Chapter 45

We had a new place -- did I mention that? Johnny had been assigned quarters with a couple of bedrooms and privacy. I went into one of them and had a good cry. I just couldn't do it! I couldn't vend myself at a slave auction like it was just nothing and simple and easy -- but was the alternative ANY better? I fell asleep...

I had this dream. I was on a pedestal and surrounded by men. They all had their cocks out, and they were all erect. They would come by and feel my legs or poke a finger in my pussy or my ass; some would hurt my breasts, pinching me with their hard fingers. I was wearing a sign, but I couldn't read it; they would all shake their heads and walk away after molesting me in some way, making me flinch as they rubbed their gooey dicks on my legs or poked at my privates or whatever. Somebody said, "Theoretically, she can fuck, but..." There were all kinds of disparagements. Finally, someone who seemed familiar came up to the pedestal and looked up at me. The cock was Marco's, the face was familiar, even though it WASN'T.

"Please, Sir, what does the sign say?"

"Stupid cunt!" the man rasped. It was Marco's voice, too. "Nobody wants you, because you're too much trouble to get pointed in the right direction! MAYBE you can fuck -- but you probably still think you control that. Why would anybody want you if they're gonna have to throw you out an airlock in a couple of days?"

This all repeated in my head several times, the way dreams do. Somewhere in there, a huge, ugly black man came, bringing a ladder -- and he bent me over and shoved a HUGE cock up my ass, hurting me, then filled me with his seed -- not just a little, but an enema that gave me painful cramps. I asked piteously, "Do you want me?" and he just laughed and climbed down. The next guy was as sumo wrestler or something with a cock like a beer can. He stretched my pussy and pounded me without mercy -- and when he was done he threw me off the pedestal and came to stand over me and talk gibberish, then he picked me up bodily and slammed me back on the pedestal. An AI said in someone familiar's voice, "Get back up and stand there, you stupid fucking whore! Where is your sign?" And I couldn't find it...

I woke up; Mona was shaking my shoulder. "Get up and go pee or something, Mama -- you're having a nightmare."

"What time is it?"

"Late. Past bedtime. You've been sleeping all this time? You still need to do your ad. Shit! I should have come in here before this! Can't you do ANYTHING right?"

I quailed; the dream was fresh and the words fit it perfectly. "Where is Johnny?"

"John's in the main room, in conference with the AI. I think he's plugged into some learning program." Not 'Johnny' or 'Little Brother' or 'Swamp Thing' like she used to call him as a kid. Suddenly, he was 'John.' When I thought about it, Johnny hadn't called Mona 'Sis' in my hearing, either, all day. What did that mean?

I got up and headed out to the main room, rubbing my sleep-swollen and tear-stained face. "Johnny..."

He held up a finger to cut me off without looking at me. I waited for two or three minutes while he stood, silent, but pictures appeared on the wall. Then they stopped and he turned to me. "Yes, Mama? Have you done your ad? It's late."

"I... can't seem to do it right." I hung my head. "Everybody says I'm screwing up."

"The ad?" He was being deliberately dense or he wasn't paying any attention to me, one or the other.

"About you."

"That's your prerogative, Mama. You have to decide what you can live with." He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it, biting off whatever it was. I knew it would have been an attempt to persuade me. Instead, he said, "I have to insist that you move ahead with preparations to find a sponsor, though." He phrased THAT very carefully, too. "I can't do it for you. Mona was no help?"

"She only succeeded in embarrassing me," I related.

"The process is embarrassing. Doing it right is humiliating. Both will help you in the long run to submit properly to a sponsor," Johnny said calmly.

<Perhaps you should assist, John Tafarelli.> the AI offered. I heard that -- but I think there was a follow-on conversation, because Johnny got this look in his eye... I'd seen that look -- and the target always regretted what was to follow, when it appeared on Marco's face.

"It seems that I need to make sure you complete your assignments -- or I'll have to send you to a holding area where you can get other concubines to assist you," Johnny said. It was a threat; was it a threat from Johnny, or one from the AI? I wasn't going to know...

"Okay..." There wasn't another viable response.

