FIC: A Fairytale About Slavery (1/2)
This brings back a ton of memories. My first slash story, and my first real story period. The most fun I’ve ever had writing. I was into Garak/Bashir exclusively and met the greatest people. Then I went to a Star Trek convention and it’s funny how hard it is to slash characters when you’ve met the actors who played them personally. Them with their families and vague confusion about all of us fans, we wearers of leather and chains… Sigh. We just brought dolls along to the hotel room and placed them in suggestive positions for fun. Slashers will be slashers. But the way I see it, at least we were getting off on all of this. I don’t know about the rest of the Star Trek fans…
And this story won a Golden Orgasm Award from Lady Cyrrh in 1999. So sweet for a budding slasher!
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A Fairytale About Slavery (1/2)
By eggblue
Notes: December 1998-May 1999 (My first story evah!!! When I was still a *teenager*)
SERIES: Star Trek: Deep Space 9, prequel to my own “Swandive”, in canon this takes place right before the episodes “In Purgatory’s Shadow / By Inferno’s Light” in the 5th season
RATING: NC-17 (not kidding! Contains some surprises, one very long gang rape scene, character death, m/m and m/f sex and violence)
PAIRINGS: Bashir/Jem’Hadar, Vorta, Changeling
SUMMARY: The Vorta overseer of a Dominion prison camp works through her sexual fantasies with the men under her command, taking Dr. Bashir along for the ride.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first, thank you.
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek and characters belong to Paramount (except Utra, she belongs to me).
**************
How long have you been
Lost down here?
How did you come
To lose your way?
When did you realize
That you’d never be free?
- Miranda Sex Garden
“A Fairytale About Slavery”
****************
Utra dreamed as she slept.
Now, people who don’t know better usually assume that Vorta do not sleep or dream at all, but they are mistaken. For Utra remembered all of her dreams with crystal clarity, down to every vivid detail. They serve to remind her of what she once was and help her forget what she is today, which is something we all look for from time to time.
(That reminds me, first things first. I shall tell you this tale as well as I know how, but before I do, a warning. Don’t expect me to give you a happy ending, or an easy escape, because that is not the way it happened. I am only repeating what I know, and as your fair storyteller, I don’t believe that I’m obliged to give you anything more than that! So take it or leave it. Who says life is fair, anyways? I certainly don’t...)
Where was I? Oh yes, I will tell you what she dreamed about...
She was in a forest of long ago. If Utra were conscious, she would have automatically known that it was her home, but as it was she was asleep, and she just knew that it was beautiful and frightening. All around were trees of every shape and size, and the brightest color green she had ever seen. Small creatures darted about the ground, and birds of unimaginable beauty flew from limb to limb. Their feathers plumed from their tails in long spouts of scarlet and blue.
All of this Utra imagined while she slept, and she saw herself in her dream as well. She was standing against a tree so very wide. Her entire back brushed against the rough and moss-covered bark. She could feel it on her skin, for she was completely bare. This forest was her home long ago, when she was an ape swinging among the trees, but she was standing in it as her present self, her eyes still violet and clear, her skin still pale as the moon above. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself against the tree. She was blindfolded and tied, her arms wrapped as far as they could reach around the trunk. Her legs were left free, and she could feel the wet leaves tickle her toes. Utra knew that she was waiting for something, something to come to her.
When it came she could feel it rather than see at first. Black forms of liquid warmth floated to her from across the forest. They rushed to touch her body, and ran themselves across her skin like flowing snakes of mercury. They moved like her Founder gods moved, or like she imagined them to be. She had never seen a Founder in the flesh, so to speak. But she’d heard stories, and dreamt of them enough to feel their presence was with her at all times. In her dream they touched her all over, wrapping themselves around her limbs and skin. Everywhere she felt them was like torture and pleasure, her tied arms keeping her at their mercy, as they showed her the desire that she never knew was inside of herself.
Slowly, one of the forms moved up her inner thigh and ran up her torso to her sensitive nipples. She cried out as the overpowering sensations coursed through her body. The same form that was so expertly working at her breasts spread itself over her trembling abdomen until it reached in between her thighs. Utra felt it glide against her clit as it moved toward her opening, spreading itself as far inside her as it could go, filling her up with a wet warmth.
She opened her mouth to cry out as she came, over and over, and as she did, another black liquid tendril reached inside her mouth, muffling her cries and suckling her tongue. At the same instant, a third form that had been massaging her rounded ass drove into her from behind with all its might. Utra’s legs had given out long ago from the endless waves of pleasure running through her entire body. She hung limply from the tree, seeing only darkness, and imagining that the forest itself had enveloped her inside itself, the plumed feathers caressing her skin, the soft earth filling her body with sun-warmed contentment.
Then Utra awoke, as we all must at sometimes awake from sleep and the certainty of dreams. She opened her eyes to the gray and shadowed walls and sat up in her hard bed. It is a good thing that Vorta cannot recognize beauty, or she would have felt lost in the desolate drabness of the prison camp. But the camp, drifting alone on an asteroid, was where she had been placed by the Founders, and as a Vorta, she had to do what she was told. Alas, she would not even know how to disobey orders even if she could. (Which is a thing that you too will find to be true, in time. Rebellion, independence, freedom, these things are messy and difficult, which is why it can be so easy to live without them and not even know that they’re gone...)
Utra was therefore entrusted with the operation of the prison camp, and its Jem’Hadar soldiers who served beneath her command. It was an easy enough assignment. All she had to do was make sure that no prisoners escaped and that her ‘Hadar did as they were told. Utra found her job boring at times, and she didn’t understand why she couldn’t just kill her prisoners and be done with it. But Utra learned long ago to be patient and do as she was told, so she never complained or cut corners, (which is what everyone should learn to do).
Luckily, Utra had Deyos to keep her company. The ‘Hadar might have been good soldiers, but they were horrible at polite conversation. She walked to his office as was her routine every morning. When she arrived, he was eating a breakfast of berries and sparkling lemonade. She stopped at the arch just inside the sliding door, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Deyos looked up at her with crystal cold violet eyes, his dark hair and pale skin also like her own. It is no big surprise really, as you might guess, that all Vorta were created from the same family. Oh, maybe some were of a more distant relation than others, but they were all related somehow genetically. It was easier to keep track of them that way, if they all had similar genetic backgrounds. They understood this as a natural thing, as they do not have families like you or I have. The Vorta only have themselves and the hierarchy, the Founders and the Jem’Hadar. That is the order of things, which is accepted without question.
“Come in, Utra.”
Deyos called to her with a syrupy voice and smile, a smile that she returned automatically. She approached him where he was sitting without a word and stood in front of him, between his chair and desk. Leaning back to sit on the edge of the desk, she lifted her left leg and placed it on his armrest, revealing to him her still-wet sex from the dream she’d just had. He responded like he did every morning, and unfastened his pants. Deyos’ hard member throbbed noticeably as his instincts kicked in from deep inside. Neither Vorta’s expressions changed as their bodies moved together and fit inside one another. Utra lowered her sex onto his until he was completely inside. They remained fully clothed and began their conversation as if nothing was going on, meanwhile Utra rocked her hips against his as fast as she could, face to face.
“Brother?” Utra asked, looking calmly into his eyes as she continued to bounce on top of him.
