Persephone's Charter Crew Parts
Persephone's Charter Crew Parts News:  The crew of this Spaceship has now gone back to their worlds of origin.
Persephone's Charter Crew Parts Abstract

This account details the conclusion of the adventures of the crew of the Spaceship named Persephone.
2529 A.D., somewhere in Deep Space out along the fringe of the newly colonized human region of the galaxy:

We had sailed together across the Black Ocean for a dozen years; three times the lengths of most enlistment contracts, and more than 20 times the lengths of most Naval voyages, called floats in the days before humanity crossed the Black to colonize more of the Verse. We had learned to work together, each one of us, on numerous occasions, proving helpful, even invaluable, to the others... in our moments of weakness, having been drained by our various Achilles' heels (yes, even Inisfreeans have them). We had become coworkers, then teammates, then friends, then family. And now, we were parting, and it was, of course, very, very bittersweet. Nyria wept as she, one last time, in the traditional way that Inisfreeans say goodbye, made rigorous, passionate love to each of the men who had, up until this very moment, been the bulk of our unlikely crew. Our social experiment with the humans of the 34 Tauri multiple-star system was over. Their portion of humanity had completed its 'left seat, right seat' portion of the experiment; my Inisfreeans were now handing over that 'left seat'; that of the command of the lengthy, massive vessel, to them. Humans were now in charge of The New Horizon, that now famous Spacecraft carrier patrolling all the orbits and shipping lanes between the worlds of their corner of the Milky Way. They would add that large starship to their armadas, whose capital was their richest Core planet. The Inisfreeans who had worked with them upon that ship... would return to our own capital, the city called Inisfree. Inisfree was immortal, unchanging in all the aeons. The New Horizon's longevity, however, would now depend upon how the humans piloted and maintained her; which situations they navigated her to and back out from.

The men who had sailed with me would stay on The New Horizon, waving us farewell from the medium hangar it once flew to and stowed itself safely away in on so many hundreds of missions and satellite patrols out from that carrier. We had seen a hundred worlds together, or more, and just as many moons. We had spotted and salvaged derelict ships from untold, Spacefaring races. We had survived shocking surprises, ambushes, and more. We had suffered and celebrated together, feasting for many a meal with new bounties of herds of potential slave girls catering to our every whim. Those humans who had sailed with us had learned of their Gorean natures, and we, of our nearly forgotten human roots. Here to forth, though, our paths diverged indefinitely, possibly forever, for humans seldom last longer than one century, and Inisfreeans tend to shy away from humanity for at least five times that long during our regular cycles of hibernation and expedition.

Nyria stood closely at my side, her arms wrapped lovingly and needy around my arm nearest her, the fingers of one of her hands interlaced with and squeezing my own, hugging it in the beautifully tender, one-soul way only Inisfreeans can. The cum of our three male human crewmembers was still being tightly, hungrily squeezed inside her pussy and asshole, and still more of it rested in her stomach, all of the places where she wanted it the most; she was an Inisfreean girl. "Do you think we'll ever see them again?" she almost moaned, choking on her quiet sobs, her body aching and subtly trembling, for Inisfreeans crave, almost require, the total unity and sexual bliss with those they find compatible. Nyria could read my mind, but not anticipate all of its decisions. She had also been engineered to converse with me vocally when it was pleasing to me.

"They are mortals," I softly rumbled to her, and she closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, and leaned into my side even more, squeezing my hand tightly in both of hers. Inisfreeans love fully and deeply, and that love, especially from their extremely exclusive species, is rarest of all rare things. She did not want to lose it, at least not so soon, and not like this; with no guarantees of it ever being rekindled; ...restored.

Brahan, once a Browncoat; of a group of rebels once labeled terrorists by the recent victors of 34 Tauri, stood tall and proud, his throat flexing as he fought to maintain manly composure, honoring my; the Gorean, way. Once The New Horizon sailed closer to his homeworld, he would take a shuttle planetside, and it is there that he would remain, returned to the local service of his original people, likely again serving them in some rebel capacity, for he was a born warrior, and no amount of labeling or laws or legal threats, from however an imposing force any empire might bring to bear against him or them, would ever sway nor coerce him. He waved to us farewell.

Sasha, our healer, would return to his Core world where he, too, would resume his old ways; that of a practicing medical doctor, a trauma surgeon, to be precise. It is likely that he was still remembered well by the elites he had saved, such as one of the ranking members of the Blue Sun Corporation. Sasha had no military training to maintain his bearing. He had the most visible tears in his eyes. His hand shook the most as he waved farewell to us.

