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Author Topic: The Waif (Mf, 13 cons, oral)  (Read 1171 times)
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Fame 14
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« on: November 17, 2020, 11:29:38 PM »

The following is entirely a work of fiction. It only took place in my head. Do not try to act out any of the following unless you are fond of spending a decade or more behind bars with idiots, followed by unemployment, lack of opportunity and housing. Stay safe, keep it in your head.

In an alternate universe, another time.

It was after the great upheaval and before the space age. I had fought well in the great upheaval and the ministry had rewarded me well. Every soldier awarded the purple cluster gets 2.5 acres and the soldier who gets both the red and purple cluster gets 5 acres upon retirement. Every year of service gets a certain percentage and since I had given 20 years to the great republic I received an 80% retirement (plus the 5 acres since I had both awards).

I had picked out the most perfect spot. It was an old farmhouse and three old barns next to a highway. The farmer who sold the property was disgusted that a highway was put in and he got a good price from the republic-who bought it for me. I converted the barns into garages for the vintage vehicles that I collect and restore.
It was late afternoon and I was lounging on the front porch. It's my favorite time of day as the porch faces north, which is where the sea breeze comes from. It cools off the hot afternoon.

I saw her walk in off of the highway. I judged her to be about thirteen yarn from look of her face and lack of womanly curves. Her hair was dark in color and quite short. Her skin was a shade of brown, just before dark brown. She wore a faded sweatshirt, stained light blue bell bottom jeans and flip flops. She carried a fully loaded backpack with her. Her thin build reminded me of waifs I saw in the Berber zone during the Bear uprising. I wondered what she was doing so far out as I live five miles from the nearest settlement.
She walked directly up to me on the porch and greeted me cordially.

"Hi" she said with a smile.

"Hello yourself. What are you doing so far out?"

"My uncle's carriage broke down on down the highway." She took note of my liquid refreshment. "Can you spare a drink?"

I opened the cooler, fished out an orr of ice tea and tossed it to her. She promptly opened the orr and chugged most of it before pausing.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, just parched", she replied.

"Your uncle need any help with the carriage?"

"No", then she looked down and shook her head as if shaking off a bad experience. "No", she repeated. "That asshole would probably just smile and say he has it handled."

"Everything okay between you and your uncle?"I inquired.

She looked down again for a moment. When she looked up her face was full of resolve.

"Mister, can I make a business deal with you?"

"What kind of business deal?"

"Blowjob for ten teds. A frak for fifty teds."

"I wouldn't pay anything over forty and besides I want all night, not a quick throw. How much will you charge me?"

I saw her doing the math in her head.

"One hundred teds and you leave my pooter alone.You can bang my kitty all you want, but don't put anything in my pooter."

"Alright" I agreed, "but first show me what I'm buying. Show me your kitty."

She paused a few seconds before complying and unzipping. I didn't make the request to be an asshole, I did it for my protection.  Because it is difficult for the military to have relationships, we have certain protections. One of those protections is the "grass on the field-field in play rule." It was put in because some grateful citizenry will offer their daughters in tribute. As long as the girl has hair between her legs, no matter how sparse,  veterans and active military are legally clear (civies have to wait until the girl is sixteen yarn).

After she unzipped and I saw she had about a dozen hairs, I waved her into the house. She zipped up and followed me into the house. I then directed her into my rest chamber where she undressed. As the sweatshirt and half slip came off I saw that under some wide aerola she had just the beginning of breast buds. A few seconds later, when she was completely naked she turned to me.

"Mister, do you mind if I take a shower first? I'd like to smell better for you."

"Sure"I said, pointing to my master washroom.

I watched the tiny waif head off to the washroom, then sat on the berth to undress. It had been awhile since I had any kitty. After my last campaign my unit was taken to a socialator hall. It had been a grand time. First, the socialators gave us a soapy massage, then a grand time on the royal berths, fed us, then more time on the berths.

The socialators are recruited from the finest families as soon as they begin to develop. They are well educated in not only academics, but in the social graces as well. Socialators have priorities, booking soldiers and veterans first, the elite, secondly, and if there is time-merchants. Active duty soldiers returning from a campaign are not charged for services rendered. Other soldiers and veterans get a steep discount. The elite and merchants are charged full price-which is quite steep.  When socialators age out they often marry the elite or marry a merchant. I wondered how the naked waif in my shower would fair as a socialator.

