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:
For a clearer idea of what these characters look like, check out www.memory-alpha.org and use the search feature to find the characters by name.
Feedback can be directed to Mickt80@hotmail.com.
EPISODE 11: MOVE ALONG HO
The three women ran side by side across the sun-soaked dunes of the Vulcan desert, perspiring heavily and breathing hard.
The furthest left was a fair-skinned beauty with raven-black hair and equally dark eyes. The twenty-nine year old was only five-foot three but was blessed with a curvaceous body that more than made up for it. Her imperiously beautiful face was easily recognizable: she was Commander Deanna Troi of the USS Enterprise-D, a respected officer and vital diplomatic figure on the Federation flagship.
On the far right was a toned and athletic young woman, presently making good use of her long firm legs and taut ass as she ran. Her straight dark hair was cut at chin-level and her attractive features were marked by a high forehead with small ridges that revealed her half Klingon blood. The twenty-two year old B’Elanna Torres was a Maquis criminal and had once been the chief engineer of the USS Voyager.
In the centre ran a figure that any Vulcan would recognize.
She was one of the most respected women in Starfleet history, sometimes called
the First Modern Vulcan and the Mother of the Federation. T’Pol
ran between her companions, her regally beautiful features not a day older than
during her voyages on the NX class
The three Starfleet officers were nude. With their wrists bound behind their backs they could do nothing to cover their delicious nakedness or even cup their ample tits to cushion their bouncing in Vulcan’s heavy gravity. They could only endure the heat, sweat, sand and humiliation as they were forced to run naked across the desert wearing nothing but their boots. Long legs pumped, asses wiggled and breasts jumped up and down in rapid rhythm.
The three brunettes’ were slick with perspiration and their dark hair damp with sweat. T’Pol, Deanna and B’Elanna climbed up a dune’s slope, leaning forward heavily, their nether lips peeking out between their laboring thighs and their bare breasts swaying beneath them. Then they crested the dune and then began the steep run down the other side, their booted feet skidding in the sand and their boobs bouncing with the quickness of their descent.
Following behind them was their captor: the Jem’Hadar K’Mataclan. The genetically engineered soldier easily kept pace with the three nude women, cautiously watching their wiggling rumps as he kept them in line. Whenever one fell out of formation he would shove or ass-slap them back into line, forcing his sexy captives to run three abreast. This way if any of the trio tried to undo the bonds on their wrists K’Mataclan would see it.
In addition to losing their ship Starheart, T’Pol, Deanna and B’Elanna had also
lost their weapons, equipment and every strip of dignity. Without the support
of bras each stride in Vulcan’s gravity was a boob-jolting experience, making
all three women shut their eyes in embarrassment and distress.
“How can this happen on my homeworld?” T’Pol thought, her trim thighs working hard beneath her round ass. “I served in my people’s fleet hoping to improve Vulcan lives and keep my world safe. How can an invader so brazenly take us prisoner on my world?”
“It’s much worse than that,” came Deanna’s thoughts, the empath’s words appearing clearly in the Vulcan’s mind. Since coming together the three heroines had learned to use the Betazoid as a psychic relay for private conversations. “If the Jem’Hadar are here on Vulcan, where else might they already be?” The brown circles of the Betazoid’s nipples bounced on the tips of her boobs as she struggled to keep up with her taller longer-legged companions. “They might be on any planet in the Federation!”
“The atmospheric interference that was blocking our communication must be hiding him as well,” B’Elanna added, the nude twenty-two year old looking up at the sky, tinged green with charged metal oxides. “Who knows what else they could be keeping hidden?”
“Halt,” ordered K’Mataclan, and the three women slowed to a walk and then stopped. Perspiration trickled down their mouthwatering curves and their bare breasts rose and fell with their deep breaths. “Kneel.” Seeing the three Starfleet officers hesitate the Jem’Hadar stepped forward and hit B’Elanna in the back of her knee, making her drop with a yelp. “I gave you an order.”
