Chapter 2: Whom Shall I Fear?
"Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood." - Marie Curie
It was difficult sometimes to believe that events had actually happened. When she was alone, Mel secretly pinched her sun-browned arm to make sure this was not a dream, but the growing bump where her once flat abdomen had been assured her of the truth. She smoothed over the convexity between her hipbones and tried to imagine how big it might be by now and what it might look like. Any image she managed to conjure up either frightened or disgusted her, and she wondered if she would ever discover any motherly feelings for it.
She had felt no movement yet, although the alien physician had assured her that it was still very small, and that most of her protrusion was from the large placenta that had formed in order to supply the great demands of the pup. She could picture it as a tiny spaceman floating in a universe of liquid, kept in tether by the long and twisting umbilical cord. She preferred it that way, picturing a doll sized white NASA space suit with a reflective visor and no face.
She struggled to dress, stretching the elastic of the frumpy brown slacks she had picked up from the Salvation Army over her rounded waistline and topping it with an old tee of her Dad's. She would have liked to have had some real maternity clothes, but the family budget was tight. No matter how much she hated going out in public in her shabby outfits, she was delighted to be home! So she never complained to anyone but her mirror.
Pulling on a pair of sole-worn running shoes, she left her small bedroom and went into the kitchen. "Good mornin', honey!" her mother greeted with her usual cheery smile and slight western drawl. "Did you sleep well? Grab a biscuit, they're still warm, and there's some honey – your favorite!"
"Thanks, Mom. Yea, I slept well. Where's Dad and Jase?"
"Your Dad's workin' cattle this morning, hon, there's a crop of new calves to dehorn, worm, vaccinate and castrate, you know. Couple of neighbors came to help, so now I got to fix 'em a decent lunch. You feel up to helpin'? Oh, your brother is out there, supervisin'." She finished the sentence with a knowing chuckle.
Jason, or Jase as he was called, was only five and too small to be of any help with the cattle, however; he loved to watch. He made sure to follow his father's instructions and stay on the outside of the large working pen and away from the rails. His sandy brown eyes were shaded by his cowboy hat, a Christmas present last year from his folks, and they excitedly watched the neighbors help his father herd the cattle single file through the working chute into the squeeze cage. Then they were vaccinated or whatever needed to be done according to their age and gender.
The sturdy ranching couple had thought that Melanie would be their single offspring, but nature surprised them with a son late in life. Melanie was fifteen when he was born and had helped raise him. He thought of her more as his second mother rather than as a sister. She was fine with that, but sometimes felt her teenage years had been burdened with his care.
Mel had been looking forward to moving to the city after graduation and embarking on a social service career. She had just completed her junior year of college at state and had been on summer break when her plans had been completely derailed by her abduction and the unwanted pregnancy.
"Sure, Mom. What can I do?" Mel joined her mother at the scratched steel sink where she was handed a bowl of unpeeled spuds and a metal potato peeler. She scrubbed the brown oblong lumps and then sent their peels falling as she skillfully skinned them.
Her mother went to the refrigerator to remove a large raw chicken which she had culled from the household flock and plucked earlier that morning. She began to cut it up and throw the pieces into the stock pot where the previously chopped onions and carrots were already boiling on the old stove. "Nothin' like a good ole pot of chicken and dumplins'," she commented as she began to prepare the floury dough that would form the dumplings. "Mel, tomorrow's Sunday. You feel up ta goin' to church? Your granddad's expectin' you ya know."
Melanie didn't reply but surprised her mother as she bolted for the bathroom, her biscuit with honey promising to make a reappearance. She leaned over the commode and emptied her stomach in one great heave, then stood with a hand on the nearby sink, waiting for the queasiness to die down. Rinsing the sourness from her mouth, she remembered that the crustacean-countenanced doctor had told her this might happen and she reached in the medicine cabinet for the container of pills that he insisted she take with her. One pill, take one pill every morning, she remembered the directions. She flipped open the topper and shook out one of the round gray pills that reminded her of a well-fed dog tick. That doesn't look appetizing. But Dr. Crab-lips said if I don't take care of myself and this baby they would take me back to their planet. Mel somberly swallowed the pill with an entire glass of water.
