8. Moments of Pleasure
8
Moments of Pleasure
B laze
Urgent. Everything feels pressing and compelling and immediate. I guess impending death will do that to you.
I’m not ready to die. I knew that when I shipped out to the Middle East and when I was abducted from Earth, and when I was dragged into that holding area to be entered into The Game .
Whether I’m ready or not, my end is coming. It’s not distant, and it’s definitely not going to be pretty. That I’m about to have sex with the male voted most likely to kill me? Seems more poignant than unfair. By the look on his face, he’d take a hard pass on that task if it were left to him.
So I kiss him like a woman clinging to a lifeline. Every inch of my body is turned on, wanting release. My nipples are hard as little gems after the workout he gave them with his mouth and tongue and the flat of his teeth.
“Climb on top of me,” I urge, “then pull my pants down.” Fucking on camera for the planet to see is one thing. Pointing my ass to it is an entirely different level of hell. Gladiators often fight nude in the arena, so I doubt he’ll mind baring his ass to the camera.
“Can you see well enough to look into my eyes?” he asks, his voice full of gravel and lust.
I nod.
“Then look at me and don’t let go. Stay with me. I’ve got you.”
We made a pact not to talk about tomorrow, which is when he won’t “have me” at all. Right now, though, he means every word as he holds my gaze, straddles me, and slides my pants to my knees.
I kicked my boots off when we laid down. I shimmy out of one pant leg so I can open myself to him.
His cock has been hanging out for hours, ever since he used his loincloth to bandage my ankle. I can’t say I haven’t peeked at it. Well, are long glances considered peeks?
It’s darker shades of blue/green than his skin, but its most obvious attribute is its size. Since the male is gargantuan, I guess I could describe it as “size proportionate.”
Before I welcome it into my body, I reach to get the lay of the land. My former owner had a thousand vid channels she let me watch and some of those were porn. Seeing all those different alien penises seemed to be small compensation for the fact that I’m in outer space against my will.
I know as well as anyone that not all alien penises are created equal—or even similar for that matter. I want to explore.
As I slide my hand south, my fingers encounter a small, round plate right above the base of his cock. It’s thick, like the other protective plates on his body, and a little less than one inch in diameter.
When I first became aware of my sexuality, I dove into research on the Internet, just like I do everything else—wholeheartedly. I loved discovering that men’s penises served multiple purposes: sex, procreation, and peeing. Vaginas are used for sex and babies. However, the small but mighty clitoris has only one purpose—pleasure.
As my fingers explore his little nubbin, I imagine it has no other purpose than pleasure, too. Then I realize it doesn’t seem especially sensitive to him. Is it designed for female pleasure only? What a nice surprise.
Then I get down to business as I slide my hand lower, surround his base with my hand, and explore up to the tip. Along the way, I encounter three thick ribs ringing the shaft. He’s hard as steel and when I get to the head, it’s slick with pre-come.
He tips his head back, slams his eyes closed, and sucks in through his teeth when I circle my palm on his cockhead. His response to my touch makes my channel quiver in anticipation.
If we were on Earth, by this point in the action I would have already dispensed with the questions about medical testing. If things were different, I would definitely be worried about my fertility. My implant expired a while ago.
But since I’ll probably die tomorrow, I won’t agonize about that.
I thought I was staying focused on his eyes, but when he closes them in ecstasy, the flashing red eye of the drone camera grabs my attention. Instead of getting distracted, I zone in on those ice-blue eyes as they open and reconnect with mine. After slipping my arms around his neck, I whisper, “Let’s share pleasure tonight, Xzavic.”
“So pretty,” he says between kisses. Maybe it’s a play of light, but I think I even see a small smile tip his lips. “You’re so small. I won’t hurt you?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll tell you if you do.”
He notches himself at my entrance, then covers my face with small, lippy kisses that make the sweetest little smacking sounds.
“You’re a good female,” he croons as he presses in no farther than his tip. “Brave. Strong.”
Funny that monosyllable man got chatty at this point in the festivities, but it’s endearing.
“Ohh,” I murmur when he presses in another inch. I’m slick and ready, but his girth is a struggle as I feel that blissful pleasure-pain of the stretch and burn of first entry. Then all the talking is done as he gently presses into me.
For a male as big as he is, a gladiator, he’s surprisingly tender. My inner walls clutch him as he slides in, slow and steady.
“Good?” he asks through clenched teeth as he struggles for control.
“Don’t stop,” is my urgent answer.
His response is a satisfied chuckle, and then he quickens his pace.
It’s only when he’s fully seated and I begin rising to meet him on every thrust that the true magic begins. That little patch of thick plating hits right on my clit, giving it that extra hint of pressure that takes this act from wonderful to sublime.
I know we’re both exhausted and won’t get much sleep as it is, but perhaps it’s the promise of tragedy tomorrow that impels us both to prolong the act.
He takes me so close to the edge I’m certain my nails are drawing blood through his thick shoulder plating, but he backs off right before I find release. He slows his pace, then picks it back up again, always skirting the grand finale.
At the beginning, his hips were like a machine, pistoning hard in and out, but now he adds a little hip circle each time he’s in to the hilt.
“Xzavic, don’t stop,” I whisper. My tone is somewhere between an order and a plea.
He keeps taking me to higher planes of pleasure, then backing off. With each new level, my arousal spikes higher until I can’t bear to wait a moment longer.
“Now,” he says in a growly whisper as he thrusts harder and bites the place where my neck meets my shoulder.
My orgasm detonates in my clit, then ricochets deeper into my body, circling my pelvis and sparking like lightning out to my limbs. I wrap my thighs even tighter around his hips, as if I could keep him inside me for eternity while my body spasms in bliss.
As I float back to reality, I hear my own grunting moans. I thought I’d kept quiet. I guess not. Perhaps our audience might not have heard me over Xzavic’s bark of pleasure as he released into me.
I figured I’d never get to sleep tonight, but I guess even if you’re going to die tomorrow, after an orgasm like that your body can’t stay awake.
As I’m drifting off, I realize he’s pulling my pants up and my shirt down, covering me from the camera’s watchful eye. Then he pulls me flush to his warm body, my back to his chest, and slips his arm under my head so I can use his bicep for a pillow.
My last thought as I fade off is that this is probably my last night alive.