STAR TREK: BROKEN BODICE
A parody by Micky Budarrap
Disclaimer: Star Trek, its characters, locations and plots are not my creations and are used without permission. No profit has been or will be made by their use in this story.
“Broke Bodice” is not intended for consumption by minors. If you are below the adult age in your country, state or county then read no further and delete this file from your computer. By reading this disclaimer you agree to take full responsibility for continuing.
The author does not encourage or condone the enormously disrespectful and frequently criminal things that are done to women in this story. The activities performed in this fictional work should never be inflicted on people in the real world.
This is a work of fiction that features rampant exploitation
of women in parody of the depictions of species and societies in Star Trek.
Where the TV shows and films only suggest for cheap titillation value, “Broken
Bodice” takes it to its sleazy conclusions. The story focuses on the perils and
misadventures of Deanna Troi (Star Trek: The Next
Generation), T’Pol (Star Trek:
Feedback can be directed to Mickt80@hotmail.com.
EPISODE 07: THE NAKED TIME
The lights on Starheart’s bridge were dimmed as holograms were projected into the centre of the chamber, showing stars and planets and orbital paths. B’Elanna stepped through the field of light and lifted her finger to one of the holographic stars systems. “Right there, the Persi-2 research outpost. That’s the one.”
Torres, T’Pol and Deanna Troi assembled on the
The three brunettes were definitely out of uniform. The Klingon, the Vulcan and the Betazoid wore only bras and panties due to the high heat and humidity that Starheart’s organic components required to operate. The moisture in the air and their own perspiration had already made their underwear transparent, nipples visible as big brown circles while their panties kissed lovingly against the folds of their snatches, creating delicious cameltoes. It was far better dignified attire than they had worn during their imprisonment on Ferenginar, where women are not permitted clothing in public.
A month of deliveries using Starheart’s high speed engine had
earned them a significant pile of latinum, funds they
hoped to use to buy women from slavery under the Ferengi.
But B’Elanna Torres was explaining a different way to
further their cause.
The twenty-two year old Klingon turned, her hands settling on her athletic hips. “Persi-2 is a Cardassian research platform for genetically engineered agriculture. It’s how the Cardies are trying to deal with overpopulation and food shortages.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Deanna said, drawing on her experiences as the ship’s counselor aboard the USS Enterprise. “Starfleet has sent teams there to share research. It’s one of the few places where the Cardassians don’t jealously guard every secret, probably because they can get so much from Federation science,” the voluptuous Betazoid added, pulling on the straps of her bra uncomfortably in the heat, making her lush boobs lift and drop slightly.
T’Pol stood behind a sensory
console, lights from the display illuminating her taut perspiration-slick
stomach. “Why is this research station significant to us?”
B’Elanna half turned to point back at the hologram, its light silhouetting her and showing off the lovely curve of breast to waist and ass to thigh. “I think its computers hold information on local slaving operations.”
“The Cardassians have been pushing on the Federation border for years,” explained Deanna Troi, bringing T’Pol up to speed on the two hundred years of history the legendary Vulcan had missed. “They want solar systems that the Federation controls and know that Starfleet is spread thin across many borders. The Cardassians believe that if they keep pressing the Federation will pull back.”
“And they’re right,” Torres added, sliding her hands down her neck, down the outer slopes of her breasts and down her waist to her hips, sweeping moisture off her smooth tanned skin. “Starfleet has been giving up little pieces for years. That’s why the border colonists started fighting and became the Maquis. Chakotay believed that the Cardassians were supporting raiders and slavers in the area, allowing them to cross their border and hurt the Federation a little more.”
“Those raiders keep the slave markets of Ferenginar well stocked,” T’Pol said, seeing how the issues were related. She adjusted her bra, lifting it so that the cups better covered the words “FOR SALE” printed on the slopes of her breasts. Those words, and the “SOLD” signs on their asses, was a reminder of their humiliation on Ferenginar. So far the ink had stubbornly refused all efforts to be cleaned from their lovely curves.
“Starfleet can’t do much because of the Prime Directive,” Deanna added, flicking back her raven black locks which were uncomfortably warm in Starheart’s hot and humid environment. “They would need proof that the Cardassians are permitting the traffic through their space.”
“Exactly,” B’Elanna agreed. The Maquis turned, her tight panties kissing the crack of her ass and highlighting her taut buttocks. “If we can show that these raiders are crossing Cardassian territory with their knowledge and permission, that these slaves are brought to Ferenginar as a hostile act…”
“Then the Prime Directive no longer prevents Starfleet from acting because it’s not just an internal matter any more,” Deanna finished, running one hand down the perspiration-wet valley between her generous tits. “It won’t stop the slave trade but it will choke off one part of it.”
Leaving her console T’Pol stepped down to the bridge’s main level, her bra-clad boobs jiggling with the descent as she examined the holographic map. “You believe the Persi-2 base has such evidence? Sensor logs, communications, navigational plans?”
B’Elanna nodded, hands sliding across her slick hips. “And it’s easy to get in. Like Deanna said they usually welcome scientists and researchers, and even people who are just curious. It gives the Cardassian military a chance to show off how noble they are when they aren’t bombing colonists.”
“Then,” T’Pol said, walking with a catlike slink towards the viewscreen, “We will need a cover story.”
+++++
“They say they’re looking for some kind of Vulcan flora,” reported the Cardassian at the communication station. “Their transport is an unaffiliated ship called…” His eyebrows rose. “Moonlight Bounty. A delivery and transport company.”
“Private scientists,” grunted Gul Khambat, lifting his belt around his hefty midsection. This unimportant outpost did not justify the presence of a Gul: this posting had been a demotion. But the Cardassian continued to haul his uniform on over his too-heavy gut and play the part of commander. He had grey-yellow skin and bony ridges around his eyes and cheeks, and flaring lines of ridges traveling down the sides of his neck that gave his species their cobra-like appearance.
He dropped himself into the main chair of Persi-2’s command center. “Put them on screen.”
A few seconds later the oval-shaped viewscreen was filled with a surprisingly lovely sight. The woman was very fair-skinned, her complexion almost snow, with jet black eyes and hair. Her features were beautiful in an imperious way, slightly haughty but still soft in the cheeks and lips. On first sight of the brunette beauty Khambat knew that this was going to be a good day.
“I am Captain Dina,” she announced, her voice carrying a slight eastern European accent, “I represent the courier and transport service Moonlight Bounty. I’ve been hired to ferry two scientists to your facility.”
For a moment Khambat admired the woman’s outfit. While the viewscreen only showed her down to her midsection it revealed enough to show that “Dina” enjoyed a voluptuous build. Her elastic white top was wrapped around two of the sweetest tits the Cardassian had seen in a long time. Even through her uniform he could tell that those globes would overflow in his hands. Her uniform had two blue stripes that traveled from her collar down over her bosom, accenting the natural slopes of her chest. “I am Khambat, Gul of Persi-2. What do your scientists want exactly?”