"You alright, honey?" her mother appeared at the bathroom doorway.
"Yea, I just got sick to my stomach. They told me it might happen."
"Well, don't you fret, it happens even with mothers who…" she suddenly stopped, fearful of what she was about to say. Mel just looked at her for a minute.
"To mothers who are having human babies, Mom? Is that what you meant to say?"
Her mother just looked away, at a loss for how to talk with her daughter over what had happened and the inhumanity of what was to be her first grandchild. "I'll get back to fixin' lunch, honey. You go to your room and rest a bit, ok?"
"Yea, that sounds like a good idea." She left her Mom cutting the dumpling dough into strips and went to rest on her bed. Crawling onto the quilted coverlet, she thought about going to church again. She had not been in several months, not since her return. She had initially been too frightened to even leave the house. But as time went on, she was becoming accustomed to being back at home and beginning to feel safe again. It would be good to see everyone and hear one of Gramps rousing sermons again.
Two years of college had opened Melanie's quick mind to many new and unfamiliar ideas that had made her question some of the knowledge that she had been brought up with. She respected her parents and her grandfather of course, but as many sons and daughters eventually do, she had begun to start thinking for herself about the world.
Her parents and her grandfather had rejoiced at her return. However, when they found out she was pregnant their attitudes had changed. Her mom was the most accepting, but still held the idea at arms length, as did Melanie herself. She did not want the half-alien child. The idea of breast-feeding that potentially horrid mouth made her feel queasy. Yet, she knew this was an intelligent life growing inside her and was also half composed of her genes. As hideous as it might appear after its birth, she could not deny she was its mother.
Her father had said nothing, as usual. He hugged her and welcomed her home with relief, and then went back to his ranching. Her grandfather hugged her also, and became withdrawn and thoughtful after learning of the unborn child. Something was bothering him, for sure, she knew the signs. Now that she thought about it, her little brother, Jase, was the most accepting person in her family. He was too young to completely understand, but had been told that Mel had a child growing 'inside her tummy'. He was rather baffled by this information and wondered for a time if she had eaten some teaspoon-sized kind of 'baby seed' which had settled to grow inside her.
All in all, Melanie was grateful for her family and sympathized with their reluctance to embrace her pregnancy. Some returning women had immediately resorted to abortion, and then went into hiding to escape the wrath of the Hunters. She already knew that was not something she would do. Not only would she not sacrifice the unborn life, she would not place herself or her family in the path of alien anger. Their strength coupled with the advanced technology she had witnessed convinced her that in any conflict, the humans would be the losers. As the Yautja-provided medication soothed her digestive tract, she got sleepy and soon nodded off.
In an old ranch house, half a section away from Melanie, her brother Jase and her folks, an aged but still sturdy man sat in an old overstuffed arm chair, the fabric thin and frayed from years of supporting him. His sparsely white-haired head was bowed and his eyes were closed behind the gold metal rims of his tri-focals. In his lap lay an open Bible, with worn pages and slips of paper sticking out from between the pages here and there.
Oh Lord, he silently prayed, help me to stand strong against thine enemy – that evil one, that Satan. Give me the wisdom to recognize and weed out the tares from among thy flock! I thank you for returning my granddaughter to me safely, Lord, and I praise your name! Help her to be strong in her faith and comfort her as she bears this abomination that has come upon her. But not my will, O Lord, but your will be done. I thank you for forgiving me my sins and trust that upon that great last day I shall be counted among your sheep. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Reverend Dunn was worried, deeply worried, for the salvation of his granddaughter. She had been captured by aliens, who from their appearance must be in league with the Devil, and now she was carrying a child by one of them. God only knew what carrying it would do to her. What had she ever done to deserve such a fate? He had raised her father to be a good, God-fearing man and he knew of a certainty that his son had raised his granddaughter that way too. That a demon had defiled her made him clench his fists and teeth. If he'd only been there with his shotgun, he'd have sent that spawn of Satan back to the depths of Hell where it belonged! His hands shook with impotent anger that neither he, nor his son, nor any man had been there to protect his granddaughter.
His son and his family had been out camping, for God's sake – camping with a church group for a week long retreat! What more wholesome activity could they have been engaged in? They'd been singing, praying and hearing the word of the Lord. Then, his precious granddaughter had gone for a jog around the lake and had been accosted by one of those monsters. The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?