“Yes, sister?” Deyos answered, holding onto her gaze as well as her gyrating hips.
“I’m feeling a bit bored today.” Her muscles contracted steadily with an orgasm that she hardly even felt.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear you say that,” he replied, not meaning a word of it, or its opposite meaning either. But she continued anyway, as with Vorta, true sentiment is never expected.
“May I punish the prisoners today?” She continued working towards another climax, and felt him approaching his own.
Deyos thought this over for a moment, as he was usually the one to punish the prisoners on this day, but perhaps he could change his rules for once. The Founders allowed him leeway in a few matters, and punishment was one of them. The Vorta were just so good at things like that, it really made perfect sense. “Alright, you may, Utra.” He answered her question while he came silently inside of her, feeling nothing except for the contentment of completion. For nothing brings greater satisfaction in a day than doing all those little tasks that we set out to do.
Utra raised herself off of his body and smoothed out her skirt as she stood. “Good, I will get started then,” she said with a smile. He responded by fastening his pants again and returning to his breakfast. On the way out of his office and on her way to greet her captives, Utra imagined all the ways she could use her time to torture, using the limited imagination that she had available to her. By the time she reached the holoroom where the sessions took place, she had an idea (and a rather nasty one at that, too).
***
Julian Bashir awoke bound and gagged again. The last thing he remembered was arguing with the Jem’Hadar when they cut their food rations, and in the process, being struck over the head. Afterwards there was just blackness. Julian learned his lesson again, for that’s what you get for speaking your mind when no one wants to listen.
He opened his eyes to the bright light, expecting to feel a pounding in his head, but he felt no pain. Instead he found himself staring at the floor. Realizing this, he began to sort out his situation (which was a rather bad idea in his case).
Julian was in a large room, and he was at the center if it. Curiously, he seemed to be hanging upside down, but not completely. He was bent at the waist, like an inverted V, over some sort of raised bench, and his hands and legs were bound so where he couldn’t move. (Well, maybe I should let Utra describe it. After all, she created the scene in front of her right out of her own mind, and hanging upside down as he was, Julian didn’t have the best perspective at the moment, did he?)
Utra looked over her masterpiece one last time just to make sure everything was perfect and ready. Let’s see, the room was certainly big enough, like most holorooms were. And there was sufficient light, dark in the corners, and then painfully bright where her prisoner was kept. Very Cardassian, that light was. The walls and floor were snow white and spotless, the temperature of the room not too cold. So far, so good. She looked at her prisoner with fascination. He was set up in the very center of the room. His tanned and thin body draped face-down over a T-shaped stand that was four feet tall. It was wide enough that his hips, but only his hips, balanced on it comfortably, and tall enough so that he was completely suspended in mid-air. Very nice. Let’s see, his legs were spread apart and chained to the floor with little room for slack. Small but strong rings of silver metal encircled his ankles and wrists. But while his legs were spread apart, his hands were bound together and drawn forward, stretched out in front of him and pointed straight at the floor. A single chain fastened his wrists to the floor, to a spot far in front of him. His mouth was gagged with tape as well, but other than that, the rest of him remained free. Hmmm, am I forgetting anything else? Oh yes, he was also completely nude from head to toe.
Utra could see him testing his restraints, but she knew that they would hold fast. It was the same with her other prisoner, that Klingon Martok. But she wouldn’t do much with him, at least not yet. He was just here to observe, for that added extra bit of humiliation. It was Julian who was the one being punished today. The Klingon was merely tied to a chair off to the side and gagged as well. He wouldn’t be moving anytime soon either.
Meanwhile, Julian vainly tried to calm himself down, trying not to think about why he might be in this position. Four weeks ago he was secretly taken prisoner by the Dominion and placed in this camp. He spent his time there so far fighting the Jem’Hadar in hand to hand combat and helping Enabran Tain work on the communication device. The combat wasn’t so bad, after all he was genetically engineered to be stronger than the average human and he was definitely smarter and faster than any Jem’Hadar was. As for listening and helping Tain, well, he’d had practice in dealing with Garak and the both of them were remarkably alike in certain ways. So far, so good. But then yesterday their Vorta overseer, Utra, had decided to cut rations for no reason at all. As a doctor, and a proclaimed self-righteous and naive member of Starfleet, he couldn’t remain silent while the already starving prisoners were deprived of what little sustenance they had. No surprise, he had decided to open his big mouth and complain about it.
He was in the midst of mentally kicking himself when the door to the holoroom opened. Seven Jem’Hadar soldiers walked in and stood by Utra, calmly awaiting her orders. With so many eyes suddenly upon him, Utra’s, Martok’s, and the Jem’Hadar’s, he abruptly realized that he was naked.
Julian thought for a moment, /Now why would I be... Oh no, God no, no no no no.../
***
Utra was pleased with the set up. It was her design, and her favorite program. She so rarely got to use it, she appreciated the luxury that it afforded her in pleasure. Her own Jem’Hadar had never experienced this little program of hers. She enjoyed novelty so much.
“Computer, mirrors.” At her command, the floor shimmered underneath Julian, until he could look down at his reflection. He craned his neck out over his arms in time to see the entire wall in front of him dissolve into a mirror as well, surrounded by fluorescent lights in the midst of the darkness.
“Computer, cameras.” The computer responded this time by turning on a dozen large monitors all around the room.
“Computer, begin recording on my command. Now.” A dozen little red eyes glowed back at him, signaling the cameras to begin taping from different angles. Most of the monitors were in front of him, but it seemed that everywhere he looked there was a picture of his naked body filling up his vision. One from behind him, a perfect shot of his spread ass. One in front, showing his bared back and outstretched arms. More from the side, from above, one from below, showing his frightened face whenever he bowed his head.
“These monitors are set up all over this camp, to serve as an example to other prisoners who might be thinking of disobeying the Dominion. It was a very bad thing that you did. We take you into our home, treat you well, we give you food, and a bed to sleep in, and plenty of room to move around, and all you can think of to repay us is rudely asking for more. You... are... greedy.” She shook a finger at Julian, as if at a naughty child.
Julian watched as Utra ordered her men to form a wide circle around him. They stood just outside the circle of light but he could see their shadowy forms quite clearly. Utra herself stood in front of the mirror directly ahead of him. There was enough light so she was sure Julian could see her. She turned around to face the mirror, although she couldn’t really see herself for what she was. That was impossible for a Vorta to do. Still, her pale skin was powdered white and her eyes and lips were heavy with bright burgundy shades of make-up. She looked impeccable, her burgundy lips matched the long, tight, low-cut dress she was wearing, the same one that she had worn in Deyos’ office that morning. Utra smiled at herself in the mirror and looked at Julian’s face as he gazed up at her. She caught the fear in his eyes that he was trying very hard to hide. It made her smile even more. After all, she was just doing her job, but that doesn’t mean that she couldn’t try to find some pleasure in doing it well.
