0 comments/ 6252 views/ 7 favorites Space Princess: Ill-Met By Moonlite By: CyranoJ DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction written for adult entertainment. Any resemblance of any characters herein to real persons, living or dead, or to copyrighted characters in or out of print circulation or broadcast syndication, is purely coincidental. Erotic content includes graphic depictions of sex, of fetish-related themes and of fantasy non-consensual sexual behaviours and situations. If you find such material disturbing or incompatible with your morals, and/or if you are below the adult age in your country, state, province or county, then read no further. The author does not seek to encourage or condone hateful and criminal actions toward people of either gender or of any species. PREFACE: This is a parody inspired by vintage late-sixties SF, in particular a certain series whose title rhymes with Snarr Freck. It consists in the main of lighthearted, slightly campy vintage sci-fi smut, but be warned of two things: first, it's long, with lots of plot; second, some of the hardcore sexual content includes subject matter not for the faint of heart. Space Princess: Ill-Met By Moonlite The touches of vulnerability he'd seen in her only made her confidence more impressive. And more alluring. He cleared his throat. "It was hardly just me, Your Highness," he said modestly. "Captain Hollander pulled out all the stops in that banquet tonight." "Yes, she did, of course. Their observation deck is a wonder. I've never seen my home from the outside before, I was humbled." "Humbled?" He gave a low chuckle. "You, Your Highness?" She smiled at him over her shoulder, her antennae waving, her eyes disarmingly gentle, the tiara at her brow twinkling. The winsome expression combined with the stunning rearward view of her naked body to make his mouth go dry, his temples throb... his ramrod stiffness pulse with a lust that shamed him, and only grew more intense with the knowledge of that shame. "Do I seem so prideful to you, My Lord?" she said, her voice like lilting music. "You seem magnificent to me, Your Highness." It was the only thing he could think to say. As her eyes shone silently at the compliment, he cleared his throat and added: "Um, I don't think replicated wine can match the organic vintage they served tonight. But we could use one more glass, yes?" At her nod, he turns to the matter-compiler. "Two glasses of chardonnay." The flutes of wine materialized, and he carried them over. He was acutely conscious of her eyes on his as they toasted silently and drank. As she lowered her glass, though, she looked a touched troubled and distracted. "What is it, Your Highness?" He wanted to wipe the disquiet from her face, to restore that soft contentment. "I just," she said, faltered for a moment and then found her voice again: "I hope I can eventually be friends with all of your fine people. Naomi's feelings I understand... but Miss Oona's dislike..." "Oona's dislike?" This surprised him; more than that, the sadness in her voice was like a cut in his flesh. "I thought she seemed genuinely to admire you." "Women can be very subtle about these things, My Lord," the Princess reminded him. "And Miss Oona is a very subtle woman. She makes so many little innocent-sounding remarks, but with hidden barbs..." "Could it be that her remarks sound innocent because they are?" he countered gently. "Perhaps you're being unfair, Your Highness." "Perhaps you're right," she conceded. "Although the way she was always watching me... well, I hope you're right." The barb of her doubt stuck in his mind, but the pain faded a little as her eyes, wandering, suddenly alighted on a massive trunk in the far corner of his quarters. "My goodness, whatever is that?" He smiled bashfully. "Oh, just a project I'm working on, Highness. You wouldn't find it very interesting, it's... well, it's technical." "Oh. Then you're right." She chuckled musically, self-deprecating, making him want to laugh with her, so he did. But now in her turn she noticed the intensity of his eyes on hers, and blushed slightly. "My Lord... you stare." "Forgive me, Highness." At close range, her beauty made him light-headed. His mouth seemed to lead a life of its own: "I just... I know so little about you. Your home, your people, your kingdom. Yet you remind me so much of... of a people that my ancestors back on Earth told many wonderful stories about. Stories that inspired me since I was a child, that inspired my work. You look like those stories made flesh, I even dare to think your people may be the true story behind them... and... and I want to know everything about you." The heat in her answering gaze made him painfully aware, once again, of the throbbing, stiff organ at his crotch. "And I," she said. "I would like to know... everything about you, My Lord." "Well, to start with, I'm not a Lord." He smiled ruefully, secretly terrified that this revelation might turn her off. "I really am just 'Doctor' Karl Cullen. You deserve to know that." She shook her head, setting down her drink on a nearby table. "Your honesty speaks well of you," she said, stepping forward, making him swallow hard as she put her arms loosely around his shoulders. "But let me tell you what a Lord truly is, to my people. A Lord is a man of drive, of vision... of power. A man who knows what he wants, and takes it. A man who doesn't fear his desires, or his dreams." His breath caught as she came close against him, the delicate scent of her making his head spin, her back arching as she pressed herself in... moving seductively, thrilling that long, hard