Thy Begotten Daughter Ch. 01

The Cyrsian desert, despite the natural connotation, is not a place known for warmth. The planet of Cyrsia, lightly caressed and controlled by Andromeda, maintains an average temperature of -3 degrees Fahrenheit. Because of this oddly livable but constantly hostile climate, the few species of vegetation which reside there have adapted to rely on sources other than light and nutrients for their energy. Instead they are powered by movement -possibly the morbid result of the falling of their dead being the only thing close to life, they have hard, cup-like leaves which transfer some of their movement to their roots, while shifting themselves in the process, feeding the survival of their doomed siblings across the planet. And with no natural hills nor valleys on this monolithic gray rock, this creates a constant and biting current which makes one feel like death if left on the planet. To be left on Cyrsia is not a good thing. A human being could live on Cyrsia without a suit, but not for very long.

For a brief time, there were regular patrols of Cyrsia, to redeem any of this accursed fate. Yet the natural isolation made the planet a frequent home to illegal trafficking of nearly any commodity in the universe. This was an initial reason for the patrols of Cyrsia. However those who dealt on Cyrsia were generally unamiable to the proposition of legal punishment, so much so that they were known to kill those officers who tried interfering in their dealings. This created a duality of fear among both legal and illegal parties, leaving Cyrsia desolate of everything but strange plants.

Today was different. Today Kirklin found herself on Cyrsia. Alone. Naked. Abandoned. Her hair was an odd blonde, lighter than that which one might normally encounter, but undoubtably natural. It retained a glow of white autumn sun or immature corn, strangely impossible to describe, and only entrancing to see. Her eyebrows were a more understandable redish-brown, which gave a shadow of danger to her otherwise jovial and caring visage. Her monochromatic body could've been made in a computer -an almost crystalline white, lightly but evenly tanned by distant suns, topped with perky and full, voluptuous breasts.

To look upon it did not bring the thought of indecorous actions to the degree of having no use for clothes, but instead the innocence of Eve, alone and pure, the world just a garden, more deserving and caring than the species which followed her, but also so happy with feeling pleasure that she might take a quiet stud to bed and hold him down and slap and bite him while she pushed him inside her and screamed any profane word that made men quiver without batting an eye, seeing no more shame in it than a blink. This was Kirklin, and someone had sentenced her to die on Cyrsia. To die alone, freezing and starving.

The first day brought about two actions for Kirklin. First: Screaming. She screamed in horror and hatred and heartbreak. She screamed for hours. Second: Masturbation. The constant wind, while detrimental to the psyche, brushed so stirringly on the miniscule hairs between her legs. I didn't take long for her to find that the evolutionarily smooth bodies of the unknown plants of Cyrsia fit inside her quite well, produced some warmth, and satisfied a yearning yet pragmatic want to increase her mentality. With the firm yet flexible bodies of the plants, her cries transformed to moans, the chills stimulating her nipples insatiably and the refined, top heavy and follicle lined tool reaching ever spot she desired. As she quivered and shook upon the frozen surface of Cyrsia, she pushed herself as hard as she could, holding back her orgasm like a floodgate, until she finally released in a tremendous screaming moan and torrent tempestuous squirts of fluid that sailed like suicidal birds into the young plant life, giving them unnatural bursts of ecstatic energy. Her moans and squirting kept going, decreasing very gradually over a period of twelve seconds, and when it was over, she had no energy for consciousness, and fell asleep on the indifferent surface of Cyrsia.

The days of Cyrsia rose to a relative burn of 2 degrees Fahrenheit. On this day Kirklin again screamed at the universe. However, this did not take up most of her day. Instead she traversed this wasteland, trying in futility to appreciate the sheer and rugged natural beauty of her surroundings. As this inevitably failed, she again picked one of the strange Cyrsian shrubs for her personal use.

