0 comments/ 24442 views/ 0 favorites Star Sex: The XXX Generation Ch. 02 By: dr_teeth Disclaimer: The details of warp operation were totally made up. Hell, ALL of it was made up. Any of you Trekkies out there that find inconsistencies with any of this shit have way too much free time on your hands. Don't email me saying "According to the Star Trek Technical Manual by Michael Okuda it doesn't work that way...." (I have BOTH of the tech manuals. The original is autographed by James Doohan. NO, IT'S NOT FOR SALE!) I am a Trekkie. And don't email about the differences between a Trekker and Trekkie. I don't give a shit. I have a life. You should get one, too. Just enjoy the damn story. Star Sex-The XXX Generation: Captain's Punishment Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the USS Enterprise, flagship of StarFleet, stared into space outside the huge window of his ready room; hands clasped firmly behind his back. "What am I going to do?" he asked the stationary stars outside. A beep sounded on his communicator and Lieutenant-Commander Worf's voice issued from it. "Captain Picard, Admiral Janssen is on the secure channel." "Shit," Picard visibly cringed and mumbled to himself. Clarisse "Phaser" Janssen was known throughout StarFleet as the most severe officer that had ever graced a starship. And she had just been promoted to Vice-Commandant of StarFleet. "Very well, Mr. Worf," Picard replied, "patch it through." Moving to his desk he seated himself in front of the comm. screen, took a deep breath and punched the "open channel" button. Admiral Janssen's face appeared. The sixty-plus year-old woman's face reminded Picard of a Klingon Targ.. God, but she was ugly...if her frown were any deeper, the cadets at the Academy could practice skiing on it; the crags in her face could be used for mountaineering practice. "CAPTAIN PICARD!" she bellowed. "Just what in the name of the Four Suns of Samarji happened out there?" Picard kept his voice level and officious. "Admiral, I have several people working on that problem as we speak. There are currently one dreadnought, two destroyers, and two space-tugs en route to our position. The first destroyer, I believe it's the Monitor, will arrive in just under an hour. We have a full complement of photon torpedoes until then. I assure you, Admiral, that as soon as I know the answer, you will know the answer." Her frown decreased slightly. "Jean-Luc, your crew has done some stupid SHIT in the past, and you've always backed them one-hundred percent. Your career is hanging by the merest of threads this time. You are ultimately responsible for what happened. If you don't have full and complete answers in twenty-four hours, you will be relieved of command. Janssen, out." When the screen blanked, Picard, head in hands, heaved a mighty sigh. The door chime sounded. "WHAT NOW?" thought Picard, raising his head. "Come in," he stated. The door slid aside and there stood a young female ensign flanked by Commander Riker and Lieutenant-Commander Worf. The girl looked absolutely miserable. They entered, the girl sat unbidden in the seat in front of Picard's desk. Worf stalked in to stand directly behind her. Riker strode purposefully to stand at Worf's right hand. Picard first gazed at the ensign then shifted his questioning eyes to Commander William T. Riker, second in command of the U.S.S. Enterprise. "Captain," said Riker, purposefully striding two steps closer to the desk, "this is Engineer Ensign Emily Trask, the cause of our current situation." Emily sank lower in her seat. "Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all," stated Picard flatly. He addressed the girl before him, "Sit up straight, Ensign." he ordered. She did as she was told. Picard folded his hands, staring at the girl who looked everywhere in the room except at the captain. Riker turned and strode purposefully from the room while Worf stalked out. Picard looked the girl over. Her chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders stopping at the swell of her ample breasts. Her green eyes sparkled as a single tear ran down her beautiful, flawless face. Her slightly upturned nose gave a small sniff. One delicate, perfect ear showed through the mass of hair. Her shoulders were broad but well-proportioned for a woman of her stature. Picard could see where her chest narrowed to her waist. Her hips and legs were hidden by the desk. He pulled a box of tissues from a desk drawer and pushed it across to her. Wordlessly, she took one and dabbed her eyes. "Ensign, this is a very serious matter. We are over fifteen light years from the nearest starbase. Our only means of propulsion are our impulse engines. At maximum speed it will take six months to reach a safe port. Fortunately, two space-tugs are coming this way and our journey will take only five weeks. As an engineer, you understand that our phasers are...were powered by the warp core." Picard banged his fist on the desk causing the girl to jump and emphasized each word, "We...are...dead...in...space... Now, tell me EXACTLY what happened." Emily's breath hitched in her throat, her large well-rounded tits heaving and straining against the fabric of her uniform, an effect which increased the flow of blood to Picard's groin. "I reported to the engineering department for my shift and was informed that we would be performing a warp core breach drill. Commander LaForge sat at the instructor's console to monitor our actions and run the simulation. Lieutenant Chanoga was the practice Chief Engineer. We started the practice run with all readouts in the green. A phase fluctuation of thirteen percent above normal suddenly appeared on my readout. I reported it to Lt Chanoga who ordered that the phase transducers be shut down immediately. Ensign Caballo stated that he could align the transducers by hand. We had approximately seventeen seconds until total warp core implosion. The lieutenant ordered me to initiate jettison procedures and again ordered that the transducers be shut down. Ensign Caballo yelled something at Lieutenant Chanoga while I entered the code to initiate the jettison. The code was entered and my finger was poised over the jettison button. Ensign Caballo must have shoved the lieutenant. The lieutenant was forced into me and the button was pushed. Warning horns sounded, a force field was activated around the warp core container and 'WHOOSH!' it