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uniforms before reporting to the Captain's Quarters for
dinner. Unfortunately, Angie's uniform
was not staying fresh.
Her face was "glowing" and her tunic was already beginning to stick to
her armpits, but Midshipmen don't present themselves to a new
commanding officer out of
proper uniform. She stomped down the oppressively hot passageway
"I understand the need to acclimate the crew to a hot, humid planet if
there's gonna be a lot of away team activity," Angie said, "but—"
"How do you know there won't be
to her armpits.
In fact, she was perfectly at
home in the
ship's overheated atmosphere.
"Because," Angie huffed, "while you were
took the time to review the
schedule for the next month." The Middies had been assigned a
stateroom on deck five. It was slightly smaller than senior
cadet quarters at the Academy, but entirely adequate and included its
own sonic shower and computer station.
"And while you were in the
shower," Lyra responded, "I
planetology reports for the Gian Expanse. Twenty-seven M-class
have been surveyed, so far,
and all have climates similar to Scatara-IV—except for their
polar regions, of course."
"That's statistically unlikely," Angie observed.
"Indeed, Kipper," Lyra smiled. "I suppose it's one more—"
paused for effect. "Mystery...
of the Gian Expanse!"
Angie rolled her eyes. "Tree Frog," she sighed, then
smiled. "You really are a
in the jungle heat."
Lyra smiled back. "I wish I could return the compliment, Kip, but
the smoked fish I've ever seen was crisp and at least a little dried out, which you, most
decidedly, are not."
"Clever," Angie purred, then straightened her tunic as they'd
reached their destination. The "occupied" light
on the door's control panel was lit, but not the "privacy" light.
"Ready?" Angie asked, and Lyra nodded. "Here
we go." She pressed the visitor button.
"Come," a voice responded from within, and the door slid open.
The Middies entered the suite and snapped to attention. Two women
were waiting, a Vulcan and a Human.
"Midshipman Lyra D'varas," Lyra announced, "reporting for duty."
"Midshipman Angeronia Goodnight," Angie announced, as well, "reporting
"Captain T'Pax," the Vulcan said, then stepped forward and shook
hands with both Middies. "Welcome aboard ARTEMIS." She
the Human. "This is Lieutenant Commander Annika Hansen, our Chief
The identities of the captain and the engineer were not news to the
Middies. Both senior officers were somewhat famous throughout the
Captain T'Pax was the great granddaughter of Admiral T'Pol, one of the
Federation Charter. LCDR Annika "Seven" Hansen was a
hero of VOYAGER's odyssey and was one of only the handful of Humans
had ever been rescued from the Borg Collective.
Their Captain was dressed in the same abbreviated uniform the Middies
most of the crew: boots, trousers, and a gray tank-top with her rank
pinned to the right strap and her comm-badge above her left
breast. Her brown hair was short and straight, in the Vulcan
style, and she was the very image of her famous ancestor. T'Pax
famous in her own right, however, having distinguished herself on the
Cardassian Front during the Dominion War. Her last posting,
before assuming command of ARTEMIS, was as Starfleet attaché to
Federation Ambassador to the Klingon High Council on Kronos.
was wearing a modern, rather unusual version of the sort of
suit that had been standard duty uniform for engineering personnel a
generation before. In essence, it was a skintight, sleeveless
metallic silver with Support/Engineering gold piping on the inside seam
of its plunging V-neck. Her rank pips were
on the right, and her comm-badge was in the
position on the left, above her heart. Her blonde hair was coiled
in a tight bun, and despite what either of the Middies would have
considered stifling attire,
she appeared to be cool as the proverbial cucumber in the humid heat.
"Please, be comfortable," the Captain said. "Until further
notice, tunics need not be worn while on duty."
"I prefer this uniform variant," the Engineer
explained, indicating her suit. "With life-support at its current
Borg implants aid the regulation of my metabolism with
greater efficiently with this proportion of bare skin exposed."
Both Middies had been very carefully not
staring at the metal implants on the Commander's left brow and
cheek and under her right ear, or at the glove-like lattice on her left
hand and fingers. They nodded, then began removing their tunics.
"Dinner will be served in a few minutes," the Captain announced, then
to a side table and poured an amber liquid into four
stemmed glasses. "I look forward to hearing about your
experiences at the Academy, and later, I'll tell you about our planned
the Gian Expanse."