“Some sort of Vulcan flower,” the dark-eyed beauty replied, lifting her chin imperiously as if such matters were below her. “They tell me a Federation team visiting your station some years ago described seeing a growth similar to a long-extinct Vulcan species. Some matter of ancient explorers bringing it to Cardassian space while it died out on their homeworld. It’s all Vulcan to me,” she said dismissively, her pompous arrogance plain to see.
Khambat was finding it quite enticing. He shifted forward in his chair, trying to look polite and attentive. Persi-2 was a dull place to be posted, and the men had to find their own ways of staying entertained. “The Cardassian Union always eager to co-operate with the Federation,” he intoned, not really believing it. “The researchers are welcome aboard. And rather than waiting for them on that tiny ship of yours, Miss Dina, you and your crew are welcome to use the facilities onboard Persi-2.” He didn’t believe the snobbish beauty would accept.
He was pleasantly proven wrong. The brunette’s dark eyes moved to one side and
then returned to the Gul. “I would be delighted for
the chance to meet you in person, Gul Khambat.”
“We’ll open up a docking bay for your ship.” The Gul’s memory stabbed him, making him speak quickly before the voluptuous young woman broke the comm line. “I have to inform you that because of the plant species onboard, all visitors will have to wear protective gear for the duration of your stay and not bring any foreign fabrics aboard,” he added.
Dina directed a skeptical look at Khambat. “Protective gear?”
The Cardassian shrugged his heavy shoulders inside his uniform. “One of our visitors unwittingly carried off a genetically engineered spore in his clothes. It took root on the next world he visited and quickly overwhelmed local flora. The protective suits will be waiting in the airlock for you and the scientists. It’s a standard precaution. Also, many parts of the station are without gravity and the suits include magnetic boots for safe movement. How many will be coming aboard, Captain Dina?”
The brunette beauty lifted her demure face slightly. “Three.”
+++++
If the viewscreen angle had been slightly lower the Cardassian would have enjoyed the sight of Deanna Troi’s panties, cleft neatly by the folds of her pussy as they clung to her perspiring skin. She had pulled on a uniform top so she would be decent for the visual communication with the station but in the heat of Starheart’s sauna-like bridge she hadn’t bothered with the tight elastic pants.
The screen had been dark for only a second and Troi was already stripping her top off. “We can use this to our advantage,” the Betazoid said, unwittingly dragging the melons of her breasts out of the cups of her bra as she peeled the tight elastic up over her head. “Our scans showed less than fifty personnel aboard that station. I’ll ask Khambat to give me the full tour of the station and that will keep him and a lot of his people busy. That will give you two a better chance of stealing the information we’re looking for. I sensed he was physically interested in me,” the empath added, finally getting her head free of her top and flicking out her dark hair.
“Who needed to sense it?” B’Elanna asked pointedly, eyeing Troi’s breasts. The counselor’s jugs now rested atop the cups of her bra, her nipples pointing forwards and her titflesh pushed together into a lovely cleavage.
The Betazoid didn’t get the hint. “You should relax. I can hold him off.” Deanna struck a poise with one hand lifted and the other on one pale hip. “I will be the image of regal aloofness and he’ll get nowhere.” Then she realized that her tits had popped out of her bra, her full lips going into an ‘o’ shape. Quickly she slipped her treats back into hiding.
Meanwhile T’Pol was pulling on her own uniform, the elastic taut around her lean heavy-chested figure. She glanced at her console. “We are docked. I will check the airlock for the protective gear Gul Khambat mentioned.”
Watching the Vulcan’s lovely ass wiggling as she departed the bridge, Torres uncomfortably adjusted the way her panties were settled on her hips. “I have to say I didn’t like the sound of “protective clothing”,” the twenty-two year old confessed, folding her arms before her breasts. “Cardassians have… issues. They did barbaric things to the women on Bajor and have a bad reputation in general.”
Nodding Troi folded her arms before her breasts. “I know. I wrote a paper in the academy about their sexual psychology. The short version is not to be caught with your panties down.”
B’Elanna had a short laugh. “Their protective gear is probably some skimpy little thing. A skin-tight suit.”
“A skirt so short it looks like a belt,” Deanna added.
“A bikini and fishnet stockings.” Torres joked, rolling her eyes and sharing a small smile with the counselor as their suggestions grew more and more ridiculous.
The Betazoid had more. “Shoulderless and backless.”
“And topless,” the Klingon finished
“Or made of transparent plastic wrap,” Troi suggested.
“Or made of a loose grey material that covers the entire body,” T’Pol interrupted. The Vulcan walked back onto the bridge with three grey bundles in her arms. She set them down on a nearby console and got to work peeling her uniform from her lean figure, beginning by struggling to get her tight top off over the ample swell of her tits.
B’Elanna lifted one of the outfits. It was a single-piece jumpsuit with each trouser leg feeding into an enormous heavy boot. The entire outfit was large and baggy, promising to hang over each woman’s figure in a completely un-revealing way. The silky smooth material felt very light and cool. “Maybe I was wrong,” admitted Voyager’s chief engineer. Then she deftly slipped her bra straps over her shoulders and slid the garment down to her trim waist, revealing that the soft and supple delights of the Klingon’s breasts still bore the words “FOR SALE” in big black letters.
T’Pol and Deanna reached behind their backs to unclasp their bras, the Vulcan revealing her tanned melons and the Betazoid baring her milky orbs. The three brunettes pushed their panties over the curves of their hips, baring three round rumps baring the word “SOLD”, and leaned forward to slide their underwear down their legs, their generous “FOR SALE” boobs jiggling slightly as they dangled beneath each beauty’s body.
“Be careful,” warned Melika, still clad in holographic bra and panties. From where she stood the Andorian Ensign had a lovely view of the three Starfleet officer’s firm asses, pussy lips peeking out from between their thighs. “It would be a disaster if they figure out that you’re actually escaped slaves.”
T’Pol settled her slim feet into the boots of her suit and began pulling the grey material up around her lean yet heavy-chested figure. “We will do our best not to broadcast the fact, Ensign Melika.”
+++++
“This is the final broadcast on the matter,” Gul Khambat said as he spoke into
the communicator on his wrist, his orders relayed across the station through
its speaker systems. With his other hand he was digging and searching through
his uniform’s pockets. “Optical filters are to be put on now and no further mention is to be made of them. Be polite, do
your jobs, try not to stare and enjoy the show.”
The Cardassian Gul stood in the lower docking ring of Persi-2 as he waited for his three guests to exit the airlock. This section of the station had never been finished with large areas still lacking artificial gravity and a great deal of the internal structure more or less hollow. Cardassians wearing hissing flight packs hovered and moved slowly around in the low gravity zones while others worked on the deck level moving dollies loaded with equipment. Mostly it was an excuse to be near the new arrivals.
Finally Khambat’s pocket gave up the prize he had been looking for. It was a small protective container that held a pair of contact lenses. The Cardassian quickly slipped them on, blinking to settle them on his irises. Every man on the station had something like these: contacts, glasses or goggles.
