Title: BYZANTINE 5
Author: R Schultz ( cousindream@aol.com )
Fandom: Star Trek
Series: Alternate Universe VOYAGER
Code: f/m, f/f, f/f/f
Pairing: 7/others
Rating: NC-17
Warning! Sex stuff here.
Advertising credits: All anal beads, butt plugs and interactive dildos in this story come to us courtesy of CousinDreamLtd. (Trademark). Including the "Spastic Squirrel" and "Frantic Ferret"(Copyright) Wriggling And Pumping Twisters, presently sold through Risa Imports or your own licensed Replicator. Given four and a half crossed forks by the FFF Michelin Dining Guides. "Gourmet Dining when you use the best from Risa". Descriptions of lesbian sex found here. Deal with it.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Trek. I'm borrowing the characters for fun-type sex. Story mine under Berne Copyright Laws. Over 41,000 words complete, this part 7300 words long, May, 2003.
Warning: You will find herein mention of sex. If this sort of stuff brings forth your indignant condemnation, do not read. Also, all those residing in a thought-free or censored community or country are not allowed to read this. Go away. Your masters have declared smut is bad for you. And they are always right.
Written for Round X of the Femme Fuh-Q Fest and kinky people, will be archived at the ASCEML.
For more great FFF stories, visit http://www.oocities.org/femme_fuhq_fest/
Comments as always to cousindream@aol.com
by R Schultz
[[ CHAPTER FIVE OF SIX ]]
Summary: Seven received a poem months ago. Stuck to her bio-catsuit by an unknown person while she regenerated. She has been investigating. While investigating she has discovered the joys of interpersonal cohabitation. Copulation, in other words. She likes it a lot. Pleasure is not irrelevant. But there are pitfalls when doing it a lot without thought to consequences. Now Seven has gone and done it up right. She's fallen in love. And she's never been in so much pain before. The situation changes and not always for the better.
EINE KLEINE NACHT MUSIK------------------- - - - -
The answers had all been different then. Engaging in copulation was what so many of my fellow crew members wished from me. It had been so simple. I take off my clothes and fornicate. I received pleasure and pleased my many new sexual partners.
I was being successfully assimilated by the human collective. Many loving friends now surrounded me. As a reward for this revelation, I had discovered the intense joys of constant copulation. Pleasure was not irrelevant. It had been easy to believe in this delusion because orgasms were so delightful. So ecstatic.
I was a female Efram Cochrane voyaging into new territory. Sex was wonderful.
Now I -- sit. Alone. I sit in MY chair before MY kitchenette table in MY allocated cabin and contemplate my fate. Sitting is not necessary for me. But all other humans must periodically relieve their legs of strain. For me to learn to gracefully and naturally sit, rather than stand, is to be polite.
Now I sit at my table and know how alone I am. Now I sit and wish I could hear and smell and sense Kathryn Janeway near me.
For an eternity I was popular and loved and wanted. For more than a week I had 'fucked like a bunny'. For twelve days all I had anticipated was the next mouth in my groin, or penis (or dildo) in my vagina. I had nine human, two Bajorans, one half-Klingon, one Bolian, one Talaxian and one Vulcan lover.
Instead of being the cold fish, the perfectionist ex-Borg, the Ice Princess or the pain in the ass, I was the lovely tall blond with the big 'tits' who was happy to spread her legs on the carpet for you.
I had never thought that I would miss being loved and wanted and NEEDED. For once I had been popular, and it excited and pleased me.
Now I sit in my chair naked and attempt masturbation. Sex felt so wonderful then. It was uncomplicated and pleasurable. It now lacks something if it does not include Captain Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway.
I imagine her naked, imagine us as lovers, but it lacks flavor.
My fingers ceased their movements, even though I could recall perfectly the look, the feel, the scent and taste of that short auburn-haired woman who sat so comfortably in her Command Chair on the Bridge. I enjoy remembering how delightful her hair smelled, her skin felt, her look excited. Such changeable blue eyes she has. I wish I could now hold her. I am obsessed.
Masturbation is a banquet with no taste.
Since that climactic day and two nights in Tuvok's cabin, Mister Kim and Commander Chakotay have again enjoyed my body in my new cabin. I have also had four chief petty officers, proving I am no elitist. All thought it bizarre that I did not obtain a bed, if only for the manner in which it made sexual activities more comfortable.
That is illogical. Four regeneration cubicles completely fill the expanded 'bedroom' they created for my cabin. I have no need for a bed. It would also occupy most of my remaining cabin space. I do not need the space, but I must have a small space for my own, so that I might practice societal skills. Entertain visitors socially. Mister Kim suggested I obtain a 'sofa sleeper'. Commander Chakotay has suggested I get a futon mattress and lay it on my floor. I have replied that no one else on the ship sleeps on the floor.