Angie and Lyra had pinned their black Middie pips and comm-badges to
their undershirts. They each took a glass from their captain
and followed her to the built-in seats before the large window
in the quarter's outer bulkhead. They sat, sipped what turned out
to be an excellent Regulan aperitif, and watched the stars, distorted
by the ship's warp field, as they appeared to streak past the window.
"Midshipman D'varas," the Captain said, after a few minutes of
smalltalk, "may I
ask a cultural
"Of course, Captain," Lyra responded.
"As a Vulcan, I am a lifelong student of Wh'Itri and all meditative
disciplines. Are you familiar with Kahl'vin?"
"Yes, Captain," Lyra nodded. She noticed Angie's quizzical
expression and smiled at her friend. "An Orion meditative
technique," she explained, then turned back to the Captain. "I'm
ranked practitioner, but I know the basic forms."
T'Pax nodded. "I'd be very interested in a demonstration.
ARTEMIS won't cross the Federation frontier for two more days, and LT
Basán won't begin your orientation and training until
tomorrow morning. Perhaps after we eat?" She gestured towards her
quarter's replicator station. "You may replicate whatever
Lyra blinked in surprise. "Uh, yes, ma'am. I'll need
someone to, uh, assist in the demonstration."
"I, myself, shall participate," T'Pax said.
"Yes, ma'am, but I'll also need someone else,"
able to observe everything involved."
T'Pax nodded. "I understand." She glanced at her Chief
Engineer. "I believe you will be unavailable."
"And uninterested," LCDR Hansen said, dryly. "In any case, I will
be supervising a level four diagnostic of the main deflector
dish until the start of Day Watch," she stated.
"As scheduled in the Plan of the Day," T'Pax noted.
gaze shifted to Angie.
"Uh, I know nothing about Orion meditation," Angie said,
nervously in her
"You don't need to know
anything," Lyra whispered, and surreptitiously kicked her friend's foot.
"Ow! I mean, yes, ma'am," Angie said, "I'd be glad to, uh,
"Thank you, Midshipman Goodnight," T'Pax said. She finished her
and walked towards the replicator station. The
Midshipmen scrambled to their feet. "Please, remain seated," the
"I'll set the table," the Chief Engineer announced.
"How very domestic of you," The
The Middies exchanged an amused glance. Vulcan "humor" was a dry
and exceedingly rare phenomenon.
They sat back down.
"What have you gotten me into, Tree Frog?" Angie whispered in her
"Nothing," Lyra answered, smiling sweetly. "Nothing yet."
TROPICAL ARCHIPELAGO IN THE Sea of
It was the
beach of an isolated cove on the island with the massage
pavilion, but it was some distance from all the resort's
facilities. Countless stars and a dozen small moons wheeled in
indigo heavens, and a shimmering curtain of blue-green
rippled across the northern half of the sky. It was an artificial
aurora borealis, radiant
dissipated by the satellite control grid that
regulated Risa's weather.
Olena was naked and spreadeagled on the sand.
Soft, silky rope bound her wrists and ankles to four wooden
stakes. At the moment, her waist was just above the
surf line. Every seventh wave rolled far enough up the beach to
splash her feet
wet her legs, thighs, and butt before soaking into the sand and
to the sea. A strip of shimmering, pearl-white tape
plastered over her mouth, and she'd been in this helpless condition
Olena remembered the wet kiss of the first wave as it
heels... and later, against her calves... and later still, against the
her thighs. The tide was slowly, inexorably rising. She
tugged on her bonds, but knew herself to be helpless... completely
Just then, Gwen strolled from the jungle and onto the beach. She
a bikini and a long, low-slung sarong. Both were in a garish
floral pattern, predominately in shades of purple
green. Her long,
black hair was straight and free, and a garland of lavender,
flowers encircled her brow. Two glowing glass globes with
straws were balanced in the palms of her hands.
She strolled to Olena and straddled the staked-out prisoner's naked
form, her bare feet to
either side of Olena's narrow waist. "Still
here, I see," she purred, smiling down at her lover's tape-gagged
face. "I had to hike half-way back to the main resort to find a
bar." She hefted the globes and took a delicate sip from
the one in her right hand. "Then, I got lost on the return trip
and ended up on the wrong
weren't there! For an instant, I was afraid I'd misread the tide
table and you'd been drowned and swept out to sea."
