Rated NC-17

E-mail:  astarte@uia.net

Pairing:  Janeway/Seven

Disclaimer:  The principal characters are the property of Paramount/Viacom. No copyright infringement is intended, and no financial profit is anticipated.

Summary:  Picard and Q witness an encounter between Janeway and her Borg.

Warning:  Moderate BDSM.

Notes:  This story is a segment that began on alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated in 1998.  The concept, which was invented by Ruth Gifford, was that Picard and Q would be watching various pairings of Star Trek characters having sex.  The first segment, which provided the set up, was written by Robin Lawrie, and it is that which is quoted between the rows of asterisks and which I included to provide context for my segment.  The reference to Tom Paris is an allusion to Jane St. Clair's segment.

Feedback welcomed and encouraged.

********************************************************************************************************

`So you're saying that watching these situations is a
pleasurable experience of itself? And the viewer is satisfied
and almost sated, by having their expectations fulfilled. Oooo,
I knew there was a reason why television was so popular. I like
to watch. But now you're saying that real life is even better?
This I've got to see.'

Picard leaned back against the lounge, his shoulder touching
Q's. He reached over and grabbed the cornchips, and stuffed
a handful into his mouth. Talking around the crunchy
mouthful, spraying crumbs over his uniform Picard replied,

`You're the omnipotent one. How can I stop you?'

He tossed the remote to Q, and settled back to watch.

`This isn't like you, Jean Luc. Aren't you going to remonstrate
with me, chide me for invading your crews privacy? Forbid
me?'

`Nope.'

`Oh. OK then.'

<*click*>

`Oooo, who'd a thought!'

********************************************************************************************************

"So, Johnny," purred Q, "any requests?  I have any number of locations on my agenda, but I'm happy to accomodate any particular curiosity you have."

"I . . . " began Picard and stopped.

"What is it, Jean-Luc?" asked the entity, sliding a hand up Picard's arm.  "What has caught your fancy?  You can tell me.  It's not like I'm going to be shocked.  Go on, spit it out!"

"That Borg woman, Seven of Nine . . .  and Kathryn Janeway.  How did that turn out?  Do they always have a threesome going with Lieutenant Paris?  Did Seven turn out the way Janeway wanted?"

"So many questions, Jean-Luc!  Such unseemly prurient interest in a fellow officer."

Picard raised his eyebrows in exasperation.  "Q, it's a little late for you to be worrying about that."

"I'm hardly worried, mon Capitaine.  I'm enjoying this immensely.  Yes, why don't we go see what dear Kathryn and her ample-bosomed Borg are up to.  I suspect we'll all be in for a surprise."

Picard found himself and Q sitting on a bleacher-like structure in a holodeck, surrounded by the holo-grid.  Seven of Nine was firing at a small hovering and swooping disk.  She missed, and the disk swerved toward Janeway, who dove into a tuck and roll, coming up firing.  Picard was grinning.  "I can't remember the last time I played Velocity," he said.  "I was damned good."

"Really?" said Q drily.  "What a surprise."  He materialized a bag of popcorn, passing it to Picard.

Picard took a handful and grimaced.  "Q, this is dripping with butter.  Don't you worry you'll lose your girlish figure?"

Q laughed heartily.  "Oh, Johnny, you are such a delight when you loosen up a little."

"Do they play often?" asked Picard, turning his attention back to the women, who were concentrating fiercely on their target, arms outstretched, gripping the phaser with both hands.  Tendrils of hair were escaping from Seven's tight coif, and both women's faces and arms betrayed a light sheen of sweat.

"Yes, they do.  And Janeway always wins.  Drives Seven crazy," answered Q, sounding bored.  "How do you think Seven ended up in that little fuckfest with Tommy Paris?"

"I see," said Picard.  "High stakes, apparently."

"High stakes, indeed," replied Q, "now be quiet and watch.  The good part is coming up, and I don't want to miss it."  Q turned back to watch the game, while casually resting a buttery hand on Picard's thigh, his fingers straying over the bulge between the Captain's legs.  Picard jumped, but decided he didn't object to the stimulation.

Both contestants were breathing harder.  Janeway fired and missed, and Seven whirled, aiming and firing, hitting the target, which collided with Janeway's arm.  The computer intoned, "Final round to Seven of Nine.  Winner, Seven of Nine."

Both women looked stunned, then Seven said slowly, "I won."  A smile began to spread on her face. "I won."

She advanced on Janeway, grabbing her wrists and forcing her to drop the phaser.  "Sev-en . . . " the captain said warningly.

Seven lifted an eyebrow.  "Captain, I won.  You knew I would win some day.  You encouraged me to practice.  I think you wanted this."

Janeway straightened, looking Seven in the eye.  "You won, Seven.  I won't back down.  I'm all yours."