Utra whirled around to face him and her soldiers. They stood in a horseshoe around the prisoner. Martok sat off to the side, well in view but not near enough to get in the way of anything. His macho grunting and muffled protests annoyed Utra greatly. There was no reason for him to get upset now, after all, he wasn’t the one in immediate danger. He was just here for support, as a sort of witness to the punishment. But perhaps she would have to amend that later and have him take the first prisoner’s place after she was done with him. He thought he was so brave, so strong as a Klingon warrior, but she knew better. She’d seen the toughest man weep at her feet in the face of what she was about to do in a moment from now. Her soldiers were different, they understood what she wanted from them and never complained. She began to walk among her ‘Hadar, looking each one up and down in turn. They never responded, but just stood there waiting for orders. Yes, they were very loyal soldiers.
Logically, Julian assumed that he was to be whipped or beaten. Tied up, he couldn’t defend himself and his scars would serve as a warning to any others who felt like complaining about food rations or cell space. Honestly, he assumed that there was nothing else they could do to him. As usual, he was woefully naive about such matters when it came to the Dominion. There were just a few things that one assumed about Jem’Hadar and what they were and were not capable of...
Utra stopped in front of one of the soldiers. He was the First in command. His build was huge, like all Jem’Hadar, his entire body encased in an armor of scales and bony horns. He stood rigid and at attention, waiting for the next order from his Vorta field supervisor. Utra pointed her finger straight at his chest. “You,” she said, “follow me.” He did as he was told and followed Utra. She walked close to Julian, where he was busy following them with his eyes as best he could.
She looked at Julian, naked in mid-air, the First, waiting for her order, and herself, in the mirror. Julian, the First, herself. Herself, the First, Julian. She smiled an innocent smile with her full, bow-shaped, burgundy cherry lips. Yes, she certainly was proud of her work so far!
As the events played out before him, Julian Bashir tried to hold onto his sanity. His brain was working overtime trying to explain away what was going to happen to his body. He was helpless to the coming onslaught, and his entire being knew it. So he just waited to see what was coming, the shock and horror building up in waves, breaking against his mind.
/Alright, Julian. You are strong, yes, and they still might not kill you. If you can just hang on, all the scars will heal and Sisko will come to rescue you and everything will be fine again, it has to be. This is only temporary, they can’t hurt you that badly, come on, hang on, calm down.../
Utra spoke in a soft, oily voice, calling the Jem‘Hadar by his rank. “First, put down your weapon.”
He obeyed.
“First, take off your uniform.”
/What?! What’s going on?/
The ‘Hadar obeyed without protest, completely oblivious to his own nakedness, just following his orders like he was born to do.
Utra looked over his newly naked body. Julian tried to avoid looking in the monitors, but that was probably for the best. (Ah, Julian was finally getting some sense knocked into him, wasn’t he?)
The Jem’Hadar First was completely covered in rough scales and ridges, (enough to put a Cardassian to shame, I say). Two bone-tipped ridges that fanned out at his shoulders ran symmetrically all the way down his torso and legs. He had no soft spots, no smooth skin, no vulnerabilities. He few scars and damages, but he was only six months old, that was to be expected. His kind never lived very long, they never ate and they never slept. All he needed was that tube of white coursing through his neck to remain full enough to keep him alive. Alas, the ‘Hadar are not a pretty race. But Utra knew that he had all the equipment necessary for the job, so she figured he’d do nicely.
/Oh God, no, this can’t be happening. Somebody help me.../ But no one listened.
“Come follow me.” She motioned with her hand and walked over to where Julian was perched. The First followed her. It was then that Julian saw his body completely. His six-foot-tall bulk and wide shoulders were intimidating enough. But right now Julian was concerned with other parts of his anatomy, an understandably so. The Jem‘Hadar’s cock (our poor Julian was visibly surprised that he had one, quenching his last hope for a reprieve) was limp at the moment, but it was still impressive to the onlooker. It’s shade was of a deep purple, with darker purple and white veins running along it’s length. It was decorated with bumpy scales as well, blending in with his hairless body. Julian tried to ignore the fact that it was already seven inches long and incredibly thick.
/Martok... Sisko... somebody!! Somebody’s coming to help me, I know it. Just wait a few more seconds, Jules, someone’s coming to save you, I know they are... any second now, oh God where are they?/ And no one heard him.
Utra was impressed, well, as impressed as she got. She watched her captive’s face the whole time, noting with pleasure the rising panic and fear she saw there. She blankly smiled to herself again, immensely pleased with what she was about to do for the sake of her Founder gods.
She turned to the First, looking him up and down. She reached out her arm and ran a burgundy polished fingernail from his sternum to his groin. He stood perfectly still, eyes staring straight ahead, his body unresponsive to her touch. She ordered the rest of the unit, “Watch me.” They obeyed. When her hand was low enough, she encircled his penis with it, slowly running her fingers along the shaft. Obviously feeling something now, his eyes took on a startled expression as he tried to remain impassive. “Go ahead,” Utra purred, “it’s alright. Your Vorta is going to take care of you.” She smiled at him, trying to catch his eyes. He was still agitated, not knowing what was going on, but she could feel him begin to relax slightly. “It’s alright, relax, you can do it...” she continued with the encouragement, loving the effect that she was having on him. “I wouldn’t hurt you, would I? Do this for me, I am your Vorta, I love you.” She knew that the Jem’Hadar had very little use for the words she was saying but the perversity of it has quite an effect on her prisoners. She was sure that they would have thrown up if not for the tape blocking their mouths.
Martok swore blue streaks in Klingon, but no one heard him through the tape over his mouth. He wondered why Julian wasn’t fighting more. Those chains didn’t look that tough, and surely he could think of something better to do than just lie there! He knew that Julian was a good doctor, but being brilliant didn’t help him at all in situations like this. Martok was sure that things would be different if *he* were the one up there and not Bashir. He just hoped that the doctor wasn’t so weak that he didn’t survive... These Dominion servants call themselves warriors... it was a disgrace! Warriors didn’t do what they were about to do, ordered or not. They had no honor, and no souls. *Damn it Doctor! Do something besides just lie there!*
Meanwhile, Utra continued her ministrations as the Jem’Hadar cock started to swell. To her great joy, she had even coaxed out a moan from his tightly closed lips. She started to move her hand more rapidly, coaxing him harder and harder. His eyes were struggling to stay open and his mouth varied between pursed lips and open-mouthed gasps. When Utra stopped for a moment to retrieve something from the floor, his already frightened eyes looked even more terrified. She guessed by this time that is was more for fear of her stopping her touch than for the new sensations he felt throb through his body. The pure power she had over him, over her prisoners, over the entire unit, always gave her a rush of pleasure. When there was nothing else to do, sometimes power was its own reward.
/Where’s Dax? She would know what to do in situations like this, wouldn’t she? Or Major Kira, yes! She’d probably even seen things like this happen before. She’d be able to help me. If they would just walk through that door.../ But no one was listening.
Utra saw the First fight the urge to touch himself as she was busy retrieving the lubricant. It was necessary with Jem’Hadar to use lubricant, otherwise her captives would bleed to death too quickly. She’d learned that the hard way. Their skin was just too rough, and she wanted the game to last long enough to be fair. “Ah ah, no no, did I say you could do that?” she tsked at the First when she turned around and found him stroking his erection. He stopped immediately, but with great effort, she noted. She opened the tube and squirted a copious amount onto her palm. Throwing the lube aside, she reached for the erection again, talking soothingly, teasingly, as with a naughty child. “Here, now isn’t this better? I told you that I would take care of you. You must never touch yourself. It is dirty and sinful against the Founders, isn’t that what I’ve taught you? Only I may touch you, and touch you, and touch you...” she let out a sharp peal of laughter, causing Julian to jump and rattle his chains. She turned to him, “Oh don’t worry, I’ll deal with you in a moment.” Something always came over her when she was in a position of power. It was quite addicting. She had all the power to do whatever she wanted to do, and she didn’t have to make any of the decisions herself. And if anything were to go wrong, her clone would just take her place. It was a wonderful life, indeed, for a Vorta girl.