It had cost Khambat nearly three month’s in wages to purchase the holographic emitters, disguised as heavy utility boots, but the Cardassian knew from past experience that it was worth the effort.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dina,” Khambat rehearsed. He tried again. “You honor me by appearing in the flesh, Miss Dina.” Then the elevator signaled it was arriving and the Cardassian drew himself up straight.
They had not left three protective suits in Starheart’s
airlock for their visitors to find. They had left three pairs of heavy magnetic
boots mounted with sophisticated holo-emiters. The
clothes that the women wore were holographic. Anyone wearing a suitable optical
filter could easily see right through their guests’ clothing.
Persi-2 was a dull place to be posted, and the men had to find their own ways of staying entertained!
The elevator was a standard Cardassian cargo lift with an open-fronted cabin. It slowly lowered into view, revealing the three arrivals.
First revealed were three sets of heavy magnetic boots, leading up to three pairs of long slim legs that were completely bare. The centermost pair were pale as milk and Khambat knew that these were the legs of ‘Captain Dina’. As the lift lowered, revealing naked thighs and showing a perfectly hairless pussy, the Cardassian smiled to himself. “So you shave down there, Miss Dina?” he thought to himself, licking his lips at the sight of that bald snatch. The woman had wide womanly hips tapering to a narrow waist: next, as the elevator dropped, were her bare breasts.
And then Gul Khambat’s rehearsed greetings disappeared from his mind. He stared speechless as elevator locked into place, revealing the three utterly naked Starfleet officers.
‘Dina’ stood with one hand on the pale curve of her hip, standing slightly side-on in a posture that was meant to be confident and challenging. Instead her pose highlighted the gorgeous lines of her figure, her raven-black hair cascading over one white shoulder as she stood completely naked and unaware before the Cardassian Gul.
Beside her was a tanned young woman with slight forehead ridges indicating Klingon ancestry. Her body was firm and athletic with toned thighs and a flat stomach, topped off by breasts that were surprisingly large for her trim figure. She was pushing her mid-length dark hair back from her shoulders, the movement making her boobs lift and jiggle.
The third woman was facing away, leaning over sharply to adjust her boots. The posture flaunted her firm bottom and offered a peek of her pussy lips between her thighs. She had short hair that didn’t quite hide the points of her Vulcan ears, and as the elevator halted she looked back to reveal a haughtily beautiful face dominated by plump pouting lips. She rose and turned to stand by her companions three abreast, the trio unwittingly offering the Cardassian Commander a mouthwatering sight of their gorgeous naked figures.
Gul Khambat remained mute and amazed as the three women began to walk towards him, hips swaying with each sexy step.
The woman who had called herself ‘Dina’ was even more gorgeous than she had been on the viewscreen, blissfully unware that her clothes were just an elaborate hologram. And the sight of her two companions alongside her were an added bonus. Naked except for their boots Deanna Troi, T’Pol and B’Elanna Torres strode towards the Cardassian with a sexy Orion-conditioned walk, each woman unaware of her nudity. As they approached they assumed serious expressions but given their state of undress the three dark-eyed beauties only managed to appear sultry.
But there was something more that left Khambat shaking his head in amazement. The three pairs of breasts moving towards him, bouncing deliciously with each step, were marked with big black letters that read “FOR SALE”.
“He’s happy to see us,” thought Deanna, transmitting the message mentally to her companions. “Maybe a little too happy. I don’t think these men get much shore leave. I just know they’re mentally undressing us.”
The Betazoid was understating the situation. Cardassians across the chamber were stunned by the breathtaking sight of the three hot-bodied brunettes walking bare naked towards their commander. Gear-laden arms suddenly lost their grip. Men wheeling trolleys of equipment stumbled into walls. Cardassians in flight packs collided in mid-air. Troi, T’Pol and Torres left a wake of minor destruction behind them as they strutted towards the Gul. But the three Starfleet officers believed they were clad in baggy grey jumpsuits and didn’t make the connection.
Showing incredible self control Khambat managed to look the Betazoid straight in the eyes. “Miss Dina,” he said, unaware that he was speaking to Deanna Troi, counselor of the USS Enterprise and a recently escaped slave from Ferenginar.
“Gul Khambat,” Troi answered, unaware that she was wearing nothing but her boots and a smile as she lifted one hand for the Cardassian to receive. “These are my passengers, Doctor Elena.”
The athletic half-Klingon woman stepped forward and offered a hand. “Charmed.” While not having the Betazoid’s pale voluptuous beauty, B’Elanna Torres had an attractiveness all her own, her tanned toned body firm and tasty. Khambat shook the engineer’s hand and bowed his head to her, using it as an excuse to look down the naked figure of Voyager’s chief engineer from her firm thighs to bald pussy to bare breasts tipped with stubby erect nipples.
“And Professor T’Pol.” While B’Elanna and Troi had chosen aliases that weren’t that different from their true identities, in case one of them accidentally called another by their true name. But the Vulcan had opted for her real name.
“T’Pol,” the Cardassian said, taking her hand and nodding deeply to look down and up the Vulcan’s generous melons, trim waist, beautiful hairless snatch and long, long legs. “From what I know of Federation history there is a very famous T’Pol, isn’t there?”
“She would be over two hundred and fifty years old today, Gul Khambat,” T’Pol reproached. “Do I look that elderly to you or are you merely given to flights of fancy?”
“I am not prone to fanciful imaginings,” the Cardassian answered, although standing within a few feet of the naked B’Elanna Torres, T’Pol and Deanna Troi would be enough to make most men believe in fairies and unicorns and pixie dust, “And I would guess you at about… forty?”
For a Vulcan with a two hundred year lifespan that was a compliment. The short-haired beauty nodded regally at the effort. “T’Pol is a common enough name among my people. Elena and I should get to work.”
“Gul Khambat,” Deanna said, side-stepping and positioning her voluptuous naked body between the Cardassian and T’Pol, the Betazoid’s nipples jiggling on the milky treats of her breasts, “I would appreciate if you might show me this installation. My delivery service will likely be making more trips through this region of space and I would like to be familiar with Persi-2’s facilities.”
“Of course,” Khambat said, trying to keep his eyes off the words “FOR SALE” printed across Deanna Troi’s lush mounds. “This way, ladies.” The three women walked past the Cardassian, giving him the chance to admire their round bottoms as they wiggled away. He stared at those three asses, each marked with the word “SOLD”, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself.
+++++
T’Pol ran a slim hand through her short brown hair, her regal face lifted as she considered her surroundings. “This chamber is quite humid, Loke,” she mentioned to the Cardassian beside her as she felt perspiration wetting her skin.
“Our environmental settings match a comfortable day on Cardassia Prime,” answered Loke. He was presently standing behind T’Pol, eyeing her fantastic rump and the word “SOLD” printed across it. Loke did not consider himself an ass-man but T’Pol firm rear end was quickly converting him. “I suppose the humidity is far higher than on Vulcan. So what’s this flower you’re looking for?”
T’Pol turned the face the Cardassian, smoothing the front of her too-large grey jumpsuit with her hands. What Loke saw was the slim heavy-breasted Vulcan running her hands down over her generous melons to her belly, her boobs squeezing together slightly. “Is there an image processor I could use? Even paper would do.”