"Yes, Captain, I believe you are," said the Borg, as she whipped around behind Janeway and grasped the captain's shoulders.  Her hands slid slowly down Janeway's arms, until she was grasping her wrists behind her back.  Seven's free hand wove itself into the captain's short hair, pulling her head back.

"Here, Seven?" asked the captain.

"Why not?  I have created some holodeck programs of my own."

"And I encouraged you to get in touch with your artistic side," muttered Janeway.

"I am grateful for your tutelage, Captain," said Seven, yanking on the captain's wrists and hair simultaneously, and leaning over to press her lips against the Captain's neck.

"Computer!  Privacy lock!" gasped Janeway.

"Privacy lock activated," intoned the computer.

"Computer," said Seven evenly, "begin Program Seven of Nine-3."

A medieval-style dungeon materialized around them, with stone walls and various devices for securing and/or torturing prisoners.  Simultaneously, the bleachers where the watchers sat turned into two elaborate thrones, side by side.  "Seven?" asked Janeway incredulously.

"I remembered . . ." began Seven.  "I remembered when I was a little girl, I used to read stories about castles and dungeons and kings.  Sometimes, I imagined I was a prisoner in a dungeon just like this.  Sometimes, I imagined I was the gaoler.  When I was assimilated, I can remember wondering if I really was in a castle with a dungeon.  But it was nothing like what I made up.  Then I forgot those . . . fantasies--the person who had them did not exist any longer--and I remembered them only recently.  I enjoyed them.  And I am going to enjoy it now."

"You never cease to surprise me, Seven," said Janeway, with an acerbic edge to her voice.

"Captain!" declared Seven suddenly.  "I would advise you to remove your clothes now, or I will have to rip them off you, and you would need to replicate new ones before leaving the holodeck."

Janeway grinned and, her voice dropping to a lower register, purred, "I'd just order you to lend me yours, Seven," but she began pulling off her clothes.  Moments later, Seven had her bound to a heavy iron ring at the end of a chain coming from the stone ceiling.  Once she had pushed Janeway's legs apart, the ring was the precise height for the Captain to stand comfortably.

"Nothing like a Borg for attention to detail," murmured Q to Picard, who was riveted by the sight of his nude fellow officer and the stunning Borg circling her at a deliberate pace.  Seven stopped behind the Captain, lightly drawing one finger up and down her back.

"You have instructed me in many lessons about trust, Captain.  Now it is your turn to be instructed."  Seven paced briskly across the holo-dungeon to a rack and carefully selected a leather flogger with long lashes about a half-inch wide.  She walked very slowly back to where Janeway was bound.

"She seems to be hesitating," whispered Picard to Q, although they wouldn't be heard even speaking aloud.

"She expects Janeway to stop her," replied Q, "but Kathy won't do that.  She made a deal, and she'll stick to it.  And anyway, she's curious about what her Borg will do."

When the flogger whooshed through the air behind her, Janeway flinched, expecting a solid blow, but the lashes barely grazed her back, in a whisper of a kiss of leather against her skin.  What she and the observers soon learned was that Seven had pinpoint accuracy and control.  To Picard and Q, Seven was a study in fluid motion, the whip an integral extension of her outstretched and graceful arm.  Q murmured, "Her control is a work of art in itself.  For Kathy, it's just like a breeze against her skin, with just an edge of stinging rain.  Now they're landing just slightly harder; the difference is barely perceptible to human senses.  Harder still, and it's like the slap of water from a waterfall or a shower.  And a little harder; she's just now starting to feel like she's being hit with something solid.  But see the way her ass is just blushing pink.  Oh, Jean-Luc, I would have given this woman worlds, and here she is, mastered by her own pet."

"My heart bleeds for you, Q," retorted Picard, his voice edged with acid.

"Why, Johnny, don't tell me you're jealous of my unrequited passion for Kathryn Janeway!  I'm flattered."  Q reached across and slid a hand up the inside of Picard's thigh.  That and the sudden cracking noise of a considerably harder blow on Janeway's flesh cut off any sarcastic reply Picard might have made in return.  The flogger twirled in the air with each stroke, flashing across Janeway's back or buttocks or thighs before executing another perfect twirl.  Seven wielded the whip with the easy confidence of a Western gunslinger, expertly flipping his gun in one hand to drop the next bullet into the chamber.

Janeway's buttocks weren't the only part of her anatomy that was flushed.  Q noted the shifts in her breathing, as the exquisite flogging continued.  "In case you're wondering, Jean-Luc, she's really turned on by this."  Seven was building up to a point, steadily ratcheting up the force of her blows, although never to a level that was truly painful.  The final swing of the flogger, and the lashes exploded across the Captain's ass.  Seven carefully returned the flogger to the rack, then returned with a much lighter and smaller one, and administered an equally controlled whipping to Janeway's breasts and abdomen and the front of her thighs.  Each blow was more like a light slap, than a searing burn, raising only the faintest pink flush from the targeted areas.  Janeway's nipples were taut and hard, and both observers licked their lips, simultaneously craving to offer to soothe and alleviate those nipples with their lips and tongues.