Utra decided that she was done with the Jem’Hadar, that he was finally hard enough for the purpose at hand. “Now, First, you must obey everything I say and only what I say. It is your purpose.”
He answered her as best he could, in measured statements, considering the condition that he was in. “I understand. I have always obeyed. Obedience means victory, and victory is life.”
Utra rolled her eyes at the phrase she’d heard thousands of times before. “Yes, yes, now do what I say. And everyone, pay close attention. This is an important lesson I am teaching you.” She eyed the ‘Hadar around her, feeling a rush at the absolute trust in their stares.
She moved to the side of the stand where Julian was balancing. Eyeing the height of the stand in comparison to her soldier, she decided that it would do. Smiling again with her deep red lips, she began to give orders like she was created to do.
“First, step up behind the stand...that’s good. Now, here let me help you...” She grabbed his cock at the base of the shaft, directing it towards its goal. “Now move a little closer...that’s good!”
/No! No, someone please, please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease..../
When Julian felt the head touch his cleft, he frantically began to move as best he could to get out of its way. Utra looked comically disappointed, “Oh, now don’t do that!” She turned to her First, “Put your hands on him, like this...” She delicately picked up his hands at the wrist and placed each on one of Julian’s mounds and pressed.
/Sisko! Miles! MOMMA POPPA PLEASE!!!!/
“Hold him still...that’s good! Now press into him...it’s alright, you can trust me! Just move forward a little bit, slowly, good!” He was about an inch in. Julian was already screaming, but through the gag it came out muffled and desperate. “Oh stop that!” She laughed again, this time sing-songy and light. “It will only get worse if you keep carrying on as you are.” Not like she cared if it got worse. As far as Utra was concerned, all was going extremely well. Good for her!
Martok closed his eyes and turned his head away from the sight. He wished that Julian wouldn’t scream like that, pleading and begging. *He should be swearing and cursing the Dominion and all it’s evil empire stands for, not begging them to stop. He sounded like a child when he did that, not a Federation soldier...*
“Alright, now keep going,” another inch, “all the way in,” another inch, “that’s it!” When he was about halfway, she could tell that he was starting to enjoy this. Utra figured it would be easy once they got excited, she just had to get the ball rolling and then their animal instincts would take over. She let go of him and placed her hand on the small of his back, and pushed. “There we go!” All at once Julian screamed and shut his eyes tight as he felt the First enter him completely. The First gasped and Utra clapped her hands in joy.
Julian numbly wondered what had happened to all his internal organs, which felt displaced after this alien object seemed to fill him up completely. He prayed for the waves of pain spreading from his ass to stop. He couldn’t take this pain!
/It was unbearable, gods, why didn’t someone help me? I’m dying, I swear I’m dying! What are they doing to me? God, what was happening to me! Just make it all stop, just for a moment. Just a moment to get used to the blinding pain, that’s all I ask.../
“Now again. Pull out, backwards, that’s it...” The First hesitantly moved his hips back, far enough to where he was almost out. “Stop! Alright, now forwards again, come on...” He did as he was told. “Keep going.”
Utra watched with glee as the First began to move faster and faster. He began to feel more comfortable with the sensations. She could see his eyes erupt in surprise with every new feeling, every thrust of his hips into Julian. He rocked faster and faster, looking to her for support and encouragement, which Utra gave freely. She goaded him on with a sweet look in her eyes. Meanwhile, he drove into Julian hard enough to hear the slap when their thighs hit.
/Poppa help me, oh God it hurts! It hurts so much! I don’t understand, why doesn’t he stop?/
She turned her attention to the prisoner, totally helpless and bound. Did she remember the lubricant? Yes, she did, but she was sure from the look in his eyes and the way his whole body jerked around that it was painful nonetheless. A thin line of red was running itself down his leg. She saw that it was blood. A pity, because she still had six men to go after the First was through. Oh well, she’d just have to use a dermal regenerator to fix the worst of it, just long enough for him to last until the end. After all, she had to be fair and give everyone a chance to play.
‘Grunt, slap, grunt, slap, gruntslap, gruntslap gruntslap...’ The First drove faster and faster into Julian, making animal sounds with each thrust. He was a creature of instinct bound by the Founders. As a rule, he had no knowledge of what he was doing. As a rule, pleasures of the flesh were not allowed. For the first time the Jem’Hadar were seeing a perfect expression of the rage, battles, and power that ruled their existence. They had no idea of what it was, but the Vorta allowed it, and their instincts craved it, so they obeyed.
Julian felt split in two by this monster, treating him as if he wasn’t even alive, but just a vessel to fuck and throw away. He could see himself on the monitors all around him, he could see the First’s body, try to anticipate the pain before each move, and try to shield his own body from the assault. But it did no good, and the more he tried to fight, the more pain he felt. There was no way to get out of this, no way to win, no way to make the pain stop. It was just going to get worse and worse. Tears were already flowing down his cheeks, a reaction to the pain and the fear. He would have passed out but the pain kept jolting him awake.
/Why won’t someone help me? I can’t stop this, I can’t, I can’t.../
Utra saw the unfamiliar expression of surprise and fear come over the ‘Hadar’s face. She soothed him, “That’s good...You’re almost there...keep going...” and in a few seconds, he was coming into Julian, clawing his ass raw with his fingers and crying out with a shout of victory. Utra laughed another sing-song laugh, and added a final touch of the ironic perversity that she loved so well in times like these, “The Founders would be so proud!” Meanwhile, the First stayed exactly where he was, trying to keep pounding into the captive, waiting for another turn. His movements became more desperate and his face furrowed in a display of confusion and concentration as he started to become soft. Finally, Utra decided to help the poor thing. “Now, now, that’s enough, First. Perhaps you’ll get another chance later. Right now it’s the Second’s turn.” He stopped his frantic movements and stepped away.
The sudden absence of pain felt like a torture in itself. Julian felt no relief when the ‘Hadar left his body, he knew that it was far from over. He looked over at Martok but the Klingon was silent and his sight was directed somewhere else. He followed the Klingon’s gaze to the large monitor in front of them. It was the one showing the angle from behind. He could see his ass and legs in it clearly, red, raw, and bloodied. Large scratch marks stood out in relief, and glistening lines of liquid red still rolled down the backs of this thighs. Julian felt like he was in too much shock to make a self-diagnosis, but he needed help. /Help me, why doesn’t somebody help me, please! Captain, Major, General, Constable, somebody.../
Martok’s face finally went still when he turned his head away from the monitor. His thoughts turned darker as the reality of what they were doing to Julian sunk in. He knew of those bloody Cardassians doing things like this, but he had never seen it first-hand. Finally, the first glimpses of fear were creeping into his thoughts, and Martok was afraid...
