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Summary: A follow-up to the episode "Blood Fever."
Warning: Moderate BDSM and rough sex.
Feedback welcomed and encouraged.
"Careful What You Wish
Copyright (c) 1997
I can't use what I can't
and I can't stop when it comes to you . . .
I came to cut you up
I came to knock you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
I came to shut you up
I came to drag you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
--Garbage, "Vow," Almo Records, 1995
As he was walking down the corridor at the end of his shift, Tom Paris felt a hand grasp him suddenly on the arm.
"Did you mean what you said today in the turbolift?" demanded B'Ellana Torres abruptly.
"Did I mean what I said about what?" asked Paris, with a forced casualness.
"About my 'big, scary Klingon side,' Lieutenant," growled Torres, her lips inches away from Paris' ear.
"Oh, that!" said Paris with an assumed dismissive tone. Then he glanced back at the Chief Engineer and said quietly, "Yes, I did mean it. Still do."
"Really?" asked Torres as a note of vulnerability crept into her voice.
"Really, Lieutenant. You nearly flayed the flesh off my bones. I don't say foolish and dangerous things unless I mean them."
"Then, come on!" declared Torres and steered Paris rapidly to her quarters. As soon as the doors hissed shut, she pushed him up against the nearest wall, yanked his arms over his head, and deliberately reopened the wound on his cheek. She then kissed him hard, plunging her tongue into his mouth, then sucking his lower lip into her own and biting it so that she drew blood.
"You certainly don't waste your time, Lieutenant," muttered Paris, licking the blood off his lip and revelling in the taste and the sensation.
"No, I don't. And neither do you, apparently," said Torres, brushing her hand roughly over the increasingly apparent bulge in Paris' pants. "Why didn't you get that healed?" she asked, indicating the wound in his cheek.
"I liked it."
Torres smiled. "I think this is going to be fun, Lieutenant. So get those clothes off, now!"
"Yes, Ma'am!" replied Paris.
"I like that!" remarked Torres, as she watched Paris strip and then began to circle him in a predatory fashion. He was extremely aware of his nakedness, his erection, and the fully-clothed state of his companion. She suddenly stopped behind him, yanked his arms behind his back, and sunk her teeth into this shoulder. Paris gasped from the pain, but Torres continued sucking and gnawing methodically while keeping a firm grip on his wrists. Paris wriggled, but did not put up much of a fight. His entire body was rigid, and the pain seemed to shoot straight through to his erect cock, but as the deliberate assault continued, he willed himself to relax into it. "Oh, yessss," breathed Torres in his ear, "that's a gooood boy." She latched on again with her teeth, and the pain pulsed through Paris' now compliant and receptive body. When she was done, she stepped back to admire her handiwork, commenting, "Bruises show up nicely on that pale flesh of yours, Lieutenant. Come look."
She dragged him into the bedroom and over to a mirror. He craned his neck, looking over his shoulder into the mirror, and took in his breath sharply at the sight of the dark purple bruise swelling on his shoulder. If it was at all possible, his cock stiffened even more. She dragged him over to the bed, pushed him down on it unceremoniously and straddled his stomach, bending over to kiss him, nibble on his neck, and pinch his nipples. So far, she had restrained her violence, he realized. Everything she did was executed with cool deliberation. Paris shuddered at the thought that she would eventually let loose, while smiling internally to himself at the thought at the same time.
Torres paused to push Paris' arms above his head, then asked, "Can you keep them there, or do you want to be restrained?"
"Whatever pleases you, Lieutenant," answered Paris bravely.
"That's what I like to hear, Tom. I think I'll make you responsible for holding still this time. We'll save the cuffs for another time. They'll look so fine against your white skin." Paris nodded, one hand grasping the other wrist on the pillow above his head. Torres growled softly, murmuring, "I just want to devour you, Lieutenant; do you know that?"
"I . . . uh . . . was getting that impression."
Suddenly gentle, she sat up and stroked his cheek. "I'll stop if you want me to."
