FreedomofThree (7 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Pleasing The Queen

In Irella, the palace stood firm high above the villages; imposing in its grandiose stature, with its gargantuan gardens and even bigger gates to keep out the subjects. Inside the walls, Uno was about to receive a visit from her other, elder daughter, Lancar, and her husband’s arousal had come at a bad time.

Her husband, Junart, had been feeling quite sorry for the queen since Devon had disappeared. She was so distracted, not sleeping, and was even more thorny than usual. He had imagined that her increased dismissal of his presence would be welcome but after a while it had worn thin. Even though he had been out of bipene training for more than a little while, his inbred desire to please his queen was still there, buried deep inside, quintessential to his behaviour.

Whilst Uno showered, Junart rolled back the deep purple, velvet eiderdown, revealing black silk sheets underneath, and spread a single red drista, a rose-like stem found only on their planet, upon her pillow. He undressed, laid his clothes tidily on the chair as she decreed, and ran his fingers through the tight grey curls of his hair and chest. When Uno appeared, he lay prone, with a half-tight erection, like one of the Greek statues in their garden. She passed him by without a word, her sheer cerise gown flowing loosely.

“My Queen, how may I please you?”
 “For goodness sake, I’ve only just showered. Your timing has not improved over the years, Junart.”

“Uno, please,” he cooed in his softest voice, “I still live to please you.”

As she clipped on a pair of large onyx earrings, Uno caught a glimpse of him in the dressing mirror and tutted, “Get your clothes on.”

“You’re not happy. It is my job to please you. Lancart won’t be here for a long time yet. Wouldn’t it feel better to take me in hand?”

Uno noticed that his body, even for an ageing man, remained taut. He still had his six pack and a nipped in waist.

“I’ve got some p-wraps.”

Uno could barely resist and he knew it. She licked her lips, immune to their personal poison. Junart was toying with something which had been banned from their planet for its potency and disruptive influence. Rumour existed that once upon a time a bipene put a p-wrap on both his members which caused him to go insane. Juice from the atchir fruit, when compressed into a soya based gelatine is made into a p-wrap, now sold only on the black market. Before sex, the wrap is put onto the penis which melts and moulds, releasing the atchir juices, causing delicious warm tingles and an intoxicating scent which stimulates all the sexual senses, making orgasms last longer and become much stronger. In their youth, they had often toyed with p-wraps and, just seeing it there, purple in his hands, made Uno feel younger.

Interested for once, she went to him on the bed, took the wrap and wound it around his waiting penis like malleable plastercine. As it warmed to his skin, they both felt the tingles and the release of the mouth watering aroma. As though drugged, their eyelids became heavy and their breathing deepened. Junart kissed his queen gently upon her cheeks and neck until she recoiled into the soft mound of folded eiderdown, her thin legs wide apart, allowing Junart to slip inside without any of the usual rule giving.

Uno rose to meet him, feeling closer to him than she had done for some time, wanting that deep heat inside her, feeling the atchir juice tingle inside her, running and flowing with the throbbing of his penis.

Junart spent the entire time making Uno feel special. He moved slowly and ground against her gently at first, knowing when she was ready for more. Uno actually began to sweat this time and wrapped her legs tightly around him. Only when Junart felt his queen orgasm did he dare release himself. For a moment, they lay together and he thought, though he was not sure, that she was smiling.

Chapter Fifteen

Brandana’s Battle

Taking the battle directly to the Ratt Pirates, Hans and Brandana had been spending some miserable, dangerous times deep in the hot, stony heart of war torn Populus, capital city of Jendo. Even early in the mornings, the planet was hot, the stone soaking up the solar rays and baking the streets and buildings.

There were plenty of seedy bars in Populus and in one of these, they had gleaned some juicy information. A group of high ranking Ratt Pirates were to meet, early that day, in the old command post. If what they heard was true, the Ratt Pirates were planning to reinstate their capitol building to firm up their hold on Populus, getting ready to create a new prime location for all their seedy businesses.

Urban myths had already been spreading across the universe about the Ratt Pirates plans for Populus. Hans, Brandana and other rebelling pirates, were not about to let anything happen without a fight. Wherever the Ratt Pirates dwelt, wherever they ate or slept, wherever they planned to create a stronghold, the rebels would be there, in particular such a place dear to their family line.

Hans, the eldest, had a father who was from Populus. In fact, Hans was one of the only surviving persons known of with pure Populus blood. He remembered his early life there. Not perfect, but with less Ratt Pirates, and with his father still alive, even though he had left while Hans was a toddler to fight the Ratt Pirates and had never returned.

