Original character fic - Cadet/Cardassian, NC-17
I was so in the mood for filthy Cardassian fic the other night that when I exhausted the bookmarks I knew, I went and wrote some myself.
I still can't believe I'm posting this. Not sure yet whether I should \o/ or run away.
Pairing: OFC/OCC (original Cardassian character) - see author's notes
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,500
WARNING: Noncon, bondage, object insertion, double penetration, humiliation
Summary: "I have yet to acquaint myself with a person-Cardassian or human, male or female-who has not succumbed to the hjartak," he said conversationally.
A/N: Possibly for the kink_bingo square, "f*cking machines."
More substantial author's notes:
Okay, that's enough apology. Story now.
* * *
"No!"
No use. Same as always. She kicked at him with her free leg, desperate, but he caught her calf in his hands, slid his grip down her shin, and fastened her ankle to the bedpost. Her legs were splayed obscenely, hiding nothing from him. She shut her eyes tight and pressed her head back into the mattress, as though that would help.
"You believe you can resist me," Makor said, silk and iron. "You believe you can control your body's reactions. That no matter what I do to you, you won't enjoy it."
"You'll obviously do whatever you want to me," she gritted out, "and no, you can't make me like it."
"Indeed," he said, and he sounded amused.
A series of snaps had her opening her eyes and craning her neck to see what he was doing. Was this finally it, then? Was he bringing out the unspeakable torture devices whose absence had been a palpable presence in the room since she'd been here? Her already pounding heart leapt in her chest.
Makor lifted a grey contraption from the polished wooden box he'd laid on the bureau. There followed a thick, pale tube a few inches long. Another, slimmer. Then a bottle. Finally, a set of what looked like external electrodes.
She swallowed hard, tried to control her breathing.
Makor was doing something with the pieces; she couldn't see now that he'd stepped in the way. "I have yet to acquaint myself with a person-Cardassian or human, male or female-who has not succumbed to the hjartak," he said conversationally.
Somehow, she managed to recite, "Torture is explicitly forbidden by the Sol-"
"Oh, spare me your regulation citations," he interrupted. "The Federation is not coming for you; there will be no one to report to." Another series of clicks, out of sight. Then he chuckled. "Rather, you will be coming for me."
She didn't know what the hell that was supposed to mean, unless he meant the fear-laced anger that thrilled through her, strengthening every day he held her in this place, that made her want to tear free of the cuffs and choke him to death; unless he knew of the adrenalin-soaked dreams where she did just that, and more, when she wasn't dreaming lurid repetitions of what he'd already done to her, or promised to do.
Makor turned around, the contraption in his hands. It was big, certainly big enough to fit over her head, with dangling straps that would surely secure it in place so she could scream herself hoarse while it inflicted whatever agony it was designed to. He took a step toward her, and she couldn't hold back a flinch and a noise.
The corner of his mouth quirked. He walked to the side of the bed and looked down at her body.
When he reached forward, she babbled, "I already told you, I don't know anything! What do you want? There are four hundred sixty-three inhabitants on the station right now, Kendari Fever has an eighty percent mortality rate if left untreated but almost never kills if you drink nama juice, what do you-" When he settled the thing on her lower abdomen and tugged two of the straps free from the pile, her voice broke on a "Please-"
"Save your begging," Makor said, still with that abhorrent half-smile. "You will want it soon enough for other reasons."
He jostled the device again, bringing part of it down between her legs. She strained away, but the metal cuffs only scraped her skin raw while he worked.
The thing fit like a nightmarish chastity belt, cold and hard over her pubic bone, between her legs and up over her tailbone. There must have been a wide slit in the center, because she still felt open to the air. Makor pulled the straps tight around her thighs and across her hips and buttocks to hold it in place.
She lifted her head again, not wanting to see, but unable to not know. The two pale protuberances had been secured to the thing between her legs and flopped when she tried to move, the thicker one in the middle and the thinner one further back; they were more or less lined up with…
Oh, God. Oh, God.
As she watched, Makor opened the bottle and poured some of the liquid inside into his palm. He grasped each of the phalluses in turn and slicked them with obscene, smooth strokes.
"You think f-fucking me with rubber will accomplish something your dick hasn't?" she said. If she could sound brave, maybe she could convince herself to feel brave.