Paris gazed directly into her eyes. "I don't want you to, B'Ellana. I knew what I was getting into." Then he grinned. "Ravish me, lady, I'm all yours."
She closed her eyes momentarily and moaned, overcome. She had wanted this, far longer than she was willing to admit. Had wanted just that--to ravish Lieutenant Tom Paris' tender, pale flesh, to bite and scratch and rend him, to control him and hurt him, to see him melting under her harshest touch, and to leave him wanting more. She dug her nails hard into the soft skin of his upper arms and bent down to push her tongue between the lips that parted so willingly for her. She moved her head back and forth, fiercely probing Tom's mouth with her tongue, while he squirmed beneath her hips, his erection nudging her still-clothed buttocks from behind.
After kissing him breathless and biting new wounds into his lower lip, she raised herself over Tom's eager member, and straddled his legs, pinning them together. For a moment, he had an impulse to reach down to touch her, but remembered he was to keep his hands above his head. He sighed, mentally surrendering further, putting himself willingly into B'Ellana's rough hands. She raked down his sides with her nails several times, then reached up and began pinching the tender flesh under his arms, giving a little twist with her fingertips as she released each spot she pinched. Her hands then moved down to his waist, where she repeated the same operation, pinching and twisting Tom's pale skin and leaving small pink marks. Then, of course, his nipples caught her attention. She pinched and pulled and twisted them, shooting liquid bolts of pain to her victim's erect and aching cock. Finally she appeared to notice it bobbing in front of her. She scooted further down his legs and slowly pinched her way up the underside of his cock, the pain so sharp it brought tears to his eyes. "Want me to stop, Paris?" she demanded.
"No, Ma'am," he gasped.
"Hmm, you do seem to like it," she noted, catching a bit of the clear fluid that seeped out of the head of his penis with her finger and rubbing into the spots she had just been tormenting.
"Aaaagghh . . . " groaned Tom as she began pinching his cock again. An impulse flew through his brain to move his hands down to protect himself from the pain, but he grasped his wrist all the more firmly with the other hand and floated down to yet another layer of surrender. He had been trying to maintain a pose of flippant invulnerability, but doing so was becoming increasingly less important. Yet he was still far from having surrendered entirely. He felt a hard knot of resistance in his chest that protected him from being completely opened up and exposed.
B'Ellana had turned her attention to his balls, nipping them lightly with her fingernails, while delivering an occasional hard pinch to the head of his penis. She suddenly bent down and took it into her mouth, grazing the already-sensitive underside with her teeth, occasionally shocking him with a sharp, but very controlled bite, and teasing him with swirls of her tongue, while her nails dug into his buttocks sharply. Her attentions were too varied and unpredictable to allow him to come, and he squirmed restlessly. "Patience, Lieutenant!" she snapped, releasing his cock and smacking it roughly. Tom groaned in agony. She slid further down the bed, shoving his legs apart impatiently. Then she began to devour him in earnest, sinking her teeth into the flesh of one thigh and sucking a new bruise into existence, while pinching the other thigh with her fingers, occasionally pausing to switch sides. This time, her assault was swift and merciless. The combination of bites and hard pinches was painful and relentless, giving him no time to recover in between as B'Ellana growled over his thighs like a starving lioness. Tears were running down the sides of his face, and his need to give in and his need to resist warred furiously with one another inside his aching chest.
She jumped off him suddenly, declaring, "Well, I've had enough of these!" She tugged off her clothes, an act which was received by Tom with a long wolf whistle. B'Ellana straddled his chest, grasped his cheek with one hand and delivered a sharp slap to the other cheek with the other. "Behave, Paris, or I'll really start playing heavy."
"Yes, Ma'am!" he breathed, shocked both at the momentary surge of fury he had felt from being slapped and from the spiralling feeling of submission that washed over him immediately afterward.
"You know, Lieutenant, I've been just lavishing attention on you," remarked B'Ellana. "I think it's time you did something for me."
