Blue Planet (sci fi, D/s, wife)
By: Date: 2023.12.05. Categories: Just Wife Stories Tags: , , , , ,

Jem Alaasha slowly paced the small, confined, featureless space in an
endless, pointless procession. Six measured paces, turn to the left, six
measured paces, turn to the left, over and over, just as she had done since
awakening in this empty, padded box some infinite time before. She was beyond
fury, beyond rage, beyond hatred. All her immediate anger had now spent
itself and all that was left was a cold determination to see that whoever was
responsible for her current condition would suffer unimaginable torments for
daring this outrage. As she moved, her body tensing and relaxing like a
tigress preparing to spring on helpless prey, she thought back once again to
how this had occurred. She and her Jex had been on a pleasant, thrilling
cruise in one of the small, local grav-speeders, skimming over the gently
rolling hillsides of this admittedly lovely world, feeling the pushes and
pulls of inertia and gravity as the sleek craft topped small hills and
plunged into gentle, sloping valleys. Jex had been piloting the speeder. He
was an excellent pilot, another of his delicious qualities, along with his
attractive, carefully engineered body, his razor sharp mind and his utter
ruthlessness in his devotion to her. He was the best value she had ever
exchanged for and perhaps he even knew it. But then, without warning, there
had been a quick series of loud buzzes and many small lights on the control
panel of the speeder had come to life all at once. The craft had lurched,
bounced on its cushion of magnetic force, shuddered as Jex struggled to
maintain control, slid sideways and finally the magnetics failed completely,
dropping it to the ground where it dug a shallow furrow and then struck a
large boulder in a field, flipping into the air, tossing them both like limp
puppets. When she had come to some unknown time later, she was sore, bruised
and confined in this empty, featureless, small room, with its white padded
walls, ceiling and floor emitting their soft, constant glow. The lights never
dimmed, never extinguished, and with no sound to break the unending stillness
she had lost track of not only the hour but the day and by now certainly the
week. She wondered where Jex was, perhaps confined in a space quite similar
to her own, fretting and seething over where his beloved owner was, for that
deep devotion had been programmed into him. At regular intervals a small
doorway opened in one wall revealing a niche in which was set a tray
containing various of the bland local food dishes. And she could, with the
push on a small panel set in the corner of one wall cause a body waste
pedestal to rise out of the floor or a somewhat comfortable padded, flat
shelf on which she could lie to slide from one wall. But aside from these
small interuptions her time since she had arrived here had been totally
consumed in pacing and fuming and plotting her revenge against – against
whoever was responsible for this. Did they not know who she was? She was a
Jem, for Helsha’s sake. What sentient being in their balanced mind would dare
affront a Jem? Especially one of her status and wealth. Occasionally she was
overwhelmed by bouts of panic when she wondered if her Jex had been seriously
injured or even, unthinkably, terminated in the crash of the speeder. But she
always forced those thoughts and feelings down, crushed them, told herself he
was perfectly well, simply confined as she was in some space like hers,
perhaps quite near. The rest of the time she plotted her escape and eventual
revenge. And what a revenge it would be. Legendary. She would wreck this
entire planet for what it had dared do to her. Wipe it clean of the foul,
little creatures who were the pitiful top of its miserable, insignificant
food chain. Gathering her dignity around herself once more the drew in a deep
breath and steeped off once more. Six paces, turn to the left, six paces,
turn to the left, six paces…

Debbie drifted up from slumber like a piece of soggy balsa wood breaking
loose from some deeply submerged wreck and floating leisurely toward the
surface of a calm sea. Her mind was aware first that she was asleep, then
that she was waking even before she arrived at full consciousness. She opened
her eyes and gazed out across the plush, dimly lit room, her face pressed
heavily into the soft, deeply quilted fabric of the platform. She didn’t move
for a long moment, simply letting her body send flashes of sensation to her
mind from its various sprawled limbs and parts. She ached, she was sore, she
felt wonderful. Her body was sticky from head to toe, the dried residue of
endless hours of passionate coupling with – She raised her head suddenly and
looked around. She was alone. He was gone. She felt a moment of disoriented
panic. Her lover had left her, alone in this strange place, after – Then her
mind shook off the last of sleep and took firm hold. Of course, she realized.
