Marguerite Staunton had her face buried in her wife's sweet pussy while her sex slave, boy toy toiled mightily at pumping his prick into her heated pussy from behind. A tongue, most probably belonging to Marguerite's junior wife, was lapping at her clitoris. In all the mad orgy that took place at least once a week in Marguerite's bed was distracting her wonderfully from the day to day grind that a far listening post constituted.
When she'd been picked up on earth six months previously, all that Marguerite had hoped for was that she would once and for all regain some control of her life. A life that in some ways she had allowed her former husband, but now sex slave and boy toy to control. They had gone out that night to the bar to assuage her husband's disappointment with having not met the cutoff point for being extracted to serve in the Confederacy armed services.
The asshole, as Marguerite had thought of him at the time, had never considered that his wife might just have the where-with-all to extract herself and a couple of other people. Thus when the Confederacy marines had dropped an interdiction field around the bar and started calling names, including hers Marguerite had asked him to be her concubine. He had agreed, but when she said she was going to pick up another man so that she could have two men waiting on her, the asshole had reacted predictably. That had netted him the headache of the decade at least ... Marguerite had grabbed a husky waitress and, after seeing that she was reasonably tractable but not intimidated by men, had invited her along if she helped her drag her unconscious husband aboard the waiting spaceship.
The marines and the AI had argued against it but Marguerite had prevailed by saying that he had agreed to be her concubine. The ship's AI had agreed to let him be brought up and returned to consciousness in order that it could hear his agreement again. Marguerite had suggested that he should be made unable to attack anyone, as he had seemed so distressed by the thought of sharing her with other men. Therefore her husband had been dumped into a med tube, where he'd been neural blocked but awakened just long enough for Marguerite to explain the new order of the world if he wanted to live. In essence, he could become her concubine and come to the stars, or he would be dumped back on earth to try to get picked up with a very unfavorable CAP score.
The asshole, Brandon, though Marguerite didn't call him that, had agreed to be her concubine. She had ordered that he be resized to about 150 cm in height and that a load of nanites be introduced to his system that would make him violently ill if he contemplated violence. The med tech and the ship's AI had agreed that the nanites could work that way and thus had begun the transformation of Brandon the tyrant into Wimpy the sex slave.
With the immediate threat to his life removed, Marguerite had continued to remodel Wimpy. His beard went first, and his Adam's apple so that he now spoke in an unbroken and childish tenor. Marguerite added a slightly pudgy build and incipient breasts to the whole look so that when Wimpy wore a shift, he looked like he might be an underage female. All of that the AI had agreed to so long as he maintained his potency so far as the ability to sire children.
It had been harder for her to convince the AI to give her total control of Wimpy's erection and ejaculation. Now he couldn't achieve a hardon unless she specifically issued the order, "Wimpy I want a hard dick," nor could he cum unless she gave him permission with the phrase, "You can cum now Wimpy," otherwise she could either leave him erect or order him to loose the erection by saying, "Go limp now Wimpy"
Currently Wimpy had had an erection for more than an hour and he was begging once more, "Mistress, may I please cum and then just lick anyone else?"
The sound of his begging increased Marguerite's lust. She issued the order for him to cum and heard the high pitched whine as Wimpy unloaded a batch of babymakers into her vagina. Wimpy's orgasm set off a series of spasms in her body as well and it was a while before she could speak. When she had caught her breath enough she ordered, "If you want to cum again soon, you'll lick me clean of your cum."
Before the med tube had given her control of Wimpy, he would have refused the delicacy of a freshly fucked cream pie. But two months of conditioning with an erection that he couldn't bring down unless he did exactly what he was ordered had changed much in Wimpy's response. Without even a whimper he began to lick and suck at the mess he'd deposited in Marguerite's vagina. She didn't chastise him when she felt him sharing kisses with her junior concubine, or junior wife as she liked to think of her, Tori. Helga, the waitress who had come along and whose pussy she'd been licking, sat up and observed the goings on at her mistress' pussy. She uttered a laugh at her daughter's antics and said to Marguerite, "When you asked me to come with you, did you ever imagine that things would work out like this?"
"Stop licking me you two vampires!" Marguerite ordered so that she could get her breath and answer Helga.
"I don't suppose I did," she answered slowly after her breathing returned to normal. "Then again did you ever think that you'd celebrate your daughter's fourteenth birthday by inviting her to your marriage bed?"