Usually girls her age aren't supposed to be sexually active, although girls her age are sometimes offered to veterans and soldiers. I wondered what happened that this waif would walk up and offer herself to me. That is something only a host would do, and only in host halls. A host is like a socialator, but they don't make the cut for one reason or another. Host halls are run like socialator halls, but actually are stricter. For one thing, a host can't start training until she is sixteen yarn. Females and their facilitators that practice host activity outside of a hall are put to the sword, so the waif in my shower took a huge gamble approaching me.

When my waif returned from the washroom, indeed she smelled better. For the first time I considered the differences in our sizes. I stood more than a nadir in height over her and I was easily three times her size.  My waif walked up towards me with a nervous smile. Tentatively she took my semi erect tool in hand. I gently pushed her back as she looked up at me with curiosity.
"Lay on the bed and spread your legs", I instructed her, "I'm going to try something."

The waif did as I instructed. I laid near her, placing my head between between her legs. I then began to lick her between her legs. For a few micron she did nothing, then she took a deep breath, cocked back her head and placed her hands so as to cup her tiny breasts. Soon, she moaned, first softly, then louder. As her breathing sped up and she started panting, she also started squirming. Suddenly she screamed "SHIT!!", pushed my head away from her and pleaded "Wait...wait."

But I didn't wait. I moved in over her, positioned my tool and tried to shove it in her. First, because she was tiny compared to me and second, because she was in the throes of delight and breathing hard, it complicated the situation. Once I was inserted in her she bucked, clawed at my arms and yelled "FRAK ME!! FRAK ME!!"

It had been quite a while for me and I was on build up to explosion, suddenly a charge of man juice pumped out of my tool and into her tiny kitty. I only held on until the last spurt of man juice pumped out of me, then I withdrew and laid next to her.

She caught up with her breathing first.

"Where did you learn to do that? she asked.


"That thing you did with your tongue" she answered.

"When I was in primary I met a girl who became my friend. She later became a host. I used to visit her when I was on liberty from the legion. She taught me some fun things."
She curled up next to me.

"You were a warrior?" she asked.

"Yes, twenty years, five campaigns."

"That would explain the scars on your chest and legs" (I do have quite the collection of scars). She continued:"Do you have a mate?"

"No, I never mated."

"Would you be interested in a housekeeper?"

"Why aren't you in primary?"

She paused, then answered. "My mother is a sactarian, you know, of the old sects. They practice the old ways-when a girl has her first cycle she is to be considered of age. About six months ago my father sold me to my uncle because I had not yet chosen a mate."

"You know all of that is illegal."

"I'm not from this area, I am from the dry lands."

"Where some sactarians hide in the arids."


"How did you get away from your uncle?"

"The carriage broke down. I told him that I was going for water. I walked down the ravine and kept going."

"You know that he's going to look for you."

"When he needs something."

"How do you know your uncle won't find you here?"

"I've been walking since moon set. I walked up and down a ravine and through two canyons. Twice I walked up a stream to cover my tracks."

"Where did you learn that?" I asked, very intrigued.

"I love reading legion journals. The bear campaign is my favorite." I'm becoming impressed with this waif.

She smiled at the end of her last statement, reached out and gently took my flaccid tool in her hand and made an offer.

"Can I show a warrior some gratitude?" she asked with a smile as she expertly worked my tool.

In centons, she had me hard again, then she surprised me by sliding over and taking my tool in her mouth. With all of the skill of a socialator she worked my tool. It was just the right amount of suction, tongue and moisture as waves of delight spread from my groin. I felt my man juice rising, ready once again to charge out. Suddenly, it hit. I don't know who was more surprised, me or her, but she managed to swallow most of my man juice, having to wipe some remnants off of her chin. My bladder notified me it needed relief.

"I need to use the washroom," I announced as I sat up.

"Me too," she agreed.

We both went to the washroom. While I relieved myself, she tended to her face at the basin. When I finished, we swapped places. As she emptied her bladder, it struck me that I had never seen a female do that. She noticed me staring at her.