was gone! Can't they just find it and tractor it back to the ship? I'm sure Commander LaForge could..." She trailed off under her captain's stare. Picard stared at the girl for a full minute. She squirmed and wriggled in her seat, becoming more and more uncomfortable. Picard liked the effect he was having on the girl. "Ensign, do you know what happens to a warp core when it is ejected?" he demanded harshly. "No, Captain," she replied meekly. "When a warp core is ejected into space it is done so with the sole purpose of getting it as far away from it's parent ship as possible before it either implodes or explodes. Two point five milliseconds after it clears the ship's hull, a low power warp engine sends it off into the depths of space. The whole process is very complicated and I'm sure Mr. LaForge would be happy to fill you in on the details. Suffice it to say that the core is now somewhere within an area roughly the size of the Delta Quadrant!" Picard admired the figure before him. Although seated, she exuded sexuality. "Ensign, you are responsible for placing us in this position. We are less than 4 hours from the Neutral Zone. If the Romulans detect us, they will probably launch an immediate attack. Our only defenses are photon torpedoes. If enough Romulan warships attack us, StarFleet will find only little bits of paste resembling chunky salsa along with enough scrap metal to build another starship. I hope this puts our predicament in its proper perspective." Picard's gaze never wavered from the girl the entire time he was speaking. The comm. on his desk beeped and Worf's voice announced, "Captain Picard, the destroyers Monitor and Merrimac are on station, protecting the ship. The dreadnought Mastodon will arrive in the next two hours. The tugs Gordon and Venable will arrive in twelve hours." Picard turned to the comm. console and said, "Thank you, Mr. Worf." He paused and spoke to the comm., "Picard to Mr. LaForge, Ensign Trask is relieved of duty until further notice." LaForge's voice issued from the unit, "Acknowledged, Captain." His reply left no doubt that he understood the ensign to be in deep shit. Picard turned back to the young ensign. "Ensign Trask, report to my quarters in one hour. Dismissed." Emily rose from her seat, stepped sideways to clear the chair, did a smart about-face and exited the room. What was going on? Why didn't the Captain have her escorted to the brig? He hadn't even confined her to her quarters. The door swished aside. The bridge fell silent as every eye watched her walk to the turbolift. The two-second wait seemed an eternity to her; she could feel every eye boring into her back. Since she hadn't been confined to quarters, she decided to have a drink in Ten Forward before reporting to the Captain's quarters. As she moped along the corridor toward Ten Forward, it seemed that everyone stared at her as she passed. News traveled fast on a starship. Conversation tapered off and the room fell silent as she entered the ship's bar. She ordered a Tarkasian Landbrew from Guinan, who gave her a sympathetic look, and made her way to a far corner of the lounge to find a seat next to a window. As the girl turned to leave his ready room, Picard caught a brief profile and saw that her tits were much larger than Counselor Troi's. When she walked towards the door her hourglass figure was very pronounced. "Damn!" thought Picard, "I love these uniforms!" Whether the girl knew it or not, her well-rounded ass swayed provocatively when she walked. Picard again felt stirrings in his groin. He punched the comm., "Mr. Worf, have my senior staff assemble immediately in the conference room." Without waiting for a reply, he signed off and leaned back in his chair, smiling.. Emily finished her drink and slowly made her way to Picard's quarters. She tentatively reached for the door-chime to announce her presence. She heard Picard's voice order her in. The door hissed aside and she entered; the door hissing shut behind her. Picard stated in a clear voice, "Lock!" Emily spun to look at the door and heard the slight snick of the lock engaging. "Now, Ensign," Picard said lightly, "I have spoken with the senior members of the crew and they agree that your punishment shall be handed out by us all." He pointed toward the bathroom. "Part of your punishment is in there. Go into the bathroom and dress in the uniform provided. Do not emerge from there until you have completely changed into it." Turning toward the bathroom, Emily held her head up as she moved across the floor; her hair shone as she passed the light fixtures. The bathroom, being the captain's, was the largest on the ship. An early-20th century Earth shower stall stood next to a bathtub that could probably hold six people with ease. An ornate 12th century Vulcan toilet with silver-press latinum inlay sat beside a 14th century Gorn sink, the bowl large enough for her to sit in. A full-length mirror took up most of one wall. Beside the mirror was a hand-carved 8 foot tall clothes closet that appeared to be from the Ho'ngo Dynasty on Bajor. The door of the closet was ajar and she peeked inside. What she saw froze her in her tracks. A black and white French maid's uniform was hanging from the crosspiece. Directly underneath were a pair of black high-heeled, open-toed leather sandals with silver buckles which were so shiny she could see her reflection in them. Emily turned away and went back to the door. Poking her head around the corner, she said in a small voice, "Um, Captain Picard? The only thing I see in the way of a uniform is for a French maid." Picard looked her in the eye and replied, "You are quite correct my dear. Change into it before your punishment worsens." Emily walked over to the closet once more, let out a heavy sigh, and slowly began changing clothes. Kicking off her shoes and unzipping her jumpsuit, she stepped onto the cool Ferengi marble floor and reached behind her to unfasten her bra. Letting the brassiere fall to the floor she reached up and took the white cotton bustier from its hanger. Her face flushed as she put on the bustier, lacing it down the front, and noticed that it was two sizes too small. Her breasts pushed up and threatened to fall over the top. She was about to pull off her panties when she noticed that no others were available. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, she understood what was to happen and began to moisten between her legs. Quickly she wrapped the short black cotton skirt around herself and donned the small, short-sleeved black cotton jacket. A small bowtie attached to a black silk choker went around her neck and a small white headpiece completed the look. She had purposely left her panties on, just in case this wasn't what she suspected. If it was, this was going to be fun. Taking a small step to the side, Emily admired herself in the mirror; turning this way and that to make sure her appearance was acceptable. The skirt barely covered her pussy and ass. Adjusting her tits so that her areolas were barely covered and drawing a deep breath, she walked back into Picard's quarters and stood at attention. From the corner of her eye she noticed that Picard was no longer the only one in the room. The lithe, willowy form and fiery red hair announced the presence of Dr. Beverly Crusher. Without a word, Crusher walked over and ran a medical tricorder around and over the young ensign, lingering at the girl's crotch. Crusher turned and spoke to Picard, "Blood pressure's a little elevated, that's to be expected, so is her elevated heart-rate and respiration. Other than that, she's the picture of health." Beverly walked over to Jean-Luc and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and walked over to stand directly in front of the girl. "Now, then. I will begin by saying that you have been permanently reassigned to be my personal housekeeper and aide-de-camp. This way, I can keep a constant eye on you. If you do a pleasing job, you will be rewarded. If you don't, you will receive further punishment. Do I make myself clear?" "Perfectly, Captain Picard," she said, her loins beginning to tingle. "Fine. The first thing we will discuss will be how you address me and the other members of my staff. Outside of this room, you will address us by our proper ranks, however, our names will never be spoken by you. Captain, Lieutenant-Commander, et cetera, ONLY. You shall never address me as Captain Picard again. Clear?" Yes, Captain Pic...sir, what about inside this room?" Picard looked over appreciatively at Beverly. "This girl learns rather quickly, doesn't she?" Beverly just smiled. "Inside this room," Picard spoke again to the girl, "All of my staff will be addressed as 'Your Honor' followed by their first name. I will therefore be 'Your Honor, Jean-Luc' and Dr. Crusher shall be 'Your Honor, Beverly.' Once you have been acknowledged as having spoken, 'Sire' or 'Madam' will suffice. Never 'Sir' or 'Ma'am.' If you do not know an officer's first name, you will address me only and inquire. You will be addressed as 'Maid' or 'Servant.' Do you understand?" "Yes, Sire." Again, Picard looked at Beverly, a smile on his countenance. "I do believe that we have a good girl here. Would you like to reward her, or shall I?" "Oh, Jean-Luc, by all means, I think you should be the first to reward her. After all, she IS your maid." Beverly's smile broadened. Picard smiled again and moved to stand behind the girl. He bent slightly and lightly placed his hand on the back of her bare leg, just above her knee. He felt her shudder slightly as he slowly ran his hand up her leg, getting nearer to her round, young ass. He rubbed her ass a couple of times and then stepped back. He frowned at Beverly, then straightened and moved his head directly next to the girl's ear. "Perhaps, our little servant-girl does not learn as quickly as we had thought. She is still wearing her panties. Were they provided with the uniform?" "No, Sire. I just thought that you had overlooked that part. I am sorry, Sire. I await your punishment." Inside, Emily was ecstatic. She had been right all along. Well, she hadn't been assigned to the Enterprise right out of StarFleet Academy for being an idiot. Only the top two graduates got their choice of assignments. The fellow that had beat her out had immediately asked for Deep Space 4 instead of the Enterprise. Good for him, but better for her! She was brought back to the present by Jean-Luc's voice. "Take them off, servant." Emily reached beneath her skirt and hooked her thumbs under the waistband. Pushing down, she let them fall the rest of the way to the floor and stepped clear of them. Picard said nothing. A silence hung about the room. Then Emily remembered to pick them up. Bending at the waist, without bending her knees, she reached down to retrieve the garment. Picard could see her pussy lips peeking from between her legs and admired her firm, round ass. The skin of her ass was as smooth as the skin of her young, beautiful face. Was she shaved completely or just trimmed? He couldn't tell from this angle. As she bent over, he launched a stinging backhand against her left butt cheek. She flinched and made a small squeaking sound. "Remain in that position, servant," he ordered. Another slap this time to her right cheek. He started using both hands to land slap after slap on her bottom. He noticed a small rivulet of pussy juice trickle down the inside of her leg. What seemed like hours was only a minute or two as his hands landed expert slaps, her cheeks becoming redder with each blow. Tears started to form in the girls eyes. Not from the humiliation, oh no, but from the pain involved. She didn't know how much longer she could remain in this position. Her legs, hips and back muscles were starting to cramp. Suddenly the blows stopped, as if Picard had sensed the pain of the girl. A cool cloth was pressed against her red-hot bottom and gently dabbed around. "You may stand up now, servant. Move to the bed and lie on your stomach." She did as she was told. Lying facedown on the bed and burying her face in the coverlet she could smell Jean-Luc's scent intermingled with that of a woman. The cool cloth returned to her ass cheeks. It moved slowly over her globes and was gently moved to the crack of her ass. The hands that moved it were not those of a man, judging from the delicate pressure and sheer gentle touch. Her ass cheeks were spread slightly by masculine hands and her asshole and pussy were thoroughly, yet gently, cleaned by the cool, soft cloth. A squelching noise was heard behind her and then decidedly feminine fingers began massaging her puckered sphincter. A cool gel was spread around and into her asshole. Emily felt a small pressure at her asshole and something was inserted, again gently. She felt