Her Alien Guardian (Galactic Discipline)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

T essara

Sala’s body went rigid for a moment, caught between frustration and duty. With a soft groan, she gently pushed me away, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

“I’m so sorry, Tessara,” she said, cupping my face in her hands. “I… I shouldn’t have made you do that. I’m not allowed to… you know, have sex… with other people… without permission from my lord, anyway.”

To my surprise, I felt a pang of disappointment even as I blushed at the revelation of Alpha’s intimate rules for his senior wife and wondered what sort of consequences Sala might receive, should her husband learn that she had seduced me. “It’s alright,” I assured her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thank you for… for teaching me. I never knew it could be like that.”

Sala smiled warmly, pulling me into a tender embrace. “Oh, sweet one,” she murmured. “There’s so much more to learn. But for now, we should go. History is being made, and you deserve to see it. Would you like to come?”

I felt my cheeks burn as I considered Sala’s question. The idea of going to the bridge, of facing Alpha and the crew in my current state—flushed, and still trembling from the pleasure Sala had given me—was mortifying. But even stronger than my embarrassment was a burning curiosity, a need to see what would happen next.

I pictured Alpha’s massive blue form, imagined him claiming Sala in front of everyone. The thought sent a forbidden thrill through my body, making my cunny clench around nothing. At the same time, I couldn’t deny my desire to witness the fall of the empire that had held me captive for so long. To see with my own eyes the end of the tyranny that had defined my existence.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I… I want to go.”

Sala’s face lit up with a radiant smile. She pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before gracefully rising from the couch. I watched, mesmerized, as she stretched her lithe body, her pale skin seeming to glow in the starlight streaming through the viewscreen.

As Sala moved toward the door, a sudden panic gripped me. I glanced down at my naked form, acutely aware of every mark and bruise left by my Vionian masters.

“Wait!” I called out, my eyes wide with alarm. “Shouldn’t we… shouldn’t we wear clothes?”

Sala paused, turning back to face me. A delicate blush bloomed across her cheeks, spreading down her neck to her chest. “Oh, Tessara,” she said softly, a note of embarrassment in her voice. “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to wear clothing unless Alpha specifically permits it. It’s… it’s part of a Magisterian wife’s submission to her lord.”

She bit her lip, her blue eyes searching my face. “And I’m afraid the same is true for you now, sweet one. You technically belong to Alpha, at least until we reach Prosperia and sort out your status. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to go as we are.”

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I would have to walk through the ship, stand on the bridge, completely revealed. The thought made me want to curl up and hide, to disappear into the soft fabric of the couch. But beneath the fear and shame, there was something else—a tiny spark of excitement, of arousal at the idea of being so utterly vulnerable.

I swallowed hard, bracing myself for what was to come. I stood on trembling legs, forcing myself to meet Sala’s gaze. “Alright,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. “Let’s go.”

Sala took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as we stepped out into the corridor. The air of the ship raised goosebumps on my bare skin, making me even more aware of my nakedness. I fought the urge to cover myself, knowing it would be futile.

As we made our way through the winding passages of the Prince Hend , I marveled anew at the enormous difference between this ship and the Conqueror of Bresla . The Conqueror ’s harsh angles and utilitarian design seemed like a distant memory as the Magisterian ship’s elegance unfolded before me. The glowing walls, with their milky sheen, looked like something out of a dream. I noticed for the first time that even the floor beneath our feet felt warm and slightly yielding, almost as if it were alive.

We passed several crew members as we walked, and I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment each time. To my surprise, however, none of them seemed shocked or even particularly interested in our nudity. They simply nodded respectfully to Sala and continued on their way.

On Vion, of course, and aboard ships like the Conqueror , concubines like me were kept naked most of the time, but both Vionian men and Vionian women seemed to enjoy calling as much attention as they could to the shame involved. Both men and women had frequently touched me on my bare bottom or even between my thighs, as if to demonstrate their mastery of the people the empire had subjugated and put to use as instruments of their pleasure. Bystanders would stop and watch on the street if a young Vionian man decided to order me to bend over and present my bare cunny for his inspection.

“How… how can they be so casual about this?” I whispered to Sala, gesturing to our naked bodies.

Sala smiled gently. “Magisterian culture is very different from what you’re used to, Tessara. Nudity isn’t seen as shameful or inherently sexual. It’s simply a natural state of being, especially for wives and concubines.”

As we rounded a corner, we came upon a group of officers engaged in animated discussion. Among them were several strikingly beautiful women, some clad in crisp uniforms while others were as naked as Sala and myself.

Noticing my wide-eyed stare, Sala explained, “Magisteria, unlike the Vionian Empire, goes to war with the full scope of its military talent, both male and female. But male officers are also permitted to bring a wife or concubine if they choose.”

I watched in amazement as a uniformed man bent to kiss a naked woman before rejoining his colleagues. The woman’s face glowed with pride and affection as she watched him go.

“So the naked women… they’re all wives or concubines?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sala nodded. “Yes. Some, like myself, are senior wives who serve alongside their husbands in various capacities. Others are concubines brought along for comfort and support during long deployments.”