"It would be a privilege," said Tom, letting only the slightest hint of his burgeoning frustration slip into his voice.
"I'm glad to hear it," replied B'Ellana with a smile that lit up her face and wrapped itself around Tom's heart. She moved up on her hands and knees so that her breasts swung just over his face. "They're wanting attention." She positioned one nipple over Tom's mouth, and he eagerly sucked it into his mouth, drawing it out to full length with his assiduous ministrations. She began breathing harder and more rhythmically, and suddenly pulled her breast away from his mouth and replaced it with the other one. Tom contentedly sucked and nibbled until she pulled away again.
"Let's see what else you can do with that tongue of yours, Paris," said B'Ellana. "Move your arms." He complied, and she raised herself and moved so that she was now straddling his face. Tom breathed in the heady aroma eagerly as her wetness spread over his face. He began licking delicately, lightly circling and flicking her clit with his tongue and tracing the insides of her lips. Again he noticed her harsh rhythmic breathing becoming louder. A low growl was emerging from her throat, and she swayed slightly over him. He plunged his tongue into her cunt, and it was like a musky stream. Her growling was becoming more impatient, and he returned his attentions to her clit, licking first in tight circles and then in long broad strokes until the growls lengthened into a shriek, and she came, drenching his face with her fluids.
"Nice work, Paris," she gasped. "Get your hands back over your head." Tom instantly complied, and B'Ellana maneuvered herself down so that she was poised immediately over his cock.
"Oh, God, please, yes, B'Ellana!" wailed Paris. "Please!"
She smiled. "Well, since you beg so nicely." She positioned him with one hand, then slid smoothly down onto his cock, enfolding it in liquid warmth. While moving very slowly back and forth, she bent down to bite each of his nipples sharply, producing a drop of blood each time.
"Pleeeeeeease!" whined Tom, unable to bear the slow, deliberate movement of her body up and down his cock and even more aroused by the blood.
B'Ellana growled again fiercely, covered Tom's mouth with her own, kissing him violently, while she began rocking on him hard. Her fingers were tightly laced in his hair, and his lip was bleeding freely from her bites. Her hips pumped with increasing speed, and the pressure built up . . . and up . . . and up inside him, and she came, grinding against him hard, and rode him right over the top as every nerve in his body seemed to erupt as he climaxed.
B'Ellana then lay down on top of him, and pulled his arms down around her, her head resting on his shoulder. They both lay motionless, clasped together, as their breathing slowed. After several minutes, B'Ellana slid carefully off of Tom and collapsed next to him. He rolled onto his side and murmured, "I feel like you've put me through a meat grinder, Lieutenant," as he contemplated the numerous bruises, marks, and spots of drying blood that decorated his body.
"Don't think I'm finished with you, Paris," she replied. "I haven't gotten all the way through to you yet, and I won't be satisfied until I turn you inside out." Tom's eyes grew wide. It was true. That knot of resistance remained in his chest. "And I know exactly what I'm going to do about it," she continued, then paused. "Do you trust me, Tom Paris? Will you let me take you, really take you?" she asked, her voice and demeanor entirely serious.
"I do trust you, B'Ellana," he whispered, frightened. "But I don't know if I can let you all the way in."
"You leave that up to me, Lieutenant," she said with a grin. "I want you on your knees and elbows, now!" Mutely he complied, as a slow realization began to break in his mind.
"B'Ellana, you're not . . . "
"Yes, I am, unless you ask me not to."
Tom's mind was racing. To be taken . . . like that . . . by a woman? His prior experiences in that area had not been of the kind to make him eager to be on the receiving end of anal sex, and he knew B'Ellana wouldn't be gentle. Hardly.
"I want you to give this to me, Tom. I want you to let me in," purred B'Ellana. "But I have to know you want it."
Tom felt the knot in his chest begin to loosen slightly. He took a couple of deep breaths, and whispered, "Yes, B'Ellana I want it."