One of the other Cardassians in the room tore his eyes away from Vulcan’s incredible body long enough to grab a pencil and a sheaf of paper. He placed the items on a low-set table. “Help yourself.”
T’Pol lifted an eyebrow at the archaic equipment but stepped elegantly over to the table, Cardassians melting out of her path. All eyes were on the Vulcan’s lean, tanned perspiration-slick figure as she leaned down, picked up the pencil and began to sketch while bending forward heavily at the waist.
Those men standing behind T’Pol were rewarded with the sight of the science officer’s round rump, her pussy lips peeking out from between her thighs. Meanwhile those on the far side of the table, in front of the Vulcan, got the breathtaking view of the woman’s tits hanging pendulously beneath her lean body. The words “FOR SALE” and “SOLD” printed on her tits and ass shone slightly with her perspiration.
“We have no images of it,” T’Pol said as she sketched, “Only descriptions. Reclaiming such a bloom and returning it to the Vulcan’s ecosystem would be a remarkable feat.”
Technically T’Pol was not lying. They indeed had no images of the flower as it had never existed. And reclaiming a bloom that never existed would certainly be a remarkable feat. The Vulcan ethical code against lying was perfectly satisfied.
So was each and every man standing around the lush-figured Vulcan. From nearly any angle T’Pol’s naked body was a magnificent sight to behold.
There was a sigh of disappointment from the men as the science officer straightened, holding up a picture of a narrow plant with slim leaves and broad heavy petals. “Both the flower and leaves have a peach coloration, darker on the sunward side. The core of the flower is pink.”
Loke took the sheet. “Very good,” he said, annoyed that he had to look at this boring piece of paper while every other man in the room continued to gaze at T’Pol’s stunning figure. He looked her in the eye, demonstrating remarkable willpower considering the powerful lure of the rest of the Vulcan’s delicious body. “Can you make some more pictures, copies so that everyone has something to compare to while they search?”
The Vulcan half-turned to look around the catalogue chamber, where seeds and spores were stored for use in the adjacent greenhouses. “Do you not have a copier?” In the process she gave Loke a lovely side-look down the slopes of her tits and the curve of her rump.
“Broken,” Loke said quickly, “And we could use some other angles if you know what it looks like from behind or the side,” he added.
The Vulcan nodded and obediently leaned forward over the table again, once again presenting her “SOLD” bottom and her “FOR SALE” tits as they swayed gently beneath her. The Cardassians in the room shuffled slightly around the table, drinking in the sight. The beautiful Commander T’Pol, one of the most respected women in Federation history, was parading herself naked before these men and she had absolutely no idea!
+++++
Gul Khambat cast a sidelong look at the voluptuous young woman walking beside him, naked except for her boots. “Persi-2 has only limited facilities for actual research,” he said, admiring how the Betazoid’s soft round breasts would bob together and apart as she walked, “We mostly focus on the long-term growth of the test specimens. We’re essentially babysitters.”
“Have you made progress?” the brunette beauty asked, brushing back her dark hair in the hot and humid air, baring her pale shoulders.
“Some. Hold on a minute, we’re about to enter a zero-gravity area.” Khambat regretfully pulled his eyes away from Troi’s delicious curves long enough to kick up his heels and press the buttons on the backs of his boots, activating their magnetic soles. He watched in admiration as Deanna did the same. The Betazoid was a cute sight as she lifted her feet behind her rump, leaning over slightly as she reached for her boot’s buttons, her bare breasts shaking slightly as she held her balance on one foot. Her thighs parted, revealing a glimpse of the folds of her perfect bald slit. Troi’s long hair fell over one shoulder to cascade in dark curls over one breast, annoyingly concealing one of her ample tits. “Done,” she said, walking forward.
She entered the zero gravity air and released a little “oh” of surprise. Gravity’s pull abandoned her voluptuous figure and the effect was mouthwatering. The natural lift of her dark hair made it rise around her face, while the milky orbs of her tits bobbed deliciously on her chest, Deanna’s dark nipples performing slow-motion figures-of-eight. Her magnetic boots kept her feet on the ground. “That’s a little disorientating,” she said, unaware that her floating breasts were visible through her holographic clothing.
Not for the first time Khambat wondered why the brunette beauty and her companions had “FOR SALE” written on their tits. His eyes following the lazy dance of Troi’s tats he lifted one hand to point at the arboretum around them. “As you can see, Miss Dina, we’re experimenting with low-gravity agriculture, allowing plants to grow larger and produce heavier fruit.”
“I can see how that would be beneficial,” Troi said, turning around to look over the enormous plants that crawled up the walls and ceiling of the chamber. In the process she gave the Cardassian a chance to look over her body from all angles, breasts and hips and bottom and pale thighs.
“Melons do amazing things in zero gravity,” Khambat added, his eyes on Deanna Troi’s tits.
The Betazoid nodded obliviously. “I’m sure they do.” They walked onwards through the greenhouse, the counselor admiring the exotic fruit that blossomed in the low gravity while the Cardassian admired the two full ripe melons on Deanna’s chest.
They came to an entrance that led to another greenhouse section. “We’re better off walking on the ceiling in there,” Khambat said.
Deanna eyed the ceiling a few feet above. “So we just jump and roll over?”
“If you’re not experienced at maneuvering in low gravity I wouldn’t suggest it. Hold still.” Khambat stepped around behind the Betazoid, looking down the length of her naked body. Even from behind Deanna was beautiful, her back and shoulders pale, smooth and statuesque, her waist narrow, her hips wide and her bottom divine.
The Cardassian ducked down, reaching for the buttons on Troi’s boots. In the process he brought his face within inches of the counselor’s magnificent rear. Deanna had a surplus of softness in all the places that counted, giving her a lovely bottom that was soft yet firm enough to hold a womanly heart-shape. The “SOLD” sign on her buttocks only made her ass even more enticing. Disengaging the brunette’s magnetic soles he stepped around in front of her and settled his hands on her bare love-making hips.
They felt fantastic even through the rumple-sensation that her holographic clothing produced. Khambat easily lifted the Betazoid into the air, the twenty-nine year old inhaling deeply as she was hoisted up. This made her breasts undulate in an even more mouthwatering fashion as they floated weightless before the Cardassian’s face. He could see every bump on her large brown aureoles. He fought the urge to take those delicious nipples into his mouth and suck.
Instead Khambat gently flipped the five-foot three Betazoid over. She giggled as her hair trailed around her face while the Gul’s eyes stayed on her lovely melons as they bobbed and bounced in the zero gravity. Finally he had Troi upside-down, his face only a foot distant from the counselor’s cute little slit. At this distance he could see that the skin above Deanna’s pussy was completely smooth and hairless with no sign of shaving at all. Her snatch was perfect.
“Ready?” he asked, reaching up to activate the magnetic soles of her boots.
“Of course,” Deanna said, unaware that her most secret of places was in the Cardassian’s view.
