Chapter 1: The Negotiation
9138
Terminal Spheres, the far edge of known Space
Illium, newly terraformed Sylvan-licensed planet
I watched the bombardment commence, knowing it was futile. An Orc bombardier dropped a payload from orbit, a small tungsten rod, and it streaked across the sky like a comet, before impacting against the shield wall.
The kinetic shield lit up like a strobe light basking the entire night valley in a blinding flash. For a second, I could see the walled city of Illium. My sharpened eyes even saw the tiny Elvguard on the palisades manning the ion cannons, and surrounding this immense glowing fortune teller's orb of a base was Chief Aganon's Monstrum armada.
Cloeia, my slave, opened her mouth in wonderment, as I pondered the irony of Chief Aganon's desperation leading to a result no greater than entertaining an innocent slave girl.
I held her against me under the skin blanket, enjoying her warmth.
"If you really want to see some fireworks, Chief Aganon plans to bang on their walls all night. He doesn't wish his Elvn host to sleep."
"Master, I thought Elvs don't sleep."
I laughed. "Don't tell Aganon that. He'll take your skin for his trophy wall."
She squeaked. The slave was warm underneath my blanket and her naked wiggling was distracting. For a few minutes, we watched the light show, my hands slowly exploring her body. My thumbs brushed the nipples on her slim breasts, enjoying the feeling of the nubs growing in size. She pressed her buttocks harder against me. Her mouse-like tail, adorned with decorative rings, gripped my leg. Her bangled ears brushed against my sternum. She cooed.
I wondered if Elvs feared us underneath their dome. Meditate all they liked, but they must know the outcome once the shield falls. All of Elvdom would fall, reaped by the Orc chieftain's bloodthirsty battalions. Their old and weak would be butchered. Their wives and daughters would be taken into slavery and held in Monstrum slave pens until sold, the same pens I once knew so well.
Fuck em, I thought. Let the Immortia sort it out. The Stellar Elvs were supposed to uphold the laws in the inner spheres, but they took their coin and looked the other way as the Infernali houses annexed my system and put fetters on the people of Earth.
They had robbed us of our system's resources and turned the twenty-first-century human race into chattel. Earth, our once-neglected mother, was now a sulphuric hell of human breeding pits, while human slaves died by the millions in mining operations; Mercury slagged for ship construction, Jupiter and Saturn sucked dry by orbital refineries.
Any empathy I had now was a vestigial organ of a previous age. My captor, a Collegiate of the Grey Wizards, had destroyed my human body in his experiments, human genetic code having pre-contact purities the Ascendant races no longer could boast.
We were torn apart cell by cell and spliced together with kodanthropic genetic contraband. The Malgene potions he used to change us if the Stellar Elvs ever knew of it, would compel them to glass entire planets.
He had turned me and my fellow human captives into abominations, to be sold on the black market as killers and assassins. Any humanity left after that was burned out of me by the tortures I endured, surviving the fighting pits, and the territorial wars I was made to fight for minor warlords on the planet Styx in the Terminal Spheres.
"Coffee," I growled at Cloeia, with what I intended to be a little bit of edge.
Well, there were some comforts I wasn't giving up. I lifted her off of me as if lifting a kitten out of my lap, and dropped her on the packed earth.
Cloeia squeaked. It was cold outside of the blanket, and her naked body shivered.
"Yes, master."
She left the warmth of the blanket to run naked and shivering to the campfire. I watched her buttocks jiggle as she ran. Her body was small and lithe, even smaller when compared to my hulking eight-foot frame. She was a mouseling, a slave race like humans, but her race had been so for far longer. Largely human looking except for her round ears that came out from her pixie bob haircut, and a long pink oh-so-sensitive tail. I had won her in a raid along with some bars of tripodium that were now stored in my ship.
She was sweet and obedient and likely happy in her lot. I came from a culture that in its time considered slave-holding barbaric, and best done out of sight of first-world sensibilities. I still resisted the idea of owning her like property, but giving her up was sort of like dropping your puppy in shark-infested waters and telling her to 'be free'.
The slave pens were a hard life, and so was being the property of an Orc raider. There were no other options. I had won a sort of freedom by tooth and fang, but Cloeia was bred soft to warm beds.
I was slowly learning the new rules of existence in the Terminal Spheres. Somewhere, back on Earth, I had a wife, but she would have to wait.
She reached the fire where some Gobs poked at her thighs with sticks. She danced around them to the percolator and poured whatever boiled brew that was this world's equivalent of coffee. She brought it back, steaming in a small thermos, and handed it to me.
I opened the hide to let her in and she smiled and climbed up on my thighs. She lay with her back to my chest and her legs straddling my thighs. I closed the hide like a curtain around her so only her head peeked out from it. My cock rose to nestle against her labia and she adjusted herself until she sat on it and it pressed against her wet sex.
My hands must have had some effect on her. I ignored her and sipped my coffee. She wiggled her hips slowly sinking herself lower on my cock.
She moaned as I plunged halfway into her, then lifted her legs to rest her feet on my things. My cock, an engorged pileum, split her apart. The changes that the Grey Wizards made to me also applied to my now monstrous appendage.
She started to get excited. Her body began to rise and fall faster, squatting with her tiny feet on my thighs. Under the blanket, she began to rise slowly sliding up my chest and then dropping with a whimper.
She had her hands behind her braced against my chest. My other hand rested on her quivering stomach under the blanket.
"Slow. I want to watch this."
She blew a strand of hair away from her face and looked up at me. "That's easy for you to say, Boss."
I growled. My habits had slackened my discipline of her, and she had gained some impertinence, now freed from Orc masters.
I pulled her down until I was embedded inside of her to the root and then held her by her hips so she was locked against me with no room to wiggle. She tried squirming, but my arms were like iron bars to her. Soon she started to whimper in frustration at not being able to fuck me.
"Slowly, I said, "Let me enjoy my coffee."
"Fine, Master."
She started to ride me in the way of all slaves, for the pleasure of their owners. She rolled her hips languidly on top of me. Her slow movements were unable to hide her growing excitement, and soon her rolling hips were accompanied by a bird song of light squeaks. Her hands grasped me, holding on tightly.