a pressure start to build in her abdomen. A warmth flooded into her bowels and she struggled to move forward. "Hold still, servant," this from Dr. Crusher. "In case you haven't figured it out, I am giving you an enema. You will be required to hold it until I say otherwise." Emily couldn't speak. Instead, she just nodded her head into the bed. Picard's voice sounded, "If you happen to lose control, servant, you will be required to clean the floor." The pressure built to the point where she didn't know if she could take any more. The nozzle was removed from her ass and Picard ordered her to stand up. Minutes went by; her sphincter threatening to open up at any moment and spill its contents on Jean-Luc's carpet. When Crusher told her to go the bathroom, it was all Emily could do not to run to the toilet. Star Sex: The XXX Generation Ch. 02 She grabbed her skirt, hitching it up as she turned and sat. The water gushed out of her with such force that the backsplash reached her ass. The cooling sensation of the water gave more relief to her red bottom. As she sat, Picard's voice floated through the open door. "Servant, take a shower and come back out here. A shower, not a bath." "Yes, Sire," she called back. The bathroom seemed to be off limits in their minds, for no one came to the door to watch her on the toilet and Picard hadn't watched her change into her maid's uniform. Emily quickly shed the maid's uniform and stepped into the shower. "Shower, 85 degrees Fahrenheit," she said. Not too hot and not too cold. She shampooed her lustrous hair, lathering it well. Picking up the bar of soap she proceeded to lather her entire body. Paying special attention to her pussy and asshole. She sensed her nipples harden and gave each a small pinch. Running her hands all over her body, feeling the slickness of soap on skin. Again, she felt the familiar wetness between her legs and pulled the shower nozzle from its hook. Starting with her head, Emily rinsed the shampoo and soap from her body. When she rinsed her pussy, the stream hit her clitoris and sent a tingle through her body. She again played the stream over her clit and then between her legs to rinse her asshole. The warm water felt hot on her ass cheeks and cool to her asshole, further enhancing her aroused state. God! But she was horny! She just had to play their game and endure. They would let her come, eventually. The waiting was driving her wild! Making sure that she was totally devoid of soap, especially between her legs, she ordered the shower off and turned to the replicator on the wall between the shower and tub. "Large towel." The damn machine was the only thing that she could give orders to now. A large, folded, fluffy white towel materialized in the space. She dried herself, then threw the towel on the floor. Rethinking, she picked it up and draped it over the shower pole. Walking across the bathroom naked, she entered the living space of Captain Picard's quarters. "AH!" exclaimed Jean-Luc. "She does learn quickly after all! You see, Beverly? I didn't tell her get dressed again and she didn't! Servant, you have just earned some praise. Lie on the bed." As she made her way to the bed, Beverly moved to intercept her with a hypospray. She paused as Beverly placed the instrument against her shoulder and administered a dosage of something colored blue. "This is a simple cocktail containing anti-disease and anti-pregnancy drugs. It will last about six months." Emily's heart soared. This was fantastic! Getting fucked by the Captain of the Enterprise! She practically leaped onto the bed and rolled onto her back. Jean-Luc ordered her to close her eyes, which she did. A blindfold was placed over her eyes and masculine hands gently forced her legs wide apart. Something soft and wet caressed her neck, stopping here and there for a playful little nip. Slowly, the tongue moved down her chest and licked its way first to one nipple then the other. Just flicking them. The tongue lightly licked her entire left breast, then licked its way back over to her right. Jean-Luc really knew how to get a woman excited. The tongue made its way down, past her navel, stopping short of her trimmed pussy. She felt the tongue glide around the hair line and make its way to her inner thigh. She felt pussy juice trickle down the crack of her ass onto the bed. The tongue slipped lightly over her pussy lips causing an involuntary intake of breath. The masculine hands took hold of her ankles and lifted them upwards, forcing her knees to her shoulders. Her pussy and ass were totally exposed. The tongue licked lightly over her asshole and up to the slit between her moist, pink lips. She felt lips and a gentle sucking on her clit. She moaned and moved her pussy upwards towards the mouth. The sucking continued, gaining pressure, and the tongue applied itself directly to the center of the intense pleasure. Now, Emily felt teeth nibbling lightly on the clit, the suction at maximum. Something was gently pressed between her pussy lips and a barely noticeable vibration began. The vibration slowly increased, almost imperceptibly, building and building. Suddenly, she felt the bed dip slightly, as if someone had moved next to her. A cock was inserted in her mouth and she sucked greedily, deep-throating it as it moved in and out. Oh, my God! She realized that the tongue and lips belonged to Her Honor Beverly and the cock was His Honor Jean-Luc's! How long had they been conspiring for this? Since the accident? Since before then? Now that she thought about it, Beverly had taken an unusually long time examining her whenever Emily went to the sickbay. As she neared orgasm, she thought she felt another presence in the room but really didn't care. She was too far gone in her throes of passion. As the wave built, she moved her head faster and faster, laving the dick in her mouth, applying suction of her own. She whimpered and moaned, the sounds muted by the fat cock, her body writhing of its own volition. The combination of cock in her mouth, vibrator in her pussy and tongue-and-teeth on her clit were pushing her toward the most fantastic orgasm. Her nipples were pinched and twisted hard. That was all it took. She screamed a muted scream and convulsed. As soon as the first spasm started, the teeth were removed from her clit, but the mouth remained. As she moaned, the cock in her mouth convulsed and spewed warm