He picked up his pad of paper and a pen from the lamp table beside him and resumed working on his sermon. With the Lord's help, there must be a way to fight these enemies of salvation and there must be a way to protect against this evil growing within his beloved Melanie. He would continue to search the scriptures and pray. As a man of great faith, he was assured that an answer would come.
The Great Hall of the High Council was filled to overflowing with representatives of the nine Clans. Differing Clan marks could be seen upon each of the foreheads that were nodding to each other as many greeted those they had not seen in a long time. A low rolling cacophony of growls, rumbles and clicks formed a sea of sound in the majestic room. All were there to witness the binding rite of the Matriarch to her Consort. Such an event had not taken place in hundreds of long cycles, and many were here enjoying this time of celebration, feasting and, of course, c'ntlip.
Sally stood in an adjacent chamber to the main hall, waiting for her signal to enter and begin the ceremony. The anti-anxiety medication that Myn'dill had provided was finally beginning to work, and the Matriarch felt her butterflies beginning to settle. There was a full length mirror on one wall and she checked her appearance one more time, admiring the white fabric that had been crafted into an exquisite long loin cloth and draping top that bared a single shoulder. The sides of the top were long and drifted down her flanks to stop mid-thigh. The entire garment flowed gracefully with her as she walked in the small, white, oddly open footwear that had been fashioned for her feet.
She pinked a bit as her eyes were drawn to the scars left by her mates' tusks upon the bared shoulder, then lifted her head proudly. The Matriarchs took who they wanted and I am not ashamed of the Hunters I have claimed as mates. A Yautja Matriarch would wear her scars proudly – so shall I. She nervously fingered the strips that had been woven into her now chin length hair.
An aseigan had helped her get ready this morning. She had been assigned servants and was not used to relying on them for anything, much to their dismay. But this morning, she had allowed one to help her dress properly and prepare her hair. She had three lock rings to wear, two had belonged to Ulfr and one had been recently gifted from Sig'dan. Since her hair was not long enough, the aseigan had cleverly woven in some strands of leather that were close to her hair color and affixed the rings onto them. She now sported a chin length sort of bob with two leather strands hanging longer on her right side. One with rings for honor and bravery, the other bore a ring signifying strength of will. They gave a pleasant clink when she moved her head just the right way.
Sig'dan had brought her Ulfr's rings which the second-in-command, Ab'bi, had delivered to him, acting on the Elder's orders just before his death. He had explained to her what an honor it was for Ulfr to have gifted them from his own locks. He then told her what they meant as well as some of the things that Ulfr had done to deserve them, and how he must have thought her worthy of them also. She had listened quietly, with tears streaming down her face, and now wore the coppery bands together on a single strand. The rings did not bring her honor or joy, only sadness. She hoped that in time her emotions would change and she would feel only proud wearing them.
The other ring that symbolized strength of will had been gifted by Sig'dan to commemorate her meetings with the High Council, and for previously standing up to Ulfr and then dressing both of them down in front of the High Elders. Similar to the ones from Ulfr, this one was a wide tube of orangey-gold metal that was bright on the ends and darker in the main part of the ornament with symbols engraved through the oxidation into the brightness below, indicating the ring's meaning. Sally wore Sig'dan's gift gladly, and remembered fondly how outraged she'd been at the two of them for threatening each other over her in front of the entire Council.
Her examination of her appearance was interrupted by one crusty word from Yin, "Now," he rasped, nodding to her. She took a deep breath, settled for a moment and then stepped out into the Great Hall as the Leader of the Clans' High Council rapped his dais with a large spiral horn and the ocean of voices fell silent. She faltered as what seemed a thousand rings clinked together while hundreds of locked heads turned to look at her. For a moment, her vision was filled with mandible bedecked face after imposing face. She took another deep breath and looked up to where the High Council Elders sat. Up the stairway at the top of the chamber stood the leading Elders of the Nine Clans, and down below, at the other end of the vast room, stood her Sig'dan next to the imposing figure of her Consort - Elite Elder Arbitrator Aldúlfr. Her eyes stopped, taking him in. He towered over Sig'dan – at least a head and a half more. He was even taller than Ulfr had been!
