Star Trek: The Next Sensation Episode 1: Starfleet Discipline PLEASE NOTE!!! The following short story is rated NC-17, with _very_ good reason. It is meant for adult readers with open minds (and a healthy lust for Jean-Luc Picard won't hurt either.) This is erotica rather than science fiction and also contains a bit of mild S&M similar in kind to the _Beauty_ erotica trilogy by Anne Rice, so consider yourself forewarned! I want to give credit to two other wonderful writers whose work gave me the nerve to actually write & post this piece: Kellie Matthews-Simmons, author of _Points of View_, and the Phantom, author of _The Delightful Education of Julien Bashir_. You are welcome to pass this story around, just don't make money off it (right, I wish!) Paramount is wholly non-responsible for this story, and all standard disclaimers apply. Star Trek and its characters are registered trade marks of Paramount, Inc. Copyright 1994, the lady of shalott All Rights Reserved This is what _might_ have happened at the beginning of Descent, Part 1, if Starfleet had _slightly_ ;) different rules... * * * "We'll speak in your ready room, Captain," snapped Vice- Admiral Nechayev immediately upon exiting the turbolift, clearly in no fine mood. Will Riker winced sympathetically at Jean-Luc Picard, who looked grim as he followed her off the bridge. Riker turned to look at Deanna inquiringly, who shook her head meaningfully. "She wouldn't really... would she?" asked Will. "All I can tell you is she is _very_ angry," Deanna said soberly. "And she is known as a stickler for... discipline." * * * Picard swallowed hard as Nechayev pulled a riding crop out of her uniform and began slapping it against her palm. "Tell me, Captain. Exactly what went on in your mind when you let that Borg go instead of sending the entire collective to kingdom come?" she asked in a deceptively sweet tone as she paced the length of the room. "I'm sure you've read my report," he began, only to be interrupted. "You're quite right. And I am hoping--for your sake--that you have a better explanation for me than that drivel about his individualism!" she spat. >Better get it over with,< he thought grimly. "No, Admiral, I don't," Picard stated quietly. "And I firmly believe that the cause was sufficient." "Do you. Well, Captain, do you 'firmly believe' in following orders or is that infringing on your individualism?" He glared at her. "If I didn't believe in following orders, Admiral, I wouldn't be here." "You're here to serve the interests of the Federation! Maybe you need to be reminded of what that means. I intend to make sure that you don't forget it again. Take the position, 'Captain.' " she ordered, her tone icy. Even though he'd suspected her intent, he was still stunned. He hadn't been "disciplined" in nine years! And then it had been by the Admiral of Starfleet, not a Vice-Admiral who was younger than he was. Clenching his teeth, he turned his back to her, facing the desk, and unfastened his uniform trousers. Baring his flesh, he assumed disciplinary stance--legs apart, planted firmly, his torso bent forward over the table, and his firm backside completely exposed. Nechayev tossed her uniform jacket onto the sofa and stood to his left. Picard's buttocks were muscular and hard, and unmarked as well, revealing that it had been a long time since his last disciplining. His silent indignation had tightened all his muscles, and she was looking forward to making him lose control of them. She loved disciplining--one of the reasons she'd had a hard time giving up her captain's chair. There was simply less opportunity as an Admiral--so she would just make the most of this one, she thought, licking her lips in anticipation. "How long has it been since you were disciplined?" she inquired in a casual tone. "Nine years," he said shortly. He wasn't prepared for the crack of the crop against his flesh. His whole body jerked in response, which lack of control was immediately punished with five hard, fast blows. Nechayev was pleased to note that he was holding himself perfectly still by the fifth blow--she preferred those with more control to overcome. The whip had raised marks on his tender flesh, but more were still to come. "Nine years, sir." she softly instructed. "Nine years, *sir*!" "Far too long. You clearly need a dose of good old-fashioned Starfleet discipline. I can't believe not one Admiral in Starfleet has taken the trouble to make sure you weren't... losing your edge," she said warmly, licking a finger and soothingly tracing the weals she had just inflicted. "Perhaps they felt... *sorry* for you. Perhaps I should be easy on you as well. After all, you have suffered a great deal in the service of the Fleet." He stiffened angrily at the suggestion. "I don't want your damned pity--sir! I can take discipline as well as any one," he snapped. "Good," she whispered into his ear, the warm breath faintly tickling. "Because I don't pity you, Picard--except that no one's taken the effort to discipline you properly. However, that mistake