On board Hans’ ship, he and his sister had perfected the art of bomb making. Running in such dubious circles as they did, mixing with freedom fighters and mercenaries, they had learned a few questionable things. Keeping such company was the reason their mother had packed Brandana off to Irella. Seeing her beautiful daughter turning into an angry tomboy had not pleased her, so she exiled her before she became any worse. Those natural rebellious feelings, alongside the strong undercurrent of righteousness against the Ratt Pirates who had defiled their beautiful planet, never left her. Not even the finery and sophisticated polish of the Irellan palace could scour those emotions from her fierce heart.

Early one morning, hovering unseen above Populus, they put the final touches to their bomb. There was going to be a huge explosion. Brandana soldered fine wires together, a job more fitting for her delicate digits, while Hans assembled the detonator casing as they continued the argument they had been having for days.

“I’m coming with you,” Hans said.

“No way.”

“I am.”

“No way.”

“You think you’re so good. You’re out of practice, remember, palace girl?”

“I managed to escape on my own, didn’t I, with a hostage?”

“Yeah, well, you knew that place inside out. You don’t know Populus anymore. Nobody really knows it, it changes every day, falling down and being destroyed one way or another,” Hans flicked his braids from obscuring his view.

“But if you do come with me, how do we both escape?”

“We run and hide of course, dummy.”

“And if we fall?”

“We get up.”

“You know I can’t run as fast as you,” Brandana stated.

“You can run fast enough. You’ve outrun Ratt Pirates before, what’s up with you?”

“I just think my plan’s better,” she added. “If you stay on board, you can whisk me up when it’s done. Foolproof, practically. I don’t want to keep running forever. Besides, we’ve hardly got any friends left there now. Who’s going to put us up? They’re more likely to turn us in.”

Hans turned the last screw. “Fine. Man, when you weren’t here, at least I could make up my own mind .”

“If I’m such a drag, just drop me off now. I’ll do it alone.”

Hans looked at his watch and sighed with frustration. He didn’t want her to go, but he wasn’t about to tell her so. “It’s time. I’ll drop you off.”

Brandana kissed him on the cheek. “You know it makes sense.”

Hans grumbled something inaudible. “You know where to go?”

“Yes.”

“Be safe. We’ll beat these Ratt Pirate bastards yet.”

“Bit by bit,” Brandana agreed. “We will win. This planet will be ours again soon, in rightful hands.”

The atmosphere changed in the ship as they readied for battle. In the cockpit, Hans lowered his ship down low enough for Brandana to jump out. Her long, white hair was tied back loosely, stray hairs blowing around her face in the downdraught. Under her black cloak, she concealed her deadly passage in an oily black cloth in a rucksack. Moving like a shadow, she stuck close to the stone buildings, a few passersby knocking into her but that was Ratt Pirates and Populus nature.

Hans had been right. Populus was a mess. She hardly recognised the landscape any longer. All the buildings and landmarks she had once known had been either demolished or peppered with bullets so the whole place looked like the war zone it was. Even so, the large building that the top brass Ratt Pirates were using as their base still stood higher than anything else, shoddy as it was.

Outside the building, was parked a large carrier and a few pods, presumably to guard the largest carrier. In front of the main entrance, several armed Ratt Pirates patrolled, their pockets filled with ammunition, poison pellets and other weaponry. There was no way she was getting into the building easily.

Hiding behind the remains of what once was someone’s home, Brandana took a high position, sheltering and watching through the small holes of what used to be a window. She could still see old wallpaper on the walls and fragments of a curtain.

As she watched the guards, no pattern in their behaviour would allow her an easy entrance. Whoever was inside must be important as they were very well protected.

She needed another entrance. Brandana looked curiously towards the roof of the building. A memory intruded. Years ago, she had been there before. Not with Hans, with some boy she had dated, someone older, a rebel. She remembered with a small, but serious smile, how he used to drag her around Populus, surveying everything on the pretence of getting her alone. It never got him anywhere and she couldn’t even remember his name now. However, she could remember something much more important.

A glass dome covered the old library. If it was still there, she could perhaps gain access through it. First, she had to get up there. Luckily, Brandana was quite a climber. One of the tomboy sports her mother had hated her partaking of was rock climbing and abseiling and, in her mission to rid the planet of Ratt Pirates, this skill had come in handy more than once before.

In the rucksack under her cape, she pulled out a length of rope with a metal grappling claw tied to its end. On her fifth attempt, the grappling hook seemed to snag something secure. Quickly, she hid again. Alerted by the clanking noise, the guards scurried around, asking each other questions but calmed down when all seemed well. Brandana secured the other end of the rope around the dog eared window. Was she high enough to shimmy along without being seen? She was not sure but there was no other way. She had to find out.