The Arbitrator was turned out in the imposing ceremonial armor of his profession which made him look positively frightening to Sally. The matte blackness of the armor blended with the Elder's own dark coloring and made his white locks almost shine in contrast. The armor consisted of huge flexible plating over Aldúlfr's already immense shoulders, protective wrist cuffs, codpiece and greaves. All of it was cut in toothed lines, rather than smooth strips, and each plate was intricately embellished with the forms of Hunters slaying other Hunters. The Matriarch would be confused by this when she became near enough to see, until she recalled that the Arbitrator's job was to hunt the condemned of his own kind. His locks carried more rings than she had ever witnessed, and along with the metal bands, small skulls were interspersed here and there. If his locks were black, he could be the dark Hunter of my former nightmares, she told herself. He could be the embodiment of Cetanu! Well…I guess he IS for Yautja criminals.
Sally felt very, very tiny as she prepared to walk to where Sig'dan and the Arbitrator were waiting. Whileere Ulfr had been breathtaking, his Sire was completely imposing and intimidating. Had it not been for the encouragement of Sig'dan's warm brown eyes, she would have turned and fled as surely as a mouse sensing an owl about to swoop down upon it. She fixed her eyes on Sig'dan's, willing her fears to ease, and began what felt like a death march down the length of the long Great Hall.
Every Hunters' eyes were upon her, noting her traditional dress and hair rings. They saw how erect and regally she walked and many tried to take in her scent. Aware of the huffing as she passed by, Sally concentrated on thinking lofty thoughts in order to not give away her fear when the full effect of Myn'dill's medication hit her. Physically, she was still steady, still walking down the aisle to her awaiting Consort groom and his best Hunter. However, as her mind became fully relaxed, and she felt as though she had not a care in the world. Nothing fearful was happening. She was simply walking down a large pathway lined by monstrous Hunters who had crowned her Queen, and were about to witness her marry her King, she decided. Or was it her larger-than-life boy toy?
She dared to look at the Hunters as she walked by, noting their stature and appearance until, unexpectedly, everything seemed funny. Her eyes roved the crowd, going from Hunter to Hunter, as her sense of humor went up and out of control.
He needs to see an orthodontist. Didn't know any of them had buck fangs. Wonder if they would insist on engraving honorable words on the bands around his pointed teeth? How about 'eat me' on one fang?
That one's a little cross eyed, and what's this? A collection of rodent skulls? Looks like he broke into an experimental lab and murdered all the white rats to decorate his locks. Will he get cancer now?
Jesus! Look at the size of the codpiece on that guy! What's he got? A giant kielbasa in there? Or maybe he shoved a few baking potatoes down his cloth?
Sally caught herself nearly snickering and refocused on completing her walk down the aisle, physically biting her lips to keep under control. She quickly left her imaginary stand-up routine as she approached the waiting Consort. Unable to tear her eyes away and give the now neglected Sig'dan even a glance, all she could think was, that…is…one…huge…no…fucking HUGE…Yautja!
The Arbitrator watched the ooman female approach his end of the Great Hall, where he waited with his offspring. The general public had become at least a little accustomed to the idea of an ooman Matriarch with the publicity of the High Council's judgment of her. For the Arbitrator, this was his first physical encounter with the idea, and he watched the tiny figure in her ritual attire walk the hall with dignity as all heads turned to gawk at her. He saw her look over the Hunters as she passed by, apparently aloof to their huffs, and he was suddenly struck with the ridiculousness of the scene. It took great discipline to not chortle or click his tusks in amusement. Great Paya, he thought, all the Honored ancestors are probably banging their drinking bowls upon Cetanu's table in protest right now. The High Elders are so desperate for feminine guidance that they have promoted a pauk-de prey female to our highest political position. Gah! Suddenly he turned introspective, who do I laugh at? I have agreed to her also, and consented to be her Consort.