Augustine, our investment banker; he who had ensured our pockets always enjoyed the overflow from his deep ones, had made it possible for us to operate with relative ease across his entire sector of Space without us resorting to using our precise Inisfreean copying techniques to clone its regional currencies, thus, at least a tiny bit, destabilizing its economies during our passing. Like Sasha, he had no practice maintaining military bearing. He was a shrewd, often scrutinized, major businessman, though, and so it was that he was the one amongst their three who showed the middle amount of emotion as he waved to us during our departure. Augustine would be picked up much sooner; by a luxurious, futuristic version of a Gulfstream corporate jet, one upgraded for Space travel. By it, he would be flown back to whichever major office or facility of his organization, the Bilderberg Group, needed his polymath and leadership skills the most. For humans, men such as Augustine were invaluable commodities in the world of corporate executives.

The only human who was staying with us as we flew our Firefly, Persephone, out and away from that medium hangar in the side of The New Horizon, was Sarah. She, still appearing to be a teenage girl, was now nearly 550 Earth-years old (534, to be precise). She was my best-performing slave girl; my First Girl, as she was called in the Gorean fashion of recognizing the top pleasure slave who had proven herself sexy and otherwise capable enough to be entrusted with a few more luxuries and responsibilities than other girls. Sarah was my property, and even if she had been free, she had professed and proven on countless occasions that she was also my 'heart slave'; that her heart belonged to me; that I had her total and undying love and submission. What she longed for most was my command. She would have at is we flew Persephone back home.

"I wish you well," I had told each man of our crew, I, then, standing on the bottom edge of Persephone's lowered tail ramp, its engines beginning to whine to life like those of a fighterjet on its runway. I had called them each by name when I had said this, and they had returned the serious and heartfelt words. I did not hug men, nor did I often make any physical touch with them, but we shook hands, I honoring their human customs. Nyria would be the one to throw her arms around them, hugging them tightly, wetting their shoulders and necks and lips with her tears. We had turned and walked up that ramp of Persephone as it slowly rose and sealed itself behind us. Nyria was shaking as she heeled me up through our ship to its cockpit, and Sarah heeling her.

Those three men who had spent the last decade and change with us about this little Firefly-class Spaceship now carrying us into an acceleration far, far away from them... were no longer in view. Persephone spun about, gracefully rotating until it was facing directly away from The New Horizon. It was poetic irony, that; we were now facing toward a very familiar horizon; that of Inisfree, and all the Verse we had known so well since our creations on the distant, little blue world named Earth. I flew Persephone by technopathy; commands sent to it directly from my mind. There was no more need to feign a lower level of technology, for Nyria was an extension of myself, in a way, and Sarah knew well the secrets of our home-city and its people.

I gazed out on the Black Ocean; the countless trillions of stars, and the distant blurs of galaxies and other cosmic bodies, and reminisced at our unexpectedly successful social experiment with the humans of 34 Tauri. I wondered at how they would treat The New Horizon, and each other, now that we, the glue which had once held them, were gone. My Inisfreeans would be home by now, having teleported away in clever secret. The New Horizon's population would be reduced by about half. She would be a roomier, lonelier ship for a while. Inisfreeans were an easy lot to quickly miss; they were so unbelievably attentive, thoughtful, loving, impossible to overlook, nymphs of the future.

Persephone sailed around behind the farside of the nearest moon, The New Horizon sailing off in an arc going nearly the opposite direction. Our headings would keep our eventual jump through an Inisfreean portal from being detected by the great carrier; her humans had never been allowed to learn of our people's distant capital or its powers; that was not part of the social experiment with them.

I thought of the tens of thousands of human girls our crew had sought out and rounded up, broken to the collar, trained to the whip, and divided amongst us, that we all get to enjoy as many of them as we wished. Where would those enslaved girls go next? Some of them were now the property of those three men we'd just left behind. Would they grow to love their masters as Sarah had grown to love me? Would some of them flee? Or attempt suicide? Or something else?

Nyria's hands had returned to mine, hugging it between both of them, keeping it safe, loved, and warm. She sat in the copilot seat next to mine, gazing out at the stars, as well; all we Inisfreeans adore looking up or out at the stars. We are born romantics, stargazers, moongazers, explorers, pioneers, nature lovers, and more.

Sarah's hands and arms were wrapped around my opposite leg. She rested on her ass and heels, half kneeling, half sitting on the deck plating of the cockpit's floor just off to the side of my foot nearest her side. She was on my opposite side than Nyria. She made sure not to be in front of me, unless I commanded her so; no slave girl dares assume to be equal to, right beside, and especially not in front of her master, and Sarah Always wanted to be pleasing to me. She heeled me like that even as we sat and stared off into the infinite depth of the ocean of stars, worlds, comets and debris that separated us from our faraway home.

The humans were not like us; they were not as one, like a collective; a shared consciousness. Humans always argued with one another, even when there was no need to. Even with the supercomputers and other technologies they had managed, relearned, or restored, they were still a race of personified chaos; they would never approach even the lowest levels of technology we Inisfreeans had so easily, effortlessly, almost instantaneously mustered. I did not worry about them, one day, coming to find and challenge us. That would never be. We would always be a classified wonder to but a relative handful of their militarily lucky, eventually fading into memory and even doubt, only being remembered by fewer and fewer, who, in time, would start to consider us legend, magical, mythological. We would remain in our unknown, undetectable realm, much like the gods and goddesses of Asgard.