Chapter Sixteen

A Busy Schedule

Word spread quickly. The cute masseur gave perks. All four of Marlie’s Martian friends had visited him over as many days. He was very much enjoying his new career. He had managed to hide the fact that he was a bipene from these ladies for two good reasons. Firstly, in the back of his mind, he did wonder whether Queen Uno would be looking for him and therefore wanted to keep that part of his identity a secret. Secondly, most importantly, bipenes only ever achieve true happiness, a pure contentment, with two true loves. Then and only then would he use his two penises. Of course, those unlucky enough to be in slavery in the palace, had to use them no matter what, but that was denying their true nature. Devon had thought he had come halfway close to finding that fulfilling relationship up on Hans’ ship but Brandana had left him. Yes, he understood why but no, he was not thrilled about it, and he missed her.

What his boss would make of his new gigolo status, he was not sure. In fact, Margo did not care a jot so long as she was making money and, with Devon on the crew, the beauty suite was doing a roaring trade.

Before the Martian’s left for home, Marlie saw fit to write a little note which she slipped into the bedside cabinet for the next occupants to see, urging them to take a session with the masseur named Devon.

Next into her room was a young hopeful actress who, in truth, would probably never remember more than a page worth of lines, and along for the trip was her sugar daddy, funder of all. Lorne was incredibly rich, an entrepreneur businessman, who had come to Botanica on a fact finding mission for the hotel he planned to open back home on Gargantua where he had become rich mining gold, silver and zinc. Tilly was his actress mistress and this business trip gave him the perfect opportunity for some alone time.

Lorne had promised Tilly some fun, but failed to leave his business brain behind. Tilly got quickly bored of watching Lorne on his laptop, crunching figures and writing down details, so she booked a massage recommended in the mysterious bedside note.

Tilly was a pretty girl, nineteen years old, and her ancestors were originally from Sweden many years ago. She was medium in height with astonishingly white blonde hair, worn in ravishing natural waves that lent an extra softness to her already sugarplum demeanour. She had high cheekbones and pouting lips that constantly looked as if she were sucking a peach.

Whilst Tilly enjoyed her massage, she began to get bored as she often quickly did. She slipped under Devon’s hands and turned onto her back, her breasts wantonly exposed. Tilly was angry at Lorne. He was ignoring her and she was too beautiful to be ignored.

“I hear your massages are, erm, special,” she enquired in her sweet squeak of a voice.

“Really?” Devon feigned no knowledge.

“I’m really bored. So bored!” She petulantly banged her fist on the bed. “Kiss me.”

Falling into Tilly’s open arms, Devon kissed her plump mouth. Tilly was an incredible kisser and the urgency of her tongue let Devon know that she was not playing around. Her already luminescent, flawless skin glowed with a cool comfort as Devon took off his paper thin sarong, pulled her towel to the ground and straddled her. Tilly absentmindedly toyed with her round breasts with her candy pink fingernails running around her small, circular, strawberry pink nipples.

From a nearby table, Devon pulled a small bottle of oil. He gently spread Tilly’s pale pink legs and lips apart, revealing the rebellious red insides, and put a tiny spot of oil on his middle finger. Slowly, very deliberately, he found her clitoris and rubbed round and round and round. Devon became extremely hard, hiding his second organ even though it begged for pleasure.

Devon put the bottle of oil between her legs and squirted it so that spurts of warm oil touched her clitoris or flew onto her belly, running back down her silky thighs and onto the soft, warm towel. Spreading surplus oil onto her hands, Tilly sat up a little and took hold of Devon’s cock, softly and in small jerks, pushing back his foreskin until it slipped deliciously to her rhythm. In the darkened room, they kissed with abandoned passion, growing hornier by the second, knowing their forbidden time would never be repeated.

With slippery ease, Devon pushed himself into Tilly’s warm welcome. Her long eyelashes fluttered. He placed his hands at the top of her thighs, his thumbs towards her vagina, massaging her lubricated lips against his hardness. Tilly looked like a starlet, so pretty and unassuming, her pouting lips ready now for the lines.

Changing position, bored again, Tilly turned over and showed Devon the money shot. Her ass was raised prone, revealing her pretty shades of pink. The soft underbelly of the soles of her feet rocked her backwards and forwards. Covered with clear juices, Tilly raised her vagina up and bounced her ass cheeks until they shook like two small mounds of pink blancmange. She turned her head and, with a wild look upon her innocent face, demanded that Devon last as long as he possibly could.

Although he was enjoying the view, Devon did as instructed and slowly slid his entire length into her, savouring each millimetre of penetration. By now, both were sopping wet and slapped noisily against one another as their passion mounted.

As she felt the first shaking sensations of orgasm, Tilly fell onto all fours and twitched and arched her back rapidly. Devon waited to feel her clamp on in climax, shivering inside and out, before he clasped his wet, wild penis between her buttocks and showered her with snow white semen.

Without hardly time to grasp breath, Tilly was bored again, dressed and left. Devon, tired and dried out, hoped that his one o’clock was a good, old fashioned, simple massage.