Ignoring her prisoners for the moment, Utra gave her First a once-over with her eyes. He was quite the sight. Naked and covered in sweat, his limp cock showing traces of blood, cum, and shit, his face still confused and dazed, his body still trembling with the aftershock, the First turned and rejoined the circle of his men. Satisfied, Utra called to the Second.
“Your turn.”
***
end of part 1
***
And this story won a Golden Orgasm Award from Lady Cyrrh in 1999. So sweet for a budding slasher!
*
A Fairytale About Slavery (1/2)
By eggblue
Notes: December 1998-May 1999 (My first story evah!!! When I was still a *teenager*)
SERIES: Star Trek: Deep Space 9, prequel to my own “Swandive”, in canon this takes place right before the episodes “In Purgatory’s Shadow / By Inferno’s Light” in the 5th season
RATING: NC-17 (not kidding! Contains some surprises, one very long gang rape scene, character death, m/m and m/f sex and violence)
PAIRINGS: Bashir/Jem’Hadar, Vorta, Changeling
SUMMARY: The Vorta overseer of a Dominion prison camp works through her sexual fantasies with the men under her command, taking Dr. Bashir along for the ride.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first, thank you.
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek and characters belong to Paramount (except Utra, she belongs to me).
**************
How long have you been
Lost down here?
How did you come
To lose your way?
When did you realize
That you’d never be free?
- Miranda Sex Garden
“A Fairytale About Slavery”
****************
Utra dreamed as she slept.
Now, people who don’t know better usually assume that Vorta do not sleep or dream at all, but they are mistaken. For Utra remembered all of her dreams with crystal clarity, down to every vivid detail. They serve to remind her of what she once was and help her forget what she is today, which is something we all look for from time to time.
(That reminds me, first things first. I shall tell you this tale as well as I know how, but before I do, a warning. Don’t expect me to give you a happy ending, or an easy escape, because that is not the way it happened. I am only repeating what I know, and as your fair storyteller, I don’t believe that I’m obliged to give you anything more than that! So take it or leave it. Who says life is fair, anyways? I certainly don’t...)
Where was I? Oh yes, I will tell you what she dreamed about...
She was in a forest of long ago. If Utra were conscious, she would have automatically known that it was her home, but as it was she was asleep, and she just knew that it was beautiful and frightening. All around were trees of every shape and size, and the brightest color green she had ever seen. Small creatures darted about the ground, and birds of unimaginable beauty flew from limb to limb. Their feathers plumed from their tails in long spouts of scarlet and blue.
All of this Utra imagined while she slept, and she saw herself in her dream as well. She was standing against a tree so very wide. Her entire back brushed against the rough and moss-covered bark. She could feel it on her skin, for she was completely bare. This forest was her home long ago, when she was an ape swinging among the trees, but she was standing in it as her present self, her eyes still violet and clear, her skin still pale as the moon above. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself against the tree. She was blindfolded and tied, her arms wrapped as far as they could reach around the trunk. Her legs were left free, and she could feel the wet leaves tickle her toes. Utra knew that she was waiting for something, something to come to her.
When it came she could feel it rather than see at first. Black forms of liquid warmth floated to her from across the forest. They rushed to touch her body, and ran themselves across her skin like flowing snakes of mercury. They moved like her Founder gods moved, or like she imagined them to be. She had never seen a Founder in the flesh, so to speak. But she’d heard stories, and dreamt of them enough to feel their presence was with her at all times. In her dream they touched her all over, wrapping themselves around her limbs and skin. Everywhere she felt them was like torture and pleasure, her tied arms keeping her at their mercy, as they showed her the desire that she never knew was inside of herself.
Slowly, one of the forms moved up her inner thigh and ran up her torso to her sensitive nipples. She cried out as the overpowering sensations coursed through her body. The same form that was so expertly working at her breasts spread itself over her trembling abdomen until it reached in between her thighs. Utra felt it glide against her clit as it moved toward her opening, spreading itself as far inside her as it could go, filling her up with a wet warmth.
She opened her mouth to cry out as she came, over and over, and as she did, another black liquid tendril reached inside her mouth, muffling her cries and suckling her tongue. At the same instant, a third form that had been massaging her rounded ass drove into her from behind with all its might. Utra’s legs had given out long ago from the endless waves of pleasure running through her entire body. She hung limply from the tree, seeing only darkness, and imagining that the forest itself had enveloped her inside itself, the plumed feathers caressing her skin, the soft earth filling her body with sun-warmed contentment.
Then Utra awoke, as we all must at sometimes awake from sleep and the certainty of dreams. She opened her eyes to the gray and shadowed walls and sat up in her hard bed. It is a good thing that Vorta cannot recognize beauty, or she would have felt lost in the desolate drabness of the prison camp. But the camp, drifting alone on an asteroid, was where she had been placed by the Founders, and as a Vorta, she had to do what she was told. Alas, she would not even know how to disobey orders even if she could. (Which is a thing that you too will find to be true, in time. Rebellion, independence, freedom, these things are messy and difficult, which is why it can be so easy to live without them and not even know that they’re gone...)
Utra was therefore entrusted with the operation of the prison camp, and its Jem’Hadar soldiers who served beneath her command. It was an easy enough assignment. All she had to do was make sure that no prisoners escaped and that her ‘Hadar did as they were told. Utra found her job boring at times, and she didn’t understand why she couldn’t just kill her prisoners and be done with it. But Utra learned long ago to be patient and do as she was told, so she never complained or cut corners, (which is what everyone should learn to do).
Luckily, Utra had Deyos to keep her company. The ‘Hadar might have been good soldiers, but they were horrible at polite conversation. She walked to his office as was her routine every morning. When she arrived, he was eating a breakfast of berries and sparkling lemonade. She stopped at the arch just inside the sliding door, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Deyos looked up at her with crystal cold violet eyes, his dark hair and pale skin also like her own. It is no big surprise really, as you might guess, that all Vorta were created from the same family. Oh, maybe some were of a more distant relation than others, but they were all related somehow genetically. It was easier to keep track of them that way, if they all had similar genetic backgrounds. They understood this as a natural thing, as they do not have families like you or I have. The Vorta only have themselves and the hierarchy, the Founders and the Jem’Hadar. That is the order of things, which is accepted without question.
“Come in, Utra.”
Deyos called to her with a syrupy voice and smile, a smile that she returned automatically. She approached him where he was sitting without a word and stood in front of him, between his chair and desk. Leaning back to sit on the edge of the desk, she lifted her left leg and placed it on his armrest, revealing to him her still-wet sex from the dream she’d just had. He responded like he did every morning, and unfastened his pants. Deyos’ hard member throbbed noticeably as his instincts kicked in from deep inside. Neither Vorta’s expressions changed as their bodies moved together and fit inside one another. Utra lowered her sex onto his until he was completely inside. They remained fully clothed and began their conversation as if nothing was going on, meanwhile Utra rocked her hips against his as fast as she could, face to face.
“Brother?” Utra asked, looking calmly into his eyes as she continued to bounce on top of him.
“Yes, sister?” Deyos answered, holding onto her gaze as well as her gyrating hips.
“I’m feeling a bit bored today.” Her muscles contracted steadily with an orgasm that she hardly even felt.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear you say that,” he replied, not meaning a word of it, or its opposite meaning either. But she continued anyway, as with Vorta, true sentiment is never expected.