He gave her a full smile now. "I think you will give the hjartak something you have yet to give me, but that's all right this time, because it's meant to prove a point."
"And what point would that be?"
Makor talked as he walked back to the bureau to fetch the electrodes. "You will see soon enough. Or you will resist, as you are wont to do, and this will take time. But still, in the end you will see."
She tossed her head like an enraged horse and tried to bite him, but Makor gripped her jaw and cheekbones hard enough to bruise and affixed the electrodes to her temples with a quick sting. She slumped when he let her go.
He squatted and rummaged around under the bed before coming up with some kind of wedge-shaped cushion. He slid it beneath her hips, angling her up off the mattress and restricting what little was left of her ability to move her legs. Angry, shaking with fear, and displayed even more thoroughly than before, she couldn't stop the hot flush that spread over her face.
Makor dragged a chair to the foot of the bed and sat so she could see him over the top of the opposite-of-chastity belt if she wanted. She didn't, but he was holding some kind of PADD-like controller in one hand, and she couldn't help but fantasize that seeing him press the buttons might give her some sense of control over whatever he was about to do.
Makor held her gaze calmly. She braced herself. Without a word, he tapped the PADD with his index finger.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then something undulated over her clit, like a wet fingertip or a tongue.
She tried again to close her legs, in vain. The thing stroked her, gently, first down, then up, then to each side, varying its pressure, its motion, its speed, like a lover exploring a new partner. Makor must have placed it on some kind of random setting, because he hadn't touched the PADD since he'd turned the contraption on. It was nice, and that made her hate him more.
She endured it for several minutes in silence, avoiding Makor's eyes, before the thing began to concentrate its movements. It had to be coincidence, or else Makor was an even sharper observer than she'd thought and was subtly directing it based on whatever cues she was giving, but it was focusing on the areas that felt good. Even though the man who held the controls had abused her and would continue to do so, even though she was tensed for pain at any moment, the careful touches that seemed to know exactly where and when to rub were a relief compared to the rest of the physical contact she'd had over the past few days. She found herself responding to the gentle attention.
The hjartak suddenly circled swift and slick, and she suppressed a sound of protest-intended for Makor or herself, she didn't know-when she felt the faintest stirrings of arousal.
There was a soft whirr, an almost indiscernible click, and something blunt-the main phallus-nudged against her. She clenched her teeth and fists in anticipation, but the thing explored as cautiously as its counterpart had. It missed at first, coming in too far forward, over her urethra. But it corrected itself and nudged again, this time in the right place; retreated; pushed further to part her inner lips, paused; swiveled somehow, and bent slightly forward and back like a thick finger, all while the other appendage continued its slow, firm swirl around her clit. Come on, she thought at it, just do it-and as if it could hear her thoughts, it began to slide just as slowly and smoothly up into her.
She braced herself, still unable to stop equating penetration with pain, but none came. She let out a breath when it was seated. Makor chuckled; she opened her eyes to glare at him, but just then the phallus pulled back, and when it thrust in again, she gasped. He huffed another laugh. She hadn't thought she could hate him any more than she already did, but he was on the verge of proving her wrong.
The phallus began to fuck her in a strangely stilted fashion. It tried a few thrusts deep and fast, making her wince at the intrusion; then it slowed its speed, which was a little better; then its thrusts grew shallower, which was far more bearable than most of what Makor had tried on her; and finally it shifted so it pushed in at a different angle, making her hips jerk at the shock of pleasure before she knew what she was doing. It only hit the spot once again before mercifully returning to its original position, but of course Makor had already noticed her reaction.
"It's good, isn't it?" he murmured.
"I can think of a lot of things I'd rather be doing," she returned, but her words were belied by another intake of breath when the two appendages began to work in tandem, slow and sure, dragging pleasure from where there'd only been pain, fear and humiliation since she'd been in this bed. Dammit, it felt good; she could feel her pulse quickening.
Which was about when the second phallus decided to join the party.
"Fuck," she breathed as it pushed into her ass. Makor hadn't touched her there, so she didn't know what to expect; there was a vague pressure, a strange sliding sensation where she was clenched around it, but that was all.
Makor tsked at her. "Language, my love," he said, but he was smiling. Probably amused she knew the word. At least he hadn't made a joke about how she would indeed get to fuck him again, in time.