I brought Sarah's face into my lap, placing my swelling cock into her wet, awaiting mouth, and she immediately began to swallow its growing length and pulsing girth into the back of her throat, helping to ensure I quickly squirted many long, thick, warm, slippery bursts of my sperm into her mouth, filling it as she merrily swallowed, making little, appreciative noises while Nyria and I French kissed, my one hand cupped around the back of Nyria's neck, keeping her lips held closely to mine, my other hand resting down atop and over across the top of Sarah's happily bobbing head. I felt Sarah begin to gulp as my cum flowed and splashed into her mouth, soaking her tongue as its bulk slid down that organ's smooth middle crease. Nyria's irises flickered all the colors of the rainbow and more, for when I reached orgasm, all Inisfreeans felt and enjoyed it, especially those who were nearest me, and doubly so those Inisfreeans who I was directly enjoying. Nyria came inside her pussy, and kept cumming, ready to mount me as the invisible portal opened up, yawning perfectly around the hull of Persephone, and swallowing her whole. It closed around her behind right as I was moving my hand down to close around Nyria's, and finished gulping us down right as Sarah finished gulping down my last drop of milky semen.

We were making fiery love when our ship appeared in Inisfreean airspace, exiting the portal just over our home-city's mile-wide, square platform of aircraft runways and helipads. Like Outlander aircraft of the 21st Earth-century, it autopiloted itself during most landings. We didn't need to even look out the windows. We had more interesting things to look at, anyway; one another. I made thorough use of both Sarah and Nyria, and they of each other while I was still entering them, one after the other, back and forth, while Persephone made her smooth landing, her landing feet stretching out from their opening ports while Nyria and Sarah just as much stretched up and out their happy, satisfied arms and little, girly fists.

A welcome-home party, city-wide, would be waiting for us. Many of my daughters, the Inisfreeans, were already in formation on the tarmac just outside our unsealing, re-opening, slowly lowering tail ramp. They were, in accordance with Inisfreean desire, custom, and law, nude. They stood with their backs to the tall, castle-like walls of our civilian air-and-Space-port's terminal gates, each with a waterfall flowing and faintly roaring down between it, misting into an overlapping set of translucent rainbows reflected by its many blast-proof window-walls. Dozens of other local aircraft and longer-ranged Spacecraft moved in their assigned patterns across the Inisfreean sky above us, to and from their landing strips and helipads around us. Inisfree was a bustling center of trade, sports, and interracial lovemaking for a thousand realms around and inside the Earth, and beyond.

"What will you do Now?" I heard the voice of the city itself, coming from its mind; the supercomputer called The Grid Mind, high up and deep within our city's central mountain, inquire in the usual, endlessly sexy human girl voice I had programmed it to use.

I smiled, answering aloud, for Sarah to hear as much as Nyria to smile at; they both loved my kingly, rumble, rolling-thunder-like voice, "Now I shall enjoy my slave girls, and we will party like the gods and goddesses we are."

Sarah, my best slave girl; First Girl, at my one side, her little, feminine hand in my bigger, masculine one, and Nyria; third in command of all Inisfree and every Inisfreean, at my other side, her equally little, feminine hand in my other, strode proudly, happily forth, and with much relief, into the awaiting arms, kisses, and heavenly, inviting, welcoming, long-missed auras of our many fellow Inisfreeans, my many millions of perfect daughters who had kept Inisfree going in perfect order during the dozen years we three had been gone. All of us empaths, I knew that it would heal us instantly and well.

Instead of on the food prepared by humans in remote, alien realms, we would resume dining on the ambrosia and manna of our eternal realm. Instead of sleeping on human-sized beds and cots, alone or in pairs, we would sleep on vast beds with ample space for the dozens upon dozens of our Inisfreean girls who would always eagerly snuggle right up with us, sucking and fucking and shared-breathing us to sleep. Instead of on the raw, ignorant Outlander females, we would once again get to savor, en masse, the nectar that is the divine pussy juices and all other aspects of my Inisfreean daughters' beings. Instead of wondering at our Inisfreean loved one's locations and activities, we would be reunited with them for many years to come, and I, King of Inisfree, would once again be ravaging my queen, self-proclaimed sexual girl that she always was and always is, giving her the fucking of her lifetime, even more than our honeymoon centuries before. Yes, these were happy times. This was our homecoming.

Persephone's charter crew had completed its work; a bond had been restored with the now distant, emigrated humans. Some day, perhaps a thousand years from now, perhaps sooner, we would return to her, our lovely little Firefly ship, and sail back out to them. Persephone would be filled by the men and women of her second crew, and our adventures so far out there in the Black would go on... perhaps even, at that distant point in time, to the galaxy of Star Wars.