The EMH wants me to 'practice' sleeping. I shall think further on this.
Megan Delaney had refused to copulate on my floor. Therefore we repaired to her cabin, where she peremptorily ordered her sister out of the cabin during the period of our energetic fornication.
The Delaney sisters are also 'switch-hitters'. With them I can once more attain the sensation of pleasurable and uncomplicated sex. We 'fuck like bunnies' for the pleasure of our orgasms, not because it fulfills some neurotic need. I find the Delaney sisters uncomplicated. That is good.
Her sister Jenny was not nearly so reluctant to make the carpet of my cabin the scene of our prolonged and uninhibited lust. She used the term 'our bower of love and lust'. I now prefer that phrase. It is poetic. Poetry is no longer nonsense in my ears. Poetry is relevant.
We both wish our 'bower of love and lust' was not so abrasive on our butts. Human female buttocks are abraded by the carpets on VOYAGER. I am a human female. Our skins are softer than that of males. An ass with 'rug burn' requires repair. It is annoying.
I enjoy caressing female skins. Especially that on Jenny's ass. She has a 'killer ass', according to available data. Very much like B'Elanna's ass. Small and tight, yet soft to the touch. But her personality is nothing like B'Elanna's. That is good.
I miss B'Elanna. She also was unrestrained regarding sex.
Uppermost in my mind, however, are thoughts of how it would be to have the Captain as my lover. I wish I could caress the Captain's soft skin. She also has a 'killer ass'. Giving and soft, yet tight and muscular. I have determined much about Kathryn from simple observation and extrapolation. I might learn more by tapping into Ship's computer files. That would be an invasion of her privacy. That would be unacceptable.
I wish her as my lover, not as a fantasy image.
I have told Jenny and Megan how obsessed I am about the Captain. They have been sympathetic rather than upset. Both understand my feelings towards the Captain. Both have noted they would be eager to copulate with our Captain, if possible. We three think she is 'sexy'. 'Hot'. Nonetheless both have unselfishly stated they shall assist me in my attempt to make her my lover.
Both have separately stated I must be willing to have no other lovers but Captain Janeway, if I am to contemplate long lasting and loving union with her. My estimate meshs with those of Megan and Jenny. This gives me a 98% probability of accurate judgment. I shall carefully plan my moves for bonding with the Captain.
In the meantime I shall fornicate with the twins. They are 'damned good fucks'. Pleasure is not irrelevant.
Jenny likes to curl her legs about mine and rub our groins together. Jenny says she is wet at the slightest hint of having successful sex with me. I also lubricate easily, so long as my sexual partner is female. I believe I am a lesbian.
Jenny and I can both orgasm frequently and hard, when we lock loins. Rubbing our wet groins together is very satisfying.
Unfortunately we usually get carried away on our waves of ecstasy, and end our sessions with rub burn. This is unfortunate but acceptable.
Fortunately Jenny has misappropriated her own regenerator, and with it we soothe our sore and abraded skins afterwards.
We agree that StarFleet should have put in deeper and more comfortable floor coverings within the residential cabins.
Jenny enjoys touching and caressing me. Megan likes to lick me. Both methods of expressing regard and affection are immensely satisfactory. I am sure I am more lesbian than bisexual. I wish I could caress and lick my Captain all over.
Jenny also says she worships my big 'lovely' ass. I feel it is merely 'fat and large'.
Megan worships my immense and cumbersome breasts. My reality does not coincide 100% with either of their realities. Nonetheless it is very pleasing when either one kisses my body or sucks on my nipples. Body licking is good.
Jenny and Megan have bodies more like that of the Captain, excepting for Janeway's beautiful large flowing breasts.
Jenny and Megan both say my body is utterly superb. I believe they both have beautiful bodies as well, with sensitive breasts. Their breasts are smaller than B'Elanna's, but all three women are prone to developing large hard aureoles when excited. That is good.
Jenny studied ballet, but she was much too short for a career. Megan is an engraver. Both are amateur astronomers and historians. We can converse together about many things. They are teaching me to converse. They are also teaching me to dance.
At one time I had not the slightest interest as to my physical appearance, beyond cleanliness for sanitary reasons. At that time I was referred to as the 'Glacier Queen'. I was very confused and feared becoming assimilated by the human collective.