She didn't dignify him with a response, occupied anyway by the sensation of three stimuli working at her simultaneously. She could only imagine what she looked like to him, spread out and bound, this dark shape between her legs where two rubber dicks pushed in and out of her with different rhythms.
Something shifted. If she'd thought the contraption was attending to her with care before, it went at her with intensity now. It rubbed and circled and thrust and slid over her most sensitive areas, focusing where she needed it and pulling back when it started to be too much, more effective than anyone but herself could have been, if she'd had three hands capable of operating independently. It was as if the device somehow knew exactly what she wanted and was giving it to her without reservation.
"What...?" she wondered, resisting the urge to lick her dry lips in front of him.
"The hjartak's sensors measure your physiological and emotional response to each stimulus. From its readings, it crafts a unique pattern of movements to suit each session with each individual who wears it."
A perfect orgasm.
She started to sweat.
The hjartak kept at her. She couldn't help the constant tiny adjustments of her hips, seeking more; she could feel an orgasm building now, suddenly close.
She thought she might actually come from this, right in front of Makor.
Then the device stopped.
It just stopped, the dildos stilling half-inside her, the stimulator sliding off her clit. She whined, then shut up, horrified at herself.
Makor stood. It took her a second to focus on him.
"I neglected to mention that I not only control the hjartak's power, I also set limits on how far it may bring you," he said.
The perfect tease, then, too. She tried to catch her breath.
"Now. Would you like me to help you, or would you prefer to continue?"
"Neither, thank you," she said, though she still ached for what the hjartak had almost brought her. She made herself meet his gaze. "But if you're taking requests, I'd very much like to go h-home."
He sighed, frowning. "Very well. We will continue."
The device started back up as though it had never paused, launching once more into its syncopated thrusts, the stimulator moving to her clitoral hood rather than the sensitive underside, taunting her. The edge had been taken off, but it was still enough to make her squirm.
"Take it off," she demanded.
"Do you want me to finish you myself, then?"
"No."
"Then it stays on until you reach completion."
"And what if I don't?" Though she was pretty sure she wouldn't have a choice, not with the expertise with which the hjartak handled her.
"It will stay on," he said simply. "When you sleep, when you eat, when you are sore and chafing and curse me to the ends of the quadrant. It does not come off until you get off."
Fine. So Makor liked to play games, and this one was to show her that it would be in her "best interest" to come quickly-that she would come and lose a little more of her self-respect, or else experience nothing but protracted discomfort-giving in either to this device or to his hands. She refused to consider the second option.
The hjartak had reached full steam again, the strap around her waist pulling tighter and releasing in turn with the force of its thrusts. Sweat trickling down her neck and chest, she closed her eyes and tried to simply feel. Makor could do this to her, but it didn't mean she wanted it, didn't mean she liked being here. She could-she could take this moment of pleasure for herself, make it her own, not his. She would deal with his response, somehow.
She could sense him watching from her side, tapping the PADD lightly against his thigh.
Minutes later, she was lost in the hjartak's motions, so smooth it was as if the device had faded away and the sensations were coming to her from within her own body. She twisted and rocked and arched in the inches she could manage, dug her nails into her palms and tried to push over the edge she was dancing on. She was making noise now, she could tell distantly, soft but audible.
A dip in the bed startled her. Makor placed the PADD on the mattress and climbed on. He swung a leg over and crouched above her on all fours, staring down at her with those slate gray eyes, pupils wide. Though she knew it brought her that much closer to Makor's body, she arched again as the phalluses spiraled, the main one pounding fast and shallow and the rear one still screwing her slow and deep.
"You are mine, Karin." He placed his hands on her stomach, slid them up her bare sides and over her breasts as he talked. "Your body is mine. Its reactions are mine."
She writhed, and she couldn't tell if she was pushing into or away from the touch.
"I can make you enjoy being in my bed even if you refuse to cooperate."
"You-can't," she gasped.
"I can. I am."
"Not."
"You may deny it all you like, but you will reach climax."
He was right; she could feel it. "Not-" the same thing, she was going to say, but he was already talking again.
"And next time, you will do the same for me, or we will continue to use the hjartak until you submit."
She couldn't hold back a sob at the thought that she could be subjected to this assault again, and again. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of orgasming when he raped her, but to face this repeatedly-she couldn't-
"Karin," he murmured, close to her face. She shut her eyes and turned her head away. He stroked her sweaty hair around the electrodes. "I can help you find release. Just ask me."