liquid. A groan came from a throat that didn't belong to Jean-Luc. Who was this? "Fuck it," she told herself, "just enjoy the ride." The cock was removed and was replaced by another, thicker and much longer one. It pumped her mouth, gradually moving deeper and threatening to totally close off her air. She deep-throated it, opening her throat wider to get more air. Holy shit! This guy was thick! It felt like deep-throating a baseball bat. Faster and faster. The cock was moving faster than she had thought humanly possible. Humanly! She was deep-throating Commander Data! Or was it Worf? Would Data get as much pleasure from it as the last one had? She came again as the vibrator increased speed. Damn! How many settings did this thing have? The vibrator and mouth were withdrawn and a warm cock inserted. It, too, was large and thick. Emily wanted so badly to tear off the blindfold and see who she was fucking. She resisted the urge, for the pleasure might cease. The cock in her mouth was going so fast that she was running out of spit for lubrication. It was suddenly withdrawn as the cock in her pussy began thrusting. Little by little it increased speed and force. She was sliding back and forth on the bed, being fucked with abandon. The cock pushed deeper and harder and faster. It stopped so suddenly that she kept rocking for a few strokes. Masculine hands turned her over, placing her on her hands and knees, and the same cock was shoved back into her pussy. She felt fingers and a slippery substance on her asshole. A finger was inserted and began to massage the sphincter, then a second and a third finger. She felt someone stand on the bed and place a leg on either side of her. A dick was placed at her asshole and pushed in. Now, her pussy and asshole had cocks in them. A cock forced it's way between her lips. It was the cock she had just sucked. As one, the three cocks began stroking. Her nipples were being pinched and twisted from underneath. The fingers doing the tweaking weren't from the same person. One had less power than the other. One was much smaller than the other. She was doing the entire senior staff! Their Honors Beverly and Deanna were playing with her tits. Their Honors Jean-Luc, William and Worf (It had to be Worf, she reasoned. Data was third-in-command and would have had to stay on the bridge) had their dicks in her. A trio of groans sounded as the men came as one. Just as they came, her nipples were pinched hard and she came yet again. The cocks were withdrawn and the pressure on the bed decreased until Emily was sure she was the only one on it.. She heard the familiar whistling of a medical tricorder. She remained in the doggy position until Picard ordered her to stand up. Slowly, she backed off the bed and stood on the soft carpet. Her knees were weak and started to buckle. A masculine hand on either side of her kept her from falling. Two different hands, she corrected herself. No words were spoken. The hands were tentatively removed and she stood stock still. She heard several zippers being pulled as jumpsuits were fastened and boots placed back on feet. Several times, she heard the door hiss open, then closed. A slight scraping sound came from the direction of the door, then the soft clacking of wood. As all of this was happening, she could feel cum oozing down her leg. Picard's voice, right in her ear, breathed, "Now, servant. Wait until I finish speaking, then remove the blindfold, go take a hot bath, then dress in your normal uniform. You may do so now." Emily carefully removed the blindfold and turned toward the bathroom. Her gaze caught a tri-fold Chinese paper screen. Presumably, that was the scraping and clacking she had heard. The room was empty save for herself and Picard. Unsteadily, she made her way to the large tub in the bathroom. "Fill tub. 105 degrees Fahrenheit," she said. The quaver in her voice didn't surprise her in the slightest, considering the fuckfest she had just been through. The tub began to fill as she addressed the replicator, "Small towel." A hand-towel appeared and she used it to wipe her legs and crotch. Emily slowly got into the tub and sat down, the warm water, continuing to rise, surrounding her legs and working its way up her body. She briefly entertained the notion of scooting down and putting her pussy directly under the flow. She decided that her pussy was too sensitive for that. She could tell when her heart beat as her pussy throbbed in synchronization. The water rose to her nipples and she discovered just how sensitive she was. She came again without touching herself. The faucet shut off automatically as she lay back in the warm, steaming water. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Seated in his command chair, Captain Jean-Luc Picard watched the developments on the screen. The UST Gordon had attached towing lines to the saucer section and the UST Venable had likewise attached lines to the combat hull. "Five weeks," sighed Picard. "The flagship of the Federation being towed. Number One, I'll wager that the Romulans are having a planet wide celebration over this." Riker looked at Picard, "I'm sorry, Captain, but I won't take that bet." He was as dejected as his captain over the incident. Worf spoke up from the tactical console, "Captain, long range sensors have detected..." He broke off. Picard looked worriedly at Riker, but spoke to his tactical officer, "What is it, Mr. Worf?" "Sir," the Klingon's voice was strained, "the USS Honshu is inbound at warp 7. It will be here in 43 minutes." Everyone on the bridge froze in place and Picard thought he heard more than a few "Oh, shit's." Picard briefly toyed with the idea of ordering a Red Alert. "All hands, this is the Captain," he said, instead, "you have forty-three minutes to make this ship as spotless as it can possibly get. Admiral Janssen is coming aboard." Picard had cried twice in his StarFleet career. This was going to be the third. "Number One , you have the con. I'll be in my...." He bolted for the Ready Room, the doors hissing closed just as his tears started to flow. Picard had fought long, hard battles. He had survived numerous encounters with the Borg; hell, he had BECOME a Borg. He had represented the Federation in many diplomatic situations. He had invented the "Picard Maneuver" which was now taught as a standard tactic at the Academy. He had gone up against a Klingon in hand-to-hand