The Academy
Chapter 58

Copyright© 2009 by Thinking Horndog

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 58 - The Governor of the colony of Nuevo Angelino recognizes that the ad-hoc educational system in use in his colony isn't producing sponsors -- so he sends a team to Earth to collect some professional educators with a Confederacy perspective. This results in a new and unusual kind of pickup. Prepare to see it through the eyes of a couple of dozen of the participants...

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   mt/Fa   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Fa/ft   Ma/Ma   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Rape   Coercion   Hypnosis   Slavery   Gay   BiSexual   Heterosexual   TransGender   Hermaphrodite   Science Fiction   Space   Cuckold   Incest   Mother   Son   Brother   Sister   Father   Daughter   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   FemaleDom   Rough   Light Bond   Humiliation   Torture   Snuff   Harem   Polygamy/Polyamory   Interracial   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Sex Toys   Water Sports   Enema   Pregnancy   Cream Pie   Voyeurism   BBW   Body Modification   Teacher/Student   Big Breasts   Military  

Jack:

Friday morning, I crawled out from between my big girls -- Beth and Keisha -- and prepared to go to work. It wasn't easy; the pair of them had tried to kill me overnight. I could fuck Beth for weeks, it seemed like -- and Keisha could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch -- and they kept trading off and absorbing every little wiggler I could muster. I must have been in the saddle for three hours! Clearly, I needed help; what was going to happen when I got home to Dottie and Tina with four new concubines in tow? I was holding my own now, but...

I took Frieda to work with me -- and explained my plan. "Yeah, that ought to work," she agreed, nodding. "You look wasted -- want another coffee?" Good ol' Frieda ... In any case, Mack Taylor and his young son could wait until the afternoon...

Mark had a pretty decent looking Hispanic woman in tow -- and was acting just a leetle bit weird. "This is Graciela Salazar," he related, seeming somewhat embarrassed. "I've taken an ... interest ... in the Salazar family." I had to wonder what THAT meant ... To my knowledge, no woman ever spent more than a single night in Mark's bed -- and most didn't last THAT long. Was something up? One thing was certain -- this Graciela woman seemed clam-happy to be where she was and was making an honest effort to be absolutely perfectly behaved...

Mark:

Javier had morning sponsorship training, so I decided to wait discussing Graciela with him until after lunch. Graciela spent the morning following me, being the perfect concubine -- and too pleased with herself to allow me any comfort. The situation was out of control -- and I didn't see me fixing it; I was in too deep. I worked on my objectivity, but there were big holes in it where that curvy brown woman was concerned...

When we did put in an appearance at the Salazar's quarters, Javier hadn't returned yet -- but Estrella wasn't displaying the distress she had the previous evening. "Decurion..." she murmured, waving us inside. "Javier has not yet returned."

"And how are you this afternoon?" I asked.

"I am well. Graciela... ?"

"I am VERY well..." Estrella's daughter replied. Clearly the pair had things to say to one another; I waved Graciela forward and settled into a chair.

Nana and Marisol put in an appearance; Nana was noticeably more youthful. "Decurion! How went your evening?" Nana asked.

I eyed her, trying to think of a way to keep the truth from her -- but she penetrated my glance. "Graciela will have a sponsor," she murmured, her eyes hooded.

"Yes." There -- I'd admitted it. "She will meet her obligations where Javier is concerned, but..."

"Estrella met hers last night -- and it was well done. There will be no more problems on that front," Nana informed me. "Will you be giving her another chance?"

Pursing my lips, I nodded. "I must. I shortchanged her."

Nana essayed a crooked smile. "And her culo?"

I grimaced. "Not tonight. That would again be unfair."

Nana nodded, then: "Decurion?"

"Yes?"

"Welcome to our family."

I nodded gravely. "My name is Mark. Actually, it is Marcus -- Marcus Tillotson."

"I think you should BE Marcus," Nana opined.

"It really only sounds right when you say it," I replied.

"Very well. Something to drink, perhaps?"

"Please," I replied. "Iced tea -- as brewed, not that nasty stuff from a can -- gently sugared with a bit of lemon."

"I have it," Marisol murmured, and headed for the kitchen.

"You are the head of the family now, Marcus," Nana murmured.

"You are the matriarch, and Javier is the head of the family," I argued.

"You know better," Nana retorted. "You assumed the position when you decided to accept Graciela."

"I wonder if Graciela didn't make that decision," I replied, rubbing my face.

Nana barked a chuckle. "It matters not."

"Nonetheless, Javier..." I began.

"Enjoys the blessings and privileges of his manhood," Nana finished. "You set the rules -- I assume that they have not changed?"

"They have not."

"May I ask a favor?"

"Certainly. What is it?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"I ask that, periodically, a certain old crone be allowed to grace your bed..."

