Brought the Stars to You (8 page)

Opening the door, she gave Briff a pleasant smile, "I don't
have any shoes, Sir."

The lunk-headed guard twisted and looked back at her, his large
black eyes showing no indication of where he peered, though he nodded
to her request and trundled off down the hallway back towards the
dressing room where she came from. It was a while before he returned
with a pair of her high heeled shoes in his arms, knocking at the
door for her.

In that time she had changed into her navy and gold bikini, the
colour complimentary to her skin tone, the fabric silken and rich
against her flesh. The tops were mere tiny triangles over her small
breasts, the bottoms clung to the contours of her body.

Opening the door, she had worried herself into a tizzy, "Do I
look alright, Sir? Will he be pleased?"

The bulky guard merely blinked, his nictitating membranes
flickering over his bug-like eyes, before he gave another odd grunt
at her then a bob of his head. His throat swelled repeatedly, perhaps
in some form of agreement, though without knowing the race he
belonged to it was quite difficult to tell.

She gave him a smile in thanks for what she presumed to be his
approval before moving back into the room and shutting the door.
Putting on the clear shoes, she felt more comfortable. They gave her
height, certainly, but more importantly it tensed her calves, giving
a more refined line, perking her bottom and slimming her stomach as
well. She brushed her tentils to either shoulder and prepared to wait
for the prestigious man.

The wait was long. There were no timepieces in the room, only the
dulled sounds of music playing through some invisible speaker. The
lights themselves were dim, much as the rest of the club was, with
odd colours permeating various parts of the room.

She had long grown bored and even worried at the extended wait.
She sat atop the couch while shifting slightly every few moments so
as not to mar her flesh with the wrinkles of fabric. She sighed
longingly, wondering how Kieren was doing, if the other dancer was
keeping him adequate company. There was no rational jealousy in her
thoughts at all, simply concern and worry.

The monotony was broken by a thud and the bodyguard stepped in,
his bulbous inhuman head croaking something unintelligible.

At the warning glance of the bouncer she had immediately bounded
upwards, her eyes wide and innocent, flicking her tentils into place
once more and smoothing over the little fabric that covered her body.

He popped out of the room before the door swung open entirely.
There was no sign of anyone from her angle until a human male in a
stiffly collared uniform turned around and entered. He was tall, not
so much as the manager, but more so than Kieren. He was also older,
however, and his hair had a bit of grey in it through the short buzz
cut. Though tough, he bore a sort of wry grin, his large hands
rubbing together as he called back to some unseen person, "Yes
yes, until later then!"

She smiled broadly at the man as he entered, allowing him to set
the tone in those first few moments as she once again slowed her
heartbeat with a calming breath.

His skin showed weathering, his hands coarse and large as he
reached up and undid his high collar. With a sigh of relief at the
release of tension, he slammed the door shut and strode in, his eyes
moving to her. "Well aren't you a sweet little thing," he
said, grinning, "run grab me a stiff drink, sweetie," he
said, a rough hand reached up and squeezed her shoulder before he sat
himself down at the center of the sofa's crescent.

She beamed at his compliment, immediately moving in towards the
bar in quick, even footsteps, looking around briefly. She hadn't
bothered to familiarize herself with the bar, figuring there to be a
tender invited, but she realized immediately her error in this,
quickly rectifying it by locating everything she needed.

She found a smooth drink she knew many men enjoyed and poured it,
causing a light whiff of melting ice to drift from the top of the
mug. The drink wasn't hot, she knew, but it did have some interesting
properties. She looked at him over the bar, the smile not leaving her
lips, "Shall I pour myself some as well, Sir?"

Reclining back into the thick sofa cushions, the elder man had
unbuttoned his jacket, revealing the barrel chest beneath wrapped in
a white undershirt. He peered back at her a moment, then shook his
head, "What? You? You look too young to be drinking, sweetie,"
he said almost cheerily, "gotta keep your head clear and
straight to keep up with me this evening."