"Follow me." He led me back into that room. "Now, do as I say -- understand? It's late, and I don't have time for foolishness." He cocked his head. "Go wash your face -- you're a mess. Hurry! Try to do something about those puffy features!"

I found myself running to the bathroom, my arms crossed below my breasts to keep them from bouncing too much. How did he do that?

He was right -- my face was a mess. I cleaned up the tear stains and tried to bring down the puffiness with a cold washrag, then returned to Johnny.

"Finally! Assume Presentation One! Smile, for God's sake!" I settled to my knees and cupped my breasts; from somewhere, Johnny had come up with a pointer. "Spread the knees, Mama -- Presentation One is an open pose! I should be able to reach between your legs and cup your pussy!" Johnny was sure right about the embarrassment and humiliation parts! I widened my stance, spreading my knees. "You're not smiling! Here we go..." His voice assumed a pedantic tone. "This is Gina Tafarelli, thirty-six year old mother of two with an excellent record, having produced one sponsor and one prime concubine. Note the bust -- very nice for a female of her age..." He held up a hand for the AI to stop recording, "Mama, can you get your nipples up? Pinch them or something?"

"I--I..."

"It really can't be all that hard," Johnny said, stepping behind me and tucking the pointer under his arm. "We could use ice, but then you would have goose pimples. Keep cupping them..." He reached around from behind me and began twisting and squeezing my nipples -- fairly hard! I grunted -- but they firmed up and stuck out pretty quickly. I also got embarrassingly wet... "That's good," Johnny pronounced, when they were firm and sticking out a half-inch. He circled to my front and looked down. "Your pussy is a little puffy and the lips have popped open -- that's a plus. Where were we?" He frowned. "You're blushing. Well, I guess that's okay." He reached out and gave my left nipple another tweak. Okay... Smile... This is Gina Tafarelli..." We got past my breasts and he discussed my belly (and rubbed it) noting that I'd delivered both of my babies vaginally. "From photographs, I can tell you that if you like what you see at thirty-six, regressing her to eighteen will get you a real eyeful. Sexually, we're going to have to either have her tested or rely upon her testimony. Knowing her ex-husband, I find it difficult to believe that she is virginal anywhere..." I knelt there, shocked. This was my son saying these things! "So, Gina, do you do fellatio?"

I looked at him blankly, so he gestured urgently for me to speak. "Uh, yes."

"Do you deep-throat?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever been choke-fucked?"

"I... What is that, exactly?" I asked.

"Have you been held by the head and had a cock rammed down your throat rapidly without regard for whether you could breathe properly or not?"

"Oh. Yes..." I hung my head, my face hot with the blush I knew was on it.

"Up, up! Smile! These are all valuable skills, Mama... Can we just patch it here, AI? Good. How about titty fucks? Push them together..." Johnny wet two fingers and slid them between my breasts and pumped them a couple of times. "Seems pretty nice in there. Soft..."

The humiliation was reaching the point where I couldn't hold up my head. Tears sprouted. Johnny held up his hand for a stop and said, "Don't cry, Mama -- you're doing well! You have all of these valuable skills... I know! We'll give you a reason! AI, let's pick it up. We may want to insert this before the titty piece..." He waved the two fingers in front of my face. "How is your gag reflex? Open your mouth..." I did -- I don't know why, exactly; I just seemed to be doing whatever he wanted... He immediately gagged me with them. "Well, she has one... How long of a cock have you swallowed? Eight inches? Ten?" the fingers continued to pump in and out of my mouth while I tried HARD not to vomit, then he backed off... "Show us how you make love to a cock with your mouth, Gina..." I heaved a couple of gasps to settled my stomach, then started sucking and tonguing Johnny's fingers. The embarrassment and humiliation were agonizing -- but I was wet! I itched from my clitoris to my anus and my outer lips were puffy and wide open and I wanted to be touched... Nothing had to be done to keep my nipples erect, either -- they hurt, they were so hard! Johnny reached down and clamped fingers on one, while continuing to pump his fingers in and out of my mouth and I groaned in mixed pain and pleasure. What the Hell was wrong with me? Then I remembered -- Marco did this kind of thing all the time! The hotter I got, the rougher HE got! Or was it...?