“May I punish the prisoners today?” She continued working towards another climax, and felt him approaching his own.
Deyos thought this over for a moment, as he was usually the one to punish the prisoners on this day, but perhaps he could change his rules for once. The Founders allowed him leeway in a few matters, and punishment was one of them. The Vorta were just so good at things like that, it really made perfect sense. “Alright, you may, Utra.” He answered her question while he came silently inside of her, feeling nothing except for the contentment of completion. For nothing brings greater satisfaction in a day than doing all those little tasks that we set out to do.
Utra raised herself off of his body and smoothed out her skirt as she stood. “Good, I will get started then,” she said with a smile. He responded by fastening his pants again and returning to his breakfast. On the way out of his office and on her way to greet her captives, Utra imagined all the ways she could use her time to torture, using the limited imagination that she had available to her. By the time she reached the holoroom where the sessions took place, she had an idea (and a rather nasty one at that, too).
***
Julian Bashir awoke bound and gagged again. The last thing he remembered was arguing with the Jem’Hadar when they cut their food rations, and in the process, being struck over the head. Afterwards there was just blackness. Julian learned his lesson again, for that’s what you get for speaking your mind when no one wants to listen.
He opened his eyes to the bright light, expecting to feel a pounding in his head, but he felt no pain. Instead he found himself staring at the floor. Realizing this, he began to sort out his situation (which was a rather bad idea in his case).
Julian was in a large room, and he was at the center if it. Curiously, he seemed to be hanging upside down, but not completely. He was bent at the waist, like an inverted V, over some sort of raised bench, and his hands and legs were bound so where he couldn’t move. (Well, maybe I should let Utra describe it. After all, she created the scene in front of her right out of her own mind, and hanging upside down as he was, Julian didn’t have the best perspective at the moment, did he?)
Utra looked over her masterpiece one last time just to make sure everything was perfect and ready. Let’s see, the room was certainly big enough, like most holorooms were. And there was sufficient light, dark in the corners, and then painfully bright where her prisoner was kept. Very Cardassian, that light was. The walls and floor were snow white and spotless, the temperature of the room not too cold. So far, so good. She looked at her prisoner with fascination. He was set up in the very center of the room. His tanned and thin body draped face-down over a T-shaped stand that was four feet tall. It was wide enough that his hips, but only his hips, balanced on it comfortably, and tall enough so that he was completely suspended in mid-air. Very nice. Let’s see, his legs were spread apart and chained to the floor with little room for slack. Small but strong rings of silver metal encircled his ankles and wrists. But while his legs were spread apart, his hands were bound together and drawn forward, stretched out in front of him and pointed straight at the floor. A single chain fastened his wrists to the floor, to a spot far in front of him. His mouth was gagged with tape as well, but other than that, the rest of him remained free. Hmmm, am I forgetting anything else? Oh yes, he was also completely nude from head to toe.
Utra could see him testing his restraints, but she knew that they would hold fast. It was the same with her other prisoner, that Klingon Martok. But she wouldn’t do much with him, at least not yet. He was just here to observe, for that added extra bit of humiliation. It was Julian who was the one being punished today. The Klingon was merely tied to a chair off to the side and gagged as well. He wouldn’t be moving anytime soon either.
Meanwhile, Julian vainly tried to calm himself down, trying not to think about why he might be in this position. Four weeks ago he was secretly taken prisoner by the Dominion and placed in this camp. He spent his time there so far fighting the Jem’Hadar in hand to hand combat and helping Enabran Tain work on the communication device. The combat wasn’t so bad, after all he was genetically engineered to be stronger than the average human and he was definitely smarter and faster than any Jem’Hadar was. As for listening and helping Tain, well, he’d had practice in dealing with Garak and the both of them were remarkably alike in certain ways. So far, so good. But then yesterday their Vorta overseer, Utra, had decided to cut rations for no reason at all. As a doctor, and a proclaimed self-righteous and naive member of Starfleet, he couldn’t remain silent while the already starving prisoners were deprived of what little sustenance they had. No surprise, he had decided to open his big mouth and complain about it.
He was in the midst of mentally kicking himself when the door to the holoroom opened. Seven Jem’Hadar soldiers walked in and stood by Utra, calmly awaiting her orders. With so many eyes suddenly upon him, Utra’s, Martok’s, and the Jem’Hadar’s, he abruptly realized that he was naked.
Julian thought for a moment, /Now why would I be... Oh no, God no, no no no no.../
***
Utra was pleased with the set up. It was her design, and her favorite program. She so rarely got to use it, she appreciated the luxury that it afforded her in pleasure. Her own Jem’Hadar had never experienced this little program of hers. She enjoyed novelty so much.
“Computer, mirrors.” At her command, the floor shimmered underneath Julian, until he could look down at his reflection. He craned his neck out over his arms in time to see the entire wall in front of him dissolve into a mirror as well, surrounded by fluorescent lights in the midst of the darkness.
“Computer, cameras.” The computer responded this time by turning on a dozen large monitors all around the room.
“Computer, begin recording on my command. Now.” A dozen little red eyes glowed back at him, signaling the cameras to begin taping from different angles. Most of the monitors were in front of him, but it seemed that everywhere he looked there was a picture of his naked body filling up his vision. One from behind him, a perfect shot of his spread ass. One in front, showing his bared back and outstretched arms. More from the side, from above, one from below, showing his frightened face whenever he bowed his head.
“These monitors are set up all over this camp, to serve as an example to other prisoners who might be thinking of disobeying the Dominion. It was a very bad thing that you did. We take you into our home, treat you well, we give you food, and a bed to sleep in, and plenty of room to move around, and all you can think of to repay us is rudely asking for more. You... are... greedy.” She shook a finger at Julian, as if at a naughty child.
Julian watched as Utra ordered her men to form a wide circle around him. They stood just outside the circle of light but he could see their shadowy forms quite clearly. Utra herself stood in front of the mirror directly ahead of him. There was enough light so she was sure Julian could see her. She turned around to face the mirror, although she couldn’t really see herself for what she was. That was impossible for a Vorta to do. Still, her pale skin was powdered white and her eyes and lips were heavy with bright burgundy shades of make-up. She looked impeccable, her burgundy lips matched the long, tight, low-cut dress she was wearing, the same one that she had worn in Deyos’ office that morning. Utra smiled at herself in the mirror and looked at Julian’s face as he gazed up at her. She caught the fear in his eyes that he was trying very hard to hide. It made her smile even more. After all, she was just doing her job, but that doesn’t mean that she couldn’t try to find some pleasure in doing it well.
Utra whirled around to face him and her soldiers. They stood in a horseshoe around the prisoner. Martok sat off to the side, well in view but not near enough to get in the way of anything. His macho grunting and muffled protests annoyed Utra greatly. There was no reason for him to get upset now, after all, he wasn’t the one in immediate danger. He was just here for support, as a sort of witness to the punishment. But perhaps she would have to amend that later and have him take the first prisoner’s place after she was done with him. He thought he was so brave, so strong as a Klingon warrior, but she knew better. She’d seen the toughest man weep at her feet in the face of what she was about to do in a moment from now. Her soldiers were different, they understood what she wanted from them and never complained. She began to walk among her ‘Hadar, looking each one up and down in turn. They never responded, but just stood there waiting for orders. Yes, they were very loyal soldiers.