He, as had many Hunters, never found ooman females very attractive. True, he had mated some, but it was only an act of sexual relief and procreation. He did not care that they were intelligent, and he revisited them only when it was time to mate or inspect a newborn. The ooman females were tiny, with slippery smooth skin; their faces were far too simple and had nearly non-existent jaws. There was no challenge in mating them, they merely submitted due to their drugged state and moaned until he was finished. He knew that they made cries and jerked their body at times during his act – he had supposed it was a pleasure response – or perhaps pain from his heavy thrusts into them. As long as they were not damaged, it did not matter. As he was remembering past ooman ruts, he evaluated the Matriarch's body and decided that the white ceremonial clothing did not look completely stupid on her.
Everyone had turned to look at Sally, but she seemed relaxed and not afraid of their attention. He was reluctantly impressed at thewith her composure of a prey female surrounded by predators. As she was nearly at his feet, he began to discretely huff, trying to pick up her scent. What came to him was the scent of calmness, certainly no fear, and something else…was the female somehow entertained by this ritual? Perhaps she enjoyed having all eyes upon her and gloried in her honor at having such a famous and respected Hunter as her Consort. He looked down at the small female ooman who was now right in front of him and looking up into his gilded eyes. Was she trying to stare him down? He scented no threat or challenge from her – only curiosity and surprise. She plummeted her eyes from his as the ceremony began, and the huge Arbitrator dropped down on a single knee in a public act of his commitment of submission to her, a reenactment of the statues of Paya and Cetanu in the ancient temple.
Sally had been around the Ancients and their less-than-attractiveness, but today was her first close encounter with an Elder of this physical stature and age. He was an older Elder, yet not an Ancient. She carefully examined his foreign face through drugged eyes. Aside from his golden eyes, there is only one word for him…hoary. Sorry, Ulfr, I know this is your Dad, but his face is damned ugly! Are those short locks sprouting from his eye ridges and down the sides of his face? He looks like a freakin' white Yautja porcupine. I now pronounce you Matriarch and Quill-ball! My God, would Ulfr have eventually looked like this? Will Sig'dan? The huge Yautja stood and, as gracefully as possible, she took her place by the Consort's side as the High Council Leader began speaking, and Sig'dan translated for her.
Somehow, she managed to say all her lines at the appropriate time, and listened to the Consort's basso profundo voice say his. She also managed not to break into laughter, or even smile, but kept up her serious Matriarchal appearance. She took a small drink of sacred wine from the ancient drinking bowl, and then handed it up to the Arbitrator who, spreading his mandibles wide, also took a swallow. The wine was cloyingly sweet. Sig'dan had told her it was fermented from local fruit and only used for religious ceremonies. When the ceremony finally concluded, Sig'dan left them and the 'happy couple' walked back down the length of the hallway. Each was now bound to the other. The Consort was to defend her, when and if required, and be obedient to the Matriarch's wishes and she was to engage and surrender sexually to the Consort whenever she chose. Their first mating was significant and was the true completion of the binding ceremony.
Sig'dan watched the two of them leave the hall and proceed to the Matriarch's quarters. He quickly headed to his own before anyone scented his displeasure. There he would try and drown his imagination in c'ntlip and not think about what was going on between Sal'lee and his Sire.
Sally felt like some miniature dog trying to keep up with its master as she and the Arbitrator walked to her quarters. Taking at least two steps for every one of his was not easy in the foreign footwear. Finally, she reached up and touched his elbow. The tiny pressure brought him to a complete halt and he stood looking down at her with mandibles waving a bit in question.
"Honorable Consort, I request that you slow down, I cannot walk as fast as you."
The Elder Arbitrator concentrated, trying to make sense of her speech. He had understood his title of Consort, and the words 'I', 'down', and 'walk'. He cocked his head and rumbled, "Sei, you…I walk down" and pointed the way. She shook her head to signal the negative, which he understood, and she tried again.
"Watch, please." She made her fingers into walking legs and pointed to him, then showed her fingers making huge strides. She pointed to herself and had the other fingers running to catch up. "Understand?"
"Sei," the low voice vibrated back at her. Then he resumed walking at a much slower pace with Sally keeping pace easily beside him. "Thank you," she said, looking up at him. He looked back down at her in curiosity, saying nothing and wondering at her gratitude simply because he was following her request.