"Get your head up, Mama! Smile!" Johnny recaptured my attention by whacking me on the hip with the pointer. "On second thought, we're probably done, here. Presentation Three, Mama -- hurry!" He whacked me again, but I was already moving, turning around and rolling my ass up and dropping my upper body onto my forearms. "Turn your head and look back over your shoulder!" Johnny cajoled, "And smile!"

"All right!" Johnny stepped up on my left and slid his hand over my ass, his middle finger tracing the crack and my perineum and on into the open groove of my pussy. "As you can see, once aroused, Gina gets plenty juicy!" he slid his finger on down to my clitoral hood, murmuring, "Nice, big, clitoris..." He slid his index finger along one side and his middle finger along the other and flicked them back and forth rapidly and arousal flashed through me and I gasped and let out a soft moan. "Sensitive, too..." he added. Then he began running his middle finger up and down the pink channel between my pussy lips, wetting it in my juices. "The anus looks tight, but used... Have you had anal sex, Gina?"

"Yes," I gasped. His touch was maddening! He brought the finger up to my crinkled ring and I clenched, knowing what was coming, but he let the finger lightly circle the taut ring, barely touching it, and I relaxed.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes..."

"Show me..." He pressed gently, and I instinctively did what I knew would work from experience -- I bore down and pushed, and relaxed enough that he could insert his fingertip. He didn't go deep, but left it in to the first knuckle, trapped between the double openings of my anal ring. It didn't hurt -- even when he started rotating it back and forth! Instead, I moaned again... "I think she's telling the truth..." he chuckled.

Without removing his index finger from my sphincter, Johnny began probing my vaginal opening with his middle finger. It slid into my soaking opening and I clutched it with my inner walls, and Johnny, playing to whatever device was capturing the video, smiled and said, "This has passed two children, but it is clutching my finger..." Then he pumped both fingers a bit, and I welcomed them in both my holes -- and he began to move them back and forth rapidly and I gasped and moaned and arched my back, raising my ass, begging for more, utterly shameless! Johnny chuckled and said, "As you can see, she's a hot little number at thirty-six -- imagine what she'll be like at eighteen!"

Then he withdrew his fingers and said, "Okay, that's a wrap!" I whined and opened my mouth for a plaintive complaint and he shoved the two fingers in it, saying brusquely, "Clean these, Mama." He stepped around to my right and rubbed my left flank while I sucked my juices and, yes, a little crap from his fingers. "That was a pretty good first take," he related, "Now that you know what's coming and what the answers are, we can work on that smile and we should be able to wrap this in one more..."

I couldn't do this again; I didn't want to, anyway. Now, finally, I knew what I DID want to do... "I -- I don't want to do this again."

"You have to, Mama. This pass was okay, but you stumbled a lot. You need a polished performance..."

"I don't want to do it at all..."

"You have to do something!" Johnny rasped.

"I want to do the other thing," I mumbled.

Johnny's face set into serious lines. "Are you sure? I won't accept any half-hearted effort... Things will change -- they have to."

"I always wanted to -- I just can't be your mother and..." I whispered.

"You won't be. The old roles are dead. You will be my concubine, Gina. Just as Mona is no longer my sister -- she is my concubine -- period."

I understood the name thing, finally. It was how they broke from the past -- and how I would. "I understand... John."

John stood there for a moment, considering me. "For now, I believe we should go a bit further. You may refer to me as John when someone asks after me, but you will address me as Master, as Mona does."

"Yes, Master."

"We should make this official..."

"AI?"

"Yes."

"I submit myself to John Tafarelli." There. I'd said it. The old relationship was gone.

"John Tafarelli?" the AI prompted.

"I accept the concubine Gina's submission," John said, his eyes on mine. How had I never noticed how much of his father was in him? "Mona!"

"Master?" Mona stuck her head around the door so fast she HAD to have been watching...

"I'm afraid there will be a delay. My new acquisition is needy."

"Yes, Master." Mona somehow managed to transmit disappointment and anticipation, as well as acceptance.

"Come here." John gestured me over to him. I stayed on my knees, knowing that was where I would be needed. "Soon, we'll all be eighteen, physically. But tonight, you will give yourself to me as you are." He eyed me for a moment, the waved, "Go ahead."