Now I have a wardrobe consisting of seventeen different dresses, two shorts and halter sets and nine pants suit ensembles. Twelve different pairs of shoes or half-boots now sit in my closet. I have underwear sets of matching colors, most with lace or bows. I now enjoy being femme. They say I'm one 'smoking bitch' when I'm 'dolled up'. I enjoy compliments now. I am being assimilated by the human collective. I am enjoying being flawed.
B'Elanna and Susan are aware that they offended me. They are careful when around me. B'Elanna complimented me yesterday. She said I'm no longer 'such a snotty bitch' since our breakup. Both her and Susan have teeth scars on their necks. They are ritually committed to each other.
Tom Paris avoids his ex-wife. Susan and B'Elanna would both enjoy my body in another threesome, but fear for the damage accrued to their relationship in such an event.
When the Captain becomes my lover I also must be monogamous. This is eminently acceptable.
Yet for the moment Megan and Jenny enjoy my body whenever they wish it. I believe their compliments are sincere. Their body 'tells' confirm this. Their temperature, respiration rate, blood circulation, body language and retina patterns match. I am getting very good at telling when a human is lying.
Megan and Jenny have also taught me how to wear minor amounts of make-up to 'enhance' my appearance. Jenny likes to give me a French braid when we go out to Sandrines on a 'date'. We both appear together as femmes. We both wear dresses or skirts.
They love my dresses. They helped me pick them out.
Dresses were designed by men originally, according to available sources. They were created to allow ready and quick access to the woman's private sexual parts, so they might easily copulate.
This is acceptable.
I like to 'show off my body', even knowing it has major flaws. B'Elanna commented in Sandrines that I'm quite 'hot' now. 'Smokin'. The perceptions of others is not irrelevant.
Megan says I am a natural born tease. Jenny agreed, and after two 'dates' convinced me to add underwear when wearing a very short skirt. She says she becomes jealous if I sit on a barstool at Sandrines and 'flash' all the males in the establishment.
Both females enjoy dancing with a tall woman. I enjoy copulating with either female. Sex can still be good. Their sexual encounters with males, in turn, do not bother me.
At least the Delaney sisters do not seem to be jealous of each other. I am wary of encountering a repeat of the debacle I suffered at the hands of B'Elanna and Susan Nicoletti.
For Megan and Jenny Delaney I shall obtain a bed. And for T'Chell. Tomorrow one will be requisitioned.
Many male crew members have propositioned me in the past month. Excepting kind blue-skinned Chell, I have declined all their offers. As a friend I may call him T'Chell.
Chell is a grateful humanoid. He is honest in his gratitude, and willing to learn many new energetic forms of fornication. He loaned me his tunic when I needed it. In return it was I who initiated our infrequent meetings. T'Chell has a female Bolian aboard VOYAGER for companionship, but not for sex. Ensign Golwat is faithful to her faraway husband. Meaning T'Chell has been without the comfort of a female's sexuality throughout our journey in the Delta Quadrant. I, too, can be grateful.
He, as well as the Delaney sisters, are able to have sex with me without expecting me to honor promises I never made to them. They are not as illogical as Mister Kim or B'Elanna.
It has also come to me that I prefer other females as sex partners. Because of this T'Chell also knows I will not always be there when he wants a female. We have discussed this matter. He knows I 'like' women. Things change. We both will move on.
I cannot discuss this matter with Mister Kim. He still wants me to be 'his' woman. I am not a thing to be owned.
Commander Chakotay, on the other hand, is not possessive. I am useful as a valued member of the crew. I am useful as a female to copulate with. But he does not love me.
I should be grateful for his lack of possessiveness. But I am not.
How bitter it is to be a member of the human collective. I have learned the pleasure of orgasms, and have also learned that I prefer females now, and always have. It is most particularly bitter to learn that I prefer the one singular female who has denied me. My lovely Captain.
Somehow I must repair this deficiency. For this night I shall repair to the regeneration cubicles now standing in my 'bedroom'. Tomorrow will be a new day.
TURBOLIFT MUZAK--------------------------- - - - -
Exactly on time. I instructed Computer to be silent now, and was calm by the time the lift doors opened for Captain Janeway.
She came to the rear of the lift, alongside me, but with the length of her arm still between us.
"William Shakespeare once wrote a poem complaining about a great beauty he once knew," I began. "His poem stated how fair she was, but what a waste it was for her not to allow herself to be approached by those about her." The Captain should remember the poem if she is the one responsible for attaching it to my chest.
"You left that poem on my bosom, didn't you." It was not a question. She at first evaded my eyes, then stared back at me. She did not answer, but we both knew the answer to be yes.
