S'kye said, his voice grim. "Super-Fuse bombs, asteroid attacks, even chemical weapons and war-plagues...they left each of the worlds in such ruins that only a small fraction of our ancestors could even get upon the Arc and blast towards this solar system. They had been brought about by men like Zardo." He shook his head. "But when we arrived, our ancestors quickly realized that your world had people on it. They had taken an oath, stronger than the stars, to never again allow conquest and empire to rule their decision-making. And so, it was agreed that we would leave Earth alone -- instead, we would make the other worlds our homes. It would be harder, but..." He shrugged.

"And Zardo disagreed?"

"He and his comrades did, yes," S'kye said, sipping from his wine. How he managed with a beak was a mystery to Jasmine. However, she was enjoying the way his muscles played under his fur and feathers, so she didn't complain, precisely. "The battle was terrible -- it shattered the Arc in half. The engine was secured by the loyalists, while Zardo and his rebels were abandoned on Pluto, thought to be left for dead. We have no idea how he survived, nor how, over a thousand years, he bred his clone legions and created his war rockets."

"Are there any theories?" Jasmine asked.

"There...is but one," S'kye said, quietly. "The legends of the Arc are that it brought with it a device that had been intended to start our civilization again -- a device known as the Nuclear Alchemy Engine."

Jasmine's eyes widened. "Remarkable! A device...that...that can turn energy directly into matter? Is that what it does?"

S'kye laughed. "I should not be shocked you can guess as much. You really are quite a...fascinating woman, Miss Starr."

"Please. Call me Jas," Jasmine said, smiling dryly at him. "So...with this Nuclear Alchemy Engine and a thousand years, Zardo had time enough to build himself a conquering army, his very own Wehrmacht, to unleash his very own Blitzkrieg."

"His attack caught the Star Kingdoms completely unprepared. Before we even knew we were being attacked, his flag flew over every city in the solar system. Some kingdoms...bowed to him." he looked aside. "Some such as mine." He stood, then snarled. "I..." His snarl became a sigh. "Forgive me."

"No, it's all right," Jasmine said, biting her lip as she watched the beautiful bird prince stalk about the room. "It seems to be a sore spot for you?"

"My father, King F'eath Arr, he was too afraid of Zardo's war rockets. From orbit, their nuclear coilguns can shatter our cities, kill us all. And so, he follows every one of Zardo's whims, so much so that he sent my sisters, my younger sisters, to be handmaidens to that spoiled brat, Zella Zardo!" He shook his head. "I can't imagine what horrors they have to put up with in that damned Ice Castle of his..."

***

W'ing and B'eak cooed softly, their eyes wide as they peeked through the very thin crack they had opened for the door leading into the slave's quarters. They watched as Mark Styles let the water cascade along his body, his hand holding the metal bar of the soap-cleaner to his chest, forthing suds sliding along his pectoral muscles, along his abdomen, dripping and beading off his impressive cock and balls.

"Feathers..." W'ing whispered. "Look at the...size of that..."

"I wish my bones weren't hollow," B'eak breathed, quietly. "But I'd risk my hips for that. Yum."

"Do you think all Earthmen are..." W'ing's voice trailed off as Mark, unaware of their gleaming eyes, stretched his arms above his head, showing off the rippling expanse of his shoulders and back muscles.

The two hostage handmaidens whimpered and grew silent.

***

"Well, we can say for sure Zardo is a traditionalist -- holding families hostage is how a great many despots on Earth kept their control..." Jasmine said, quietly. Her hawkish host sighed, nodded, then tipped his head back, opening his beak to drain the rest of his star wine in a single quick gulp.

"Still, I can at least protect you. I have ordered my crew to remove your communication ray records from the ship's card-storage bin. You are, as of now, sister to my sensorwoman S'hira." He chuckled, quietly. "Yeoman S'tarr has a bit of a ring to it, does it not?"

"Excellent," Jasmine said.

"But such a deception cannot last," S'kye said. "People will notice you don't have wings."

Jasmine frowned. "What will happen if your father finds out?"

"Well...if Aytan Zardo wishes you to be his wife...then he will attempt to send you to Pluto, to become Zardo's wife. But..." He shook his head. "Zardo wants more than a wife. He wants Earth."

"Which does lead to another question of mine," Jasmine said, frowning. "If he wants Earth, why hasn't he taken it? We may have A-bombs and millions of brave men and women willing to fight him...but Zardo has the entire solar system. We have but one planet."

"Ah. That is thanks to the Sword of the Stars," S'kye said. He picked up his communication wand. "Yeoman D'ive, I wish to see the historo-picts of the Sword of the Skye. Over."