When they reached her quarters, a servant greeted them and opened the main door. Now on unfamiliar territory, the Arbitrator let Sally lead the way to her bedroom. She was still a little giggly from the medication and felt that a giant Yeti had followed her home. Her room had been expertly cleaned while she was away and everything gleamed. On the room's polished table set a beaker of Naxa juice and a small vial, left there by a servant under the direction of her personal Healer Myn'dill.
Sally froze as she saw the beaker and realized what was in the vial. Her good humor was swiftly replaced with dread and she struggled to stifle her fear. Her discomfort wafted up to be inhaled by a small huff from the Arbitrator, who stood evaluating the situation.
The female had definitely been drugged prior to the ceremony, of that he was sure. Not a drug to quell fear, but something to steady her nerves. It apparently had affected her in a way not quite anticipated and brought out the good humor that Ulfr had told him she possessed. She had been clever in communicating with him in the hallway that he had been out-walking her, but now she was definitely afraid – and trying to cover it up. He scented no desire from her. What had happened to the female who had walked so regally down the hallway to him, boldly looking at the crowd?
He then followed her line of sight to the vial of sedistim on the table. So that was it. His gruff demeanor slightly mellowed with a tinge of something that he quickly stuffed back into the darkest recess of his mind. He kept trying to chain it there, but it did not always hold. He had no intention of hurting the Matriarch, and was unable to think of how to conveymmunicate this to her. She was the Matriarch, why was she not commanding him? His frustration at being unable to communicate brought him great displeasure and he thought, the scientists need to figure out how to give these oomans proper vocal structures so they can learn to speak properly!
A few irritated tusk clicks brought her attention to him. He bowed very slightly to her and then stalked away, finding his way to the soaking room. Obviously, she required the sedistim, and he needed something to do while waiting for it to work and she needed to feel safe while he was doing it. He entered, closing the door behind him, and she heard him set the lock.
What? It's our honeymoon night, and he goes for a soak - alone? Sally felt both relieved and rejected all at the same time. Was I supposed to make the first move? The Matriarch is the dominant one – I must remember! Unable to figure out his behavior, and nearly unable to speak with him, a frustrated Matriarch undressed, drank the Naxa spiked with sedistim and made her way to bed. She had taken up the Yautja custom of sleeping nude. It was comfortable and made slipping into middle-of-the-night mating very easy to initiate.
Of course, she did not find sleep waiting to see what her giant Consort would do next. She had darkened the room somewhat for her comfort, but a Hunter could see in the dark. She waited for him and for the drug to take effect and relax her. She did not have to wait long, the dosage prepared by her Healer was a hefty one, much more than she had ever been given by Ulfr. Clearly, Myn'dill had her best interests at heart.
She closed her eyes enjoying the complete calm that claimed her, and then felt the room spin as blood rushed to her sensitive female areas and they began to demand attention. Ugly face or no, she was becoming aroused and would certainly be willing to bed her Consort when he rejoined her. If I only had a large shopping bag to place over his head. Her thoughts then turned to Ulfr and the amazing way he'd made her feel, the great care he taken to not injure her with his strength and size. Was his Sire going to be anything like that?
After about a half-hour of soaking by her figuring, she heard the footsteps as he came to her and felt the bed go definitively down as he sat on the edge. Pulling back the top fur, he clambered in. Sally was completely ready to jump on top of him, but even in her drugged state, she hesitated. How could she tell him? She reached for the light control and illuminated the room, when she suddenly felt his enormous bulk shift. She looked over at the other side of the bed and saw the Elder had turned his back to her and was apparently going to sleep. Should she try and get his attention? He did not seem interested at all in mating with her.
Why did the Elder Arbitrator not want her? Was she undesirable in some way? Had she offended him? Her understanding had been that after the ceremony, the Matriarch and her Consort 'sealed the deal' by mating. Was her agreement with him not yet binding because mating had not occurred? Confusion rolled about in her mind as she lay beside him and was quickly being replaced with anger. OK, you've got to BE the Matriarch! Let him know what you want, in fact, you need to demand it of him! Otherwise, Matriarch or not, he's not gonna respect you.