combat, AND WON! Phaser Janssen was the only person in the UNIVERSE who scared the living shit out of him. In all the ships, in all the galaxy, she had to walk into his. He reached into the desk and pulled out his phaser. Setting it to "kill," he placed it against his bare scalp. "It won't be so bad," he thought. "Just push the thumb button and be disintegrated. POOF! Gone! Oh, the scanners will show an energy burst in here, and they'll figure out what happened quickly enough. But at least I won't have to deal with that...that...that...a word has yet to be invented for what she really is..." The door chime sounded. The comm. panel beeped. He sighed again, lowered the phaser and quickly replaced it in the drawer of his desk. Speaking to the door, he said, "One moment." Turning to the comm. panel he asked, "What is it?" Worf's voice issued from the device, "Sir, the Honshu has increased speed and will arrive in four minutes." "Ah, shit." Picard hung his head. "Very well, Mr. Worf, have our guest escorted to the V. I. P. quarters and inform Admiral Janssen that I shall join her shortly." Signing off, he spoke to the door, "Come!" The door hissed aside and there stood Deanna Troi, ship's counselor, Betazoid extraordinaire. She couldn't read minds, but was invaluable in detecting a person's emotions. She had saved his ass more than once. Sauntering in, she sat in the chair directly in front of the captain's desk. Her chest heaved as she breathed, stretching her uniform in all the right places. She sat, gazing at Picard while he gazed back. "Captain..."she began. He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "You know, Counselor, I have commanded this starship for over 15 years. I have been threatened with demotion and removal from command several times. Always did I treat my crew and ship with the utmost respect. Everyone on this ship would give their lives for me, or so I have been told. I have saved from death more than one person and, in turn, been saved several times. Including right now. You just saved me from ending my own life because of the stone bitch that will arrive in less than one minute. Thank you." Deanna smiled sweetly and said, "I'm always here to help, Jean-Luc." Rounding the desk, Picard bent over and kissed Deanna on the top of her head. He straightened his tunic and, it was his turn, strode purposefully toward the door. He crossed the bridge, looking neither right nor left. As he approached the turbolift, Riker spoke up, "Captain, there is something y..." Picard cut him off with a curt, "Later, Number One." The turbolift doors opened and Jean-Luc entered, saying, "Deck Five." The doors opened onto the proper deck and Picard walked quickly toward the V. I. P. quarters. Rounding the corner, he noticed two USS Honshu security men standing at attention at either side of the door. This was highly unusual. To have the V. I. P. quarters guarded? On a Federation starship? As he approached, one of the guards caught sight of Picard, smirked, and reached behind him to press the door chime. "Come in," said a voice that was not Admiral Janssen's. The voice was softer, yet still firm. Not the raucous, screeching voice of a thousand banshees. It was...sultry. He entered the room to find Admiral Katherine Janeway. Hers was an odd story. Several years previously, her ship, the Voyager, had hit a wormhole of unprecedented magnitude. It had been hurled over 70, 000 light-years into the Delta Quadrant. At top speed, the ship would have returned to Earth in about 75 years. The entire account of the voyage made for interesting reading. That she had brought the ship back at all was testament to her ability to command. He was brought abruptly back to the present with a firm, "Sit down, Captain." The only available seating was a footstool directly in front of Janeway's desk. "Admiral, it seems that there are no chairs here. I shall call my..." "I SAID, SIT DOWN, CAPTAIN!" Janeway roared. Picard sat. Janeway spoke next to the computer, "Noise damping on. Level five." A beep sounded to indicate that the computer had complied. "Now, Captain," she smiled disarmingly, "someone standing right outside the door will not be able to hear what transpires in this room...my guards, for instance." "Yes, Admiral," began Picard, "I am curious as to the reason for the g.." "Quiet!" Janeway bellowed. "StarFleet Command is VERY disappointed in you, Captain Picard. *I* am very disappointed in you. And right this minute, I AM StarFleet Command. I came here because it was felt that Admiral Janssen couldn't...handle...the situation properly. I can. I will. You have fifteen seconds to ask any questions that you may have, starting now." A thousand thoughts suddenly flooded Picard's mind. Why had she REALLY come and not Janssen? What was to become of his career? OH, SHIT! Was she...? "Are you here to discipline me?" he inquired. "Yes, next question." "Is my crew to be involved?" "No, just you. Time's up. Be silent." "Is there to be..." "I SAID, SILENCE, WORM!" She turned to the comm. console, "Transporter room, site-to-site transport to holodeck three." The pair dematerialized from the room and rematerialized on the holodeck. The gridlines of the room were superimposed over black walls. With the proper programming, the holodeck could simulate virtually any landscape in its database. It had, at various times, simulated a bar in Paris, the middle of the ocean, a private investigator's office, a cabaret and a myriad of other locales. Janeway spoke, "Computer, simulation, Janeway One. All safeties OFF. Noise damping level five. Authorization, Janeway-Delta-Four" As the room began changing, a raucous warning horn sounded and the computer's voice responded, "Warning! All safeties have been removed. The possibility for injury or death now exists. Safeties will be restored automatically at the end of this simulation. Extreme caution is advised." The room morphed into a replica of a Medieval dungeon. The floor became well-worn cobblestones. The walls became rough stone slabs. Steps led upwards to a heavy oaken door. Picard could see a black hooded head peering in through the prisoner-hole in the door. On one wall were a set of manacles. An iron maiden stood close to the steps, with a rack standing next to it. A heavy stone table was laid out with various implements of torture. A ducking tank sat in one corner, a beam over it with a