"No."
"Ask me, and this will stop."
"No." She took a ragged breath as the pounding intensified. She was so close. She tensed her thighs, reaching for it. She was so close, and then it would be over...
The phalluses retracted, leaving her empty and throbbing.
"No," she moaned, straining to arch up and get them back in. She just needed-just a little more, and Makor would leave her alone.
His hands were on her wet cheeks. "Karin," he murmured again. "Last chance."
"No," she repeated, but she wouldn't open her eyes to let him see the desperation she felt. "I'm not yours, and I won't beg you to-ah-"
He'd slipped his finger into the device and touched her clit, playing with the tip. Not quite enough to send her over, but it would take so little more. His finger was cool and calm in contrast to her wet heat. Please, she thought. Please. She didn't know whether it was a plea to orgasm so this could be over, or for him to stop before she lost it. It took everything she had not to press into his hand.
Eventually, Makor let her go. Letting her eyes slit open, she saw him smell his finger, then touch it to his tongue. She closed them again.
He said, "Some day I will know whether it is Starfleet, your humanity or your gender that makes you so stubborn."
"Or being held captive and used for-for sex," she added. "Screw you and your ste-stereotypes."
"Indeed," he said, and stroked his fingertips up the inside of her arm, where he knew she was sensitive. She shivered but said nothing. "So it will be the hjartak tonight, then, and tomorrow we shall see."
There came a series of taps of his fingernail on the PADD.
This time, the device didn't attack full-throttle from all angles. Instead, the main phallus slid in a bare inch or two and stopped; the rear one settled against her sensitized ass and didn't push further; and the stimulator recommenced the slow, wet undulations that had started this whole thing. She breathed. It wouldn't take long, and then this unbearable tension would release and all of this would be over. For now.
She was rocking again; she couldn't help it. She could even almost ignore Makor's hands on her knees, pushing her further open. The stimulator kept up its steady rolling movements, and the phallus angled forward, pressing into the spot that had had her jerking earlier. Just a few more strokes, and she would-
Without warning, the phallus hummed with a vibration that she felt all the way down to her toes. She gasped and stiffened hard enough that the cuffs around her wrists and ankles rattled.
Makor stroked her skin beneath the straps, and she came with a choked sound, clenching around the phallus, near to crying with the relief.
When it was over, she went limp against the sheets and let her ragged breaths fill the silence. The dull gray ceiling seemed to swirl in time with her heartbeats.
She couldn't imagine what more Makor could do now, and didn't protest as he unfastened the straps and removed the device. But of course, he found a way to make things worse, and before he slid the wedge out from under her he reached between her legs to pull her labia apart.
"Now there is a beautiful sight," he murmured, trailing fingers down her swollen, sensitive flesh. She bit her lip against any reaction her body might give him. "I would so enjoy an encore as I tasted you, but unfortunately that brand of lubricant tastes wholly unpleasant."
He contented himself with touching her some more. Then he wiped his wet fingers on her thigh and tugged the wedge free. Flat once more on the mattress, the vertebrae in her lower back popped as they realigned.
She lay there as he disengaged the electrodes, carried the equipment into the washroom for cleaning, and replaced everything in the varnished box.
Afterwards, Makor was decent enough to wipe her down with a damp cloth. Then he let her ankles free again. Her muscles protested as she slowly drew her legs together. It didn't help the feeling that she was still wide open.
"Rest," Makor said, pressing his lips briefly to where one of the electrodes had been. She angled her head away; token resistance. "And consider how long you wish to continue putting yourself through this needless torment."
He dimmed the light on his way out of the bedroom. She curled up on her side, closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
* * *
I still can't believe I'm posting this. Not sure yet whether I should \o/ or run away.
Pairing: OFC/OCC (original Cardassian character) - see author's notes
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,500
WARNING: Noncon, bondage, object insertion, double penetration, humiliation
Summary: "I have yet to acquaint myself with a person-Cardassian or human, male or female-who has not succumbed to the hjartak," he said conversationally.
A/N: Possibly for the kink_bingo square, "f*cking machines."