T’Pol and Troi lowered themselves to their knees beside the Klingon. The three women were a stunning sight, their thighs spread slightly, their lovely bald pussies revealed and their tits shining with perspiration. Each was acutely aware of her vulnerability, with arms tied behind backs and no leverage from this awkward kneeling posture. K’Mataclan stepped in front of the three nude beauties and unscrewed the cap from a canteen of water.
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol rose on their knees and inched forward, breasts jiggling and mouths open as the Jem’Hadar poured refreshing water over their faces. All dignity and modesty was forgotten the nude Starfleet officers gulped and gasped, boobs bumping into those of her companions as each tried to get as much of the water as they could. Finally the canteen was empty and the three brunettes sunk back down on their knees, cool water running down their cheeks, necks, breasts and bellies to tease at their bald pussies.
K’Mataclan’s dark eyes moved over the three naked prisoners, watching closely for any sign of resistance. The Jem’Hadar did not seem to tire or grow thirsty: his only sustenance came from a capsule of the drug Ketrecel White tucked in the collar of his armored uniform, feeding the enzyme into his chemically dependant body. “We will wait here until they arrive.”
“Until who arrive?” T’Pol asked. Her question was answered by the sight of three female figures cresting a tall dune nearby, backlit by the bright Vulcan sun.
It was easy to see that one was blonde, the sunlight shining
through her curls as they hung down to her shoulders, free of the ponytail she
had previously bound her hair in. She was Captain Elizabeth Shelby of the USS Sutherland. The second’s silhouette revealed
a long braided ponytail running down her back to her ass, flicking as she
turned her head to quickly look back over her shoulder. T’Pol,
Troi and Torres recognized this as Robin Lefler, a Junior Grade Lieutenant from
Troi, Torres and T’Pol had met the three women only a few hours earlier,
discovering their Runabout
T’Pol’s plump lips opened to shout to the three women, to warn them of the Dominion soldier that had captured them, but the cry died in her throat as another silhouette appeared on the dune’s crest beside Elizabeth, Robin and Hedril. It was another Jem’Hadar.
The three Starfleet women all suffered shoves to the asses, sending the blonde, the brunette and the redhead half -running, half-skidding down the steep slope. Their long legs struggled to stay under them as their bare breasts bounced and jiggled. The eighteen year old Hedril slipped and landed on her pale milky tits with a cry of humiliation, and her splaying legs tripped up her companions. The three women rolled and slid down the slope, a thin coat of sand sticking to their perspiring skin.
The Betazoid, the Vulcan and the Klingon crew stared at the other three women in shock and dismay, realizing that they were not the only captives taken by the Jem’Hadar today. The Captain, the Lieutenant and the Ensign had all been stripped naked, their wrists bound behind their backs with the ragged remains of their own Starfleet uniforms. All they wore was their footwear!
Elizabeth Shelby’s curly blonde hair had been pulled out of its knot and now fell around her face to the Captain’s shoulders. Normally all-business, her features were now softer and more enticing, although her complete lack of clothing probably helped. Beside her Robin Lefler’s face was flushed with absolute shame that did not fade when she saw that Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol had also been stripped naked. Hedril bit her lip in embarrassment, tears of humiliation running down her pale cheeks as she tried to turn her nakedness so that the eighteen year old’s peaches were hidden from her captors.
“Dammit,” B’Elanna groaned, “They got you too?”
“There were Jem’Hadar
already onboard the Chastity,”
“They must have changed the ships’ courses,” added Lefler, wiggling her wrists in a vain effort to free herself that only made her nipples wobble left and right on her bare breasts as she leaned forward. “They could hide onboard, invisible and undetected, and guide ships into the power-drain trap. And then they spring it,” the brunette said in defeat, shuddering in embarrassment at being naked and bound.
“I’m sorry,” breathed Deanna, “I’m so sorry.”
There were tears of despair in Ensign Hedril’s blue eyes. “It’s worse, Commander,” the redheaded Cairn said helplessly, her pink-nippled tits quivering as she tried not to cry, “It’s so much worse.”