ends right here and now. Starfleet needs strong, disciplined captains, and I intend to make certain that you stay among that number, my dear Captain." She kissed his cheek tenderly and stood. The hard leather began to rise and fall again, the rhythmic sound of the crop's contact with his flesh forming a counterpoint to his increasingly labored breathing. Picard realized he had forgotten what discipline felt like; the hot soreness on his buttocks that would last for days, his body's uncontrollable urge to rock with the blows. The hard final blow elicited a short gasp from him and a soft laugh from her. "Good," she whispered into his ear, letting her lips almost touch it. "I want to hear you _beg_ for release, Picard," she continued, reaching for his cock and squeezing it gently but firmly, rubbing her thumb over the head. Still holding his shaft, she began to pump it, bringing the crop down with every squeeze. The pleasure and pain began to mingle, the heat of each sensation spreading and merging. Panting, he involuntarily started to thrust, and she altered the pattern of blows to meet his buttocks as they rose and squeezed him as he thrust downward into her hand. "Maybe I should stop," she hissed, letting her tongue slide out to trace the outlines of his ear. "Maybe you're not strong enough to take proper discipline. Well? Shall I stop, Captain?" she asked and punctuated with a hard squeeze. "No..." he gritted, forcing himself to hold still despite the delicious tingling in his ear that sent shivers through him. >I'm *damned* if I'll give her the satisfaction of hearing me beg!< he thought. She whipped two more blows across him. "*What* did you say?" she demanded, sliding the leather between his legs, roughly abrading his balls as she tightened her grip on his penis. "No, *sir*," he snarled, his whole body trembling with the controlled urge to pull out of that painful grasp. Just when the pleasure had almost dissolved, she suddenly put the crop aside and loosened her hand. Pressing against his side, she began to caress and stroke his sex tenderly, gently pressing her thumb into the head as he hardened and swelled, coaxing moisture out of him. He shivered slightly with pleasure, unsure of how to take the change of pace. More than a few of his officers had used the excuse of discipline to take their pleasure with him in the past, but Nechayev had seemed so serious... Under the caresses, he began to relax. >She doesn't really want to discipline me,< he told himself, allowing himself to enjoy the stimulating touch. >She's just putting up a front because she wants to have me.< "Mmm," she murmured into his ear, licking the fluid from a finger. "I wouldn't mind tasting more of you, Picard..." she paused, feeling the jump his cock gave at the suggestion, and smiled. After she judged that he had convinced himself that she simply desired him, she added, "...but I don't think you deserve that." His sharp inhalation told her how cruelly effective her teasing had been. She stopped the stimulation and sat down on the couch, laying the crop across her thighs. "Stand up," she ordered. He stood proudly erect, head held high, shoulders in true military stance, eyes staring straight ahead. "Good. That's the kind of discipline that a Starfleet captain should have," she commended. "But you've barely been punished yet. We'll see how you hold up under more rigorous challenges." Reclining back against the cushions, she smiled. "Take off your uniform. Slowly." "Of course. Sir," he snapped, eyes glittering with frustration and anger. He placed the communicator on the table, then deliberately shrugged out of the jacket, leaving him clad only in the gray uniform shirt. Undoing the fastening, he stripped it off, revealing his well- defined torso, the arms corded with muscle and faintly laced with veins. "Very nice," she murmured approvingly. He paused to shoot her a glare before bending to slip off the low uniform boots. Standing up, he let the trousers fall to the floor and stepped out of them. A pleased smile curved her lips as she admired the body now fully exposed to her view, the hard shaft jutting out of a nest of hair like a banner. His muscles fairly trembling with tension, he felt hot color flood his cheeks from the humiliation of being subjected to her thorough survey. To be helpless, submissive--the sensation was dramatically alien to him, and dreadfully bewildering. Her smile widened as she witnessed the evidence of his confusion. "My poor captain," she laughed gently. "You so desperately need a strong hand on your reins--and you want it, too. Your body knows your needs even though your mind may resist." His cock was warm and pulsating in her grasp now, pleasure radiating outward into him from the contact. >He is a _fine_ figure of a man< she admitted to herself. This disciplining was even more enjoyable than she had expected, even with all the gossip about him that generally floated around the Fleet. Her cleft already wet, her clitoris throbbing noticeably, it was hard to resist the