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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
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.