Instead they had to watch Seven tormenting the Captain's breasts further.  Seven carefully returned the flogger to the rack, then returned to knead Janeway's breasts roughly, fingers digging deep into soft flesh.  Then she began teasing Janeway's nipples, twisting and pinching them with fierce concentration.  She bent to take one in her mouth, and one hand slid between Janeway's legs, moving slowly and deliberately.  At one point, Janeway tried to grind against the invading hand, which was immediately removed.  "I am sorry, Captain, but you will have to wait," said the Borg respectfully, and Janeway tossed her sweaty hair impatiently off her face, her eyes burning into her lover's form.

"You do realize that you will pay for this, Seven!" declared the Captain.

"Are you saying that you wish me to stop?" asked Seven.

"No, I'm not saying that!" exclaimed Janeway through gritted teeth.  "I'm just saying you'll pay for this."

"I am sure we will both enjoy it, Captain," responded Seven with a shadow of a smile, her hand still moving between Janeway's legs, while the other idly toyed with a nipple.  "I will be back in a few moments, Captain.  I need to prepare."  Seven vanished into the shadows of a corner of the dungeon, while Janeway looked after her, a half-smile quirking her lips that indicated both surprise and delight.

The smile grew wider when Seven returned naked, except for a black dildo in a strap-on harness.  "My she is well-built" murmured Picard to Q, his eyes flicking from Seven's breasts to the strap-on, and back again, while Q laughed heartily in agreement.

"Computer," said Seven.  "Lower ring to preset position."  The ring to which Janeway's wrists were bound lowered enough to let the Captain bend her knees.  Seven stepped immediately in front of Janeway.  "Captain, it is time for you to give me pleasure."  As Janeway lowered her mouth to Seven's breast, two mournful sighs escaped the observers.  Q's hand moved restlessly across Picard's lap, and Picard groaned quietly in response as they watched the Captain of the USS Voyager twirl her tongue repeatedly around the increasingly erect nipple of her Borg crewmember.  Seven shifted her position, so her strapped-on cock was nudging at the point just below Janeway's triangle of dark hair, and she gasped sharply and sucked the nipple into her mouth, intensifying her attentions.

Seven's breathing grew more ragged, and she suddenly ordered, "Now, the other!" and Janeway immediately complied.  After some time, the Borg demanded, "Now, stop!" then moved behind her Captain.  She grasped Janeway's hips, pulling them back slightly, then began toying with Janeway's clit and cunt with her hand.  This position afforded the grateful observers a better view, as Seven's efficient fingers parted lips and slid along the glistening passage.  "I do not think you will require any additional lubrication, Captain," said Seven formally and clinically, but the smug undertone to her voice was unmistakable.

Janeway growled.  "I don't care who won the god damned game.  Fuck me now, and that's an order, Seven!"

"Yes, Captain," said the Borg evenly.  She grabbed Janeway's hips again, positioned the cock against Janeway's cunt, and thrust it in hard.

"Oh, yes, that's a good girl!" panted the Captain, but she was soon reduced to inarticulate groans, as Seven drove into her with a pounding and steady rhythm.  Picard didn't even notice that his own hips were rocking against Q's hand, although Q certainly did, both of them riveted by the sight of the blonde woman fucking her Captain, the dildo disappearing inside Janeway, and reappearing, glistening, before vanishing again into dark pink folds.  Janeway suddenly wailed in climax, her body convulsing.

"I thought she might be a screamer," mused Q regretfully.

"Shut up, Q," muttered Picard.  "I'm still watching."

Seven immediately released Janeway from her bonds, and the Captain whirled around, grabbing the Borg by the hair, yanking it so it fell down around her shoulders.  "Show me you still know your place, Seven!" she ordered, and Seven obediently dropped to her knees before the Captain, kissed the very apex of her dark triangle reverently, and began servicing the Captain with her tongue.  Janeway shuddered and moaned through another orgasm, then began stroking Seven's hair with a slightly shaky hand, saying, "I can't begin to tell you how pleased I am with you, Seven."

As she bent to kiss her Borg, Q remarked,  "Looks like this little party's over, Jean-Luc.  Wouldn't want to overstay our welcome.  Shall we move on?"

"Oh, all right," returned Picard, "but first will you get the butter stains from your grubby fingers off my pants?"

"If you insist," said Q, with an extravagant sigh.

The End
 
 

to Star Trek index page