New Lesbos - [BJ]

The 5-EX had come out of Hyper-Space two hours distance from the planet New Lesbos. It was a simple "milk run" to reach the inhabited globe, make one orbit to calibrate instruments, then dive-in at the correct angle. Lieutenant Moonwalker, of course, had been sitting at the Navigations/Communications station the whole time, in contact with the Spaceport.

After the ship touched down with the normal limited-jarring and the access ramps/stabilized legs were lowered, the Captain and First Officer shifted over from the main engine and systems to auxiliary power. The Captain crossed the Main Control room and nodded to the Boatswain, signalling him to open the hatch.

"Welcome aboard the 5-EX," Commander Smith said with extended right hand. "I am Commander Richard Smith, Captain of the ship."

"Of course you are, Dick," the short woman replied, shaking Smith's hand with a grip that a lumber-jack would envy. In her left hand she held a riding crop. "I remember you."

This was Commandant Rava Kashner, the woman in charge of the Spaceport. She was short, barely five-feet tall, in her early sixties, with short-cut reddish-brown hair. Her uniform was brown, in a military style, with black epaulets on the shoulders of her dress-jacket, a dark-brown Sam Browne belt with a strap running across her chest from left shoulder to right hip with a weapon holster attached. Her full culottes ended at her knees, giving the appearance of a skirt. Dark brown jack-boots completed her attire.

She introduced both the Customs Agent and the Doctor who was to clear them from quarantine. The Customs Agent was in military garb, but with long pants and shoes. However, the Doctor wore an outfit from another time. Another place. She was draped in a white himation over her long, ankle length white chiton (tunic). When she pulled back the fold in her himation that was covering her head and hiding her face in shadow, it could be seen that her lips were painted white.

The Captain and the Commandant sat at a in the rear of the Mess Deck, reviewing the list of supplies and repairs being requested for the 5-EX. The First Officer and Customs Agent were at the next table, going over the cargo manifest and making arrangements to pick up the incoming mail and deliver out-going data. A front table was being used by the Doctor to conduct her physical examinations.

These formalities took approximately thirty minutes to complete, and as the planet-side trio departed, the Doctor said to the Captain, "I do hope you and your men will see fit to worship at the Temple of Demeter."

"Oh, you can count on that," Smith assured her with a broad smile.

Once she had left, Petty Officer Dawson remarked to Lieutenant Moonwatcher who was standing closest to him., "Wow. She was spooky. The Doctor-Lady, I mean. Well, the Commandant was spooky, too. But in a scary way. And," he glanced from left to right, as if checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping, "Did you see the way her hair was cut. And no make-up. I bet she's a Lesbian."

Lieutenant Moonwatcher had to chuckle. "They all are. This is a planet populated strictly by females. No males." He tilted his head, still smiling, "That's why it is called New Lesbos. You know, as in Lesbian?"

"Oh, yeah," Petty Officer Dawson answered, not feeling the slightest bit foolish. This was his first voyage outside the Solar System, so he was used to not knowing details about the planets they visited. "But that Doctor Lady," he said, returning to his previous line of thought, "she was spooky in a weird sort of way. White lipstick?"

Glancing at his wrist-watch, Commander Smith called over to Petty Officer Dawson, "You have a couple of hours before you have to start preparing dinner. Why don't you go up to the Temple and make an offering?" He jerked his head back, pointing with his chin. "It's just outside the main gate. To your right. Up on a hill. You can't miss it."

"An offering?" Petty Officer Dawson repeated. He was confused. Was the Captain being serious? Was it an order? From the way Commander Smith was looking at him, as if expecting an answer, Dawson figured it must be an order. "Yes, Sir."

After the Cook had disappeared through the Access Hatch, Lieutenant Hammer stepped over to Commander Smith and leaned into him, speaking in a low voice, "No disrespect intended, Captain, but . . . you should be ashamed of yourself."

Commander Smith lifted his eyebrows, slowly turned his head towards his First Officer, and grinned. "I know. I should . . . But I'm not."

Both men broke out in laughter.

Meanwhile, Petty Officer Dawson was trudging up the small hill, the green grass covering it neatly mowed, towards a marble Doric temple at the summit. Climbing the three steps and crossing the pronaos (small porch) he saw the two guards standing on each side of the double, ornately decorated brass doors. They were tall women. Made even taller by the heels of their heavy black boots. Everything they wore was black. Pants. Shirts and jackets. Weapon belts. Leather gauntlets and seven-foot long staffs. All black. As well as their weapons.

One of the guards pushed open a door and stepped aside for Dawson to enter. Hesitantly the Spacer stepped inside, stopping after taking a few paces. Before him was a circular pit with a fire. Along the walls, between the several doors, were upholstered benches, oil painting over them, small low tables in front of them, and pillows on the floor surrounding the tables.

Four women, three of them each wearing a white chitoniskos (a shorter version of the chiton), a white rope cinched around her waist, and sandals, set around one of the tables chatting. There were pottery cups and a bottle of wine on the table. The fourth woman was the Doctor he had encountered onboard the 5-EX. She still wore her long, flowing mantle. Rising from the bench, she approached Dawson.

"Ah, our first worshipper from the newly arrived ship," she smiled and lifted her hands to chest height, palms upwards. "Welcome. Welcome to the Temple of Demeter. She of the seed and fertility. Welcome True Believer, and may your offering prove fruitful."