Yet as she briskly pulled one from its natural home, she thought she heard something, something so remote and hopeless that it was most likely a sign of her deteriorating mind rather than anything else. But there was nothing to lose in the entire universe at this point, so she investigated. She thought, with the strangest urge in her life, and since Cyrsia was almost completely quiet, the wind circling one's ankles rather than ears, that her had heard an infinitesimally faint echo, of the falling dirt as it hit the planetary surface. She dropped her toy. There it was. After it hit the ground, there was something, a noise just a few microseconds afterwards. It was her only hope. The ground was hollow.

Like a fiend, like a badger, like an abandoned woman digging for her only chance at survival, Kirklin used her tool, as it had an open interior which lent itself surprisingly well to digging, to remove the ground from itself. After a scare of madness, that this was so clearly hopeless, the tool fell through to an opening. Light streamed through above the surface here. It was warm. It was magic. She was going to live! She demolished just enough room to squeeze her nude body through the hole, finding electric lights, fire-starters, rations, and endless unknown tunnels at her disposal. But beside all of that it was warm.

She first dug into a sealed ration can, a synthetic mushroom soup, draining it in under a minute. She screamed again, joyously, with praise, with ecstasy and lust and fulfillment, and her screamed echoed throughout the tunnels and came back to her in unknown intervals.

Kirklin was still, however, a practical and strong woman. Within the day she used paper documents and piles of her former sex toys to build a fire on the surface of Cyrsia. She sat here, eating cans and cans of rations, staring into the infinite heavens when alas, her savior approached. A steely-gray and orange-streaked voyager came from the sky, pushing through the atmosphere at a -32-degree angle before rotating its fire-blue propellants to adjust for the gravity, and bring the vessel languidly sinking to the ground. Kirklin noticed a powerful, prosaic "OS" painted bolded on the ship's starboard as it fell, coming to rest 150 yards from Kirklin and her fire.

Her ingenuity flooded her mind of a moment, endlessly congratulating her on this accomplishment, but within a second of the landing she was running to the descending ramp which came from the cruiser's frontal jowl. A handsome male stood leaning there against the ship. Just unshaven enough to be attractive without concerning one with hygiene. Ever slightly taller than Kirklin, he seemed to let this fact go to his head as he smiled warmly with perhaps just a touch of a playboy smirk. His clothes were worn, clean, but seemingly just enough to only allow pheromones to secrete through the fabric, pushed out like insults from a clearly independent and most likely sexually dominant man. The quintessential space-cowboy.

She came up to him on the ramp, thinking over her words before settling on a decisive, yet independently sensual, "Thank you, please get me out of here."

With that his façade melted. The sheer realization of overcoming Cyrsia shook the air between them, leaving nothing but the primary objective of escape. The man quickly nodded and expediently closed the ramp, increased the heat, and left the planet to exist only in memories.

Within thirty silent seconds, the ship was cruising on autopilot. His concern deepened as he thought of his embarrassment at even thinking of the situation under a sexual stipulation. He picked up a blanket which lay beside his chair, turned his eyes downwards and brought it to her. Kirklin smiled.

"Thanks, but you don't need to avert your eyes, you've already seen me." She stated with a smile, gently removing the blanket from his unsteady grasp. She wrapped it around her body, then shook her head, incredulous of the current situation.

"So, what happened to you? If it's okay for me to ask." The man spoke with an urgent care.

"I was left on Cyrsia. I know who left me and I know why. I don't know whether or not I blame them for it." She replied contemplatively. "Sorry, I'd rather not get into the details of that. My name's Kirklin." She said, energetically presenting her hand for a formal introduction, and unintentionally revealing one of her divine breasts.

"I'm Clarke." Clarke replied, slightly choking on his words and blushing as he shook her hand, eyes transfixed only slightly above on her rapturous breast and small, hard nipple.

At once Kirklin burst into a fit of laughter, miserably failing to even slightly stifle it. Clarke soon noticed that she saw what he was so enthralled with, and that he was now sporting a very prominent erection.

"It's alright, I think I'd like to have some fun with you." She teased, "But not yet, I need to rest for a bit, and it'll be so fun watching you yearn for me." With that she laid away from the sufficiently red-faced Clarke and wrapped the blanket close around her body. "Goodnight Clarke." She concluded amiably.