The transfer. His job was done. She now held the information she had been
sent to retrieve. She lowered her head back onto the soft, cool fabric of the
downy, plush platform and smiled. That was some transfer, she thought with a
deep, satisfied giggle. And that was one hell of a messenger to receive it
from. She let her mind focus on her pussy for a moment, trying to sense it,
feel how now it was different than it had ever been in her life before. It
was the pussy of a woman, she thought. It had tasted its first cock and it
liked it. Liked it, hell, it craved it, she corrected herself. And her clit.
Feeling it brush against her underwear or the crease of her jeans or the
occasional brush of her fingertip was one thing. But to have the soft, thick
hairs at the base of a mans cock tickling it with each deep thrust, or to
feel a hot, wet tongue rolling over it… that was indescribable. She rolled
over onto her back with a groan and relaxed focusing on pulling herself fully
awake. Whoever he had been, this strange man/creature with the very
interesting cock… no, cocks she corrected herself, he had been an experience
she decided she would not have missed for – Robert. The word snapped into her
mind, stunning her and she sat bolt upright, holding herself up with locked
arms pressing into the platform. Her husband. “Oh God” she moaned, her voice
a light whimper. Then panic seized her. What time was it? How long had she
been in this place? She pushed herself off the platform, scooped up her
discarded gown from the floor and began searching for what her mind was
telling her was the equivilant of a bathroom. She found the cleansing alcove
and completed cleaning and relieving herself in what must have been record
time. Then she was out the door and rushing down the stairs. She barely
paused to bid goodbye to Sandistra who was only coming awake herself of the
large, soft seat in the main downstairs room, rushing out with a flurry of
her gown flapping behind her and the owner of the house blinking with
surprise at such strange behavior. Outside she hailed a public vehicle and
tersely instructed it to take her back to the space port, then settled into
the rear seat and focused her thoughts as best she could. She now had the
data, she knew. She had seen it, in her minds eye at the moment of transfer,
and despite the explosion of pleasure that was overwhelming her, she knew it
had been done and done well. Now what. She forced herself to be calm, closed
her eyes and tried to summon up the next step in her task. At last it drifted
up as if slowly stepping into an overhead spotlight. Of course, she realized.
Now she had to travel to a place called Dioscalia, which was the primary moon
of the planet Scalia Three. There she was to… to…. Nothing further came to
her despite her efforts to draw it forth, and at last she sighed and slumped
back in the seat. Security, she thought sourly. Always the damn security. She
looked out the window and noticed the space port in the distance, slowly
approaching. She wanted very much to encourage the driver of the squat,
stumpy machine to go faster but bit back the words and waited. Several
minutes later the machine slid up to the opening archway of the space port.
Debbie quickly blurted out her identity name and number and scrambled out of
the back of the lumpy vehicle, moving swiftly to the archway and stepping
through its force field. She maintained a rapid pace as she strode swiftly
through the terminal, back to the lounge at which she had last seen Robert,
found the archway and stepped through it. Inside the lounge all was quiet in
contrast to the noise and bustle of the port just on the other side of the
force field. Debbie saw that there was a different orange skinned woman
seated behind the long counter and she approached her, reminding herself that
she was a Jem and therefore could command respect and attention without
having to exert herself. As she stepped up the orange woman raised her eyes
from the small screen set into to counter before her and smiled pleasantly.