temptation to abort the punishment in favor of simply satisfying her body's desires. Then a new idea struck her. Her eyes gleamed wickedly. "I must admit, I do find you... stimulating." She saw the shock and unwilling hunger aroused in him as she spread her thighs apart and began to stroke herself through the uniform. She released his cock, which had swollen even further at the display, and began to caress her breasts, all the while devouring him with her eyes. He dragged his eyes away, chest heaving with audible breaths, but she pulled his attention back quickly with a soft sound of pleasure. Her uniform was getting wet; she held her fingers against a sensitive spot and thrust against them, rotating her hips... heat was blooming within her, and she focused on him, on the hard male body ready and eager for anything she could wish, on the firm cock clearly aching to bury itself in her warm depths and satisfy her as her fingers could not. Gasping faintly, she stood and pressed her sex against his in one swift motion--Picard groaned deeply, clasping her hips and pulling her closer, reaching for the opening to her uniform mindlessly. She seized the hand with lightning speed. "I don't recall giving you an order to do that, captain." He stared at her blankly, the sexual need blazing in his eyes leaving little room for rational thought. The statement penetrated at last and anger swept through him again, only to be replaced by another kind of heat almost instantly as she rubbed herself against him. "I want to see you keep that lovely body of yours straight and still, Picard. Remember, you are not here to enjoy yourself," she informed him huskily, still using his sex to stimulate her own pleasure, brushing her firm nipples across his chest. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly in agony, fighting the urge to beg her to let him please her, fill her with his manhood. How easily she'd brought him to the edge of utter submission astonished him. And then he was hovering on the edge of a climax, her use of him, in his aroused state, stimulating enough to send him over... he caught his breath in anticipation of the coming flood, only to suddenly be bereft of her warmth and touch. She struggled to compose herself. What had possessed her to bring him so close to fulfilment? Only his single, betraying inhalation had saved her. Throwing her head back, she seized control of herself again. "No! You haven't earned release yet, Picard. That's not what you need." Quickly, she turned him around and pushed him firmly over the table yet again, reaching for the rest of his manhood. She outlined the orbs of his testicles, weighing the soft sac in her hand, then stroked back from them to his punished buttocks and inserted a finger, lubricated with his own juices, into him. "What you need is to be *severely* disciplined." She continued to probe him roughly, and used her other hand to pinch his reddened buttocks. A gasp accompanied his muscles as they instinctively tightened in an effort to close her out, and she quickly grabbed the crop and smacked his cheeks so hard he jumped. "How dare you try to refuse discipline? Open yourself right now," Nechayev ordered furiously. He slowly forced himself to relax the tight muscles and prepared himself for her to reinsert the finger. Suddenly a hot painful shock ran through him as she rammed the thick handle of the crop up into his tender opening. He swallowed a cry of pain as she forced it further up into him, the unaccustomed sensation of penetration awaking dormant nerve endings. Cruelly forcing it inward, she didn't stop until all fifteen centimeters of the handle were encased in his flesh. "Keep those muscles tight now, Captain. I don't want to see that crop waver at all." She returned her attention to his hard cock, which hadn't softened at all despite the pain. "I'm glad to see you kept your shaft hard. Maybe you have retained some discipline after all," she said approvingly, feeling him pulse in her hands but careful not to give him the stimulation that he craved to free his climax. A delightful thought struck her then. "Let's see if you also remember how to service a senior officer." As she seated herself on the table and opened her own uniform just enough to allow him access to her sex, he stared at her, trying to form the words to refuse. No senior officer had to service another, performing fellatio for their pleasure--that was a duty reserved for ensigns, and he hadn't serviced anyone for more than forty years! >No! I will not humiliate myself willingly for her!