Clarke smiled ridiculously as he returned to his chair, the cramped cabin now somehow feeling so much more open and free. He watched the billions of stars languidly drift through the sky, all beyond the conception of human minds. His eyelids felt heavy and covered the starlit darkness with a complete, opaque, black.

"Let's do it."

The words jumped through Clarke like bullets. In the aftermath of this shock he felt warm arms of near silk draped over his shoulders. And from this aftermath he found a completely nude, enthrallingly beautiful, destructively enticing, siren of Kirklin sitting on his lap, compressing his erection between his stomach and the lightly wet folds between her legs. He jumped with shock, inhaled to fast and let out a very slight cough which Kirklin frowned at for a moment before resuming her devious yet wholesome smile.

"Okay, yes, okay, let's, yeah." He stuttered as he tried to reach zipper of his pants, pulling his hands with fervent force towards it before realizing they were restrained against his chair.

"Oh no. Please, allow me." Kirklin crooned with obviously selfish and malicious intent.

Clarke's eyes widened and his head pushed against the rest as Kirklin's nimble fingers slowly undid his belt and zipper, and continued to slide down his pants, leaving his bulge forcing its way through the boxer-briefs he wore. She looked directly in his eyes and smiled cluelessly as she removed them, causing his cock to be pulled forward and bounce back against his stomach, completely vulnerable to Kirklin's desires. Now she climbed atop him further back then before, her body resting on his knees as her warm fingers slowly and lightly touched the sides of it, as if meticulously deciding whether he was worth the time.

In a startling motion her hands simultaneously came together on his base, clenched perhaps just a bit too hard for comfort, but slowly released as she traversed them towards his head. It grew in her hands as she continued this with the same desirous smile, until her head came down, seeming to reach for his tip, but instead landing on his base of his stomach, merely brushing his penis with her cheek as she kissed and licked and occasionally bit her way to his mouth, pulling his lip out with her teeth before letting him feel and explore her endlessly soft mouth. Now she moved her hands to his sides, pulled herself against him, positioned him inside her, and slowly began rocking and gyrating as her moans blew against his cheek and slightly ruffled his hair. His hands strained hopelessly, trying to grasp her thighs, or to get a handful of her goddess tits which would intermittently brush against his chest.

He began to moan as she increased her speed, pushing herself completely against his chest and letting him feel all that beauty directly against him. He thrusted upwards into her, pushing fiercely as his mouth became unable to close. Then he came. His hips lost their power and his eyes fell closed and his cock started to feel limp inside of Kirklin.

Kirklin what quite disappointed at this, but she knew what to do. Silently, she rose for her position, turned Clarke's chair one-hundred and eighty degree, sat down in front of him, and waited for him to focus on her.

"Because you didn't let me cum." She began sassily, "You are going to watch me get myself off until you're hard. And once you are, you won't be able to have me for the rest of the day." She said with a smile. While this may seem a nominal punishment to many, and certainly one may not want to have to have that much intercourse in one day. But Kirklin was a goddess and acutely aware of it. To not be able to have her at a time when you possibly could've could torture a man like starvation. Clarke sat silently.

Kirklin's hands slipped down her body, slowly coming to rest between her legs, where she held them in a fist and began to leisurely grind against them. Her moans reverberated throughout the cabin. As she turned her hands into a four-fingered-dagger they drowned out all noise from the engine. Soon they moved like jackhammers, her previously lost pleasure built back with a vengeance. She looked at Clarke's transfixed face as she increased her speed again. Oh and fuck began to permeate from her brain to her lips as she approached orgasm. Her head was thrown back and her body lost all function except her hands and she pushed up her hips and arched and arched and screamed and suddenly shot out a ray of glistening fluid which pushed through the air and soaked Clarke's chest and legs as he stared forward aghast. Slowly, through giggles, she turned her head to look at him above her temporarily inert body and calmly said.

"I'm a squirter, by the way."