Whether she had thought through her actions and thoughts, she had wanted me out of my emotional and sexual shell. Her conscious mind might deny it, but her inner self had already been willing to have me be an emotional creature, a sexual creature. She had issued me an invitation to be a sexual being.
Months ago the Captain wished me to come out of my shell. She wanted me to take my next steps into becoming assimilated by the human collective. The Captain was desiring me when she hinted I should become a player in the delectable dance of emotions.
She wanted me, even then. Not openly, not even to herself. The more recessed component of her mind invited me to become sexually accessible to her. Available data gives that particular supposition a 62% probability of being completely accurate.
"Seven," she warned, "I told you once before that I expect you to treat the past as something which never occurred."
"That is illogical," I replied, turning to look directly at her. "It happened, and I am bound to tell you that it has forever altered our relationship."
"Are you telling me that you're going to be both a pest and make an ass of yourself, Seven?"
"Yes. I have already been an ass for attempting to treat you
as something other than what you are.'
Pause. "And what is that, Seven?"
"The woman I love," I replied. "You are the one woman in this entire universe whose sight is enough to make my heart pound faster and make my knees become weak."
Not an exaggeration, but a literal description of fact. It bothers me to be weak in her presence. Available data suggests this might be a life-long condition if I am successful in making her my mate. It is acceptable.
"I think of you constantly, I dream of you constantly, I wish to be near you constantly...."
"Sounds to me like you're obsessed."
"I am." As we spoke I had come to stand in front of the Captain, and much closer than was my wont. I gazed into her eyes and leaned forward to her.
Janeway knew what I was offering, what I was about to do.
"Seven!" she commanded. "You will cease and desist...." Her mouth voiced restraint, but she waited for me to close those last few millimeters between her lips and mine.
It is highly likely that Kathryn is willing to be courted and wooed by me so long as I fulfill the role of the male. An agreeable and pliable male, but a male nonetheless. Data suggests this rationalization is both archaic and quaint in this era's standards of a lesbian relationship. This is acceptable.
I shall be her 'almost-butch' in our personal relations. The 'dom', the initiator in sexual matters. Within the greater universe of VOYAGER she will remain my Captain and my leader. This dichotomy is apparent but not real.
My lips barely touched hers, yet it was sufficient to quiet her. I inhaled the perfume of her clean soapy hair, the hints of sweat which a sensitive nose such as mine can still bring up on the cleanest human. I could barely taste on my tongue the thin aura of person which outlines the species, if you are sensitive enough to detect it. My ears could hear the quickening flush of her blood in her system, the pump of her small strong heart, the rush of air through her lungs.
My bionic eye could see the deep changeable blue of her retina as no other human might. My artificial hand could perceive her rising temperature, when I brushed the back of it against her neck. I inhaled the aromatic tells of her anticipation and pre-arousal. Kathryn was excited by my holding her.
I tasted her lips.
Her heart beat speeded, her breath caught, her temperature rose, her skin exuded warmer fluids, her eyes did not move from mine when she opened them again.
"Seven," she softly said, "you must stop this."
"I will not," I returned. I placed my lips against hers again, my eyes closing when hers did. I pushed hard enough with my lips that she could feel it when I carefully ground my mouth against hers. She inhaled deeply when we broke the 'clinch'.
"I love you."
"No," she breathed.
We kissed again, without me forcing my lips against hers, without hurting or bruising, with me inhaling the air straight from her lungs as her mouth and my tongue first touched her lips.
"Yes," I said, drawing back to gaze into her transfixing eyes. "Yes. I love you, Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway."
My hands left her sides and I slipped one hand behind her head and the other to her back, between arm and side. She accepted my caresses and closed her eyes for our next kiss.
"We can't," she moaned. "I am your Captain, and for the good of the ship you must obey me...."
"Anything you wish," I answered, "so long as it allows me to continue to love you. It is illogical to deny your response to my caresses. You are excited by my touch, my kisses, my presence...."
"I am merely upset," she blurted. "Nothing more."
"That is not true," I continued. "You want me. You want my kiss. You want my touch, my body, and I want yours."
We kissed once more, with her mouth slightly open for my lips, my tongue tip. I licked one soft thin lip, tasting the exquisite flavor of her self, inhaling the warm aura of her flesh.
"We must stop," she moaned. But her hands held me close now, her fingers strong on the sleeves of my catsuit. I licked her chin.
"The turbolift..."
"....Is programmed to delay our arrival on the bridge," I said into her ear before my tongue tip caressed it. What a delightful ear she has! Created just so that my tongue might savor it!