She nodded, pleased with the response. She hated the taste of
alcohol, truthfully, and though she sometimes supped from champagne,
she didn't enjoy other drinks. She grabbed his glass daintily between
her thumb and index finger, the steam still trailing off behind her
as she made her way to him, leaning in as she offered him the
beverage, "That suits me fine, Sir."

The elder admirable didn't seem to spare her a lot of looks as he
reached out and took up the glass, inspecting it curiously, "Strange
sorta drink, huh?" he leaned down, sniffing it and the smoke
from it, "Some kind of local thing?" he lifted it to his
mouth and sipped before downing more, "It'll do, sweetie,"
he patted the couch beside him.

She sidled up to his side and curled against him, "It seems
very popular here. There is a wide selection back there if you wish
for something more specific. I know how to mix many drinks, as well,
if you wish for something more elaborate," she offered, her
voice lowered now that she was closer to him.

Reaching out and putting a heavy arm around her shoulder, he
brushed his hand against her head-tentacles, leaning over and down
upon her small frame as he smiled. "Hey sweetie," he said
in that same sort of almost-cheery, but gruff, voice, "how about
you talk less and just focus on looking pretty and doing as you're
told, huh? I came to relax."

She blushed at the light reprimand, her hand snaking in over her
chest. It didn't really faze her too much; she didn't take it
personally, at least. She only worried about disappointing the man.

Taking his time with his drink, arm still around her, he sighed
after a while, "That's better." She breathed in the mingled
scents of masculinity and alcohol, the twinge of richness to the room
providing a soft undercurrent.

The silence dragged on a bit longer before he finally spoke once
more, "They say you're the best girl here, young and untouched.
Tell me, sweetie," he said, leaning in, a gruff sternness in his
voice that betrayed him as a man of command even as he spoke softer,
"is that all true?"

"Yes, Sir," she smiled modestly as she awaited her
orders.

Pulling his arm from around her, he said in that commanding voice,
"Show me." He twisted a bit to look at her as he rested his
drink against his thigh. The look he gave her was bereft of that
strange grin he had since entering, and looked more like a commander
expecting unquestioned obedience.

She slinked from his side, even as she pondered the demand. How
was he expecting her to show him such a thing? She stood, moving in
front of him, her motions graceful and elegant, if not salacious, her
fingers trailing over the cusps of her breasts lightly, her body
almost between his knees.

"Part your legs," he said, directing her now, "squat
down and part them." Licking his lips of the alcohol taste, he
reached up to rub at the rough stubble on his chin, observing her as
if she were an object to be manipulated and controlled.

She was immediately in the position he indicated, maintaining her
balance in the high heels as she spread her knees, showing the slip
of dark blue and gold that vanished between the crevice of her ass,
the material hugging the curves of her outer lips as she watched for
his approval.

Watching her complete his actions, he took another mouthful of
drink before continuing, "Pull that little thing aside and let
me see what you've got," he ordered, his lips once again
crooking into a bit of a grin, "show me that blue alien cunt of
yours, sweetie." The way he said that held a bit of mockery, the
words almost insulting, or so they seemed as he continued to drink
and command her.

She was fairly used to harsher treatment, both from those who
fetishized her body and from those who despised and lusted for it all
at once, so she didn't think much of his mocking tone. Her left hand
reached down between her thighs, fingers delving under the material
before she lightly edged it to the side until it thinly ran along the
inside of her thigh, her smooth, blue lips revealed to him, not
hidden by bothersome curls of hair.

Tilting his head as if to get a better look at her bare, revealed
cunny, he stared with no sign of shame or reluctance, "What a
thing," he said without explanation. "And never even shoved
anything in there, huh?" he said, sticking his tongue into one
cheek, causing it to swell out as he looked to her with a sort of
mocking grin before downing the last of his alcohol.

"No, Sir."

He thrust out his mug, "Get me more, something stronger this
time. Then come bend over the couch. Oh, and lose the bikini bottom."