"What?" she half laughed.

"I've never seen a female do that before. It's a first."


"Really. I've always been with either hosts or socialators. They don't do that in front of clients."

"Is it repulsive to you?" she asked as she wiped herself.

"No, quite the opposite. Actually, it's kind of a relief."

"How so?" she asked, her face full of curiosity.

"As a boy, you go away to military academy where there are only boys. Then you move on to the legions. You're never around females, except at socialator or host halls. Are you hungry? I'm going to the galley for food. Are you interested?"

"Yes, I am famished."

We headed for the galley. Along the way I resumed the conversation.

"I have yardbird and beast in the cooler. Which do you prefer?" I asked.

"Both, if you don't mind. It has been a while since I have eaten."

I turned back to look at the waif as she followed me, and that's what saved my life as the knife grazed my cheek and sliced at my shoulder. My instinct kicked in as my senses warned me of a mass to my left as I had turned to the right. I spun with a fist cocked. The fist connected with the face of a man my heigth, but far thinner. The punch knocked him back into a wall. I followed up with my right fist connecting to his solar plexus and my left elbow connecting with his right cheek. He collapsed to the floor in a sitting position as the knife hit the floor and spun away from him. I considered him briefly, then a thought struck. I looked at the waif-whose face was filled with horror and shock.

"Were you a decoy?" I angrily asked.

"A what? No!! He followed me somehow. I thought I was being careful."

"So, you wouldn't mind if I killed him?"

"No. No. I would finally be rid of him."

I considered the situation. If there was validity to her story, it would withstand a praetorian interogation. I pointed to the back entrance of the house.

"There is rope outside, near the door. Retrieve it for me," I instructed as I pointed towards the back door.

I kept watch over the unconcious uncle as she retrieved the rope. I quickly tied him up, then we went to my rest chamber-where we dressed. I used my wireless to summon the praetorians. I also instructed the waif to let me do the talking with the praetorians.

When the praetorians arrived I told them that the waif had walked up requesting food and drink. The man, somehow, had snuck into my home while I took the waif inside. I asked the praetors to follow up with me as soon as they retrieved any information from the still unconcious man.

After the praetors left I asked the waif where her uncle's carriage was. I wanted to see, at least, if that part of the story was true. She described the scene, which sounded like route 47  (I live off of route 85). We got into my lorry and I followed her directions. Sure enough, I found the broken down carriage. As soon as we got out of my lorry, I noticed the smell-it's a smell when an engine was dead, forever. Her uncle must have done poor maintenance and/or it lacked vital lubricants.

I opened the back door of the carriage. There was a junk pile.

"What the hell is this?" I asked.

"My uncle and I travel from settlement to settlement selling goods. Let me show you something."

She dug at the base of the pile for a micron, then retrieved several journals. The journals were legion journals.

"These are the journals I told you about," she said as she showed the worn exteriors.

"Do you want to keep them?" I asked.

"Yes", she said humbly.

"Anything else here that you want to keep?"

"If it's alright with you?"

"Go ahead" I said. 

We filled two crates and took a folding chair. When we got back to my house I carried in one crate while she carried in the other. We placed the crates in my guest chamber. While she stayed behind to sort and categorize the items I went back outside to retrieve the folding chair. As I reached my lorry the praetorians arrived. The praetorians told me that the uncle was from the arid lands and that he was a fugitive wanted on a long list of charges. The next day he would face a magistrate and within a month he would probably be put to the sword.

I thanked the praetorians for following up. I took the folding chair inside. When I got to the guest chamber the waif was kneeling on the floor next to the crates and was crying. I picked her up and took her into my arms. She cried on my shoulder for the better part of fifteen microns. When the sobs began to subside she gestured to the crates.

"This is all I have. This is all I am."

That set off another crying jag. Several centons later, we were face to face. She looked me in the eye and said:"Warrior, give me a child. I need something to love."

"Let's get started." I said.

We turned and headed for my sleep chamber.

Fame 20
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Posts: 248

« Reply #1 on: November 19, 2020, 07:09:33 PM »

Interesting SiFi/fantasy vib to this story emot_hard
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