"We have this moment together. We have this small segment of time in which to understand a few small truths."
"I am your Captain," she said into the hollow of my throat before she kissed it.
"And the mistress of my fate," I added. "I am shipwrecked and alone on an island of loneliness. Please, please, Kathryn, save me."
We were holding each other, tightly. She murmured nonsense words as my hands roamed her strong back, her wonderful auburn hair, her fragile skin, her delicate neck.
"Please," she begged. "Do not do this, Seven...."
"I must," I said. "Or I shall perish."
Such words for me to use! I have been assimilated into the human collective, and the insanity and confusion of my imprecise words are the proof of it.
At one time the words of love-struck poets and swooning writers were syllabic trash in my ears. Useless impediments in the computerized memory of my analytical mind. Now they are veins of diamonds to be mined for their shiniest gems.
"Seven, Seven, Seven," she said into my chest; surely she must hear my rapidly beating heart. "We can't do this. I shan't allow it, I won't let you."
"We shall do it." I was relentless. Kathryn's resolve was breaking as I touched and kissed and caressed. It would be illogical to relent when the alternative must be my unnecessary pain. No, when the alternative must be our mutual pain.
"But we shall do it one step at a time," I said. She looked up at me with some confusion in her eyes.
"May I see you tonight?" I asked. Silence while she digested this latest input.
"Are you asking me out on a date?" she asked in turn. Kathryn would enjoy having a date. I breathed 28% more easily knowing she had just crossed over the line into a universe where she admitted to herself that I was a possible lover, or even a mate.
"Yes," I returned. "We might go to Sandrines. Or they have Jean Sabin films this week on Holodeck Three. Or I should like to visit you in your cabin, if that is preferred. May I do that tonight?"
"A date," she mumbled, her hands still holding my sleeves. "I'm getting much too old for this, I really am...." She stood back, releasing me, and I took her stance as a suggestion for me to cease holding her.
"But if that's what you want, Seven, then we shall try it." My wishes are irrelevant. Her wishes, even those unspoken ones, must have first priority.
I remember a sardonic phrase; "She has a whim of steel."
Kathryn caressed my arm for a second more before continuing. "Then you have a date. My place, 1730 tonight?"
"With bells on," I replied. She looked at me askance.
"Did you just try to make a joke?"
"Yes. Jenny and Megan Delaney have been trying to teach me how. They have been very helpful."
Her brow darkened. "And just what is your relationship with the sisters Delaney?"
Immediately she shook a hand in the air. "Never mind. I've heard already about you three," she said. "Maybe we should cancel this date, Seven. I don't think I am the type that shares lovers easily, or can live as part of a damned dykey harem."
"Megan, Jenny, and Ensign T'Chell, and all others have already been informed that our relationships have been abrogated."
"Terminated?"
"If you will have nothing to do with me, I shall relapse into the solitary state which I no longer think I might tolerate."
"Seven," she said, her brow furrowing, "Just because YOU want me to ... to be your gal, that doesn't mean I absolutely positively WILL BE ... anything. To you."
"Understood,' I replied. "This is just a date. Nothing more."
I might hope for more, much more; but with Kathryn I have to be very patient. I had discovered my other lovers had been easier to shed than I had thought they would be.
Mister Kim was verbally abusive at first, but had quieted before I left him. On the other hand Commander Chakotay was calm, already knowing we would never have a long-term relationship.
T'Chell was tearful, as were the Delaney sisters. Protestations that I should always hope for their friendship met with a happier response. Jenny begins my Harp lessons tomorrow, as per previous scheduling. Megan Delaney continues my dancing lessons.
Through assimilated memories I already know how to play the harp. But knowing in theory and actual practice are two differing knowings. It shall take many hundreds of hours of practice to allow my fingers to do what my mind commands. Fortunately Megan is patient. Megan is a friend.
Jenny and Megan are good friends. But I had already understood that my hoped-for romance with Captain Janeway was going to have to occur with no or few distractions.
Which is eminently acceptable. I, in turn, want her to have no other love interest but me. I shall have to be wary of becoming either possessive or jealous. I shall succeed. I must.
Available data states a single one-on-one relationship has the best chances of survival. I shall accomplish this. There is no room for failure.
Before exiting onto the Bridge we each checked our appearances. Unsaid was the presumption that for the moment our dating was to be without undue attention being drawn to it.
Despite outward protestations the Federation is still wary and dismissive of same-sex relationships. I shall be discreet. The Captain has legitimate concerns for her career or social status if the perception is that she is having a lesbian romance. This is illogical, but a reality nonetheless.