rope and chair hanging from it. A massive hook was hanging from a pulley attached by sturdy metal bolts affixed to the ceiling. A large chain ran up through the pulley and over to a winch affixed to the wall. In the corner opposite the ducking tank was a tri-fold screen toward which Janeway pointed. "Your outfit is there. You have exactly thirty seconds to change into it. Go." Picard ran to the screen, unzipping his tunic as he went. Dashing around the corner he skidded painfully into the wall and further stripped his clothing. Flinging it on the floor, he was thankful for zippers. "Fifteen seconds," intoned Janeway. Picard had changed rapidly before, while he was still at the Academy. In this instance, age was not on his side. He heard the sound of a distant zipper being pulled. Ignoring it, he grabbed the strips of leather, organized them and quickly stepped into them. One strap, a collar, he realized, went around his throat. A wider strap went around his upper torso, above his nipples and below his armpits. Leather jockey shorts, with snapflaps front and back were secured around his waist, cupping his manhood tightly. A thick leather strap ran down his back between his shoulder blades to the shorts. There was a large metal ring attached to the device between his shoulders. Star Sex: The XXX Generation Ch. 02 "Five seconds." He was placing the last sandal on his foot when she ordered, "GET OUT HERE, NOW!" He dashed from behind the screen to see a black-clad figure standing where he had last seen Janeway, a Federation uniform lying at her feet. His first thought was, "Holy Mother of All Things! What a body!" Janeway wore a black body suit which exaggerated and accentuated every curve of her voluptuous body. It clung tightly to her legs, hips, and ample breasts, making them stand out farther than her StarFleet uniform ever could. His dick instantly hardened. "For the duration of this exercise, you are 'Slave' and I am 'Mistress.' You will speak only when spoken to. You will obey my every command without fail. Or suffer. I will not ask you if you understand, because if you don't, then you will learn...very quickly. Turn around and bend over." Picard turned and bent at the waist. "Obedient slaves get praised. Disobedient slaves get this!" A cat-o-nine-tails landed stings on his butt and legs making him twitch. The tables had been turned. Hadn't he said practically the same to the gorgeous young ensign yesterday? He was already getting warm in his leather body suit. "Now, Slave," said Janeway, "Kneel and kiss the whip. It shall be your master while I shall be your mistress." Picard knelt on the floor, the cobblestones causing his knees some pain. He bent and planted a quick peck on the whip. Janeway cuffed him on the ear, "I said, KISS it! As you would Beverly Crusher." He froze in place, his mind working. She knew! She knew about Beverly! How? They had been so careful. "Oh, yes, Slave. I know about your trysts with Beverly. I also know about Ensign Trask. I know that several people, including Deanna Troi, William Riker, and Mr. Worf...assisted you in disciplining her last night. You can keep nothing from me, Slave. Now. Kiss. The. Whip." He put everything he had into tonguing the whip, taking each strand into his mouth one at a time and gently sucking on it. "Very good, Slave. Now, lick my boots. They are a bit dirty." He looked at the spotless boots; could see his face reflected. Lowering himself to his hands, he began licking in earnest. This was weird...grape-flavored boots? He continued licking and kissing the boots all over until the flavor was gone. His knees ached. A hailing beep sounded from the overhead speakers. "Riker to Captain Picard. The ships is now secured to the tugs. We are ready to get underway." "Very well, Number One," Picard replied, speaking to the boots. "Admiral Janeway and I are in conference. We are not to be disturbed until further notice. Picard, out." Janeway spoke to thin air. "Computer, all further communiqués are to be held unless critical. Janeway authorization Delta-Four." The computer beeped in acknowledgement. "Very good, Slave. You handled that very well. You may rise for your reward." Stiffly, Picard got to his feet, his knees screaming in protest. As he stood, Janeway reached to her left breast and unzipped a small flap. It fell open to reveal the milky white skin and large half-dollar-sized areole. The nipple stood erect, standing out a full inch. Picard bent his head and took it into his mouth. He sucked greedily at it. Janeway gasped slightly. After a few seconds, it was withdrawn and Janeway caressed his head. "Now, Slave," she cooed, "unfortunately, you must be punished for the problem caused by your crew. Move to the hook and stand up straight." He practically ran to the hook which hung from the ceiling. Janeway took it and placed it through a loop on the back of his harness. She walked over to the winch and began cranking it until Jean-Luc's feet were several inches off the floor. He spun and twisted as he hung. She returned with a ball-gag which she forced between his teeth. Then she slowly pulled a black leather hood over his head. The only holes in the hood were for the nose. No ear holes. No eye holes. No mouth hole. He was engulfed in darkness. Though muffled, he heard the dungeon door at the top of the stairs open, then close. Muffled footsteps, like those of a woman, descended the steps and moved beside Janeway. A quiet conversation was conducted between the pair. Jean-Luc was unable to discern who the other woman was. His wrists were roughly seized by strong female hands and forced behind his back. Cold steel manacles encircled them, snapping shut. Manacles were placed around his ankles and secured. In an instant, his feet were drawn up to his hands, his knees bent. Clamps were placed on his nipples. The exquisite pain! Hands moved to his crotch and unsnapped the leather flap there. His dick now stood erect in the cool air of the dungeon. The flap at his ass was likewise unsnapped and his bare ass stuck out. A hand pushed him hard and he began to swing pendulum-like, twisting this way and that. Two muffled female giggles were heard. He heard the winch moving again and felt himself being lowered towards the floor. Swinging back and forth, he felt sure that his knees would scrape across the cobblestones. Gradually, he slowed, his knees never touching the