More substantial author's notes:
- Backstory: This is a Mary Sue story. The character's name is Karin Moreau, she's a Starfleet Medical student in her early twenties doing an internship on Deep Space Nine, and in the story I originally wrote with her when I was in high school, she played spy games on the Holodeck with Bashir, was friends with Odo, moonlighted as a waitress at Quark's, sent the crew into a tizzy when she got herself kidnapped by a Cardassian who wanted her for her looks and not her brains, and upon her tearful rescue, brought home the key to curing a disease that had had the station under quarantine. Yes, I know.
In this new branch of the story, it's a different Cardassian who's abducted her, and a more mature Karin who must endure the sex acts he puts her through. (In other words, instead of crying and fighting the whole time, she talks back, steels herself, draws from her experience at the Academy. Fights more.) His name is Makor, and he's attempting to systematically break her down so he can have her as a sex slave when he moves to another sector of the galaxy. When this scene starts, she's naked on her back with her wrists handcuffed to the headboard of Makor's bed. She's been with him for a few days. - Do I need to make a note about noncon? I do not condone rape in real life. I think it's a horrible thing, do not find it erotic, know that victims do not find it erotic, and I don't wish it on anyone. But I do love reading noncon in fandom. Sometimes I have trouble writing it for canon characters, though. Which is why I find release in writing it with OCs. That way you're just doing it to yourself, or at least to someone who exists solely for the purpose.
Okay, that's enough apology. Story now.
* * *
"No!"
No use. Same as always. She kicked at him with her free leg, desperate, but he caught her calf in his hands, slid his grip down her shin, and fastened her ankle to the bedpost. Her legs were splayed obscenely, hiding nothing from him. She shut her eyes tight and pressed her head back into the mattress, as though that would help.
"You believe you can resist me," Makor said, silk and iron. "You believe you can control your body's reactions. That no matter what I do to you, you won't enjoy it."
"You'll obviously do whatever you want to me," she gritted out, "and no, you can't make me like it."
"Indeed," he said, and he sounded amused.
A series of snaps had her opening her eyes and craning her neck to see what he was doing. Was this finally it, then? Was he bringing out the unspeakable torture devices whose absence had been a palpable presence in the room since she'd been here? Her already pounding heart leapt in her chest.
Makor lifted a grey contraption from the polished wooden box he'd laid on the bureau. There followed a thick, pale tube a few inches long. Another, slimmer. Then a bottle. Finally, a set of what looked like external electrodes.
She swallowed hard, tried to control her breathing.
Makor was doing something with the pieces; she couldn't see now that he'd stepped in the way. "I have yet to acquaint myself with a person-Cardassian or human, male or female-who has not succumbed to the hjartak," he said conversationally.
Somehow, she managed to recite, "Torture is explicitly forbidden by the Sol-"
"Oh, spare me your regulation citations," he interrupted. "The Federation is not coming for you; there will be no one to report to." Another series of clicks, out of sight. Then he chuckled. "Rather, you will be coming for me."
She didn't know what the hell that was supposed to mean, unless he meant the fear-laced anger that thrilled through her, strengthening every day he held her in this place, that made her want to tear free of the cuffs and choke him to death; unless he knew of the adrenalin-soaked dreams where she did just that, and more, when she wasn't dreaming lurid repetitions of what he'd already done to her, or promised to do.
Makor turned around, the contraption in his hands. It was big, certainly big enough to fit over her head, with dangling straps that would surely secure it in place so she could scream herself hoarse while it inflicted whatever agony it was designed to. He took a step toward her, and she couldn't hold back a flinch and a noise.
The corner of his mouth quirked. He walked to the side of the bed and looked down at her body.
When he reached forward, she babbled, "I already told you, I don't know anything! What do you want? There are four hundred sixty-three inhabitants on the station right now, Kendari Fever has an eighty percent mortality rate if left untreated but almost never kills if you drink nama juice, what do you-" When he settled the thing on her lower abdomen and tugged two of the straps free from the pile, her voice broke on a "Please-"
"Save your begging," Makor said, still with that abhorrent half-smile. "You will want it soon enough for other reasons."
He jostled the device again, bringing part of it down between her legs. She strained away, but the metal cuffs only scraped her skin raw while he worked.
The thing fit like a nightmarish chastity belt, cold and hard over her pubic bone, between her legs and up over her tailbone. There must have been a wide slit in the center, because she still felt open to the air. Makor pulled the straps tight around her thighs and across her hips and buttocks to hold it in place.