I wished we could exit the Turbolift holding hands and giving words of endearment to each other. Such is not to be.
As Kathryn sat in her Command Chair, I believe Commander Chakotay had a sudden flash of insight when he saw us together. He quickly faced forward, but I think he already understood.
COUNTERPOINT----------------- - - - - - - -
Despite what she had heard about my disastrous encounter with Ensign Chapman, Kathryn gamely acceded to my request for a dance when I showed up at her cabin for our first date.
I arrived with two little bells pinned to my neckline. I did indeed arrive with bells on. Kathryn remembered and laughed. She detached the bells and laid them on her little wall shelf.
Kathryn had liked my dress. It was the same one I had worn for my date with Ensign Chapman. Lavender, mid-thigh length, exposing a generous swath of my breasts. Once I had wished the EMH might have been able to reduce my breasts from their present overly large volume to a more manageable size, but I now did not wish to be other than what I was. I must always be me. I must be honest.
Also, I have no skills at subterfuge.
However I did use a little make-up and a dab of "Black Rose" behind each ear and on my pulse points. That perfume was one of four recommended by the Delaney sisters.
It was extremely awkward being in Kathryn's presence. I am constantly aware of her biomagnetic aura, and its polarities impinge on me the closer I come to her small gracefulness. When inside her cabin, I immediately brought out from my shoulder bag a small but long wooden box with brass fixtures and trim. She held it in both hands, and a flush darkened her face and brow. She looked up at me askance, and asked me what was in it.
"Please," I replied. "Open it and see."
She stood there for almost a minute, weighing its contents. Not understanding her reluctance, I stated that it was a single orange rose. She then gratefully opened it, inhaling the scent.
It was my turn to become flushed of face (how human I was now!) when I realized she had thought it might be a sex toy of some type.
She put it in a bud vase, and invited me to have a drink.
I asked for a small glass of food supplement number four. She asked for a flute of tart yellow Vulcan Chablis with ice chips in it. As she stood in front of the replicator, I came close enough to her to kiss the bare neck beneath her light loose auburn hair.
She stiffened as I touched her with my lips, but did not say anything.
I loved her black Cossack pants and white sleeveless fore-and-aft blouse. B'Elanna has a pants and blouse outfit not far from it in appearance in her own closet. I shall not mention that.
I could easily look down the front of Kathryn's simple blouse and note the soft beauty of her large unrestrained breasts. When she handed me my drink, I allowed us to come closer, until we touched. She spiked for me. I spiked for her.
Kathryn was fearful, but was game. We were dating. Never mind that we were both beautiful females, we were dating. She had dressed with a touch of provocative flair. Just for me.
I asked her to dance, and as I said earlier, she agreed. Kathryn had sat down her aromatic wine, but not without the trembling of her hand being evident. With a studied poise she then opened her arms to me.
We played a little unsure ballet for a few seconds, and then my hand went behind her waist and I led. I must always remember I must be slightly masculine and aggressive when alone with Kathryn. Very mildly dom, but nothing glaring or harsh. It is important to her that in the privacy of her arms I be the aggressor. Something I must do to help put Kathryn at ease.
After all these many years in command, I estimate Kathryn is more than willing to relinquish some of the trappings of command, so long as it is done discreetly and not overtly. Yet any relinquishing of command must be for appearances only. Unconsciously she wishes always to be 'in the driver's seat'. She is sincere, however, in wishing to shed some of the responsibility of her existence.
She also wants me to be soft, feminine and alluring.
Her responses are dichotomous and mutually contradictory. She wishes her lovers to be masculine and in charge, but she wants to remain in charge. She wants me to be beautiful and soft but aggressive and male. Available data suggests the Captain desires all this when contemplating a female lover.
This will not be easy. Yet it is attainable.
The computer let soft dance music waft upon the air. String instrumentals by deMurrey and Vritliners came one by one as we slowly came to dance closer and closer. The scent and feel of Kathryn excited me.
I called the lights down, bit by bit, and Kathryn let her breasts and head nestle against me. I kissed her fingers and she did not object. I kissed her ear and she did not object. I kissed her wondrous neck and she did not object.
I kissed her on her lips, and she moaned for me.
But when I crouched and licked the hollow of her throat, she weakly protested.
"Too fast," she complained. "We're moving much, much, much, much, much too fast..." Her nipple was spiking into my hand, but I paused. I looked her in her eyes as she tried to be coherent, forceful, demure, and declining of my loving, my lust.
I could have had her body for the squeeze of a single hand upon her soft breast. But I desisted. She asked it of me. She is the Captain of my heart. I would die for her. That is not a cliché but a truth.