Sally pushed back her fur and carefully got to her knees on the bed. She boldly reached for the Arbitrator's shoulder and shook him. He turned his head a bit so that he could see her out of the corner of one eye and waited. "Honorable Consort," came out of her mouth a little more sarcastically than she had intended. "Pauk?" Sally pronounced one of the few words that she could as carefully as possible. She said the rather common word that was used both as an expletive and also to refer to the rut, and then just stood on her knees staring at him with raised eyebrows. Indeed, it was a challenge as she kept up unwavering eye contact.
He evaluated her while watching from the corner of one eye. She was being mildly assertive, something he had never experienced with an ooman, and he actually scented anger coming from her! But, she had confusingly requested, rather than commanded the rut, and was now actually challenging him with her eyes. This was confusing, but worth consideration and he was obligated to submit to her orders. If only she would give a proper one!
The bed wavered as Mount Consort rolled over toward her, causing now unbalanced Sally to be felled like a tree. Only this tree had its hands out instinctively trying to catch herself before she became an undignified splat on his crotch and thighs. Unfortunately, the Arbitrator was lying with his legs spread somewhat apart with his, as yet unviewed by Sally, member relaxing over his lower stomach. Also unfortunately, one of Sally's stiffly held hands pile drivered down at just the right angle, directly on target which was the Elder's sensitive area right in back of where his hunterhood erupted from his flesh - exactly where the seeds of tomorrow's children were being created.
The roar was perhaps a 6.0 on the Richter scale, should the Yautja have had one. Sally screamed for only the second time in her entire life as she was sent sliding across the bed on her knees and down the side onto the floor by a brawny arm on top of her shoulder, shoving her away. She lay on the floor in a heap, assessing just how much she hurt and if anything was broken.
The Arbitrator's great arm had connected solidly with the top of her left shoulder; there would at least be a deep bruise. She had also hit the hard stone floor feet first, but then crumpled as her right ankle complained of the odd angle. So that was a sprain at least, she figured. Oh, and her knees had 'fur burn' from being slid across the bed. Not too badly injured for taking on an Elite Elder Arbitrator! She carefully stood and leaned against the bed, looking across at her Consort.
The Elite Elder had his working tool in one hand and was checking his injury site with the other, a pained expression still on his face. He turned his head and looked at her and gave a slight nod, "H'chak." She understood the word that meant 'mercy'. He watched her nod of understanding and then he broke out into low chuffing. Sally smiled weakly, realizing that he found what had happened at least entertaining.
The lowly prey had managed a surprise attack and actually made a hit on an Elite Elder Arbitrator, and she had lived to tell the tale. She is unique, he thought. She is the only creature that has ever caused me that much pain and lived. He chuffed again to himself this time.
He now took the opportunity to huff and scent her, she was indeed aroused. He looked at the empty vial on the table. "Come," he motioned to her to get up on the bed. She was able to make her hop, even on the sore ankle, and got in beside him again as drug-enhanced excitement quickly took over her senses.
The huge hands began to stroke her body. They were the largest, strongest and warmest hands that Sally had ever felt, running down the sides of her face onto her breasts, over her stomach, down her thighs in a smoldering trail that was traversed again and again. "Auldulfr, she begged him, "more, I need more from you." He didn't understand her words, but her scent told him all he needed to know. He thought for a mere moment about how best to deal with things, and then let his instincts take over.
His hands grabbed her thighs and parted her at the knees. Huffing richness, he moved closer as his palms, with talons carefully pointed away from her, pinned her hips to the bed as firmly as if she'd been chained there. She expected the gently strong tonguing of Ulfr or Sig'dan, or even a tentative touch as his tip tasted her. Instead, the large, pebbled tongue plied at her, searching for entrance, and then relentlessly plunged inside in a single thrust. Sally couldn't control the moans and cries that came from her as the powerful tongue thrust in and out, its nuggety surface unlike anything she had experienced before.. He plundered pleasure from her relentlessly and sent her over the edge again and again until she lost count.
She must have passed out, she reasoned, as she awakened some time later to a completely darkened room. Reaching for her mate, she found only an empty bed. Was he using the bathroom? She again turned the light on, but only at its lowest setting, and scanned the room. There in the middle of the floor, slept her Consort, on a heap of pillows and furs gathered from about her dwelling. Perhaps he prefers to sleep alone? Or maybe he likes a firmer bed? She turned off the light and went back to slumber.