length in his jumpsuit, making it even bigger, thicker, harder. Her voice was husky as she whispered in his ear: "I think you are a Lord, 'Doctor' Cullen. I think you are My Lord." A sudden incandescence of desire flared up in him, boiling away the uncertainties, the shyness, the shame. He tossed his wine glass away, letting it roll on the floor as they melted into a passionate, consuming kiss, their tongues performing an ancient choreography of pure instinct. Before he knew what he was doing, he was sweeping her light, lissome body up in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom, throwing her on the mattress with a roughness that would have embarrassed him a moment before... those dark eyes shining lustfully up at him as he ripped off his clothes like a man possessed, those sweet lips gasping as her fingers worked on the wet, pink flesh under her dark thatch until, finally naked, he threw himself on her like an animal, tasting her soft skin with a hungry mouth, sucking and biting at her perfect breasts, her long and graceful throat, pulling her into another devouring kiss as his meaty shaft pulsed hot and hard against her thigh. "Mmmm... mmm-hmmm..." she moaned luxuriantly, sucking his tongue into her mouth and swirling her own around it, almost fellating it. Like her laughter, her moans were music. Her mouth was ambrosia. Her hot flesh was supple honeyed lust, made to be caressed and tasted. Her fingernails raked lightly at his hard chest through its pelt of thick hair. Her hands were fire all over him, stroking him, clutching at him, igniting him. He wanted to hear her moan again and again. He ached to be inside her... but he had enough restraint left to hold off. Not yet... not yet... He broke off, bit and kissed and licked his way down, down, down... "Ahhhhhh... AHHHhhh..." Her fingers laced themselves in his long hair as he tasted her. Her sex was fragrant, slippery, hot... she was the sweetest he'd ever tasted, and he was something of a connoisseur. His mentorships at the Academy weren't always chaste, but for all the young beauties he'd enjoyed in his years there, he had known nothing that could hold a candle to this... to devouring this otherworldly creature's sultry, honeyed quim like a fine meal, making her hips writhe, her delicious pink slit grinding into his face as he drove her closer, closer, closer... Her hands tightened painfully in his hair, the unmistakable signal that she couldn't bear to wait any longer. Neither could he. Sliding back up her body with almost brutal urgency, he lost himself in her eyes as he canted his hips... found the soft wet heat of her yielding, ready opening... and drove his nine-inch weapon home as hard as he could! "OHHHHHH!" she cried out, and then as he started to move in her, stirring her molten honey-pot with that thick, long manhood: "Oh Oh OHHHhhh my Lord... so powerful... so strong... Ohh Ohh OHHhh OHHhh OHHHhhh... MMMmmm..." She drew him in for another kiss, sucked and bit his bottom lip as he pounded her, gasped her passion hotly into his mouth as his strokes started to penetrate harder, faster, deeper, her breasts shaking, her whole body shuddering, her legs spreading wide to give him maximum access: "OHHH-OHHH-OHHHH-OHHHH-OHHHH... my Lord CUL-Len... you feel incredible... OHHHhhh my GOD..." She drew his head down to her shoulder, holding him in place as she arched and writhed against him with urgent need and he rattled the bed with his thrusts, wrapping her legs around him and digging the nails of one hand deep into the rippling muscles of his back as he pummelled her, wet sounds starting to emerge from the slick tunnel between her thighs as his shaft plumbed and plundered the depths of her quivering, wanton pussy, their sweat-slicked bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as the bedrock of a thousand million worlds. With his head down, he didn't see the strange flickers of light dancing around her tiara. Nor could he see her eyes, open and alert now as she went on gasping her seductive encouragements into his ear. "My Lord..." She slid her hand down to clasp at a muscular, flexing buttock, drawing him deeper into her. "You are My Lord... Lord and Master... yes... TAKE what you want... fuck your little Princess... I am yours... YESSS..." And all the while she stared, her expression fathomless and dispassionate, into the gathering shadows. Space Princess: Ill-Met By Moonlite "The original idea was surgery-by-'caster," he said. "But I decided, why not go one better? I'll leave the really technical explanation for the Science Council, but basically the Cullen Effect 'casts an existing pattern into high-domain hyperspace, 'borrows' matter from the inter-dimensional substrate, then brings it back and reassembles it according to a recorded, healthy pattern." He nodded at the petunias. "And if I don't have a recorded pattern on hand, I can reverse-engineer one from the existing data. Like I did with these petunias. The resulting clone is, essentially, an ideal version of the original. I call it the Regenerator." The entire room was thunderstruck. Captain Hollander said: "Exactly. Now you all know why I thought it was important." "Karl... you've really done it." Dr. Bell sounded, despite everything, impressed. Even awed. "This really could change everything." "Yes," Cullen nodded. But he was looking at Arwyn, whose eyes were shining up at him again. "And now I've been handed an early chance to test it. I can go to Earth with proof that the Process works on humanoids... if we help the Princess. If I take it to the Sojin moon - to Seelie - and use it to heal her brother."