My lips touched her closed eyelids, but we once more returned to the dance. We were playing to more than one tune here, but it was acceptable. The Captain, my Kathryn, wanted to go slow. Be deliberate. Careful.
I could wait. I had breathed in deep the scent of Kathryn's intense sexual arousal. For the first time I felt our love was destined and foretold.
We returned to our drinks, taking them to her couch. When I attempted to kiss her again, she suggested again that MAYBE things were indeed moving much too fast.
We returned to dancing. I suggested the Tango, and Kathryn delightedly agreed. The dance was energetic, but fortunately my dress rode high enough so that my movements were unrestrained. My orange rose was entrancing when held between her teeth.
She bit through it when I licked her neck.
She stated once more that we were moving too fast. She was sweaty, shaking, and unsure. I called it a night, and her eyes showed gratitude for my tact. I hoped she would masturbate furiously once I had left her alone.
I am acquiring an imagination. A pornographic one at that. How extraordinary.
When I was leaving, however, Kathryn did allow me to kiss her again. On the lips. I carefully restrained my moves. My acute sense of smell and hearing told me she was indeed ready for us to engage in copulation.
But this was on one level. Part of her still resisted the idea. Or at least resisted the idea of our making love tonight. Or she was resisting the idea of engaging in an almost-forbidden lesbian liaison.
The Captain was in the midst of a crisis, and only part of her was ruled by her body. And only part of her was ruled by her mind, her learned disciplines, her acquired restraint.
Yet I retained hope of a favorable outcome. Hope is a flawed and imprecise emotion, often lacking any basis in reality. It is disconcerting to realize my partial success in becoming assimilated by the human collective means I am flawed.
So be it. I shall, nonetheless, succeed in wooing Kathryn. I exited her cabin when my neuronic line to Computer stated the corridor outside her cabin was empty of crew members. I shall be discreet. My Captain wishes it of me.
TWO PART HARMONY-------------------------- - - - -
It was almost the start of Alpha shift. I had chosen the time carefully. The Captain was still seated in her chair with her morning coffee when I entered her cabin. I crossed until I stood in front of her. Her mouth dropped open three centimeters before she shut it with a snap. I performed a pirouette for her, letting her get the full effect of my black-with-blue-shoulders issue uniform. As per regulation dress codes, it was moderately loose.
"I am still wearing my biosuit, but it is underneath this. Do you approve of my new look? I want to be more properly a member of this ship's crew, and it is impossible to do so if I am recognizable from a thousand meters away as the 'Borg bitch'."
"Quite a change," the Captain finally admitted. "Very elegant. But are you sure about this? It might be construed as your operating under a false flag by some people."
"Some people might feel better if I am seen no longer as the one with the license to dress as she feels."
"Logical," Kathryn admitted, finishing her coffee. "And what rank do you think I should throw on your collar, seeing as how you're completely off the lists so far as chain of command goes?"
"That is your choice," I answered. "But if I am a 'Special Cadet' I am then IN the chain of command, but I don't have the officer rank which allows me to tell anyone else what to do. I feel that is a logical placement for me. Too many people still resent me for you to issue me any real rank, even temporarily."
Standing, she came closer to me. That is good. She can allow herself to be near me now.
"That might work," she admitted. "For now. We'll see about the future." Then she gave me her quirky little smile.
"Knowing you, you wouldn't happen to have on hand the appropriate cadet rank to attach to your collar would you?"
I handed them to her. She came closer to pin the minor rank to me. I leaned forward to her, giving her a few seconds to back up if she wished. She didn't, so I finished the movement and kissed her. Her hand went to the back of my head, caressing my tight bun.
"May I have another kiss?" I asked once she released my head.
""And if I allow you to do that?" Kathryn asked.
"Then I shall kiss you again."
"Alpha shift begins in a few minutes," she said. I loved the darling little quirky smile she could sometimes paint upon her lips.
"Then we should hurry," I replied. Her head bent up to mine.
ENTER STAGE CENTER---------------------- - - - - -
A silence descended upon the Bridge as I went to my Astrometrics station. The Captain was still carrying her thermos of coffee, and carefully observed everyone else observing me.
"Center stage, Seven," she commanded. "On the quick."
I came to stand in front of the large viewing screen, looking at my fellow Bridge team mates. Holding my arms straight out, I did two pirouettes for them. Showing off my new image.
"I see rank pips on her collar," Commander Chakotay said.
"At her own request," Janeway intoned, "Seven of Nine is now Cadet Seven. More properly Cadet Hansen, but as we all already know her as Seven, we'll leave it at that.