Olena's eyes crinkled as she smiled above her gag. She tugged on
her wrist bonds.
"It's not out of the question," Gwen said, as she nodded towards the
night sky. "Look at all those moons."
Her smile turned somewhat feral. "Perhaps you'd like additional
time to count them all?" She knelt in the sand. Her splayed
legs were to
either side of Olena's torso, and her knees nudged the prisoner's
armpits. She leaned forward and set the drinks on
the sand, one on either side of Olena's head. She
then reached for a corner of Olena's gag, peeled the tape from her
lips, and plastered the pearlescent rectangle to the side of the
left-hand globe. "There, she purred, "now we can keep track of
which is which."
Gwen held the straw of the left-hand globe to Olena's grinning mouth,
and the prisoner sucked
Just then, a wave rolled in and Gwen grabbed both drinks and scrambled
to her feet, just in
time to prevent her sarong from getting wet.
"Untie me," Olena demanded, tugging on her wrist bonds, again.
"Not likely," Gwen pouted. "You're a filthy sand spider, and have
me all night. Its only
fair I leave you here and let you drown."
"Woe is me," Olena sighed, a smile dimpling her tan face. "In
you haven't noticed, you've got my head and shoulders above the
level of the last high tide. She turned her head to the side and
nodded with her chin at
the line of old seaweed and other flotsam.
"Oh, you're no fun," Gwen
Olena watched as Gwen walked a few paces up the beach, set down the
drinks, and began executing a stately and very
casual striptease. First went the bikini top—then the sarong—and
finally, the bikini bottom. The doctor paused between each
clothing to smile over a bare shoulder at the watching
prisoner. She's so beautiful,
Finally, her dark eyes flashing and her white teeth glinting in the
light of the stars, moons, and aurora—clad
Olena gazed up at her lover's dimpled smile, perfect breasts, flat
tummy, the luxuriant, black curls of her pubic thatch, and her strong
thighs. Olena the fierce
warrior—L4 Colony all school zero-gee Capoeira
champion—captain of the Starfleet
Academy Krav Maga team—practitioner
in her inescapable bonds, hopelessly
in love with
her captor. "Untie me," she sighed.
Gwen knelt as she had before, settled a portion of her weight on
Olena's tummy, leaned forward until their nipples
touched, and kissed her prisoner's pouting lips. "You were very cruel to me tonight."
Olena squirmed and forced a moan past Gwen's lips "Mrrrf! It
wasn't me," she objected.
"Okay," Gwen purred, "it was that trollop Yulani who did all the
tickling and goosing." She kissed Olena's lips, again.
"But you watched. And after Ezri and Yulani left, you were very cruel to me with your wicked
tongue." She smiled, sweetly. "It's only fair that I should
the favor." They kissed again, and this time there was a great
deal of lip-smacking and tongue-probing, and it was very mutual.
Finally, Gwen came up for air, smiled, and slid
her body down Olena's helpless form until her smiling lips were
hovering just above the
bush. Her head dipped lower, still, and her warm, wet tongue
Olena's labia in a slow, languid lick.
"Oh, Martian!" Olena sighed,
shivering in her bonds.
Gwen continued licking Olena's pussy, and the waves continued
lapping against their nude bodies.
Overhead, the northern lights rippled with violet tendrils as a shower
of meteors passed through its shimmering folds and streaked across the
sky. Such celestial fireworks were
a regular occurrence on Risa, but the Humans on the beach were
to the spectacle overhead.
The lovers were occupied by other natural wonders.
MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS...
was mortified, beyond embarrassment.
"Easy, Kipper," Lyra whispered back. They were both naked, and
Lyra was putting the finishing touches on the web of soft, white,
replicated rope that was now binding her Human friend's pink body.
Angie was sitting on an exercise pad, on her rump. Her legs were
semi-lotus and her arms folded behind her back. Bands of
pinned her arms to her sides and her wrists against her spine.