"Before the announcement of the Sa'arm advance on earth? I'd have gutted the person who suggested such a thing," Helga said firmly. Marguerite reflected that the woman could have done that easily. Both she and her daughter, Tori were built on the extra large model of a German hausfrau. Helga was nearly 6 feet tall and weighed nearly 200 pounds of solid muscle without a bit of augmentation. Tori had not reached her full growth, and Marguerite was willing to let her grow at nature's pace for at least another 6 months, but she was trending toward being at least as tall and well endowed as her mother.
"And now?" Marguerite asked, probing to see if the subject was going to cause long term problems.
"I'd rather she be in my bed with you, and Wimpy there," Helga paused to pet Wimpy, almost as if he were a dog, "than to have an asshole like Corporal Winter to have her."
That of course was the crux of the matter, both for Marguerite's relationship with Helga and for the diminutive crew of Heinlein Station. Cpl. Winter had either left his concubines behind or killed them, Marguerite had yet to determine which, before he'd been assigned to the far listening post. The post's AI was mum on that issue, but had managed to convince the otherwise antisocial marine that it would lock him up if he damaged any of Marguerite's concubines. The fact that Marguerite had been awarded sergeant's stripes when she'd finished her training course had ensured that. Her arrival at the post had been accompanied by specific orders appointing her station commander lest there be any disagreement by Cpl. Winter. When she had learned of her assignment to Heinlein Station, Marguerite had closely questioned the AI at the training center. She had discovered that she wasn't prevented from taking her companions, as the post was not considered to be a true combat position.
Thus she'd arrived two months previously at Heinlein Station and taken command of the outpost that orbited among the jagged bits of debris that surrounded a star with no planets. Otherwise the Confederacy AI had admitted the area would probably have been a prime target, as it was it was behind the line of the Sa'arm advance. The station AI had squawked about the fact that the fast courier that had delivered Marguerite had insisted that the pod she'd occupied be added to the station. How the AI had intended to accommodate her otherwise Marguerite had no idea. The existing quarters had been just above a hot bunking situation if she had arrived unaccompanied.
Cpl. Winter had taken one look at the newly fourteen year old Tori and conceived a case of lust that Marguerite was not sure yet wouldn't result in her having to execute the man for mutiny. The station AI and apparently her pod AI had reached an accord that Tori would not enter the main portion of the station and that Cpl. Winter would not be allowed to go past the entrance to Marguerite's domicile. So far the main issue had been that Cpl. Winter was refusing to do work unless Marguerite shared a concubine with him. Marguerite had ordered the med tube that she'd convinced her pod to bud to reinforce Helga's physique, and so far she had lent her senior concubine out four times to the odious man. The fact that she came back with bruises and even a broken arm had put an end to that though. Helga was newly pregnant and Marguerite had no intention of allowing her child to be harmed.
The current orgy, not withstanding her disdain for Wimpy, was how she preferred to have her life run. So far as she could tell even outposts like Heinlein Station were to increase their population and to provide bodies to fight against the Sa'arm that seemed to multiply like rabbits on fertility drugs. Unfortunately, unlike rabbits, the Sa'arm were tool wielders that completely exhausted a planet's resources within a few centuries. Therefore the Sa'arm were creeping across the whole of the galaxy with the inevitability of the advance of army ants.
What she was to do with her compatriot, Marguerite had yet to determine. Living in prison because she couldn't trust her neighbor was becoming an issue that was reducing the efficiency of the listening post even though she could not figure out what exactly they were listening for. After all, for as long as the Confederacy had been aware of the existence of the Sa'arm, no communication between the units or their ships had been detected. Shortly after her own transport had departed like a cat with a scalded tail, the Sa'arm had poked their nose into the system. But apparently the station where she lived that was doing its best to emulate an asteroid didn't arouse their interest, because the ships that had come had departed within a few hours of their arrival. Nothing more had transpired. All of the drones and various satellites that had been dispatched to the near by active systems seemed to be working well. They continued to send reports that it was her duty to collate and ship to a higher headquarters for further analysis.
A soft chime from the pod's AI disrupted Marguerite's musing on her interpersonal problems. "A drone carrying instructions and supplies has arrived," the machine informed her in a feminine voice.