She lifted her head again, not wanting to see, but unable to not know. The two pale protuberances had been secured to the thing between her legs and flopped when she tried to move, the thicker one in the middle and the thinner one further back; they were more or less lined up with…
Oh, God. Oh, God.
As she watched, Makor opened the bottle and poured some of the liquid inside into his palm. He grasped each of the phalluses in turn and slicked them with obscene, smooth strokes.
"You think f-fucking me with rubber will accomplish something your dick hasn't?" she said. If she could sound brave, maybe she could convince herself to feel brave.
He gave her a full smile now. "I think you will give the hjartak something you have yet to give me, but that's all right this time, because it's meant to prove a point."
"And what point would that be?"
Makor talked as he walked back to the bureau to fetch the electrodes. "You will see soon enough. Or you will resist, as you are wont to do, and this will take time. But still, in the end you will see."
She tossed her head like an enraged horse and tried to bite him, but Makor gripped her jaw and cheekbones hard enough to bruise and affixed the electrodes to her temples with a quick sting. She slumped when he let her go.
He squatted and rummaged around under the bed before coming up with some kind of wedge-shaped cushion. He slid it beneath her hips, angling her up off the mattress and restricting what little was left of her ability to move her legs. Angry, shaking with fear, and displayed even more thoroughly than before, she couldn't stop the hot flush that spread over her face.
Makor dragged a chair to the foot of the bed and sat so she could see him over the top of the opposite-of-chastity belt if she wanted. She didn't, but he was holding some kind of PADD-like controller in one hand, and she couldn't help but fantasize that seeing him press the buttons might give her some sense of control over whatever he was about to do.
Makor held her gaze calmly. She braced herself. Without a word, he tapped the PADD with his index finger.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then something undulated over her clit, like a wet fingertip or a tongue.
She tried again to close her legs, in vain. The thing stroked her, gently, first down, then up, then to each side, varying its pressure, its motion, its speed, like a lover exploring a new partner. Makor must have placed it on some kind of random setting, because he hadn't touched the PADD since he'd turned the contraption on. It was nice, and that made her hate him more.
She endured it for several minutes in silence, avoiding Makor's eyes, before the thing began to concentrate its movements. It had to be coincidence, or else Makor was an even sharper observer than she'd thought and was subtly directing it based on whatever cues she was giving, but it was focusing on the areas that felt good. Even though the man who held the controls had abused her and would continue to do so, even though she was tensed for pain at any moment, the careful touches that seemed to know exactly where and when to rub were a relief compared to the rest of the physical contact she'd had over the past few days. She found herself responding to the gentle attention.
The hjartak suddenly circled swift and slick, and she suppressed a sound of protest-intended for Makor or herself, she didn't know-when she felt the faintest stirrings of arousal.
There was a soft whirr, an almost indiscernible click, and something blunt-the main phallus-nudged against her. She clenched her teeth and fists in anticipation, but the thing explored as cautiously as its counterpart had. It missed at first, coming in too far forward, over her urethra. But it corrected itself and nudged again, this time in the right place; retreated; pushed further to part her inner lips, paused; swiveled somehow, and bent slightly forward and back like a thick finger, all while the other appendage continued its slow, firm swirl around her clit. Come on, she thought at it, just do it-and as if it could hear her thoughts, it began to slide just as slowly and smoothly up into her.
She braced herself, still unable to stop equating penetration with pain, but none came. She let out a breath when it was seated. Makor chuckled; she opened her eyes to glare at him, but just then the phallus pulled back, and when it thrust in again, she gasped. He huffed another laugh. She hadn't thought she could hate him any more than she already did, but he was on the verge of proving her wrong.
The phallus began to fuck her in a strangely stilted fashion. It tried a few thrusts deep and fast, making her wince at the intrusion; then it slowed its speed, which was a little better; then its thrusts grew shallower, which was far more bearable than most of what Makor had tried on her; and finally it shifted so it pushed in at a different angle, making her hips jerk at the shock of pleasure before she knew what she was doing. It only hit the spot once again before mercifully returning to its original position, but of course Makor had already noticed her reaction.
"It's good, isn't it?" he murmured.
"I can think of a lot of things I'd rather be doing," she returned, but her words were belied by another intake of breath when the two appendages began to work in tandem, slow and sure, dragging pleasure from where there'd only been pain, fear and humiliation since she'd been in this bed. Dammit, it felt good; she could feel her pulse quickening.