He was a man -- wasn't he? He wasn't the last time I'd allowed myself to look... I opened the fly of his coverall and reached in... and found a firm, thick member, already somewhat hard. I pulled it down and out; the curve was familiar, but the length was greater than the other cock I was most familiar with -- not by much, but it was measurable. He wasn't the bear his father was, physically, but he was better equipped... I held his shaft and bent my head to do what I'd been taught no mother should ever do -- I lowered my lips over his glans, tasting him. Slowly, my eyes on his, I took in his shaft three times, a bit more each time. His eyes reflected his pleasure, but he didn't go wild; he held my eyes as I held his, limiting himself to soft grunts of approval.

"Let me see how you handle a face-fuck," he said. I let go of his cock and took his hands and placed them against my head; he chuckled and combed his fingers through my slightly gray-shot black tresses and pumped a few times -- but not hard or deep; it was enough for him to know I trusted him. "Show me your deep throat," he said, releasing my head. I collected his balls in my hand and drove the blunt head of his cock against the back of my mouth, forcing myself to gag and bring up a pool of saliva. I did it four or five times, and he waited patiently, knowing that this was only preparation, not my effort; when my mouth was full of saliva and it's embrace was slick and liquid, I straightened my neck and pushed my face into his wiry pubes, discovering that he was indeed a bit longer than his father. He broke new territory in my throat; I rocked a bit, moving him back and forth, embedded, then swallowed, my throat massaging his glans. "Aaahhhh!" he sighed, then, "Enough preliminaries. Follow!" and he withdrew his cock from me and turned away. I rose and hastened after him; I'd never been able to explain it, but something about giving a blowjob made me wild with desire... I wanted him more than ever!

He snapped his fingers and I threw myself onto a bed and flopped onto my back, spreading myself, totally wanton. This wasn't something a mother did with a son, but that wasn't a problem. Somewhere, I had a sixteen year old son, but this wasn't him. This wasn't little Johnny, whose knees I'd bandaged when he scraped them and who I'd taken to Cub Scouts and Little League. The person who climbed onto the bed between my spread legs and pressed his cock against my vagina, then pushed the head through the ring of my opening before stopping for a moment and rotating his hips wasn't a child by any stretch of the imagination. No, it was a man who pressed his curved length into the depths of my core, then withdrew, only to snap his hips, burying himself again. I moaned, and he chuckled, "I've found the source of the legend..." as he withdrew again, relatively slowly. Then his hips snapped again, and he was in deep and withdrawing...

I rose to orgasm so quickly... If it took thirty seconds, I would be surprised! I let out a gasping wail and clutched him and he owned me; he'd taken possession. I was his. The man that HAD occupied this place in my life was gone -- and I was pleased about it, truth be told. Marco was more than a little bit evil... John had never killed man for ANY reason -- and certainly not for money, or for the fun of it. I flopped back, gasping, and he continued his unhurried two-speed stroke, not in the least ready to quit. A minute later, I was shuddering while my juices splashed forth, in the throes of a massive climax; John's cock sought out my G-spot and rubbed it on every stroke and I was unable to contain myself! I clutched him and babbled and knew joy, and he pinched my nipples and the pain was like the coconut frosting on a Black Forest cake -- the finishing touch...

Only a few minutes later, I lay wracked by another climax -- and I began to worry that I would run out of energy before he reached his peak. But he began to show signs of being caught up in the pleasure he generated, and I took heart and began concentrating on HIS pleasure, tightening my inner muscles and increasing the friction on his piston. I began to encourage him, caressing his face and murmuring, "Yes! Cum for me! Fill me! Make me yours!" while clutching him with my tunnel. My arousal increased and I realized that my efforts were creating a backlash -- but John was close, so close... I just had to hold out for a moment longer... Then he roared, a well-remembered mannerism that he no doubt inherited from that other, and drove himself deep and delivered a massive blast of semen directly onto my cervix from a millimeter away, if that -- and I screamed, and my belly clenched and my pussy milked him in rolling spasms -- but he managed to back off and slam into me again -- and shoot again -- despite my clutch! And he did it a third time, and a fourth, and my belly was locked up and I couldn't breathe and I saw stars...