Additional bands lashed her thighs to her ankles. All of it was
neat, symmetrical, and tight, but surprisingly comfortable, quite
the punishing bonds she'd endured on Holodeck Two, at the hands of the
computer-generated Andorian pirates who had captured her earlier in the
day. Twice in one day! Her
The Captain's Quarters were dark, lit only by the glow of a half-dozen
meditation lamps tastefully positioned around the room. LCDR
left, to begin the deflector diagnostic in Main Engineering.
naked and in a semi-lotus, was watching Lyra bind her fellow Middie
from a second exercise pad a couple of meters away.
"Movement still seems possible," the Vulcan observed, her unwavering
Angie's bound form.
"Yes, ma'am," Lyra conceded. "First level Kahl'vin only requires helplessness
and restriction to a single, voluntary pose. The more advanced
levels explore enhanced levels of restraint and the control of pain."
"Pain?" Angie gasped.
"The discomfort associated with long-term immobility in challenging
positions," Lyra explained. "The most advanced levels involve
the total immobility of encasement, as well as sensory
deprivation. Kahl'vin Masters
report being visited by their entombed
Masters in their
dreams. And there are legends of Grand Masters whose spirits were
able to walk the world freely while their living bodies remained
helpless and encased in stone."
"It seems like a lot of trouble to go to so your spirit can 'walk the
world freely'," Angie huffed. "I take my spirit for walkies all the
with my body along for the ride."
"But you can't do it at the moment," Lyra said, smiling sweetly,
Angie sighed. "Not at the moment," she conceded.
"And now," T'Pax said, "would you please bind me, as well?"
"Of course, Captain," Lyra responded, then gracefully stood, stepped
behind her captain, and picked up the first of several coils of white
rope waiting beside the mat.
"I find it interesting that the preferred material of an Orion
discipline should be Andorian
ice-spider silk," T'Pax observed.
"It's so soft and pliable," Lyra explained as she began binding her
Vulcan "student". "It holds a knot quite well, yet is easy to
untie, and it
almost no stretch under load. As soon as Andorian merchants began
visiting Syndicate Worlds, it became a popular luxury trade
She continued pulling loops around her captain's exquisite body,
cinching them tight, and tying knots in
unreachable positions. In only a few minutes, T'Pax was as
helpless as Angie, and in exactly the same manner.
"I believe there are additional elements," T'Pax said, "used even in
the most basic of Kahl'vin
"Yes, Captain," Lyra nodded. She stood, bowed to both of her
helpless captives, then pattered to the replicator panel.
"Computer," she said, "two first level Kahl'vin blindfolds and gags."
"What?" Angie blurted.
"Concentrate on remaining calm, Midshipman," T'Pax ordered. Her
own eyes were closed, and her face a serene mask. "Clear your
concentrate on... nothingness. Your body is helpless, but your
mind is free."
"Yes, Captain," Angie sighed, but she glared
at her fellow Middie.
"I'll get you for this!" she mouthed, silently.
Lyra smiled, sweetly, as the replicator pad shimmered and the requested
was reclined on her side on the sofa under the window, and was
enjoying a tiny glass of Podena,
ARTEMIS replicator menu, but it was there, and it was
Consumed in the traditional manner, Podena
was not sipped. She periodically raised the glass and
wet her tongue in the thick, sweet
liquid, then savored its rich, complex flavor.
Across the room, Captain T'Pax and Kipper were still meditating.
They were only halfway through the hour of restraint the
Captain had set for the demonstration. Both meditators were
gagged, with large, soft balls
crumpled ice-spider silk filling their mouths. Panels of the same
material hugged their lower faces, cupped their chins, and were held in
place by webs of silk ribbons. Silk blindfolds covered their
eyes, their ribbon-ties cinched through the gag-harnesses for uniform
The Vulcan had entered a trance-state instantly, as soon as her bondage
was complete. Angie, on the other hand, had stared sullenly at
her fellow Middie as her gag was applied, and up to the very second her
angry brown eyes disappeared behind the shimmering, soft silk of her
Lyra savored another lap of Podena, and
T'Pax was a living statue, her exquisite body perfectly still, her
shallow as to be nearly imperceptible. She's
beautiful. The Vulcan's tan skin was smooth and
form athletic, with feminine but well-defined muscles, full breasts,
and a wasp-thin waist. Beautiful.
and yet... she's beautiful!