Logically, Julian assumed that he was to be whipped or beaten. Tied up, he couldn’t defend himself and his scars would serve as a warning to any others who felt like complaining about food rations or cell space. Honestly, he assumed that there was nothing else they could do to him. As usual, he was woefully naive about such matters when it came to the Dominion. There were just a few things that one assumed about Jem’Hadar and what they were and were not capable of...
Utra stopped in front of one of the soldiers. He was the First in command. His build was huge, like all Jem’Hadar, his entire body encased in an armor of scales and bony horns. He stood rigid and at attention, waiting for the next order from his Vorta field supervisor. Utra pointed her finger straight at his chest. “You,” she said, “follow me.” He did as he was told and followed Utra. She walked close to Julian, where he was busy following them with his eyes as best he could.
She looked at Julian, naked in mid-air, the First, waiting for her order, and herself, in the mirror. Julian, the First, herself. Herself, the First, Julian. She smiled an innocent smile with her full, bow-shaped, burgundy cherry lips. Yes, she certainly was proud of her work so far!
As the events played out before him, Julian Bashir tried to hold onto his sanity. His brain was working overtime trying to explain away what was going to happen to his body. He was helpless to the coming onslaught, and his entire being knew it. So he just waited to see what was coming, the shock and horror building up in waves, breaking against his mind.
/Alright, Julian. You are strong, yes, and they still might not kill you. If you can just hang on, all the scars will heal and Sisko will come to rescue you and everything will be fine again, it has to be. This is only temporary, they can’t hurt you that badly, come on, hang on, calm down.../
Utra spoke in a soft, oily voice, calling the Jem‘Hadar by his rank. “First, put down your weapon.”
He obeyed.
“First, take off your uniform.”
/What?! What’s going on?/
The ‘Hadar obeyed without protest, completely oblivious to his own nakedness, just following his orders like he was born to do.
Utra looked over his newly naked body. Julian tried to avoid looking in the monitors, but that was probably for the best. (Ah, Julian was finally getting some sense knocked into him, wasn’t he?)
The Jem’Hadar First was completely covered in rough scales and ridges, (enough to put a Cardassian to shame, I say). Two bone-tipped ridges that fanned out at his shoulders ran symmetrically all the way down his torso and legs. He had no soft spots, no smooth skin, no vulnerabilities. He few scars and damages, but he was only six months old, that was to be expected. His kind never lived very long, they never ate and they never slept. All he needed was that tube of white coursing through his neck to remain full enough to keep him alive. Alas, the ‘Hadar are not a pretty race. But Utra knew that he had all the equipment necessary for the job, so she figured he’d do nicely.
/Oh God, no, this can’t be happening. Somebody help me.../ But no one listened.
“Come follow me.” She motioned with her hand and walked over to where Julian was perched. The First followed her. It was then that Julian saw his body completely. His six-foot-tall bulk and wide shoulders were intimidating enough. But right now Julian was concerned with other parts of his anatomy, an understandably so. The Jem‘Hadar’s cock (our poor Julian was visibly surprised that he had one, quenching his last hope for a reprieve) was limp at the moment, but it was still impressive to the onlooker. It’s shade was of a deep purple, with darker purple and white veins running along it’s length. It was decorated with bumpy scales as well, blending in with his hairless body. Julian tried to ignore the fact that it was already seven inches long and incredibly thick.
/Martok... Sisko... somebody!! Somebody’s coming to help me, I know it. Just wait a few more seconds, Jules, someone’s coming to save you, I know they are... any second now, oh God where are they?/ And no one heard him.
Utra was impressed, well, as impressed as she got. She watched her captive’s face the whole time, noting with pleasure the rising panic and fear she saw there. She blankly smiled to herself again, immensely pleased with what she was about to do for the sake of her Founder gods.
She turned to the First, looking him up and down. She reached out her arm and ran a burgundy polished fingernail from his sternum to his groin. He stood perfectly still, eyes staring straight ahead, his body unresponsive to her touch. She ordered the rest of the unit, “Watch me.” They obeyed. When her hand was low enough, she encircled his penis with it, slowly running her fingers along the shaft. Obviously feeling something now, his eyes took on a startled expression as he tried to remain impassive. “Go ahead,” Utra purred, “it’s alright. Your Vorta is going to take care of you.” She smiled at him, trying to catch his eyes. He was still agitated, not knowing what was going on, but she could feel him begin to relax slightly. “It’s alright, relax, you can do it...” she continued with the encouragement, loving the effect that she was having on him. “I wouldn’t hurt you, would I? Do this for me, I am your Vorta, I love you.” She knew that the Jem’Hadar had very little use for the words she was saying but the perversity of it has quite an effect on her prisoners. She was sure that they would have thrown up if not for the tape blocking their mouths.
Martok swore blue streaks in Klingon, but no one heard him through the tape over his mouth. He wondered why Julian wasn’t fighting more. Those chains didn’t look that tough, and surely he could think of something better to do than just lie there! He knew that Julian was a good doctor, but being brilliant didn’t help him at all in situations like this. Martok was sure that things would be different if *he* were the one up there and not Bashir. He just hoped that the doctor wasn’t so weak that he didn’t survive... These Dominion servants call themselves warriors... it was a disgrace! Warriors didn’t do what they were about to do, ordered or not. They had no honor, and no souls. *Damn it Doctor! Do something besides just lie there!*
Meanwhile, Utra continued her ministrations as the Jem’Hadar cock started to swell. To her great joy, she had even coaxed out a moan from his tightly closed lips. She started to move her hand more rapidly, coaxing him harder and harder. His eyes were struggling to stay open and his mouth varied between pursed lips and open-mouthed gasps. When Utra stopped for a moment to retrieve something from the floor, his already frightened eyes looked even more terrified. She guessed by this time that is was more for fear of her stopping her touch than for the new sensations he felt throb through his body. The pure power she had over him, over her prisoners, over the entire unit, always gave her a rush of pleasure. When there was nothing else to do, sometimes power was its own reward.
/Where’s Dax? She would know what to do in situations like this, wouldn’t she? Or Major Kira, yes! She’d probably even seen things like this happen before. She’d be able to help me. If they would just walk through that door.../ But no one was listening.
Utra saw the First fight the urge to touch himself as she was busy retrieving the lubricant. It was necessary with Jem’Hadar to use lubricant, otherwise her captives would bleed to death too quickly. She’d learned that the hard way. Their skin was just too rough, and she wanted the game to last long enough to be fair. “Ah ah, no no, did I say you could do that?” she tsked at the First when she turned around and found him stroking his erection. He stopped immediately, but with great effort, she noted. She opened the tube and squirted a copious amount onto her palm. Throwing the lube aside, she reached for the erection again, talking soothingly, teasingly, as with a naughty child. “Here, now isn’t this better? I told you that I would take care of you. You must never touch yourself. It is dirty and sinful against the Founders, isn’t that what I’ve taught you? Only I may touch you, and touch you, and touch you...” she let out a sharp peal of laughter, causing Julian to jump and rattle his chains. She turned to him, “Oh don’t worry, I’ll deal with you in a moment.” Something always came over her when she was in a position of power. It was quite addicting. She had all the power to do whatever she wanted to do, and she didn’t have to make any of the decisions herself. And if anything were to go wrong, her clone would just take her place. It was a wonderful life, indeed, for a Vorta girl.