Which was about when the second phallus decided to join the party.
"Fuck," she breathed as it pushed into her ass. Makor hadn't touched her there, so she didn't know what to expect; there was a vague pressure, a strange sliding sensation where she was clenched around it, but that was all.
Makor tsked at her. "Language, my love," he said, but he was smiling. Probably amused she knew the word. At least he hadn't made a joke about how she would indeed get to fuck him again, in time.
She didn't dignify him with a response, occupied anyway by the sensation of three stimuli working at her simultaneously. She could only imagine what she looked like to him, spread out and bound, this dark shape between her legs where two rubber dicks pushed in and out of her with different rhythms.
Something shifted. If she'd thought the contraption was attending to her with care before, it went at her with intensity now. It rubbed and circled and thrust and slid over her most sensitive areas, focusing where she needed it and pulling back when it started to be too much, more effective than anyone but herself could have been, if she'd had three hands capable of operating independently. It was as if the device somehow knew exactly what she wanted and was giving it to her without reservation.
"What...?" she wondered, resisting the urge to lick her dry lips in front of him.
"The hjartak's sensors measure your physiological and emotional response to each stimulus. From its readings, it crafts a unique pattern of movements to suit each session with each individual who wears it."
A perfect orgasm.
She started to sweat.
The hjartak kept at her. She couldn't help the constant tiny adjustments of her hips, seeking more; she could feel an orgasm building now, suddenly close.
She thought she might actually come from this, right in front of Makor.
Then the device stopped.
It just stopped, the dildos stilling half-inside her, the stimulator sliding off her clit. She whined, then shut up, horrified at herself.
Makor stood. It took her a second to focus on him.
"I neglected to mention that I not only control the hjartak's power, I also set limits on how far it may bring you," he said.
The perfect tease, then, too. She tried to catch her breath.
"Now. Would you like me to help you, or would you prefer to continue?"
"Neither, thank you," she said, though she still ached for what the hjartak had almost brought her. She made herself meet his gaze. "But if you're taking requests, I'd very much like to go h-home."
He sighed, frowning. "Very well. We will continue."
The device started back up as though it had never paused, launching once more into its syncopated thrusts, the stimulator moving to her clitoral hood rather than the sensitive underside, taunting her. The edge had been taken off, but it was still enough to make her squirm.
"Take it off," she demanded.
"Do you want me to finish you myself, then?"
"No."
"Then it stays on until you reach completion."
"And what if I don't?" Though she was pretty sure she wouldn't have a choice, not with the expertise with which the hjartak handled her.
"It will stay on," he said simply. "When you sleep, when you eat, when you are sore and chafing and curse me to the ends of the quadrant. It does not come off until you get off."
Fine. So Makor liked to play games, and this one was to show her that it would be in her "best interest" to come quickly-that she would come and lose a little more of her self-respect, or else experience nothing but protracted discomfort-giving in either to this device or to his hands. She refused to consider the second option.
The hjartak had reached full steam again, the strap around her waist pulling tighter and releasing in turn with the force of its thrusts. Sweat trickling down her neck and chest, she closed her eyes and tried to simply feel. Makor could do this to her, but it didn't mean she wanted it, didn't mean she liked being here. She could-she could take this moment of pleasure for herself, make it her own, not his. She would deal with his response, somehow.
She could sense him watching from her side, tapping the PADD lightly against his thigh.
Minutes later, she was lost in the hjartak's motions, so smooth it was as if the device had faded away and the sensations were coming to her from within her own body. She twisted and rocked and arched in the inches she could manage, dug her nails into her palms and tried to push over the edge she was dancing on. She was making noise now, she could tell distantly, soft but audible.
A dip in the bed startled her. Makor placed the PADD on the mattress and climbed on. He swung a leg over and crouched above her on all fours, staring down at her with those slate gray eyes, pupils wide. Though she knew it brought her that much closer to Makor's body, she arched again as the phalluses spiraled, the main one pounding fast and shallow and the rear one still screwing her slow and deep.
"You are mine, Karin." He placed his hands on her stomach, slid them up her bare sides and over her breasts as he talked. "Your body is mine. Its reactions are mine."