Lowering her arms, she stepped to the side and made a sweeping gesture towards the other three women who were watching him intently. "Please, select one of our Priestesses to guide you through your offering."

"Uh, I don't know," Dawson answered, looking from one woman to the other in confusion.

"Is this your first time at our Temple?" the Doctor asked gently.

When Dawson said it was, a brown-eyed brunette arose from the large pillow on the floor that she was sitting on and strode over, saying, "I will guide him."

Like the Doctor, she wore white lipstick, and as she reached for his hand to lead him towards one of the doors, she asked, "What is your name? I am called Ashley."

"Willie, M'am," he answered, admiring her curvaceous body as he followed her through the door. She was about five-feet six-inches tall, long straight hair hanging down to the middle of her back, and a broad, open face having high cheekbones and full lips.

"You don't have to call me 'M'am'," she chuckled. "I don't think I'm all that much older than you. I am twenty-four. You?" He answered nineteen, and she shrugged, "See? Hardly meriting calling me 'M'am'."

As she opened the door they were standing in front of, she reached for a brass emblem on the wall next to the door frame. It was shafts of wheat, which she turned to an upside down position. The room they entered had subdued lighting, light green walls, tiled floors, a couch, a painting over the couch similar to the ones outside in the naos, an end table, floor pillows, a clothes valet, and another door on the opposite wall as well as a door that opened into a bathroom.

"You may hang your clothes there," she indicated the clothes valet, "And then purify yourself in there."

"Purify, M . . ., er, Ashley?" he asked, catching himself before he called her M'am.

She chuckled, her full, white-painted lips parting in a wide smile. "A shower," she answered. "Go take a shower."

Dawson hesitated, thinking that perhaps she would step outside or something, but when she sat down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other, he shrugged and began removing his clothing. After draping his uniform, underwear, and socks over the wooden valet and sliding his shoes under it, he headed into the bathroom.

A few minutes later he re-emerged, one large towel wrapped around his waist, another over his head as he vigorously rubbed it, drying his hair.

"Sit here," Ashley said, patting the couch as she stood up and walked over to the end table. There were two buttons on top, a green one and a red one. Opening the drawer of the table, she extracted what looked like a plastic petri dish with a screw-on lid and returned to stand before the seated Dawson. She nudged one of the floor pillows into place with her foot and then sank to her knees, placing the container down next to her.

"Are you ready to make an offering, Willie?" she asked, looking up at him while running her fingers between his waist and the towel, opening it and spreading it out to the sides. Dawson gulped and stared at her as she started playing with his cock, using just the tips of her fingers. A smile spread across her face when she felt his organ responding, growing longer and thicker as she toyed with it. When he was about half-way there, Ashley curled her slender fingers around it and started to slowly stroke it. Sliding her hand up and down, tightening and relaxing her grip as she coaxed him into a full-blown erection.

When she had obtained her goal, she placed her hands on his knees, pushing them further apart, and leaned forward with her white lips parted. He could feel the warmth of her breath on the head of his cock. Just before she engulfed him, she lifted her eyes and announced, "When you ejaculate, feel free to do so in my mouth. In fact," she sort of shrugged, "That is the whole idea behind this."

Before Dawson could verbally respond, Ashley's warm, wet mouth was on him. Her head and upper torso repeatedly lifting and lowering. She kept her lips sealed tightly around his shaft and sucked while continuously bobbing away. At first Dawson just sat there, nude, his thighs widespread and his hands at his side. But Ashley's persistent movements, the unrelenting vacuum she created on his member, soon had him moaning and squirming around on the couch. With his butt grinding into the cushion and his upper-body swaying from side-to-side, he reveled in the kneeling woman's caresses.

When she felt his hands on the side of her head, caressing it as it moved up and down, she continued for a few moments before lifting her mouth. Replacing her lips with her fist and pumping up and down the spit-coated shaft, she asked him, "Are you ready to make your offering, Willie? Are you ready to give me your precious seed?"

She did not wait for an answer, but immediately resumed her actions, only faster this time. Sucking hard and with her hand augmenting her motions. Hearing him moaning louder as his hips started to thrust, she slid her other hand from his knee to cup his balls that were now drawn up close to his body.

When she gave his tight nut-sack a gentle squeeze, it pushed him over the edge and he cried out in pleasure. His cock exploded, spewing out thick wads of sperm. Ashley stopped moving her head and with her waxen lips wrapped just around the tip of his cock, she pumped the throbbing, twitching shaft, sucking out his spunk. Emptying his balls.

Even when the gushing stopped and his hands fell away from her head, she kept her mouth on the head of his cock, leaving it there to receive all the jizz he might give her. Finally convinced that she had thoroughly drained him, Ashley lifted her head and reached for the short, round container next to her. Unscrewing the top, she spat out the contents of her mouth into it and closed it tightly.

She patted his knee as she stood up, asking him, "Feel better now?"

He could only nod his head in amazement and watched her move over to the end table and press the green button. Almost immediately the other door in the room opened and a young woman, dressed the same as Ashley, but with a light-brown chitoniskos rather than a white one, entered and approached. She was carrying a silver tray, held between both hands.

"For the separator," Ashley said as she placed the container on the tray. The other young woman nodded silently and departed.

"Take as long as you need in getting dressed," Ashley said to Dawson as she headed for the first door. "The Goddess Demeter, she of the seed and fertility, accepts your tribute."