floor. When he stopped swinging, his knees were lowered to the floor and his full weight was now spread down his shins. A nipple clamp was squeezed and he cried out; his cries muffled by the hood and ball-gag. Another giggle. On his torso, he felt the heat of another person. Definitely a woman, judging by the scent. He felt a softness through the hood; a soft female stomach. It moved close to him, mashing his face. It was close enough to cut off his air supply. He moved his head backwards to get a breath and felt the sting of the cat-o-nine-tails across his shoulders. He quickly took a breath and moved his head back to its original position. He felt a warmth spreading across his bare chest, traveling downwards, and heard water as it pooled on the floor by his knees. Pissing on me?!?! She's PISSING on me!!! His dick was now painfully hard. The body moved back slightly to allow him to breathe, but stayed very close, and he felt a second body move to straddle his arms and hands. The warmth repeated, trickling down his back, through the crack of his ass to mingle with the first piss puddle. The body in front of him leaned forward and his head was sandwiched between the two bodies. They were obviously kissing, long and hard, for he was running out of air. Just as it seemed his lungs would burst, they separated, allowing him to breathe once more. He felt the nipple clamps wriggle slightly and heard the snap of small rings being attached. Both nipple clamps were squeezed extremely hard and he again cried out. The pressure on his nipples decreased and he felt both clamps being drawn upwards. How was he going to stand while his hands and feet were bound? His legs were unchained. "Stand, Slave." It was difficult, but he managed to struggle upright, though his hands were still manacled behind his back. The hood covering his face was raised to uncover his mouth and nose, the ball-gag removed, his eyes remaining covered. He could feel the weight of the hook still through the ring at his back. The hook was removed and the clamps pulled forward, he had no choice but to follow. The front of his legs touched something cold about mid-thigh. His hands were unchained and he brought them to his hood. The snap of the cat-o-nine-tails across his buttocks made him jump. The whipping continued. And continued. There was a brief pause then the whipping continued. Stronger this time. He endured the pain. The nipple clamps were removed as feminine hands pushed him forward. Jean-Luc fell face first across the table, it's coolness on his stomach and chest, his feet still on the floor. Now the whipping commenced on his back and he cried out in pain. Starting at his shoulders, the next stroke slightly lower than the last, the whip was worked down his back, past his ass, stopping at his knees. His dick was at the bursting point. The whipping stopped and he was forcibly rolled over and swung around lengthwise on the table. A voice breathed in his ear, "You will do nothing until I say you may. Oh, look at that. Such an erection! Do you want some relief, Slave?" He nodded, and felt the sting of the whip on his chest. "Slave, I cannot hear you nod," cooed Janeway. "Yes, Mistress," he pleaded. "I would like some relief." "Does it cause you discomfort?" "Yes, Mistress." There was a large splashing sound and several gallons of warm water were dumped on his prostrate form. Manacles were again secured around his wrists and feet in an X-form. A wash cloth moved over his body, lingering around his groin. More water was dumped on him. He sensed a body climb onto the table beside him. Another body climbed onto the table at his head. His dick was engulfed by an unseen pussy at the exact same time that a pussy was lowered onto his mouth. He could smell the musky scent of a sphincter. He began lapping the pussy and asshole with abandon. The pussy (my god it was tight!) at his cock began moving up and down. He could hear moans from both women now. One belonged to Mistress Katherine and the other...he thought he had heard that moan before...it was directly above him. He was eating...Ensign Trask? No, the voice was too low. Counselor Troi? No, the voice was too high. Holy shit! Beverly and Katherine were both nude? He licked and sucked even harder. He nibbled on Beverly's clit, applying the lightest pressure of teeth. Her moans increased. He sucked on the clit very hard while applying his teeth. She began to shudder and shake. He knew from experience that she was on the edge. Still sucking, he ran his tongue across her sensitive clit. That did it! She shook, screamed, thrashed, and juices exploded down his cheeks. Janeway was bouncing up and down on his rock hard cock. "Slave, you will not come before I do!" Faster. Faster. Harder. Faster. He felt her juices slithering downwards into the crack of his ass. Her body convulsed and she let out a long, loud, blood-curling scream. She continued bouncing on him, convulsing. He was sure she would lose her balance and fall to the floor. Beverly slid down his body and sat on his chest. Her body began moving in time with Janeway's as they kissed each other passionately. "Mistress, I am coming!" shouted Picard, breaking the rules by speaking first. She stood up just as he came. His come shot upwards and, as his cock moved to it's normal position, arced toward his face. He felt the warm jism land on the hood and stream down towards his belly. The women lay down on either side of him and nestled in to his sides; their fingers tracing come-outlines on his bare chest. The hood was removed and he squinted in the sudden light. "Well, Captain Picard," whispered Katherine Janeway, Commandant of StarFleet, in his ear, "I certainly hope that you have learned your lesson." "Yes, Mist...Admiral, I certainly have. It won't happen again." He felt her body sag slightly with regret. "But I am sure something else deserving punishment will..." "Computer," spoke Janeway, "end simulation." The computer beeped in reply. The room reverted to its white-lines-over-black motif, the trio on a hologram tic table. As the manacles dissolved and Picard sat up, he turned to look at Beverly. The body next to him was not lithe and trim. It was, however, very taut, the muscles well-defined. His gaze traveled up the body admiring the tightness of it. This woman definitely worked out. He stared into the eyes of "Phaser" Janssen. She smiled. He fainted.