Utra decided that she was done with the Jem’Hadar, that he was finally hard enough for the purpose at hand. “Now, First, you must obey everything I say and only what I say. It is your purpose.”
He answered her as best he could, in measured statements, considering the condition that he was in. “I understand. I have always obeyed. Obedience means victory, and victory is life.”
Utra rolled her eyes at the phrase she’d heard thousands of times before. “Yes, yes, now do what I say. And everyone, pay close attention. This is an important lesson I am teaching you.” She eyed the ‘Hadar around her, feeling a rush at the absolute trust in their stares.
She moved to the side of the stand where Julian was balancing. Eyeing the height of the stand in comparison to her soldier, she decided that it would do. Smiling again with her deep red lips, she began to give orders like she was created to do.
“First, step up behind the stand...that’s good. Now, here let me help you...” She grabbed his cock at the base of the shaft, directing it towards its goal. “Now move a little closer...that’s good!”
/No! No, someone please, please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease..../
When Julian felt the head touch his cleft, he frantically began to move as best he could to get out of its way. Utra looked comically disappointed, “Oh, now don’t do that!” She turned to her First, “Put your hands on him, like this...” She delicately picked up his hands at the wrist and placed each on one of Julian’s mounds and pressed.
/Sisko! Miles! MOMMA POPPA PLEASE!!!!/
“Hold him still...that’s good! Now press into him...it’s alright, you can trust me! Just move forward a little bit, slowly, good!” He was about an inch in. Julian was already screaming, but through the gag it came out muffled and desperate. “Oh stop that!” She laughed again, this time sing-songy and light. “It will only get worse if you keep carrying on as you are.” Not like she cared if it got worse. As far as Utra was concerned, all was going extremely well. Good for her!
Martok closed his eyes and turned his head away from the sight. He wished that Julian wouldn’t scream like that, pleading and begging. *He should be swearing and cursing the Dominion and all it’s evil empire stands for, not begging them to stop. He sounded like a child when he did that, not a Federation soldier...*
“Alright, now keep going,” another inch, “all the way in,” another inch, “that’s it!” When he was about halfway, she could tell that he was starting to enjoy this. Utra figured it would be easy once they got excited, she just had to get the ball rolling and then their animal instincts would take over. She let go of him and placed her hand on the small of his back, and pushed. “There we go!” All at once Julian screamed and shut his eyes tight as he felt the First enter him completely. The First gasped and Utra clapped her hands in joy.
Julian numbly wondered what had happened to all his internal organs, which felt displaced after this alien object seemed to fill him up completely. He prayed for the waves of pain spreading from his ass to stop. He couldn’t take this pain!
/It was unbearable, gods, why didn’t someone help me? I’m dying, I swear I’m dying! What are they doing to me? God, what was happening to me! Just make it all stop, just for a moment. Just a moment to get used to the blinding pain, that’s all I ask.../
“Now again. Pull out, backwards, that’s it...” The First hesitantly moved his hips back, far enough to where he was almost out. “Stop! Alright, now forwards again, come on...” He did as he was told. “Keep going.”
Utra watched with glee as the First began to move faster and faster. He began to feel more comfortable with the sensations. She could see his eyes erupt in surprise with every new feeling, every thrust of his hips into Julian. He rocked faster and faster, looking to her for support and encouragement, which Utra gave freely. She goaded him on with a sweet look in her eyes. Meanwhile, he drove into Julian hard enough to hear the slap when their thighs hit.
/Poppa help me, oh God it hurts! It hurts so much! I don’t understand, why doesn’t he stop?/
She turned her attention to the prisoner, totally helpless and bound. Did she remember the lubricant? Yes, she did, but she was sure from the look in his eyes and the way his whole body jerked around that it was painful nonetheless. A thin line of red was running itself down his leg. She saw that it was blood. A pity, because she still had six men to go after the First was through. Oh well, she’d just have to use a dermal regenerator to fix the worst of it, just long enough for him to last until the end. After all, she had to be fair and give everyone a chance to play.
‘Grunt, slap, grunt, slap, gruntslap, gruntslap gruntslap...’ The First drove faster and faster into Julian, making animal sounds with each thrust. He was a creature of instinct bound by the Founders. As a rule, he had no knowledge of what he was doing. As a rule, pleasures of the flesh were not allowed. For the first time the Jem’Hadar were seeing a perfect expression of the rage, battles, and power that ruled their existence. They had no idea of what it was, but the Vorta allowed it, and their instincts craved it, so they obeyed.
Julian felt split in two by this monster, treating him as if he wasn’t even alive, but just a vessel to fuck and throw away. He could see himself on the monitors all around him, he could see the First’s body, try to anticipate the pain before each move, and try to shield his own body from the assault. But it did no good, and the more he tried to fight, the more pain he felt. There was no way to get out of this, no way to win, no way to make the pain stop. It was just going to get worse and worse. Tears were already flowing down his cheeks, a reaction to the pain and the fear. He would have passed out but the pain kept jolting him awake.
/Why won’t someone help me? I can’t stop this, I can’t, I can’t.../
Utra saw the unfamiliar expression of surprise and fear come over the ‘Hadar’s face. She soothed him, “That’s good...You’re almost there...keep going...” and in a few seconds, he was coming into Julian, clawing his ass raw with his fingers and crying out with a shout of victory. Utra laughed another sing-song laugh, and added a final touch of the ironic perversity that she loved so well in times like these, “The Founders would be so proud!” Meanwhile, the First stayed exactly where he was, trying to keep pounding into the captive, waiting for another turn. His movements became more desperate and his face furrowed in a display of confusion and concentration as he started to become soft. Finally, Utra decided to help the poor thing. “Now, now, that’s enough, First. Perhaps you’ll get another chance later. Right now it’s the Second’s turn.” He stopped his frantic movements and stepped away.
The sudden absence of pain felt like a torture in itself. Julian felt no relief when the ‘Hadar left his body, he knew that it was far from over. He looked over at Martok but the Klingon was silent and his sight was directed somewhere else. He followed the Klingon’s gaze to the large monitor in front of them. It was the one showing the angle from behind. He could see his ass and legs in it clearly, red, raw, and bloodied. Large scratch marks stood out in relief, and glistening lines of liquid red still rolled down the backs of this thighs. Julian felt like he was in too much shock to make a self-diagnosis, but he needed help. /Help me, why doesn’t somebody help me, please! Captain, Major, General, Constable, somebody.../
Martok’s face finally went still when he turned his head away from the monitor. His thoughts turned darker as the reality of what they were doing to Julian sunk in. He knew of those bloody Cardassians doing things like this, but he had never seen it first-hand. Finally, the first glimpses of fear were creeping into his thoughts, and Martok was afraid...
Ignoring her prisoners for the moment, Utra gave her First a once-over with her eyes. He was quite the sight. Naked and covered in sweat, his limp cock showing traces of blood, cum, and shit, his face still confused and dazed, his body still trembling with the aftershock, the First turned and rejoined the circle of his men. Satisfied, Utra called to the Second.
“Your turn.”
***
end of part 1
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