A second later they realized exactly what the little blonde had meant. More girls and young women began to skid and run down the slope, pushed down to the meeting place by their Jem’Hadar captors. Some were Bajoran and some were Deltan, but whatever their species it made no difference. Each had been stripped of her clothing, wrists bound behind her back, and forced to march naked across the desert under the cold heartless eyes of the Jem’Hadar. Deltan schoolgirls were flushed with embarrassment, the eighteen year old’s panting from their run, while Bajoran acolytes cringed and trembled in shame, pulled so rudely from their protected lives, their robes torn from their slim bodies.
The schoolgirls’ teacher staggered down the slope towards Shelby, Lefler and Hedril. As a Deltan Alia Belles was no stranger to sensuality but she had clearly never been treated this way, her gorgeous features flushed with embarrassment. When the beautiful bald schoolteacher caught sight of Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol despair appeared in her hazel eyes. Clearly she had been hoping for a rescue for herself and her students. Now she could see for certain that there would be none.
But it was Milos Lanlee who was the most transformed. No longer was her pale, long-legged, full-breasted figure concealed beneath the robes of a Bajoran Vedek. Now the redheaded beauty was naked, like her acolytes wearing nothing but her sandals and socks that traveled up her long legs to mid-thigh. The Bajoran’s boobs jiggled as she skidded and ran down the slope. She came to a halt, the big pink nipples that tipped her milky breasts rising and falling rapidly with her panicked breaths and her pretty features were flushed with humiliation. She stared down between her own bare breasts, down her flat stomach to the triangle of red fur that pointed to her bare snatch. “How could the Prophets allow this?” she despaired.
Deltans and Bajorans descended the slope with tit-bouncing speed, many of them slipping and rolling with long legs flying and bare breasts jiggling. T’Pol’s eyes counted them. There were sixteen Deltans, thirteen Bajorans and three humans. Adding herself, Torres and Troi that made thirty five females.
They were a delicious sight. The Bajoran Acolytes led spartan lives and labored in their faith, while the Deltan girls were kept active and fit under Alia Belles’ care. Each of the young women were slim, fit and gorgeous. Starfleet’s physical requirements ensured that Shelby, Lefler and Hedril all sported slim waists, firm asses and excellent legs, while Troi, T’Pol and Torres’ Orion-conditioned metabolisms made it impossible for them to put on weight. The thirty-five captives were mouthwatering, and every single one of them was bound with her wrists behind her back, forcing them to leave their nudity uncovered. Everywhere they looked was skin slick with perspiration and bare breasts rising and falling quickly from their exertions.
As the last nude teenager staggered down the slope, her small tits bouncing and her long bare legs almost flailing as she tried to keep her feet underneath her, the final Jem’Hadar followed her down. His grey skin was marked by a broad mass of white across one side of his face, as if scarred or burnt in some way. The genetically engineered soldier looked looking over the thirty-five naked women under his control. “Sixth?” he said, his eyes moving towards the kneeling Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol. “Are these the crew of the vessel that destroyed our scout?”
“Yes First Tan’Alac.” K’Mataclan stepped forward, gesturing back with one hand to where the lush figures of T’Pol, Torres and Troi knelt unclothed on the sand. “They transported from the vessel prior to its solar crash. I was deployed to pursue and neutralize if the opportunity arose.”
“You showed good judgment in bringing them here,” Tan’Alac observed, his dark eyes running over the naked curves of the three Starfleet officers. “The Vorta will be pleased to have such ideal specimens for the experiments.”
“It was the Vorta who instructed me to spare them,” K’Mataclan said, standing utterly upright and still.
The higher ranking Jem’Hadar looked long and hard at his subordinate. “Sixth K’Mataclan, did you break the chain and speak directly to the Vorta, not through your First?”
“Yes Tan’Alac.”
“You are now Ninth. Get the prisoners in a line. They will be inspected and sorted.”
The newly demoted Ninth K’Mataclan quickly forced T’Pol, Torres and Troi to their feet, each woman’s bare tits jiggling as they were pulled by their arms. “Harsh punishment for field communication,” the Vulcan observed to her companions as the Jem’Hadar moved on to the other captives.