He lifted
Being long-accustomed to zero gravity the Cardassian hopped off the deck and rolled his heavy body over, landing both feet smoothly on the ceiling. Now he was “standing” beside the counselor.
Deanna settled her hands on her hips, striking an impatient pose for the Cardassian’s benefit, blissfully unaware that she was naked except for her boots. “Shall we proceed, Gul Khambat?”
“After you,” he offered, then enjoyed the sight of Deanna Troi’s bare ass wiggling as she led the way.
+++++
Meanwhile B’Elanna Torres was riding the cargo elevator, standing in close-proximty with a half-dozen Cardassian men.
“Just a few more levels,” said one of them. She thought she had heard his name was Daus. Torres sighed, reaching up to pull her dark hair back down. The elevator shaft was a nill-gravity zone and this caused her hair to rise of its own accord. It was also doing spectacular things to her tits, making B’Elanna’s breasts rise and sway deliciously. The Klingon was quietly grateful that the delicious show was contained inside her baggy grey uniform, unware that it did nothing to cover her from the Cardassians’ eyes.
Once again the elevator halted, apparently for no reason. “Stupid Cardassian design,” thought Voyager’s chief engineer. “How do they keep this thing working?” A few seconds later it resumed its downward journey only to halt again.
With every bunny-hopping movement the elevator made B’Elanna Torres’ bare
breasts bounce on her chest. The Cardassian named Daus
couldn’t take his eyes off the twenty-two year old’s
soft round bosom and the words “FOR SALE” printed across them. Every movement
demonstrated just how supple and yielding her lovely tits were. His fingers
twitched with the thought of what it would be like to take hold of B’Elanna’s breasts and squeeze.
Another tit-lifting stop made the young woman huff in impatience. “This is a joke,” B’Elanna said, looking around the turbolift’s interior. She found an access panel in the ceiling. “Hold my legs,” she ordered, switching off her magnetic boots.
Daus stared at the twenty-two year old beauty in surprise as Torres hopped up, floating in the low-gravity as she reached for the ceiling. Quickly he took hold of the Klingon’s long calves, holding her steady as she reached up with both hands above her head work on the access panel above.
The other Cardassians in the room watched B’Elanna Torres’
bare breasts with appreciation. The Klingon was unwittingly positioned her tits
at a perfect height for them all to watch, giving the men a great view as the
next move-and-stop of the turbolift cabin made her
boobs jump and jolt and bounce. Her firm ass and perfect bald slit also fought
for attention.
The twenty two year old Klingon shut her eyes for a moment.
Torres’ Orion conditioning had made her erogenous zones far more sensitive and
the stops and starts of the elevator had been jolting her tits, causing a
wonderful sensation. She fought the urge to massage of her bare breasts: it was
like an itch she just had to scratch.
Meanwhile the circuits in the access panel were no help at all: the problem
seemed to be from outside the elevator cabin. B’Elanna gave up. “Switch on my
boots and let me down,” she ordered, and descended with gentle boob-jiggling
jolt.
Finally the turbolift reached its destination: the station’s computer core. This entire section of the Persi-2 station possessed no gravity so when B’Elanna walked out of the lift, the men behind her eyeing her firm ass, the Klingon’s tanned orbs were bobbing and floating on her chest and making an awe-inspiring sight for the Cardassians already in the computer chamber.
“There’s a free data access point up there,” Daus said, pointing at a ladder leading up to a mess of computer equipment mounted in an angular structure in the ceiling, like an upside-down pyramid. Flicking her dark hair about to get it clear of her eyes B’Elanna began to climb the ladder, her tits rising, bouncing and drifting with each rung she ascended. With her eyes always on the next rung Voyager’s chief engineer didn’t have a clue that her toned athletic body was utterly exposed to the Cardassians in the room. Her pussy lips pouted from between her trim thighs as she climbed.
Naked except for her boots Torres reached the top of the ladder, turned and spotted a terminal built into the computer core that she could access. To steady herself she kept one foot on a rung while the other went out to a nearby support beam. The Cardassians below her stared in admiration at B’Elanna standing with her long athletic legs spread, her delicious folds on display as she reached for the terminal’s keyboard.
Her “FOR SALE” tits jiggled with every keystroke, easily visible to the men
below. “This might take some time,” B’Elanna said, already figuring out how she
could hack the main computer system for the information they needed while
maintaining a façade of searching the records for botanical samples.
“Take all the time you need,” Daus
said, honestly not caring what the Klingon was doing as she long as she stayed
right where she was, legs spread and tits wiggling as she typed.
+++++
“Put these on now!” Loke said, practically shoving the glasses onto Mas’ face.
The Cardassian shoved his comrade aside and tried to roll away in his bunk.
“Shove off. Those optical filters give me a fucking headache.”
“It’s worth it!” hissed the other Cardassian insistently, standing beside the bunk of his crewmate. “Three of them, all smoking hot, and the one we’ve got down here is just…”
Mas rolled back in his bunk, looking at the other man doubtfully but settling the glasses on his face. “This had better not be like the last bunch of Starfleet scientists. All guys.”
“Slim,” Loke started, “Tall. Slim and tall. And with these melons,” Loke said, holding his hands before his chest, “I mean skinny but with these melons that are just…”
“They are not melons,”
interrupted T’Pol. The two Cardassians leapt to see
the Vulcan standing stark naked at the door to the bunkroom. The words “FOR
The Cardassian Mas dropped out of his bunk, one hand holding his optic-filter glasses firmly on his nose. “Loke, tell me about it later. I’ve got a pair of moisture-retaining reservoirs to check out.”
Loke followed his comrade out of the bunkroom. “I hear they’re vital for survival in Vulcan’s desert environment,” he added.
+++++
Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna met up with each other back in the main docking chamber. They first ensured they were out of earshot of any Cardassians before they reported their progress.
“I may have found something,” Torres began, smoothing out the sleeves of her baggy holographic clothing with energetic strokes, “But I wasn’t free to read it word for word, so I’ve uploaded the data to Starheart’s computer. We can comb it later for incriminating evidence.” Voyager’s chief engineer was unaware that her quick arm movements over her “sleeves” were making her tits bounce to the delight of the Cardassians watching the trio from across the chamber.
“Do not take any unnecessary risks,” T’Pol warned, “We do not want to alert them to anything unusual about us.” The Vulcan was oblivious to the fact that the men in the chamber could see her as she really was: naked except for her boots, the “FOR SALE” sign on her full chest and the “SOLD” sign on her ass.
“You can say that again,” Deanna agreed, reaching up to push back her dark tresses, her generous tits shifting with the motion. “The last thing we need is attention. Meanwhile I’ve been keeping that Gul occupied. He’s obviously attracted to me, I can sense it.”
“That means you’ve sensed he has a pulse,” observed Torres with a sly look down the Betazoid’s baggy grey jumpsuit. “I don’t care how concealing that outfit is, he’s got to know there’s something special underneath it.”
“A bit more special than usual,” Troi said with a shy smile. “This isn’t really the place to ask, but do I look slimmer? I feel slimmer. That Orion conditioning was supposed to adjust our metabolisms.”