I awakened to Mona's smile; John was resting peacefully with his face in my neck. "That looked like fun," Mona murmured. I pushed at her, irritated; her comment was like saying, "did you hear something?" after an artillery piece went off beside you! It was an insult to the power of the interlude... "That's rude! Be nice!"

"Oh?" Mona eyed me.

"Words can't describe it, and you come along and go, 'That looked like fun...' It's like looking at a diamond and saying, 'Gee, is that carbon?' It's just...."

"Inadequate?" Mona asked, smiling.

"Insulting!" I retorted. John moved a bit, and I caressed his back. "Be quiet -- John is resting."

"I wonder why?" Mona chuckled. "That was... impressive... almost an hour..."

"What?"

"Fifty minutes from when I looked at the clock..."

"It... didn't SEEM that long," I mused.

"You were in La-La Land for a good bit of it!" Mona teased, "Gina..."

I reached up and caressed her cheek. "Sisters, then?"

"In bondage," Mona nodded. "I'm going to turn off the light and cuddle up." She turned and the lights went out. "Or not..." She pressed herself against us. There was a wet spot slowly growing cold beneath my butt -- and it didn't matter. My eyes drifted shut.

Sunday evening, I entered Mess Seventy-Nine, patrolling. Things were tense. There were a lot of newly naked men and women in the Mess, and most of them would rather have been clothed. I glanced around. Yeah, there they were -- the Salazars. Like everyone else, they were looking a bit different this evening...

This morning at breakfast, my attention had been drawn by a high scream that turned out to be feminine Spanish pouring out at about sixty to one. I was hitting the upper five messes, Seventy-Five to Seventy-Nine, one by one; Sub-Decurion Hopkins the Younger, Little Miss 'Please don't make me a brothel administrator' was doing the lower five. Sub-Decurion Hopkins the Elder, the World's Most Accomplished Fat Slut, hadn't made it to medical yet and was still a concubine. Anyway, I headed over to see what the disturbance was and discovered the Salazars.

The noise was coming from a wizened crone in widow's weeds and a cane; the woman had to be eighty. But she was angry and noisy about it. Grouped around her, trying to handle things, were three other females of various ages and a boy of about fourteen. "Who is in charge here?" I rasped.

"I guess I am," -- the boy, of course.

"And you are?"

"Javier Salazar. I'm a sponsor."

"Just barely, I bet," I retorted.

"Yes."

"What is the problem?"

The old woman went off again. I pointed at her and said very clearly, "SHUT UP!" She did so, glaring.

"Nana doesn't understand..."

"I don't understand, either," I retorted. "What's Nana doing here?"

"I invited Grandma Estrella," Javier, replied, waving at a handsome, fifty-something Hispanic female, "But Nana was with her, visiting from the old country. I didn't know what to do..."

"Okay, I get that." I mean, the kid was fourteen... "Who are the others?"

"Well, Mama..." Javier waved at a thirty-something female with a nice, puffy bust in a peasant blouse.

She stepped forward and extended a hand, "Graciela. This is Marisol," she added, indicating what was obviously Javier's younger sister.

"So what is the problem, exactly?" I asked.

Estrella stepped in. "Nana -- Javier's great grandmother -- doesn't understand what is going on. She doesn't know where she is and she wants to leave. Frankly, I can't really explain..."

"Does she speak English?"

"Not a word."

I could have the AI translate, but the other women were standing there. I turned to Graciela. "Javier and Marisol are in the school, correct? You are aware of what they were preparing for?"

"Yes. We hoped the Confederacy would pick them up and ship them to a colony," Graciela confirmed.

"And that has occurred," I confirmed, "Except we took families, too. Where is your husband?"

"He was off following the harvest," Graciela murmured. "Javier was on a scholarship. We're very proud of him."

"And the grandfather?" I asked Estrella.

"We're... separated." Estrella's face closed. Good Catholics don't divorce, period, in many countries.

"So what doesn't Nana understand?"

"Just about everything," Graciela replied. "Nana doesn't believe in aliens or space travel or..." she shrugged. Looking around, she added, "You hear the tales... I expected everyone to be naked."

"The tales are correct. You'll be coming out of your clothing sometime today," I told her, "among other things. But Nana is a problem..."