“The Dominion is built on control,” B’Elanna said, her dark eyes moving around her surroundings as she counted the soldiers guarding them. “The Jem’Hadar at the bottom, the Vorta above them, and the Founders over all. Their dependency on Ketrecel White ensures the soldiers are obedient to the point of death. No break in the order is allowed.”
The female prisoners were arranged in a queue. One by one they were pushed forward, tits jiggling, and made to stand naked before the Jem’Hadar First. Whether schoolgirl, priestess or Starfleet officer each one trembled and flushed with humiliation as their nude bodies were looked over by First Tan’Alac. Many of the eighteen year olds quaked, clearly on the verge of tears as the grey-skinned Jem’Hadar, standing a foot taller than most of them, looked over their helpless naked bodies. And regardless of what species his captive, his examination was always the same.
“Uughhh,” groaned Alia Belles as the Jem’Hadar gripped, squeezed and lifted the Deltan schoolteacher’s bare breasts. Her fantastic naked figure wriggled helplessly, another soldier holding her from behind as the First fondled her abundant titflesh.
“Class Two,” Tan’Alac said, releasing the Deltan’s tits. That terse statement was enough, apparently, for Belles to be dragged over to a growing crowd of young woman. Each and every girl there had suffered the Jem’Hadar’s rough hands on her tender breasts. Robin Lefler was already there, pink marks on her tits showing that Tan’Alac had already has his way with the Junior Grade Lieutenant’s boobs.
“Aahhh!!” T’Pol gasped as her super-sensitive tits were mashed around her chest. Her nipples became erect almost instantly, poking against Tan’Alac’s palms.
“Class One,” the Jem’Hadar stated, and T’Pol joined another group of women. Shortly afterwards Deanna Troi was arching her back and shutting her eyes in humiliation as the counselor’s tits were fondled and squeezed. “Class One,” repeated Tan’Alac. Then his hands found B’Elanna Torres’ bare breasts.
“Uuhhhhh,” groaned the Klingon in distress as her boobs were molested, her brown nipples quickly growing hard from the attention.
“Class Two,” the Jem’Hadar First indicated, sending Torres to a different group from her companions. Elizabeth Shelby shut her eyes as her own tits were pinched and jiggled, her boobs made to dance as she was examined. “Another Two.”
The Vedek Lanlee Milos shut her blue eyes in shame as her own breasts were vigorously fondled. The inspection of the Bajoran’s udders continued until she was panting and flushing, her pink nipples erect on her boobs. She too joined the ‘Class One’ group.
But there was also a third group. “Class Three,” Tan’Alac stated. A Bajoran acolyte gasped in relief as the Jem’Hadar’s big fingers ceased to molest the small handfuls of her tits. The naked and flushing teenager was pushed over to another assembly of girls, numbering less than a dozen so far. The nude Deltan schoolgirls and Bajoran Acolytes were frightened at being excluded, looking at each other with large eyes.
T’Pol heard Deanna whisper something. “They’re dividing us by size.”
“You’re five foot three,” the Vulcan pointed out. “You and I do not belong in the same group.”
“Not size-size,” Troi said, “Cup size.”
T’Pol could see that the counselor was correct. The Deltan and Bajoran girls in the ‘Class Three’ group were mostly flat-chested, sporting only a slight bulge at the breast as their teenaged boobs began to bud. Many of this group were still very pretty girls but they were clearly not as developed as the other, fuller-chested young women. The Class Twos, where Robin Lefler, Elizabeth Shelby and B’Elanna Torres had larger, fuller breasts.
T’Pol and Troi shared startled looks. They were both Class Ones, blessed with the largest and most delicious breasts. There were only a few there: themselves, Lanlee Milos and a Deltan schoolgirl presently with her head bowed as she stared in shame the at her own bare melons.
A yelp of shame and shock made them look over to where Ensign Hedril was being fondled. The redhead was left panting and quivering, her pink nipples shivering on the tips of her tits, her teats now erect from the pulling and rubbing. “Class Two,” Tan’Alac said, shoving the stripped Ensign on her way.
With the sorting concluded Tan’Alac ordered his men around with gestures and pointed fingers. “Line them up.” The three groups of women were forced into queues again, lined up and made to face the Jem’Hadar First, their bare breasts arranged in neat and lovely lines conveniently separated by size. T’Pol felt a surge of embarrassment at this humiliating ordeal.