“I don’t know about slimmer, but I certainly feel a bit
bigger,” B’Elanna admitted, folding her arms in front of her breasts.
“I must admit I am beginning to appreciate these garments,” said T’Pol, running one hand down the curve of her hip, fingers tracing the silky smooth material. “It is very light and comfortable. I would be tempted to ask the Gul if we could keep them.”
“They’re a lot less revealing than the outfits we usually wear,” agreed Troi.
“Or usually don’t wear,” B’Elanna said. “T’Pol, how have you gone keeping their men running around in circles?”
“These Cardassians seem content to follow me around like schoolboys,” the Vulcan replied. “They are attentive and responsive to commands. Despite having made no progress in our search they do not appear frustrated or hostile, but continue to…” T’Pol’s pouting lips pursed as she searched for the right words. “They ‘wait on me hand and foot’,” she finished.
“Same here,” B’Elanna nodded. “I’m sure you’ve all noticed
how hot the Cardassians like it in here? I asked one of them if they could do
something about it, and the next thing I know they’re hauling in a cooling unit
for me! I’ve never met Cardies this polite! They’re
bringing another one over here too,” she added with a flick of her dark hair.
“I feel like a princess.”
T’Pol nodded. “I find myself
wishing my former crewmates on the NX-type
“Tell me about it,” Deanna said, her beautiful dark eyes
rolling. “Back on the
“Try explaining having the words For Sale on your tits,” B’Elanna suggested. “That’d make you think fast.”
“Not mentioning Sold on your posterior,” T’Pol added archly. “I think it is for the best that our Cardassian hosts are oblivious to our history on Ferenginar.”
“Agreed,” Deanna nodded, as blissfully unaware as the other two Starfleet officers were.
A pair of Cardassians approached the trio, carrying a hefty rectangular piece of equipment between them. “This is the cooling unit you wanted, Miss Elena,” one of the men said as they set the gear down and switched it on.
“You’re a miracle worker, Daus,” B’Elanna said as the three women stepped towards the cooler and felt a lovely burst of chilling breeze wash over them.
Their hair flew in the air flow. B’Elanna lifted her arms and twisted at the waist, presenting her bare breasts to every man in the chamber. Deanna leaned forward, boobs dangling and swaying as she shook her raven-black locks in the cool air. T’Pol leaned down to adjust her bootstraps again, presenting her firm rump with her pussy peeking between her thighs as her hands slid down her long, long legs.
The three brunettes turned around, letting the air cool their backs and necks and bottoms before turning again to let it wash over breasts and bellies and pussies. Three pairs of nipples hardened and stiffened in the breeze. Deanna flexed one arm over behind her head and leaned sharply, her melons shifting with her movement. B’Elanna hopped on her toes, refreshed by the chilly air, her tits bouncing in time to her jumps. T’Pol ran her hands up her waist to lift her breasts, cooling the skin normally covered by the two globes, her dark nipples pointing forwards like two little cannons.
The Cardassians named Mas and Daus watched from across the chamber as three Starfleet officers unwittingly struck sexy poses, unaware that they were actually naked except for their boots. Mas cast a sidelong look at his comrade standing awestruck beside him. “Well, I’ve seen this. I guess I can die happy now.”
+++++
Gul Khambat had managed to tear himself away from Deanna Troi’s naked figure long enough to reach Persi-2’s bridge.
The large oval viewscreen was presently filled with the view of their three bare-bodied guests, presently standing in the air-flow path of a cooling unit as they lifted their arms and ran their fingers through their hair. Those Cardassians unfortunate enough to be on bridge duty during Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol’s visit could not go below and see the three Starfleet officers in the flesh and had to find other ways to enjoy the show.
They groaned in disappointment as they heard the Gul’s orders. “Give me a search of the
“There are a lot of search results sir,” answered one of his crew.
“Then tell me about Moonlight Bounty, this delivery company she runs.”
“There isn’t much. It was founded very recently and there isn’t much information on it.”
Khambat rubbed his eye-ridges. “For sale, huh? Search the network for them again, but this time work on escaped slaves. We don’t get much information from the markets but maybe something will come up.”
“I’ve found a flagged item,” another crewman reported quickly. “Our people purchased a Maquis terrorist from the Ferengi, then she escaped. They provided data from the night’s sales. Putting it up on the screen.”
The oval viewscreen was suddenly filled with B’Elanna Torres’ naked body. Shown from the mid-thigh up it was clear that Voyager’s chief engineer was utterly nude, her dark eyes flashing daggers at something not seen on the screen. Her arms were forced to reach out sideways by some invisible force, leaving her delicious tits bare. Across those boobs the words “FOR SALE” were immediately visible. “A snapshot taken during the last major slave sale on Ferenginar.”
Khambat smiled at the sight of the defeated Maquis terrorist. “That’s our Elena, alright.” His eyes widened as he read the details beside her image. “Level eight Orion conditioning? That’s an expensive piece of ass. Were there other items sold by the same merchant? If he marked one he could have marked three.”
The next flashed onto the screen and the Cardassians on the
bridge were treated to the sight of T’Pol, bound and
naked on the auction block of Ferenginar. The snapshot had caught
One last time the viewscreen changed, revealing the third slave sold by the Ferengi merchant Golga that day. The oval screen was showed the voluptuous beauty from the thighs up, letting Khambat drink in the sight of her pale silky curves, generous heavy breasts and perfectly bald snatch. Forced to stand with her arms outstretched the lovely Betazoid cringed as of Ferengi hands reached around from behind her to pinch her nipples and cruelly pull them left and right, making the “FOR SALE” sign on her breasts even more prominent. Her imperiously beautiful face was wracked with pleasure and humiliation.
“Counselor Deanna Troi of the
starship
“What are we going to do, sir?” one of the Cardassians asked.
Gul Khambat smiled at the
sight of Deanna Troi naked and humiliated on the
viewscreen before him. “We’re going to give the counselor and her friends the
hospitality that they truly deserve.”
+++++
T’Pol leaned forward, delicately sniffing at the transparent blossom of a Vulcan Polar bloom. She was pleasantly surprised to see this particular flower on the Cardassian station. It was rare enough on her homeworld, growing only in the cooler climates at the far northern and southern extremes of her homeworld.
After sampling its delicate fragrance the science officer straightened. Then she sneezed, the movement making her tits lift and bounce, her big brown nipples left quivering on the globes of her breasts.
Then she was caught by surprise by an alarm suddenly and loudly blaring through the greenhouse. T’Pol’s regal features wore a cautious expression as several Cardassians ran into the greenhouse, the one in the lead carrying a first-aid kit. She recognized him from a previous conversation. “Loke, what is happening?”
“Biological breach,” the Cardassian said, he and his fellows halting nearby. He flicked open the pack and began handing out small one-shot hyposprays, which his fellow Cardassians quickly applied to their ridged necks. “A plant spore that causes lethal allergic reactions upon inhalation. T’Pol, you’ll need a shot,” Loke said as he fired a clear fluid into his own carotid artery. His grey snakeskin hands pulled another dose out of the kit and offered it to the Vulcan.
