Chapter 10

Warmaster Ffrroog bounced the lithe blue and yellow female on his lap. Her tight sheathe clutched him expertly, making him pant in anticipation. He leaned forward, his fat rolls wobbling, and nipped at her long, sinewy neck, causing her to gasp. He grabbed her fleshy ass cheeks with a low growl and smacked them hard. The loud clapping sound echoed through the room.

The female, Ghola, glared at Ffrroogg. Her face bore the characteristic look of disdain and disgust she usually had when mating with the Warmaster.

“Finish inside me, fat one!” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “You’ve been rutting in me for an hour!”

Her ass cheeks slapped against his fat legs, driving him further into the abyss of lust. Ffrroogg chuckled, grabbed a handful of flesh, and groaned before slamming into her again. It was always a sight to see how this disdainful female’s body moved with his; he loved every inch of it. He probed her back entrance with a thick finger, making the female hiss venomously.

“I will finish in your face, Ghola,” the Warmaster sneered back at her, “and then I will take you up the sphincter!”

Ghola slapped his pudgy face, and Ffrroogg clicked in his fat throat and fucked her harder. Ghola’s gold-spotted eyes rolled as she performed her duty to her Warmaster.

Zoolian females neither enjoy nor suffer during intercourse, approaching it with indifference or disdain. The reason for this disparity between the disinterested females and the insatiable males remains an unsolved mystery among Xenologists.

Ghola was definitely a typical Zoolian female. She hated the flabby face in front of her. She hated his stupidly large phallus. She hated his slimy tongue. She hated his pudgy fingers grabbing her buttocks as he thrust his swollen member into her. Ghola tried to control the rage inside her and did what she struggled to bring about her orgasm, which was nigh impossible, while Ffrroogg proved nothing more than a disgusting disturbance.

Ffrroogg loved mating with Ghola. Unlike his other voluptuous pleasure slaves, Ghola’s lean physique stood apart–it radiated strength. Her tight muscles defined her figure while she held herself with unwavering pride, a pride the Warmaster loved to insult with his lascivious attentions. Her dancing was second to none; He had invested a fortune in her dance instructors to make her so.

Ghola’s legs, honed from intense exercises, moved with the precision of a master sculptor’s hand. Her thighs boasted the impressive thickness that came with diligent training, and her backside, amply rounded and toned from relentless exercise, was the most beautiful thing Ffrroogg had ever laid eyes on.

Palooka burst through the doors, his broad feet thumping urgently against the cold stone floor. As his squat legs propelled his vibrant pink and yellow form forward, he stumbled into Ffrroogg’s pleasure chambers, where four slumbering females lay strewn across silk couches. His dual hearts pulsed rapidly, each desperate gasp for breath failing to calm their frenzied rhythm.

“What is it, Palooka?” The Warmaster glared over one of Goola’s slim blue shoulders at his dwarfish lieutenant. “I was not to be disturbed until all scouts had re-joined the fleet! What is your excuse?”

“Dey have my Warmadder!” The short Zoolian gasped, “Dad is wad I came da say!

Ffrroogg stopped screwing his concubine as his ire was now well and truly raised. “Then why did you not tell me on the communication board? Are you so mentally as well as physically defective that you cannot use the simplest of devices? Do I need to punish you?”

The pink and yellow Zoolian squeaked out a series of apologies mixed with pleas to be merciful.

“I could nod dell, your magnificence over da board ‘cause da communicadon sysdem is down across da whole ship!”

Ffrroogg stood up quickly, spilling Ghola from his bountiful lap. “What?!”

Ghola stumbled from her master’s unsteady legs onto the soft floor, quickly regaining her composure. The Zoolian female felt momentary relief, though concern lingered regarding the communication failure throughout the ship. Ghola strode towards the bathing pool with a shrug and elegantly dove in. Warm water enveloped her, cleansing her of the Warmaster’s touch. Submerged, she found solace from the discordant noise of the Warmaster’s roar and Palooka’s constant squeaking.

Ghola bobbed to the surface just as Palooka stammered out an answer to a question she did not hear.

“In da docking bay Warmadder! Number four!”