"Why?" asked Estrella.

I turned to her. "Are you menstruating?"

"Today?"

"At all. Are you post-menopausal?"

Estrella looked offended. "Why do you ask rude questions?"

"Because they are necessary to determining your status," I replied frigidly.

"Grandma, he's serious. Answer the question," Javier interjected. "She doesn't understand."

Estrella eyed her grandson. "I'm... in process..."

"Good. We'll be reversing it, then. To clarify, you are an unassigned or unregistered concubine, as of yesterday when you boarded the Valhalla. Graciela is, too. Marisol is, of course, a child -- but Nana presents a problem. We just don't collect old people. Women past menopause..." I shrugged.

Estrella cocked her head. "What is a concubine?"

"You will find a sponsor. You will submit yourself to that sponsor. You will become a member of his household," I replied, continuing with, "You will have your sponsor's children, among other things."

"This... sounds like slavery..."

"The concepts bear such a striking resemblance that differentiating between them is virtually impossible," I replied. "The human race needs to grow rapidly to be able to defeat the threat. This is, ultimately, the bargain we made with the Darjee and the other Confederacy races for the tools to do the job. They only wanted sponsors, but we pointed out that we cannot multiply properly without a larger gene pool. You are... livestock." I watched her face turn red. Okay, it was sorry-assed of me, but I deal with a lot of females and sometimes it is best to put things out there in the worst possible way and let them alter it to fit what they want to hear...

Nana opened her mouth again and I spun to her and held up a finger. Fortunately, she was conditioned to respond to authority. "What is her problem now?" I asked.

"She knows I've been insulted," Estrella grated.

"She THINKS you've been insulted," I corrected. "YOU think you've been insulted. What has REALLY happened is that you have been exposed to the plain, unvarnished truth."

"Do you have to be rude?"

"I find that it saves time to cut to the chase -- and my time is valuable," I replied.

We were interrupted at that point by Jack's little punishment demonstration, which appeared on every wall of the mess. When it was over, Nana Salazar emitted a one-word snort.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Movies..." Graciela replied.

"Come with me." I waved the group after me. I turned to watch, but Nana hobbled along pretty spryly on her cane. "How old is she?"

"Eighty two," Estrella replied shortly.

"She's seen a lot of changes," I observed. "and she'll see more."

Fortunately, Mess Seventy-Nine was near the outer hull; even old biddies get my attention, periodically, and I didn't want to wear Nana out. In five minutes or so, however, we'd made the walk to Viewport Lounge One Forty-Six. Mother Earth hung out there in the port, slowly spinning, in all her glory. "So much for science fiction," I declared.

The whole family drifted to the port, mesmerized; well, I'd done it, too, my first time, and I could still get sucked in. I gave them a couple of minutes, then said, "Okay, now that you have her attention, try to get her to understand. There is no going back -- in fact, sometime tomorrow, we'll be leaving. AI?"

"Decurion?"

"At Medical, roll back Nana to, sixty, say, and make all reasonable and necessary repairs. She can't be a concubine, but we'll find another role. Push Estrella back five years or so -- whatever it takes to get her ovaries operating at one hundred percent -- she's going to be a concubine. Javier, Nana is a dependent, like Marisol. She's YOUR dependent -- you are responsible, just as you are for Marisol. Sometimes old people must be taken care of like children, and this is one of those times. I realize that she is not a child, but she is neither a sponsor nor a concubine -- so she is a dependent. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Javier nodded.

"Estrella and Graciela, Javier is in charge. He is young and may need help in making adult decisions, but he MAKES the decisions. He is the man -- I know you understand this type of thing culturally. He is trained in what we're doing and he knows what is going on. If he asks for advice, find out everything about the situation and advise him -- but decisions are his call. You are under Javier's protection until you find another sponsor. You could CONTINUE under Javier's protection, but you may not wish to -- there is a price to be paid. Some pay it gladly and some cannot contemplate the idea; you'll learn about it all in briefings today. Take Nana to the briefings so she understands, even though most of it doesn't apply to her. She can keep an eye on Marisol. Are we clear?" I got three nods. "I'll take you back to breakfast now." I turned and led them back.