T’Pol took it, tilted her head and applied it to her neck. It fired cleanly into her bloodstream with only a brief needling sensation. “What about my companions?”
“They’re in other sections of the station,” Loke said, watching
“Nothing so far. But there are many specimens here and we should consider the possibility that the flower is simply not…” Her full pouting lips suddenly felt slack and clumsy, making her chew her words. “It might not be in bloom for months,” she managed to say before a wave of dizziness made the world spin.
T’Pol’s normally regal figure tilted, her long legs moving quickly to try to stay beneath her. Her sense of balance was gone. “What was in that inoculation?” the science officer queried.
Loke lifted the dose he had used on himself. “The stuff me and the boys took was harmless. But the stuff you took knocks big-titted Vulcan bimbos on their asses.”
Commander T’Pol stared at the Cardassian, her drug-addled mind trying to piece his words together and failing. “I don’t understand.”
“Maybe this will give you a hint.” Loke lifted a small control unit from the first aid kit, hit a button on it, and made T’Pol’s clothing disappear.
Suddenly the Vulcan was wearing nothing except her boots, every inch of her tanned long-limbed figure exposed. Her full lips opening in shock T’Pol stared down at the words “FOR SALE” on her bare breasts. She was naked, and realized that she had always been naked. Her clothing had been nothing but a hologram to fool her. Now the Cardassians’ attention and politeness was so obviously explained.
Completely nude and dazed from the drugs coursing through her gorgeous body T’Pol tried to turn and run. She staggered, her melons jiggling on her chest as she flailed her arms in an effort to keep her balance. She heard one of the Cardassians yell “Catch her! Don’t want her to hit her pretty head!”
The Vulcan lost her balance, nearly running into a wall and pushing off it, trying to make her long legs move beneath her. She failed and fell backwards into Loke’s waiting arms, his hands slipping eagerly around her lean body. The last thing T’Pol felt before she fell unconscious was Cardassian hands lifting and squeezing her bare breasts.
+++++
B’Elanna Torres stepped out of the low-gravity turbolift and felt her breasts return to their normal positions. She let out a little huffing sigh, checking that there were no Cardassians around before lifting her hands to her chest and adjusting her round treats beneath her baggy grey uniform.
“Okay,” she said, reading the Cardassian symbols on the wall near the turbolift, “This is the right floor. The backup computer should be through the clean room.” It hadn’t been hard to wheedle directions out of one of her Cardassian hosts. “Maybe they stored additional data somewhere other than the main memory core.”
She advanced into the clean room, a decontamination chamber that separated this wing of the station from the pollen-and-pesticide exposed greenhouses. But the instant the Maquis was through the entrance it slammed shut behind her and sealed. B’Elanna turned, slapping her hands against the metal with tit-bouncing force, then turn and sprinted for the other entrance.
Despite the furious pumping of her long athletic legs Torres didn’t have the
speed to reach the other entrance before it too sealed shut, trapping her in decon.
“Dammit!” She turned to the transparent plex observation screen in the wall of the decon room and was surprised to see Cardassians in the security room beyond. She recognized one of them. Torres folded her arms in front of her breasts and gave the man a grudging smile. “Very funny Daus. Now open the door.”
Daus and the other Cardassians behind the plexi screen grinned at the trapped Klingon beauty. “Gotta clean you off first, Miss Elena. Please take off your clothes.”
B’Elanna gasped, not only at the audacity of the Cardassian’s demands but at the danger it was to her. “If those bastards get me naked they’ll see those humiliating signs!” Torres thought, her hands instinctively flying up to cup and cover her “FOR SALE” marked boobs. “They’ll work out that we’re escaped slaves!”
The Cardassians grinned at her outrage. They could already see B’Elanna Torres naked, and had been enjoying the spectacle of the twenty-two year old Lieutenant parading her stunning athletic figure around them from the moment she came aboard the station. They just wanted to see her reaction.
“There is no way that you are getting me to take my clothes off!” threatened B’Elanna, one hand on the curve of her hip and the other pointing aggressively at the Cardassian. “Now open up that door and let me through!”
“Not without hosing you down first,” Daus said simply. The other Cardassians behind him were holding in their laughter and the sight of the infuriated B’Elanna.
But she swallowed her anger. “You win. Spray me. But I’m keeping my clothes on, thank you.”
“Works best when you’re buck naked,” the Cardassian countered, his eyes on the twenty-two year old’s athletic figure. “What have you got to be afraid of, Klingon?”
The barb made Torres’ nose wrinkle with outrage but again she held it in. “Fine. I won’t go through. Send me back the other way.” The Lieutenant wasn’t about to risk the freedom of herself and her friends on the longshot of finding more useful data in the secondary computer core.
But Daus wasn’t about to free the Klingon when they had her so perfectly trapped. “Dammit but it was a fun game while it lasted,” the Cardassian said, lifting a holographic control unit in his hand. He pressed its button. “Guess what? You lose, B’Elanna Torres.”
She gasped as she heard the Cardassian speak her real name. Her true identity as a Maquis was exposed. Then the Lieutenant gasped again as she realized that her clothing was gone! The holograms that had kept the twenty-two year old fooled into thinking she was anything but nude had been deactivated, leaving B’Elanna Torres’ toned, tanned athletic figure completely exposed!
Her hands slapped over her private parts, one arm wrapping around her tits, making the “FOR SALE” sign rise on her cleavage, while the other dove down over her neat hairless slit. B’Elanna just had the time to see the Cardassians laughing at her humiliation before she gasped yet again as jets of water burst from small holes in the walls, floor and ceiling and struck her with ice-cold water.
She shrieked and spun, her already-soaked dark hair flicking around her as she tried to protect herself from the chilling sprays. B’Elanna’s squeals grew in pitch as more than one jet, cunningly firing from below, struck upwards into her super-sensitive pussy. The Klingon’s body, expertly conditioned to make her helplessly sensitive to intimate contact, was now responding not just to her shame and shock but also to unwanted pleasure. She turned and shrieked and leapt and spun about like a wet cat, furious at this humiliating treatment and by her own involuntary response.
With a scream of outrage B’Elanna slammed herself against
the plex screen, making the Cardassians behind it
jump back in fright. They eased down again as it became clear that the Klingon
would not break through. “She’s a fiery little thing, isn’t she?” one of the
men commented as he admired the sight of Torres hammering the screen with her
hands, each blow making her bare breasts leap. Water still sprayed her from behind,
rivulets running down the curves and slopes of her gorgeous naked body. The
words “FOR SALE” jumped on her chest with her jiggling boobs as she continued
her futile assault on the window.
“This will put her out good,” Daus said, nodding at the furious and naked Klingon in the chamber beyond the screen. “Look, the gas is already getting to her.”
Sure enough B’Elanna’s blows were slowing, her dark eyes rolling, her shrieks fading to moans and her eyelids fluttering as a tranquilizing gas was pumped into the decon room. Her athletic legs slackened and the twenty-two year old found herself leaning chest-first against the screen, her bare breasts flattening against the plex as she unwittingly offered the Cardassians another mouthwatering demonstration of just how soft and supple her melons were.