As we continued our journey, I couldn’t help but notice the easy camaraderie between the clothed and unclothed crew members. There was a sense of mutual respect and shared purpose that seemed to transcend their state of dress or undress.

We passed through a large, open area that Sala informed me was one of the ship’s recreational spaces. Here, off-duty crew members relaxed and socialized. I saw uniformed men and women engaged in games of strategy, while nearby, a group of naked concubines practiced what looked like a form of dance or martial art.

As we approached what I realized must be the bridge, from the way the corridor had begun to widen, my heart began to race. The enormity of what I was about to witness hit me full force. I could hardly believe I would see the fall of the empire that had defined my existence for so long, and yet it seemed true. My palms grew clammy, and I found myself gripping Sala’s hand even tighter.

The doors to the bridge slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a scene of controlled chaos. Officers moved purposefully between stations, their voices a low murmur of technical jargon and status reports. The air crackled with tension and anticipation.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the massive viewscreen that dominated the far wall. It showed a breathtaking vista of stars, with the blue-green orb of Vion Prime hanging in the center like a precious jewel. At this scale, I could even make out—with the help of the blue circles added by the Prince Hend ’s computers— the impressive array of capital ships that surrounded the planet. The combined might of the Magisterian fleet had indeed come to finish the grim job of extinguishing their enemy.

My enemy , I tried to persuade myself, my heart thudding.

The figure seated in the captain’s chair, though, was what truly captured my attention. Captain Alpha’s massive blue form seemed to dwarf the seat, his powerful presence filling the entire bridge. As we entered, he turned his head and his silver-violet eyes locked onto us. I felt a shiver run down my spine.

With a gesture that was both regal and welcoming, Alpha beckoned us forward. “Sala, Tessara,” he said, his deep voice resonating through the room. “Come, stand by me. We’re going to bend the course of galactic history.”

As we moved to his side, I couldn’t help but notice the way the crew’s eyes flickered toward us. There was curiosity there, yes, but also a sort of respectful acceptance that still baffled me. Here we were, completely naked, and yet no one seemed to find it odd or inappropriate.

Alpha’s hand came to rest on the small of Sala’s back as she took her place beside him. The gesture looked casual, possessive, and filled with an intimacy that made my cheeks burn. I stood on his other side, acutely aware of my nudity and the marks that still covered my body.

“Open communications with General Vex,” Alpha commanded, his voice carrying easily over the bustle of the bridge.

The viewscreen flickered, and suddenly we were looking into the opulent throne room of the Imperial palace. The contrast between the Magisterian ship’s sleek efficiency and the gaudy excess of Vionian royalty was jarring.

In the center of the screen stood a tall, imposing man in a general’s uniform. His face was lined with the weight of recent events, but his eyes burned with a fierce determination. Behind him, sprawled unceremoniously on the ornate floor, lay a body.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth as I recognized the fallen figure. The Emperor, the man whose word had been law, whose whims had shaped the lives of billions, lay dead at the general’s feet. His once-resplendent robes were stained with blood, his unseeing eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Captain Alpha,” the general said, his voice steady despite the wild scene behind him. “On behalf of the free people of Vion, I thank you and the Magisterian Federation for your invaluable assistance in overthrowing the tyrant.”

As the general spoke, I felt my world tilt on its axis. The words seemed to echo in my head, each syllable chipping away at the foundations of everything I thought I knew. My masters, the officers of the Conqueror of Bresla , had drilled it into me over and over: the empire was eternal, unassailable. The Emperor was a benevolent ruler, loved by all. His word was law, his wisdom beyond question.

And yet here I stood, naked and trembling, watching that supposed eternity crumble before my eyes. The man who had been portrayed as a living god lay dead on the floor of his own palace, discarded like so much refuse. The general—a man who should have been the epitome of loyalty to the crown—spoke of tyranny and freedom with equal measures of disgust and hope.

I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes, hot and stinging. They spilled over, tracing warm paths down my cheeks as I struggled to reconcile the reality before me with the lies I had been force- fed for so long. My breath came in short, sharp gasps, my chest tight with emotion I couldn’t even begin to name.

The general continued, his words washing over me in a dizzying torrent. “The Emperor’s crimes against his own people were innumerable. The suffering he inflicted, the lives he destroyed in his quest for power and pleasure—it’s beyond comprehension. But thanks to your intervention, that reign of terror has come to an end.”

I watched, mesmerized, as the camera panned across the throne room. The opulent decorations I had once seen as the height of glory now seemed garish and obscene. Gold-plated statues leered from every corner, their faces twisted in expressions of cruel delight. The walls, draped in rich fabrics, were stained with what I realized with a jolt of horror was blood—both fresh and old.

In the background, I could see figures moving about—some in military uniforms, others in the tattered remains of what must have been courtly finery. Many were injured, their faces streaked with dirt and tears. But in their eyes, I saw something I had never expected to see in the Imperial palace: hope.

“The transition will not be easy,” the general was saying, his voice grave. “Generations of oppression and cruelty have left deep scars on our society. But with the support of the Magisterian Federation, we have a chance to build something new. Something better.”