Angie was also beautiful, but in a different way. Her skin was a
much paler shade of pink. And while she was also fit, her
figure was, well,
girlish. Her breasts were small but pleasing in shape, and while
Lyra knew her Human friend was a
gifted athlete, her lithe figure retained a thin layer of
"baby-fat". Much like my own,
It was normal for Orion women to
grow into their full, adult prime at a slower pace than Humans.
Lyra expected to remain "girlish" until her 30's. Angie,
however... Lyra sighed, again. Angie had a rare gift.
She would probably be "cute", as the Humans put it, for her entire
life. She watched as Angie shifted in place. Kipper was
to remain perfectly still, but she was having only limited success.
Lyra's smile turned feral. All Orions fantasize about their
slaving-holding past, just
as Humans often dream about romanticized versions of their species' own
Vulcans, of course, fantasize about nothing. Theirs was a life
of scholarship and spiritual growth.
Lyra gazed at T'Pax. What a
slave she would make, she mused. Female Vulcan slaves were
stuff of erotic legend on Orion. Rare, exotic beauties, they
were (supposedly) dangerous and difficult to
train, but well worth the
effort. They could never be trusted, and
required perpetual control and restraint. But, when they were in
heat—Pon'far the Vulcans
called it—they were supposed to be quite
a wild ride.
Lyra sampled her drink, again, then smiled at Angie's helpless
form. Enslaving a human,
Kipper... What a delicious, naughty idea. It wasn't widely know
among the other Federation races, but it was possible for Orion women to
chemically enslave sentient females as
teased to orgasm, repeatedly, with the
scent of her Mistress' musk-of-power perfuming the air... It was
Kipper as my slave...
Lyra finished her drink, lay back, and lightly, slowly, began caressing
her labia. Visions swam in her head of Angie Goodnight, naked,
in close chains, and pleasuring her
Orion Mistress—pleasuring Lyra
D'varas, High Mistress of her extended clan—Supreme Suzerain of
D'varas Fortress and
its Syndicate Fleet squadron...
a delicious fantasy.
The computer would chime when the hour was up. Lyra was free to
dream, and to gaze at her Vulcan and Human "slaves", and to caress her
lay in her bed and stared up at the dark ceiling. Tree
Frog, the Despicable Orion Traitor (her
The computer was set to wake them an hour before Day Watch. Then,
dress, breakfast in the mess hall, and report to the Security
office. Their new uniforms were replicated, laid out, and ready
for wear: boots, trousers, and tank-tops, all in camouflage
tuned to the jungles of Scatara-IV, like the one their new department
head had worn on Holodeck Two. Federation tradition was to
downplay the military aspect of the Starfleet mission, but ARTEMIS'
incursion into the Gian expanse was an explicit show of force, as well
actual attempt to eliminate the threat posed by the
slaver-pirates. The new Security uniforms were practical and appropriate.
Angie turned her face to Lyra's bed. There was just enough light
in the darkened space for her to focus on her slumbering roommate.
Orion always slept in the nude. She'd done so even during Academy
field training on Mars, and Angie remembered it well.
After long hours of trekking across the
red, sub-zero desert, practicing tactical maneuvers, the cadets had
made camp, paired off, and climbed into
bubble-tents. They then tucked themselves into sleeping bags of
and shivered through eight hours of the long, Martian night.
Angie's amazement, Tree Frog removed her insulated coverall,
winter uniform, and long-johns,
green, in Lyra's
case. Angie, on the other hand, had retained her long-johns and socks. Even now,
despite the tropical setting of the ship's Life Support system, Angie
more comfortable sleeping in panties and a T-shirt, and she had a sheet
blanket pulled up to her chin.
Lyra was curled on her side with a single sheet
half-covering her nude body. Her face was hidden under a curtain
of black hair, but her right shoulder, breast, thigh, and knee were
What a day, Angie
thought. Reporting to your first command was supposed to be
stressful, but... WOW!
If her school chums from New Avalon could
have seen her today! Join
Starfleet! Serve your fellow citizens! See the Stars!
Wind up naked and tied up TWICE
in one day!
Well, Miss Angeronia Goodnight,
if you can't adapt to
alien cultures and handle the unexpected—what the hell are you doing in
Angie smiled and rolled onto her side. She knew morning would
Probably too soon.