The water jets were switched off. The brunette struggled to fight on, her hands lamely swinging back and pathetically batting the screen. She mewled helplessly, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to hold on to her consciousness. Her boots, the only clothing she wore, lost their traction on the wet metal floor and her legs slowly spread as she sank towards the deck. Stripped, humiliated and defeated, B’Elanna Torres leaned tits-first against the screen as she slid downwards into darkness, her nipples squeaking on the window.
+++++
Gul Khambat looked at the images of the datapadd. On one B’Elanna Torres was being carried out of the decontamination chamber with a Cardassian holding either elbow, the twenty-two year old’s wrists bound behind her back and her tits jiggling prominently as she was manhandled about. On the other T’Pol was likewise unconscious and nude as she was removed from the arboretum, a Cardassian dragging her from behind and keeping his hands firmly around the Vulcan’s bare breasts. The Gul smiled in satisfaction at the sight.
“Something’s got you happy,” Deanna sensed, not realizing that the cause of the Gul’s delight was the humiliating capture of her friends.
Without showing the Betazoid the datapadd’s screen he hefted it. “A status report,” he said, and continued to admire the view of the defeated T’Pol and B’Elanna Torres. “My crew is really working together on this one and I have your friends to thank.”
Troi would normally have believed a line like that to be a load of garbage, her empathy told her the Gul was telling the truth. The Cardassian was truly feeling pride and excitement. She settled her hands on her hips, her full chest thrusting forwards slightly. “You’re obviously trying to flatter me, Gul Khambat. It won’t always work.”
“As long as it works once in a while.” Khambat slipped the datapadd into his coat. “It’s strange, Miss Dina, because I was supposed to be giving you a tour of my station.” His fingers searched in his pocket for the holographic control unit. “But I believe that I have seen a lot more than you have.”
The counselor of the USS Enterprise-D approached the Cardassian with unconsciously sexy steps. “How did you come to that conclusion, Gul Khambat?”
His fingertips found the control unit. The Cardassian looked straight at the voluptuous twenty-nine year old before him as he deactivated her holographic clothing.
Deanna’s baggy grey jumpsuit disappeared. Her dark eyes widened with shock as she felt the material fade off her skin. Troi looked down and saw herself as the Cardassians had seen her all along: bare naked, wearing not a thing on her but the words “FOR SALE” on her heavy melons, “SOLD” on her round rump and the boots on her feet that had generated the holograms that had kept the counselor fooled.
Every part of her, from her generous tits to her lovely bald snatch and full womanly bottom had been on display for these perverse Cardassians since the first footstep she had taken aboard. Shock and shame and anger burst inside her naked body.
Then Deanna shrieked as Gul Khambat’s hands snaked forward and clenched around her bare breasts! “For one thing, Counselor Troi, I’ve never felt the tits of a woman worth six hundred bars of latinum before. Now I have.” To demonstrate his fingers tightened around her soft melons.
Discomfort and pleasure sparked in her molested boobs. Deanna grabbed the Cardassian’s wrists. “Let go of me!” she cried, struggling and trying to pull away but every movement incurred a greater stress on her super-sensitive breasts, “Get your hands off those!”
“But you’re going to learn a few things too,” the Cardassian continued, stepping forward and forcing the nude Betazoid to retreat, gasping and panting as her breasts were tightly squeezed and lifted by the Gul’s cruel fingers. He could feel her nipples going hard and poking against his palms. “You’re going to learn some things that every pretty empty-headed Starfleet bimbo should learn.”
He shoved her, the five-foot-three woman falling back onto her bare ass with a tit-shaking impact. For an instant she stared up at the Cardassian in humiliation and shock, her legs spread from her fall and her neat bald pussy revealed to him. Then she pulled her pale thighs together.
Khambat reached down and grabbed Deanna’s ankles. With a cry of protest she was flipped over, her big tits flattening against the cold metal deck. “No don’t!” she screamed as the Cardassian knelt with one knee on her back, holding the Starfleet officer down. Helpless and naked Deanna Troi wailed in shame and defeat, her bare legs kicking uselessly as she was pinned down with her erect nips poking against the deck.
She felt a hypospray press hard against the soft flesh of her ass. “What are you doing?” Deanna demanded, “What have you done?” But she was already feeling woozy. Her panicked breaths slowed and her dark eyes half-closed as the drugs had their effect. In seconds the counselor was unconscious, all resistance gone.
Khambat stood up, looking down at Deanna Troi lying naked and unconscious before him, the word “SOLD” clearly printed on her generous ass. “Beautiful,” he murmured. Then he ducked down, reaching beneath the slumbering brunette to grab a handful of Betazoid tit, and pulled the helpless twenty-nine year old onto her back. Deanna’s bare breasts rolled across her chest, erect brown nipples poking up out of the softness of her tits, bald pussy bared for him to enjoy, and her imperiously beautiful face serene and still in her sleep.
“No,” the Cardassian said as he admired how the “FOR SALE” sign on Deanna Troi’s bare breasts rose and fell with her slow deep breaths, “That’s beautiful.” Kneeling beside the unconscious counselor Khambat reached out and took hold of those generous melons, lifting them to feel their heft, squeezing them, mashing the two glorious orbs across the Betazoid’s chest.
She squirmed in her sleep, her Orion-conditioned body responding even while unconscious. The sight intrigued the Cardassian. He eyed the delicious treat between Troi’s pale thighs. He let one grey snakeskin hand slide down her flat belly to her snatch, his fingertips feeling out the contours of Deanna’s pussy lips. He flicked his fingers across her slit.
The Betazoid moaned out loud, the globes of her breasts shifting on her chest as she arched her back in unconscious pleasure. “She really is a class eight Orion slut,” Khambat marveled. “No wonder she sold for six hundred. She’s worth an entire harem.” He rubbed harder at Deanna’s pussy and was rewarded with another moan from the slumbering counselor and further gyrations, her full tits shifting left and right as she twisted and wriggled in her sleep.
Gul Khambat stood up, drinking in the sight of Commander Deanna Troi lying nude and helpless before him. Without taking his eyes off the counselor’s lush pale body he pulled out his communicator. “I’ve got the third one on her back,” he said. He gave one of the brunette’s generous tits a nudge with the tip of its boot and watched the milky orb quiver. “I want two men up here with restraints and a gasmask. Get our three guests to the brig.”
He lowered his communicator and knelt down again, leaning over the busty Betazoid beauty. “And then I’m going to figure out just how much I can get for your sweet ass, Deanna Troi,” he said, pinching one of the unconscious counselor’s nipples and gently pulling it upwards. As her tit lifted the woman groaned, feeling the pleasure even through the drugs. Khambat released her tit and watched it bounce and return to its former delicious shape on her chest.
Persi-2 was a dull place to be posted. The men had to find their own ways of staying entertained. And regardless of whether they liked it or not T’Pol, B’Elanna Torres and Deanna Troi had become the entertainment.
TO BE CONTINUED
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