"Are you a Salazar woman?" I asked.

"I am."

"Very well, then."

"Oh, boy!" Marisol erupted, handing me a chilled glass.

"You are not yet -- ah, never mind!" I rolled my eyes. "Four generations..."

"You are truly blessed," Nana simpered, her eyes hooded.

"Actually, how is it that you are all Salazars?" I asked.

Nana chuckled. " Estrella took back her maiden name after divorcing Hector Suarez -- an American thing. Graciela -- well, there are Salazars and there are Salazars -- much as there are Joneses and Joneses. Her husband Raul was not even distantly related. It was an odd coincidence."

Javier arrived at that point. "How was your evening?" I asked.

"It was excellent!" The look on his face conveyed his satisfaction even more than words. "And yours?"

"Graciela is impressive," I replied. "Too impressive to pass up. We should talk."

Javier nodded, settling into a chair. "Then you will take her?"

"That is the plan," I agreed. "I set up a non-standard family situation when this whole thing was first pressed upon me. At the time, the plan was to ensure that your mother and grandmother did what was necessary for you to hold the family together -- and, frankly, to ensure my ability to escape. Now ... now I have to ask you -- do you really want it this way?"

Javier smiled, his eyes flicking to his sister and great-grandmother. "You no longer wish to escape, then?"

"Well, I would be lying if I didn't say that I'm a bit nervous, but..." I drew a breath. "No."

"So do you become a Salazar, or do I become a Tillotson?" Javier asked.

"I'm not certain that either is required," I replied. "What might be simplest is that I take on both Graciela and Estrella, allowing you to use your own quotas for other picks. However, since we have set the rules, we will continue to share them."

"You should then share any new selections I make also," Javier pointed out.

"I may, but I needn't," I replied. "Let's see how that goes."

Javier nodded. "Very well. And Nana and Marisol?"

I pursed my lips. "I think ... we should share responsibility for them, too..."

Javier smiled. "I think they might like that."

I nodded and stood, taking a long drink of my tea. "That's how we'll handle it, then. I need to return to work; I'll call for Estrella later. Graciela is at your disposal."

Javier nodded. "Based upon last night, you won't be disappointed."

I chuckled. "And neither will you!" I took my leave, heading for my office.

Raul Salazar:

I sat in the shop, a bundle of nerves. The good news was that our late-morning snack -- a couple of very freshly-baked bagels and two coffees -- cost under six dollars. The bad news was Juanita, who just didn't understand... "We're going to lose the entire morning!" she complained, wringing her work-roughened hands.

I took one in mine and muttered, "Relax." Even if what I had been told the evening before about this place was a lie, I had confirmed that Graciela and the children were gone. This relieved some pressure on me; I could afford the morning. One way or another, Juanita would discover this soon; I had already released myself from the restrictions in my heart that placed Graciela and the children first. Juanita wasn't the beauty that Graciela was -- she had worked hard all her life and her body displayed the effects of that rough usage -- but she was otherwise superior in many areas, including her work ethic. Graciela inherited her mother's pride -- and I would not be one to say that the demands of raising our children were light, but Juanita would have taken a job as a maid or a cleaning woman somewhere to relieve some of the burden on me so that we could be together more. There was nothing wrong with Juanita's sex drive, either; we generally made love out of doors in order not to disturb the others in either bunkhouse and invite a possible group scene. In pillow-talk, Juanita admitted that such things HAD happened in the past; many women would have considered it gang-rape, but Juanita said, "You don't do something like that, loudly, under a man's nose and expect him not to participate. I was generally reluctant and attempted to impose limits -- but I was not always successful." Juanita's attitude may have saved her life; gang-bangs are not unknown to those living under our conditions, and a woman who insists -- loudly -- that it is gang-rape may force the hands of the male participants with violent results. In general, no one goes looking for some woman doing migrant labor if she goes missing, especially if everyone says she left in the night under her own power...

I limited my response to, "If I get this job, we'll both make up for it very quickly." I'd told her that I was going to a job interview, and that if I got hired, I would be leaving immediately; that's what got her there -- that and the offer to see to it that she was hired, too, if she came with me. But she was there on trust -- and if she trusted me, it didn't mean that she trusted anyone else involved.

I didn't, either. I was born a poor Mexican kid in a border town; I saw plenty of injustice before I slipped across the border to the U.S. I'd seen plenty since, too; illegals got some protection, but were still illegals. I actually wasn't an illegal any more; Graciela wasn't and we had children and we'd done the complicated dance with the government that led to me finally attaining citizenship -- too late to make anything of myself, but in plenty of time to see to it that our children had opportunities. I was gratified that they had taken one, too, that would secure their future better than anything I could do...