She smiled triumphantly. "Want what, Paris?"
"I want you to fuck me, Lieutenant Torres. Hard."
"Then just wait there, Paris. But arch your back and spread those legs some more. It's much prettier that way."
His face flushed with humiliation, but he noticed his cock stiffening at the same time. He heard B'Ellana fiddling with straps behind him, and then she walked up to the head of the bed, wearing an intimidatingly large, smooth, black cock in a black leather harness. "You . . .uh . . . like them big," he muttered.
"Would you expect anything less of me, Tom?" she laughed. "Only the best. Now kiss it."
He turned enough to reach it as she leaned over the bed and kissed the tip, feeling a surge through his own cock as he did so. B'Ellana then climbed up behind him on her knees, then said, "By the way, I thought I'd warm you up first."
Her hand descended on his buttocks with a resounding smack, and he yelped. He had never doubted B'Ellana's physical strength, and as she spanked first one cheek and then the other, he was both surprised and embarrassed at how much it hurt. Of course the position he was in stretched the skin tightly, but she was also smacking him extremely hard. It stung, it burned, it was intensely humiliating, and it made his cock dance with arousal. "Do you like it?"
"No!" he exclaimed. "Yes, yes, I do, yes, B'Ellana, yes!"
"Good boy. Five more on each side." She delivered the promised blows with a sure and relentless hand. His ass was on fire, throbbing and burning all over. "Now, Tom Paris," she said, "I'm going to make you mine."
He felt a finger probing the entrance to his body, slipping wetly around the rim and realized she had captured the moisture from her own cunt. Just the very tip of her finger slid inside then paused, while she waited for him to relax his muscles. When he did, she rewarded him by fucking him slowly with one finger. She then drew it out, picked up a tube of clear lubricant she had stashed strategically on the bed, squeezed some on her fingers, then slid two inside him. When they withdrew, Paris clenched his whole body with anxiety. He craned around to watch her lubricating the dildo, recapping the tube and tossing it on the floor. Tom let a small nervous sigh escape him. This was new . . . and weird . . . and the thought of B'Ellana with a big cock didn't seem nearly as bizarre as it should have . . . and he wanted it . . . and he was frightened.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Lieutenant," announced B'Ellana calmly and applied the tip of the dildo to the rim of his anus and began slowly pushing inside. Tom relaxed his muscles deliberately, thinking bitterly of how he had learned to do that before so he wouldn't get hurt as badly, but the fingers gripping his hips were B'Ellana's, and he wanted to be taken by her as far as he could go. As she pushed in further, the familiar burning ache filled his anus and radiated down his legs, providing a counterpoint to the heat emanating from his ass, but this time he wanted to cherish and absorb every microsecond of every sensation. Eagerly, he pushed back against her, and she gripped his slim hips harder and shoved all the way inside as he willingly unfolded himself for her.
He let out his breath with a shuddering sigh, and as she began to thrust into him, he felt the knot in his chest unravelling and spinning off into nothingness. "Yes, yes, B'Ellana! I am all yours!" he cried, as he began to drive his own hips back against her with utter abandon.
"Yes you are," she growled, as Tom felt his body tingle with nerves firing off in all directions. A passage seemed to open all the way through him as B'Ellana penetrated him. She had claimed his body, but he was giving up his soul--battered, shredded, wrung, and purified by her violence--into her possession. She drove into him harder, her fingers digging into his hips, and he pumped back harder, and the pain and the ecstasy merged in a wave that washed over and through him, and he came with a triumphant howl.
Speechless and overcome, he collapsed on the bed, trembling as B'Ellana withdrew from him. He was barely aware of her yanking off the harness, and then the felt her on the bed, and pulling him into her arms. He curled up with his head on her breast and cried softly, while she stroked and soothed, him, gently putting him back together.
Quite a bit later, a little more in possession of himself, he asked with some trepidation, "So you play even rougher than that, B'Ellana?"
"Oh yes, Lieutenant. Just you wait."
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