She rose quickly to accept his mug, moving back to the bar and
quickly grabbed what she knew to be the strongest drink they
regularly stocked, pouring it up, still keeping the bottom locked
with ice before offering it to him.

Taking the drink he instantly began to sip it. With a coarse sigh
he said, "Ahh, that's more like it. Second time's a charm with
you I guess."

She quickly tugged the strings of her bikini, letting it drop away
from her and down to the floor as she set herself up, bent over the
couch as directed, looking towards him briefly to see what he
expected. He was so cruel, and she longed for the sweet serenity of
Kieren, of the gentle and tender moments with him. Still, she was
already glistening lightly, trained to arouse herself using mental
stimulation for the inevitable times just like this, and her scent
wafted lightly into the air.

Turning towards her he watched her presented back end, the ample,
round rear, the glistening little slit nestled beneath, "Well,"
he said, inspecting her up closer, a hand reaching out to press
against her ass cheek as he pried it apart, "look at this."
He leaned in, sniffing at her a bit, "Certainly smells like an
alien's cunt," he said, a thumb daring to probe in and touch one
of those petals forbidden to her clients.

The manager had been clear. Now was not the time to protest, to
tell the Admiral 'no', even as his fingers pressed along her slit.
She inhaled lightly, trying not to even shift under the man's grasp.
He had, obviously, paid quite handsomely for this, and she didn't
want to disappoint him - even if it would be inevitable with him.

The ice cubes in his glass tinkled and clinked along the outside
as he shifted, taking another sip while moving up onto one knee
behind her. Laying the glass aside, he brought both hands up to her
cheeks, prying them apart and revealing both her ass and her slit.

"You know what's satisfying? Getting to ruin the best damn
stripper on a whole planet just for kicks." He had a sort of
cruel joviality about him as he said that, nudging his thick thumb
against her anal pucker, prying into it rudely.

There was a startled breath from her, eyes widening for a moment.
It was a different thing altogether to feel it, even after her years
of training. She knew to relax, to not tense against his touch, to
not stiffen at his cruel words. She stayed still, like an object for
his cruel manipulations.

Twisting and wriggling his thumb inside her ass he gave a sharp
whistle, "Tight as a duranium bolt," he said before popping
the digit back out. She let out a tiny sigh of relief, stopping
herself from slumping as she felt his hands automatically press along
her delicate folds, then onwards, probing along her virginity.

Leaning over her, he spoke to her again in that condescending,
ridiculing tone, "Aww don't worry, sweetie. Just takin' a peak.
We aren't there yet. Still gotta have some of my real fun first,"
he said.

She didn't understand his words, though she didn't dare look back
at him, either. Men were strange beings sometimes, she reminded
herself, often enjoying their ability for banter and witticisms.

In fact, there was no indication of what he meant at all until a
hand slipped back to his jacket and pulled out a small blade, a mini,
quantum-knife with the ability to slice through armour when applied.
She heard and felt the hum of it activating in the stillness of the
room.

She heard the soft buzz, her toes curling curiously at the sound.
Still, she didn't look, though she was finding it harder and harder
to keep herself relaxed under the heavy spite and cruel tone.

The man was malicious, if he had any intention of merely using her
for sexual gratification it wasn't apparent. Wielding the cruel
blade, he carefully manipulated it over her form, narrowly avoiding
her smooth, blue flesh in a gesture that mimicked skinning her alive.
The thrum of its energy, however, could be felt tingling, stinging
upon her nerves until finally it was up past her shoulder and beside
her head. "Shush," he said, and there was a clicking noise
as he pulled his gun from its holster, holding it to the back of her
head, "Don't fucking move, or the pain of the blade will be the
least of your problems," he said in that cruelly authoritarian
voice.

Her eyes widened as the totality of the situation became apparent
to her. She held back a gasp, as she stared ahead in a panicked state
at the wall. She had never been instructed in such a scenario and had
no idea the proper response to it. She held control over her body,
even through her fear, but she felt frozen. Had her manager known
what would happen all along? Was this what she'd been bought for?