I saw them as they came through the door; you could tell, if you weren't a sheep and stayed alert. The pride, the upright posture, the bearing, the careful movement, the alertness -- they COULD have been police or some other type of soldier, but at over six and a half feet ... One of them was wearing a 'Grateful Dead' T-shirt and it molded itself to a body that looked like a giant 'G.I. Joe' doll. It wasn't just the muscles, either -- he looked almost bullet-proof. They went and stood in line to get food; Juanita caught my attention and said, "Dios Mio!" and made to flee.

"Sit, Juanita, relax. Trust me," I whispered. "They aren't INS." Juanita's 'papers' couldn't stand up to an intense examination by law enforcement of any type, so she avoided contact with cops -- but I knew these weren't cops...

The third guy wasn't as physically impressive -- but he WAS trouble. Clearly, he was following the other two; just as clearly, he was up to something. I watched him scan the room, taking in the men and women in business clothing who were taking advantage of the wireless internet to conduct business meetings. Then he got on his cell phone... "Wait here," I told Juanita. She turned positively ashen, but she sat still. I got up, carrying my coffee cup, and joined the men in line.

I needed a gambit -- and could think of only the stupidest, most obvious ploy. It would have to do... "Do you know what time it is?" I asked Mr. Grateful Dead.

He looked at his watch and took a moment; it wasn't set for local time. "Almost ten-thirty."

"The guy in the corner on the cell phone followed you in. He's trouble."

"Yeah. We know." He fished out his Blackberry and poked it a couple of times. "Salazar, right?"

"Yes."

"Keep your head down. There's an Earth First cell working in the county and they've pissed us off one time too many. The backup team is waiting for them to assemble." He flicked a glance at Juanita. "That your old lady?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we'll try to get your table behind the wall shield when it goes up."

"Thanks."

"No problem. She's freaking; you'd better go over and settle her down before she blows things." He eyed me significantly. "You can tell her, now."

"Thanks." I headed back to the table. "Sit, Juanita. Relax. Let me get you another coffee. All is well," I assured her.

"What is going on?"

"I need for you to compose yourself. It is very important that you settle down," I insisted quietly. "Life and death important."

"Dios Mio! I knew it! They're cops!" she whispered.

"They're not -- and you don't matter to them. Now relax and I'll tell you all about it," I whispered back, patting her hand. "Keep your eyes on me and don't do anything silly."

She took a breath. "Okay."

"They're Confederacy soldiers," I told her. "There will be a pickup."

Her eyes popped. "How do you know this?"

I smiled. "Never mind -- it's my 'job interview'. But there is something else going on..."

"What?"

"There is an Earth First guy in the house, and he's called for backup."

"Dios Mio!"

"Shhh! Relax. The hunter is about to become the hunted; the Confederacy soldiers know about it and are planning on taking out the Earth First team. We're going to pretend we know nothing about anything until the mess is over -- and then I'm taking you to the colonies with me."

"You are?" Juanita's eyes glowed. "What about Graciela?"

"Graciela and the children were extracted three days ago. I have been ... relieved ... of my responsibility for them," I related.

"So, you're... ?"

"Yours?" I finished for her, smiling. "No, you're mine!" I pulled her to me and kissed her.

THAT relaxed her, finally -- until she remembered... "How many... ?"

"Two. But I don't HAVE to take any other women," I replied.

Juanita pursed her lips. "I should not interfere. Besides, maybe you can take a cute little gringa that we can use as a maid and housekeeper?"

I had to laugh at her wit -- what a switch THAT would be! "I would have to use her..."

"Of course! She owes you! She wouldn't want to make you unhappy -- bad things could happen..." Juanita mocked.

I was still chuckling when it started going down. Five guys came through the door wearing long coats; this was either 'The Matrix' or trouble was going to start -- or both. The Marines ignored them -- which should have clued them in that they were expected, but didn't. They stationed themselves around the room. A couple of minutes later, three other guys came in -- except I could tell they weren't Earth First from their attitudes. They went through the line and picked up food, then selected positions which covered the EF guys from plain sight. Finally, one of the original pair stood up and said, "Okay, this is a pickup," and the shield went up. The EF team was waiting for the Marine to call out sponsor's names and get them to acknowledge who they were so thay could kill the sponsors with the Marines -- but they never got the chance, because the second team -- whoever they were -- gunned them down with stingers. Mr. Grateful Dead stood talking to someone -- apparently on an earphone rig -- and announced, "All clear. We got the outside team, too. You guys take these idiots out and sweat them for the rest of the cell and we'll get on with the pickup." The three guys in the second group got up and made a pile of the five EF guns and the recon weenie and set up what must have been a transporter and tossed them into it like sacks of grain or something, then they transported out, themselves.

 
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