"And it was her own idea, I might add," the Captain noted.
Lieutenant Paris had to make his own observation, of course.
"Very nice," he said, "but it's such a shame to hide that lovely figure of yours underneath drab old StarFleet threads. We licentious males will miss the old Seven." he smiled wide, making everyone aware he was making a joke, a funny. He wasn't, but the smile was to take the sting out of it.
"Did you enjoy watching my body cavort in that catsuit, Mister Paris?" I asked. I purposefully did not use the word 'jiggle'.
"Well, now that you mention it, Seven, yeah." That smile again.
It is acceptable that Tom Paris wanted to 'jump my bones'. Most of the males aboard wished to engage in copulation with the overly large breasted ex-drone. And a few of the females. My bio-catsuit was blatantly sexually provocative, and I now knew it. Part of the reason I would now wear an issue uniform was to signal everyone that the big Borg Super-Bitch was no longer available as a sexual partner. Not even to look at.
I was also signaling the Captain that this big Borg Super-Bitch was now for the viewing of Kathryn Janeway exclusively.
With one exception.
"If you enjoyed viewing my body move, Mister Paris, come to the Gym at 1645 hours Zulu. I'll give you a last look."
Not to tease. Not entirely to tease. Though Jenny Delaney was right. I am indeed a tease.
This sudden impulse was also to say thank you to all those who had at least desired my body during all those long years when I had no one to call my own. Particularly Mister Paris, who irritated me 922 times but yet always was willing to give me a helping hand when I needed it. Or didn't need it, in 214 instances.
I also wanted to tease the Captain. 1645 hours was usually when she arrived at the Gym for her own daily workout. I shall have to consult with Jenny or Megan or B'Elanna as to what to wear. Or barely wear.
A' CAPELLA--------------------------- - - - - - -
Word had spread. The gym was full, and the overflow had puddled in the corridor outside.
Jenny Delaney preceded me and Megan followed as I stalked towards the always open Gymnasium. They said they wouldn't miss this show for all the gold-pressed Latinum on DS9.
A hush fell on the waiting corridor-waiters, and it immediately spread to the inside of the Gym. B'Elanna and Susan were in matching skin-tight crimson leotards. A similar outfit with leggings was worn by little Miral. Naomi and her mother were in matching electric blue sweats, identical in shade to one of my previous catsuits. Standing with her arms folded was the Captain, in her usual leotard and sweat pants, her customary burgundy scarf wrapped dramatically as a sweat band around her head. She was waiting outside the door, pulling Tom Paris erect. Actually Mister Paris was erect as soon as he saw me. It showed.
My body stocking was designed to be both demure and provocative. Stirrups kept it under my bare feet, and it existed in one piece all the way to my neckband. But it was a dull milky white, and it clung. My breasts were lifted and controlled, covered in a few graceful pleats, but the nipples were more apparent than they ever had been in my bio-catsuits. Also my breasts could now 'jiggle' and sway in synch with my movements.
Unlike my catsuits, however, it was apparent that my safely covered mound and groin was that of a humanoid female. From the rear the effect was more startling. It appeared as if I was wearing nothing underneath an article of clothing which clung to me as if it had been painted on. Which was an accurate summation. I was wearing no undergarments.
My sexual parts were masked, barely. I had come to kill, not to exercise. That is me. One 'killer bitch'. I am indeed a tease.
The Captain stood in front of me, never losing her undoubtedly painful grip on Mister Paris' arm. She deliberately looked me up and down, stepping back a pace to visually investigate my not-quite-revealing groin.
"Enjoy the view, Mister Paris," the Captain intoned, "because Cadet Seven is never, never, never, NEVER to almost wear that garment in public again." Mister Paris looked feverish. So did most of the other males and five females. Kathryn ALMOST let the one side of her mouth quirk upwards, but repressed the motion.
"We DO have an understanding, Cadet Seven, do we not? You haul that ass of yours into that gym and do the damned exercises we all know you don't need and then you're damned well under confinement to quarters for two weeks. For conduct unbecoming a StarFleet officer. And you're never going to flaunt that ridiculous article of clothing in public again. Never ever, ever, so help you or I'll toss you in the brig for a year!"
She gave me Command Glare Number Three from a distance of eight centimeters. With no hint of a grin to her now.
"Do you understand, Cadet?"
"Perfectly, Captain."
"You're supposed to say 'Aye, Aye'."
"Aye, Aye, Captain." She glared at me for seven more seconds, making sure I was not finding any of this humorous.
Kathryn is gorgeous when she's mad. She's SUCH a cute Dom!