< he told himself. But she was already spreading her thighs, and there were the rosy folds, nestled in soft dark blonde curls, so tantalizingly wet, the musky female scent of her body urging him to plumb her depths. He swallowed desperately, then a hot stab of the crop in his buttocks as he shifted his weight decided him--he wanted revenge for that violation, to hear her moan, hear her beg him for more. The excuse sufficed. Bending over her, he slowly licked the hot, moist labia of her vagina, tasting the salty-sweet juices. He knew that this was merely a prelude to even more discipline--but instead of angering him, the thought now brought a rush of pleasurable heat to his loins. >But first, I'm going to punish *her*< Picard thought. Stimulated, he used his tongue to part the soft folds and open her to his exploration. Nechayev felt his tongue flick lightly over the hard nub of her clitoris, teasing vengefully by giving her only little brief touches that maddened as well as pleased. Without fully satisfying her desire there, he shifted his tongue to her warm deep channel, but his probes were equally frustrating, as he dipped into her quickly, barely tasted, and withdrew his tongue immediately instead of the long, deep penetration she hungered for. Even as her hips rose up in an effort to force him deeper, she smiled, recognizing his motive. "So," she taunted huskily, "you can't even service a woman properly anymore. You're obviously too old for your job if that's the best you can do." He jerked with indignation and promptly gave her exactly what she wanted. His tongue began to thrust deep within her, one of his arms reaching behind her back to tilt her hips upward so he could better access her. The warm slickness of his tongue reached inward, moving sinuously inside her channel, and she had to dig her nails into her hands to keep from moaning aloud with the pleasure and pressing his head into her. He closed his mouth over her sex and suckled, stroking her labia and clitoris with his lips and rubbing his teeth not-so-gently over the throbbing nub. She felt the questing tongue test her depths. The motion was delicious, but she knew that his search would fail--experience had taught her that she didn't have a trigger to her pleasure as many women did. He was frustrated by his inability to find her center of pleasure, intent now only on bringing her to orgasm as her body's reaction stimulated him. The taste of her depths was exquisitely creamy, and the soft gasping breaths that escaped her sent tremors through his sex, now painfully swollen and erect. The muscles of his backside clenched on the crop, which was no longer painful but still kept all the nerves in the sensitive area alive. The hard length within him now even stimulated and excited him--he found himself wishing it was even thicker and deeper in, so it might evoke more of these succulent sensations. The urge to awaken her completely drove him even deeper within her. He braced himself against the table, used both hands to spread her open, and reached inside with his tongue. Both of them were completely unprepared for the reaction as his tongue tip caught the very spot, deep within her, most sensitive to his touch. She felt a rush of pleasure blaze through her like wildfire, igniting every nerve, and lost control utterly with a wordless cry that forced her head back and her hips to rise off the table, pressing into his mouth. Her sudden surrender called for his as well. Unable to restrain himself, he mounted her and drove his shaft in almost violently, over and over. Her warm folds, completely soaked with her lubricating juices, enveloped him tightly yet allowed him to move fluidly in and out of her. He rubbed his shaft along her clitoris between thrusts, feeling the texture of her flesh on the wildly sensitive skin of his manhood. She hadn't planned to allow him to mount her yet, but the intense pleasure had overwhelmed her control. The long hard length of his penis filled her so satisfyingly, the engorged shaft stretching the walls of her channel as he buried himself in her. Unable to deny the ecstatic pulse that was building to an even higher climax within her, Nechayev wrapped her limbs around Picard's muscular, lean frame and pressed their bodies together. Brushing against the crop, still buried in him, she grasped the end and began to work it deeper, thrusting it in just as he thrust himself into her. The exquisite sensations of being penetrated and penetrating met in him, dragging a groan from his throat. For a single timeless moment, the two of them were poised on the brink of orgasm, then his body spasmed and he exploded, filling her with a rush of liquid that toppled her into the surging waves of ecstasy. Several long moments later, Picard felt aftershocks of pleasure run through his body as he lay collapsed on top of his desk beside her. He stared at the ceiling of his ready room, in a state of shock over the experience he'd just undergone. Weakly trying to shift his position, he awakened a thousand sore spots--his cock still throbbed with the pain of being so enlarged and abused, while his buttocks were afire with the pain of the whipping, his opening still raw from the just-removed crop. "'O captain, my captain,'" Nechayev murmured half-consciously, struggling up and looking down on him. Her stress was quite definitely on the possessive. He met her eyes directly, still stunned. "I don't recall being disciplined quite like that ever before," he said faintly. She smiled langorously. "I still didn't give you permission to release, now that I think about it. I really should discipline you some more," she mused, then laughed throatily as his cock responded to the threat by stirring in a valiant attempt to rise and harden. "Oh? You like that idea, hmmm?" His face was flaming as he silently dealt with the new concept of pleasure that she'd introduced him to, the idea of enjoying submission and punishment at her hands, and his body's clear reaction. "Well?" she asked softly. "Would you like me to take you again, my delicious captain?" She took his face in her hands and forced him to look up at her. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely, swallowing with the admission. Delighted, she lowered her face to his for the first time, possessing his mouth with her own in a deep, searching kiss. Her tongue probed every corner, and he lay passively beneath her, opening himself fully to any demands she would make. After suckling his lower lip, she lifted her head and slowly licked her lips in satisfaction, looking over his body. "Lie still," she instructed, wanting to taste all of him. He nodded merely, shut his eyes tightly as if that made it easier to obey her commands. Her mouth moved over his jaw, nibbling and licking all the way down his neck to his chest, where she delicately took his nipple in her teeth and teased it, pulling gently on it, circling with her tongue. An uncontrolled sigh of pleasure broke from him--she could feel it as a tremor beneath her tender mouth. She shifted her lips to his thighs and worked her way up along the inner surfaces, dropping warm, moist kisses on the firm, sensitive flesh until she reached his shaft, already half-erect again. Taking him in her hands, she licked him from base to head in a single stroke, then savored his whole shaft the same way before slowly sliding her lips over his head and suckling him, engulfing the hard penis millimeters at a time until his whole length was in her mouth, throbbing against her tongue. Hips lifting off the table, he groaned wildly, casting off all control. Waves of pleasure obscured his vision as his back arched, fists clenching with her motion as she moved her mouth over him. She tasted the first juices of his body, felt his readiness and eagerly straddled him, positioning him at the gateway of her body. Clasping him firmly, she stroked the folds of her labia with the head of his firm cock, sending delicious shudders up her channel. With aching slowness, she tenderly parted her folds with one hand and tucked the very tip of him into the warm embrace of her vagina. As she paused for an agonizing moment to enjoy the sensations the minimal contact stimulated, he felt her body lubricate her deep cleft, the warm juices trickling delightfully down his shaft. Just when he thought he could bear no more, she poised herself above him and plunged hard in one exquisite motion, taking him in completely a second time, the tight warmth closing on him as she clenched all her inner muscles. The orgasm caught him up, his head fell back, mouth opening in a silent O of ecstasy. He forgot to breathe for a long moment as his body was pulled taut and released almost simultaneously, his climax flooding her waiting depths with a rush that shook her entire body. For all he knew, it might have been hours or instants that he lay, senseless with the aftermath of their.... lovemaking somehow didn't seem to describe the simultaneously disturbing and fulfilling act. She was standing over him, a small triumphant smile hovering about her mouth as she caressed his face gently. He weakly climbed off the table and stood before her, still naked and spent. He would have spoken, but she pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head, smiling. Kissing him deeply one last time, she picked up the crop and moved to go, then paused. "You might want to get out of eyeshot--not that I think anyone on the bridge would _mind_ seeing you like that, but it might be a bit difficult to... maintain discipline," she smiled, "if your crew know what a magnificent specimen you are." Flushing hotly, he walked to the head, looking back at her one last time. "Be good, captain--and I _do_ expect you to have kept up your discipline the next time I see you." With that parting shot, she was gone. Some half-hour later, Picard straightened his uniform and walked onto the bridge. Riker promptly got out of the command chair, trying to keep an inquisitive look off his face, while Deanna was conspicuous by her absence. Picard stared at the chair for a few heartbeats, his well-punished backside burning faintly, feeling dreadfully embarrassed. Clearing his throat, he shook his head at Riker. "No, Number One. You have the conn. Err... I'll be in my quarters, if I'm needed." He quickly turned and hurried to the turbolift, avoiding the startled looks from his bridge crew. >The captain taking off in the middle of his shift? It must've been worse than I thought,< Riker surmised, trying to imagine what had happened. He didn't succeed. THE END