“Yes, Jem” the woman inquired pleasantly. “How may I be of assistance.” “I
arrived on a flight from Terrel Major” Debbie said, her voice dripping with
bored tolerance “I believe it was a cycle ago, and my Jex had to go into
quarentine. I’m about to depart now and I’ve come to retrieve him.” “Your
identity?” the woman asked, politely. Debbie gave her the false identity name
and number, then let her expression denote wistful ennui as the orange woman
turned her attention back to the screen before her, fixed on it and various
symbols arrived across it’s face in swift succession. When she looked up,
there was puzzlement in her face. “I’m sorry, Jem Alaasha” she said “but I
show no record of your having arrived with a Jex.” Debbie was momentarily
caught off balance by this, but forced her face to remain impassive. “Well, I
can assure you that I did. Please check again. I don’t have much time” she
said evenly. The orange woman looked back at the screen on which more alien
symbols danced and this time when she looked up there was genuine concern in
her eyes. “Jem Alaasha” she said, hesitantly “I have no record of any Jex
accompanying you when you arrived three cycles ago. None at all.” Three
cycles, Debbie’s mind screamed, shocked. That translated to about a day and a
half. That long? No, it wasn’t possible. Or was it. She shook herself,
fighting to focus on the immediate problem, looking at the orange woman,
slowly narrowing her eyes in what she hoped would be a threatening gaze. “I
don’t care what your machines say” she replied, her voice low and dangerous
“I want my Jex back. Now.” The orange woman was now visibly shaken, casting a
darting glance down at the screen before her and then looking back up at
Debbie. “Perhaps I should summon my superior” she said, hopefully. “Yes”
Debbie said, her tone now flat “do that. Immediately.” The woman’s face fixed
hard on the screen which flashed with rapid symbols and several icily silent
minutes later a slightly darker hued woman, this one shorter and clearly
older, bustled up from a small opening in a distant corner of the lounge.
“May I assist you, Jem” the woman said to Debbie, her tone calm and official.
Debbie explained in her most chillingly annoyed tones about arriving, having
to place her Jex in quarantine and then, after a very brief period of some
relaxing fun, returning to catch a ship and finding her beloved, not to
mention expensive Jex had seemingly been misplaced or disappeared and what
kind of place was this where such things could happen anyway. The older woman
listened intently, nodding slightly throughout the story, then went behind
the counter and fixed her own gaze upon it, causing more symbols to flash
across the screen. When she looked up at Debbie her expression was concerned.
“I am sorry, Jem Alaasha” she said cautiously “but none of our records show
you arriving with a Jex. This is your first visit to our world, correct?”
Debbie confirmed that it was and, if this was an indication of the standard
of competence here, most likely her last. The older woman seemed to think
hard for a moment, then exchanged a glance with the younger woman behind the
counter. “Why” said Debbie a bit too loudly “do you not simply fetch the one
who was here when I arrived. She can tell you that I brought my Jex.” The
older woman was about to politely mention that there are literally thousands
of travelers passing by this station every cycle, and for anyone as busy as a
Regulator to remember a single one of them would be asking quite a lot. On
the other hand these Jem tended to think the entire galaxy revolved around
them and in some senses it did, so of course they would expect be remembered.
The older woman pursed her lips and gave a pleasant smile. “Yes, Jem Alaasha”
she said sweetly “we shall indeed do that. In the meanwhile, would you care
to wait in my private space?” Debbie gave a small, ‘it’s about time’ snort
and the older woman led her back to the distant corner, through the small
door and into a small but pleasant office where she offered her a seat on a
large, comfortable chair. “Please allow me to go see about this personally”
she said and left the office. The moment she was gone, Debbie’s hands began
to tremble and she felt as if she was about to collapse into hysterical
sobbing. If Robert was gone, truly gone, she would never have been so alone
in her life, and with so little idea as to what to do next. She fought the
impulse to drop her head in her hands and sob uncontrollably. The wait seemed
interminable, though it probably was no more than a few minutes. Finally the
door slid open and the older woman stepped into the small office once more.
This time her expression was grim. “Would you accompany me please, Jem
Alaasha” she said, her tone solemn. “What’s going on” Debbie said sharply.