She writhed, and she couldn't tell if she was pushing into or away from the touch.
"I can make you enjoy being in my bed even if you refuse to cooperate."
"You-can't," she gasped.
"I can. I am."
"Not."
"You may deny it all you like, but you will reach climax."
He was right; she could feel it. "Not-" the same thing, she was going to say, but he was already talking again.
"And next time, you will do the same for me, or we will continue to use the hjartak until you submit."
She couldn't hold back a sob at the thought that she could be subjected to this assault again, and again. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of orgasming when he raped her, but to face this repeatedly-she couldn't-
"Karin," he murmured, close to her face. She shut her eyes and turned her head away. He stroked her sweaty hair around the electrodes. "I can help you find release. Just ask me."
"No."
"Ask me, and this will stop."
"No." She took a ragged breath as the pounding intensified. She was so close. She tensed her thighs, reaching for it. She was so close, and then it would be over...
The phalluses retracted, leaving her empty and throbbing.
"No," she moaned, straining to arch up and get them back in. She just needed-just a little more, and Makor would leave her alone.
His hands were on her wet cheeks. "Karin," he murmured again. "Last chance."
"No," she repeated, but she wouldn't open her eyes to let him see the desperation she felt. "I'm not yours, and I won't beg you to-ah-"
He'd slipped his finger into the device and touched her clit, playing with the tip. Not quite enough to send her over, but it would take so little more. His finger was cool and calm in contrast to her wet heat. Please, she thought. Please. She didn't know whether it was a plea to orgasm so this could be over, or for him to stop before she lost it. It took everything she had not to press into his hand.
Eventually, Makor let her go. Letting her eyes slit open, she saw him smell his finger, then touch it to his tongue. She closed them again.
He said, "Some day I will know whether it is Starfleet, your humanity or your gender that makes you so stubborn."
"Or being held captive and used for-for sex," she added. "Screw you and your ste-stereotypes."
"Indeed," he said, and stroked his fingertips up the inside of her arm, where he knew she was sensitive. She shivered but said nothing. "So it will be the hjartak tonight, then, and tomorrow we shall see."
There came a series of taps of his fingernail on the PADD.
This time, the device didn't attack full-throttle from all angles. Instead, the main phallus slid in a bare inch or two and stopped; the rear one settled against her sensitized ass and didn't push further; and the stimulator recommenced the slow, wet undulations that had started this whole thing. She breathed. It wouldn't take long, and then this unbearable tension would release and all of this would be over. For now.
She was rocking again; she couldn't help it. She could even almost ignore Makor's hands on her knees, pushing her further open. The stimulator kept up its steady rolling movements, and the phallus angled forward, pressing into the spot that had had her jerking earlier. Just a few more strokes, and she would-
Without warning, the phallus hummed with a vibration that she felt all the way down to her toes. She gasped and stiffened hard enough that the cuffs around her wrists and ankles rattled.
Makor stroked her skin beneath the straps, and she came with a choked sound, clenching around the phallus, near to crying with the relief.
When it was over, she went limp against the sheets and let her ragged breaths fill the silence. The dull gray ceiling seemed to swirl in time with her heartbeats.
She couldn't imagine what more Makor could do now, and didn't protest as he unfastened the straps and removed the device. But of course, he found a way to make things worse, and before he slid the wedge out from under her he reached between her legs to pull her labia apart.
"Now there is a beautiful sight," he murmured, trailing fingers down her swollen, sensitive flesh. She bit her lip against any reaction her body might give him. "I would so enjoy an encore as I tasted you, but unfortunately that brand of lubricant tastes wholly unpleasant."
He contented himself with touching her some more. Then he wiped his wet fingers on her thigh and tugged the wedge free. Flat once more on the mattress, the vertebrae in her lower back popped as they realigned.
She lay there as he disengaged the electrodes, carried the equipment into the washroom for cleaning, and replaced everything in the varnished box.
Afterwards, Makor was decent enough to wipe her down with a damp cloth. Then he let her ankles free again. Her muscles protested as she slowly drew her legs together. It didn't help the feeling that she was still wide open.
"Rest," Makor said, pressing his lips briefly to where one of the electrodes had been. She angled her head away; token resistance. "And consider how long you wish to continue putting yourself through this needless torment."
He dimmed the light on his way out of the bedroom. She curled up on her side, closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
* * *