Alien General's Bride (Brion Brides)

By: Vi Voxley



She bent to lick across the lean, hard muscles, perfect in every way, unyielding under her tongue. She had curves, but Diego had hard, jagged lines, etched to perfection. Every shape on his body was like he’d been crafted by the goddess of all women. The muscles on his chest glistened, wet from Isolde’s tongue, but she ached to taste more, to taste all of him.

Her tongue traced each ridge on his stomach, making Diego’s hands fist in her hair and earning her a hiss. He pushed her away only to rip the last of their clothing away, and then Isolde found herself pushed back on the bed, naked, skin to skin with her general at last.

“Fuck you’re hot,” she whispered. “Touch me. I want you all over me, I want you in me.”

Diego smiled that devilish smile he kept only for her. “Soon,” he promised. “I want to hear you beg for it. I want you to be so desperate and wet for me you can no longer stand it, as you promised when we met.”

Stupid past me, Isolde thought, but her mouth only moaned at the idea.

Diego kissed her again, sending her eyes rolling back to her head. His lips were soft, but that’s where the gentleness ended. The kiss was hard and demanding and so, so hot, almost as hot as the feeling in her pussy, rubbing shamelessly against Diego’s thighs. The general chuckled into her mouth.

“You are making this hard for me,” he said, biting Isolde’s neck.

“I want you hard for me,” Isolde shot back.



“Go to space,” they said. “It will be fun,” they said.

See all the new interesting things and other races and planets and whole systems beyond your imagination. The kind of stuff you could have heard in a Cold War era tech expo: space is miraculous and most certainly filled with whatever you personally want it to have.

So far, Isolde felt, space was just more of same old, same old.

She was also having a rare moment of thinking of herself in second person. Only Isolde Fenner would manage to mess up this badly. She stood and watched the ever smaller back end of her transport ship drifting slowly and peacefully away from the space station. It achieved a safe distance, turned its warp core on, jumped and was gone. Without poor little her.

Pitiful, silly Isolde, she thought. On Terra you were a sure bet to miss all of the 10 PM Washington to New York type of things, and it’s only natural that your inaptitude for being aboard a flight when it takes off would also translate to the intergalactic ones.

It was, of course, her fault. For some reason, her considerable skills in ethnographic research and her extensive knowledge of galactic languages – mostly theoretical – were of no help with her time planning.

Mother had told her that in dire situations it was best to laugh it off. So she had missed a one-time only flight to a newly discovered alien world, which had been damnably difficult to get permission for in the first place. Other than providing her expertise in the local language and its presumable dialects – and gather some much-needed field work points – she’d had a single job. To be on the ship with other researchers. Ha. Haha. Hahahaha…


“Excuse me…” Isolde began. She had learned that when you were about to bother someone with a problem that went tremendously over their authority and pay scale it helped to be meticulously polite.

The man before her smiled like someone who didn’t know their day was about to go to whatever form of Hell they believed in.

Terra’s orbital space station – lovingly named Luna Secunda by someone whose mother still told them they were special and so very funny – wasn’t just manned internationally, but intergalactically. Terra was the center of the Solar System, and pretty much every passably sociable species in the Galactic union     was represented on the station. Droves of agents under the command of their respective ambassadors usually worked with the transportation, travel, politics and general mayhem of matters that concerned their species. Isolde didn’t want to draw the attention of any of them. Instead, she went to the agents working directly for the GU. They were more likely to be impartial to her problem and therefore more likely to help.

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