“Please” the woman repeated, a bit quieter now, but definitely more firmly
“follow me.” An icy chill of fear ran through Debbie as she rose and followed
the older woman out of the office. They re-entered the lounge, stepped
through the arched force field into the bustling main concourse and directly
across it to another archway, this one rectangular and shaded so that it
could not be seen through. The older woman stepped through it, vanished as if
she had stepped into a mirror made of black mercury. Debbie sucked in a
breath, closed her eyes and followed her through. On the other side where the
sounds of the concourse died away behind her she opened her eyes to find a
modest looking office with a few chairs grouped in the center. Seated in one
of them was a short, almost stocky woman who reminded Debbie of a bulldog
with her bulging shoulders and beefy frame, though her pale yellow face was
pleasant enough, topped with a mat of close cropped black hair. She was
already rising as Debbie entered. “Jem Alaasha” the stocky woman said, her
voice calm but sympathetic “I am Sector Commander Balial. Internal Security
Forces. I am afraid I have some bad news for you.” Debbie felt her stomach
plummet and her knees begin to tremble under the long, flowing gown. “Go on”
she said evenly, hoping her voice was not trembling. The stocky woman looked
at the older one who gave her an understanding nod, turned and, without a
further word, walked past Debbie, through the force field and was gone.”
“Won’t you be seated” the stocky woman said, indicating one of the chairs.
Debbie was about to protest, tell her to just get on with it, but decided if
the news really was bad she should hear it sitting down from where she would
not be able to fall. She carefully lowered herself onto the seat and took a
moment to compose herself before fixing the stocky woman with a calm
expression. The stocky woman looked decidedly uncomfortable as she began
speaking, carefully, almost hesitantly. “Jem Alaasha” she said quietly “I
don’t know of any other way to state this but to simply inform you…” Debbie
felt her breath hold in her chest. “I fear” the stocky woman went on quietly
“that your Jex… has been stolen.” For a moment the meaning of what the stocky
woman had said didn’t quite register with Debbie. Then she understood and her
mouth dropped open in stunned horror. “What” she hissed. “I know” the stocky
woman said sympathetically. “It is shameful and shocking but I am afraid it
is a growing problem in certain systems. Unfortunately it is reaching rampant
proportions in this one, based as it is on… pleasurable pursuits.” The stocky
woman dropped her eyes, embarrassed, leaning forward to rub her hands
together uncomfortably. “Let me try to explain” she said with the finality of
a patient teacher. “This system is, as you know, economically based on its
ability to supply members of certain societies a haven where they can…. Well,
let us say, find the sophisticated entertainment’s and relaxation’s they
deserve. However, it also happens to be located at a particularly strategic
position on this spiral arm of the galaxy which puts it within reasonable
traversing distance from a number of frontier outposts and observation
stations. As such, we are often visited by… well, to put it bluntly, some
rather unsavory individuals. Those that operate on the fringes of our
society. In particular, many of the long range patrol pilots stop off here
just to center themselves after a difficult, lonely tour of duty.” The stocky
woman paused. “Go on” Debbie said quietly. The stocky woman flicked an
uncomfortable glance up at her then continued. “These patrol pilots… many of
them are doing, essentially, a kind of punishment duty for minor rules
violations. They go out, alone, in large, automated craft and patrol various
planets, collect information about them, that sort of thing. Usually they are
given a wide patrol pattern to follow and they are out there quite a long
time. Megacycles sometimes. That means two things. First, their stock of
credits can build up quite high. There’s nothing out there to spend it on so
by the end of a tour some of them are actually quite wealthy.” The stocky
woman shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “The other thing is… if they can
manage to swing by a place like this in the middle of their patrols, they are
quite…. shall we say…. anxious. You know what I mean.” The stocky woman
flicked another glance up at Debbie, sighed and rose, beginning to pace
slowly around the office. “It now appears that what happened was that one of
these patrol pilots took a fancy to your Jex and…. stole him. Probably to
keep her company for the rest of her patrol tour. I’m afraid that, even if we
are able to determine which one it was, there is very little chance that we
will be able to go after her. The craft she would be mastering would be a
combat vessel and Internal Security has nothing that could stand up to it if
she should decide to ignore an order from one of our own craft to halt and be
boarded. On top of that, there really would be no way to tell exactly where
in her patrol pattern she was at any given moment. Her ship would be stealthy
and she could easily evade us. I’m afraid the most we can do is try to
discover her identity and wait until she finishes her patrol, try to retrieve
your Jex then.” A pained expression crossed the stocky woman’s face. “That
is, if she hasn’t sold him or… worse by that time.”

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