"Yes, my lord," a cheerful voice chirruped from the communication wand. Over."

The screen of the chamber flickered, then flashed up a glowing image of what appeared to be an elegant rocket engine -- one vaster and more complex than any that Jasmine had ever seen before in her life. The scale indicator on it showed that it was...

"Racing Rockets!" she exclaimed. "That engine! That engine alone is almost-"

"A space kilometer long? Yes," S'kye said, his voice grim. "It uses technologies we cannot even begin to understand anymore to thrust twenty four space grams per second to a speed of approximately two hundred million space meters every second. It was used to push the Arc, which weighed five million space tons."

Jasmine's eyes widened and the wine glass fell from her fingers, shattering against the floor with a crash. She ignored it.

"I...that..." She did math, tearingly fast. "That...that...that's like...that's like firing a thousand A-bombs every second!"

S'kye inclined his head. "That was the tool we put to the purpose of defending Earth. We placed the Sword upon your moon, to use it as a weapon to keep any from trying to claim the world, just in case some forgot their old habits. So destructive was the Sword of Stars that war itself became unthinkable. The Order of the Sword are the only independent kingdom left -- but they are constrained, for if they attack Zardo, Zardo will execute the cities of the other Star Kingdoms, and the Order's members don't want that blood on their hand."

"And thus, the solar system is in a stalemate," Jasmine murmured, still stunned. "A thousand a-bombs...every second..."

"And still, not powerful enough to strike at Zardo," S'kye said, as a tiny slot on the floor opened and a disk shaped robot emerged. It began to sweep up the shattered glass. "Even the might of the Sword fades to nothing at eight billion space kilometers."

Jasmine frowned and nodded.

And...

She began to smile.

"I have a plan," she said, quietly. "You say, your father is afraid of your cities being destroyed from orbit. But there is a way to save those cities, to safeguard your people."

"Really?" S'kye asked.

"I heard it on the radio," Jasemine said. "The cities of the faemen are buried deep on the surface -- immune to the wrath of Zardo. We simply need to make an alliance between your people and the Faemen. We must end the war between the Hawkemen and the Faemen. Simple."

S'kye gaped at her and the wine glass slipped from his fingers and shattered upon the ground.

***

Claudette groaned, softly. Her eyes opened and she stretched, wriggled, then settled.

"Well, well, looks like she's alive.

Then her eyes snapped open.

Looming around her, looking down at her curvacious body, was a motly collection of monsters. There was a man with hooves and heavily muscled thighs and a broad pair of shoulders that were covered with short, coarse fur. His head, though, was that of a skull -- a large set of bone white plates that covered any flesh at all, his eyes a pair of glowing red dots within the horse-skull shape of his head. There was a woman with sleek scales and gills, her hair a bright pink frizz around her blue cheeks, her body clad in a ragged top and tight pants, a pair of swords hanging at her hips. There was a very chubby looking wolfman, with a thick loincloth wrapped around his hips, the rest of his body on full display. There was a man who's arms were made of writhing tentacles. There was a snake the size of a man, with muscular arms and...impressive bosems, a female snake, grinning down at her, gleaming venom dripping from her exposed fangs.

Claudette whimpered, and screamed, scrambling backwards on her palms. She was skittering along metal as the monsters laughed and jeered at her, some stepping close, reaching for her.

"Pretty girlie!"

"Don't scream little girlie!"

"Oh ho ho!"

Her shoulder blades crashed into metal poles -- and then a hand grabbed onto her collar and hauled her to her feet. She felt warm breasts pressing to her back and a warm palm cup her belly as a silky voice crooned in her ear. "Wakey wakey, Goldilocks."

Claudette screamed and ripped herself free, spinning backwards. She bumped into a wall and looked around -- seeing the monsters...flanking the woman that had grabbed her. She was a tall figure, with muscular shoulders and breasts the size of her head. Her skin was bright red and she had a pair of thick, goat-like horns that thrust from her forehead. Her right horn was sheered off. Her opposing eye, the left one, was covered with a gleaming metal chunk that looked riveted to her head, like a permanent eye patch. Her right arm ended at the elbow -- except it didn't. The hand that had hauled Claudette to her feet was there: Glittering steel, articulated and fiendishly complex.

The woman wore a leather jacket with a seal for a space helmet, and a brace of pistols that hung from a pair of crossed bandoleers. A sword was strapped to her hip, slapping against her thigh as she sauntered forward, her fellow monsters leering at Claudette.