“Fourth, fifth and six: you will be responsible for headcounts. These are the Class Ones.” Tan’Alac gestured in the direction T’Pol, Deanna, Lanlee and the lone big-titted Deltan schoolgirl. “Commit their faces to memory.” Then he pointed towards the next group, where most of the captives stood. “These are the Class Twos. Remember their faces.”
Then the First turned towards the last group. “Put the Class Threes on their knees.”
After the sorting there were a full dozen girls in this group. The Jem’Hadar forced the flat-chested young women to kneel. Slim thighs were forced to spread in their awkward postures and tight teenaged pussies completely bared for all to see. Whimpers and sobs broke out as Deltan and Bajoran alike flushed with humiliation. Schoolgirls hadn’t expected anything like this treatment, and the Chastity’s Acolytes had lived sheltered lives, protected even from the brutalities of the Cardassian occupation, until the moment the Jem’Hadar had torn their clothing from their bodies.
“I am Tan’Alac, the Jem’Hadar First,” the scar-faced soldier declared, facing the heavier-chested women that stood naked and huddled together before him. “You will obey. You will not attempt to escape. You will not attempt to remove your bonds. You will not attempt to leave trails or clues for rescuers.”
“They’re hiding from the Vulcans.” Deanna’s telepathic presence was a warm soft touch on T’Pol’s mind. “They don’t want us to leave clues. They’re not very strong here.”
“Then we still have hope,” T’Pol thought in reply.
The Jem’Hadar First was still stating his conditions. “You will not attempt to steal weapons or assault my men. You will halt when ordered to, march when ordered to, and run when ordered to. Any breach of these rules will result in the execution of one of these twelve females.” He gestured back to the young women he had designated ‘Class Three’.
Alia Belles gasped in shock: many of the Class Three girls her students. Lanlee Milos’ strawberry red hair shook as she lifted her face in helpless outrage. The dozen excluded prisoners trembled. Bare shoulders shook as a flat-chested schoolgirl tried to hold in her sobs of terror. One of Lanlee’s acolytes broke into tears, letting out a humiliated wail and bowing forward slightly, her small boobs shaking. The message was clear: the twelve flat-chested females were considered expendable.
“That’s not fair!” Robin Lefler shouted, stepping forward.
A Jem’Hadar palm pressed against her bare breasts and shoved the green-eyed beauty onto her ass. “That is the order,” the soldier warned, eyeing the lovely young woman as she struggled to roll over and get her long legs beneath her naked body.
Then they all heard a sound. At first it was only a whisper, little louder than the wind. Then it became clearer as the Bajorans added their voices to it. Even the small-breasted Bajorans in the expendable group began to mouth the ancient words, their voices made louder by their desperation. Vedek Lanlee was leading her sisters in prayer-song, the young woman’s face lowered and her long red hair falling in front of her milky breasts. The empathic Deanna Troi felt a strange calm form, the song serving as something to hold on to and giving them confidence that the bound the naked women sorely lacked.
Tan’Alac did not appreciate it. The Jem’Hadar First strode forwards into the group, making a beeline for the redhead. His powerful forearms pushed the other nude captives aside. Whether Deltan or Bajoran or Vulcan or Klingon they could not match his strength or mass. Seeing the looming Jem’Hadar before her Lanlee Milos lifted her face, her blue eyes fiery with her outrage and defiance.
“Your evil ways are your end, monster! Pray the Prophets will have mercy on you!” There was such power and certainty in her voice that it was suddenly clear how the woman had become a Vedek while only in her mid-twenties.
And then Lanlee was yelping in distress as Tan’Alac gripped her large pink nipples and twisted them hard. “Aaahhh aaaaahhh aaeeeeiii!!!” she squealed as the Jem’Hadar lifted her tits by her teats, her soft melons stretching into cones. She was forced to stand on the tips of her toes, crying out in discomfort and humiliation. Just as quickly the other women could see Lanlee Milos for what she was: no longer a Vedek but just another helpless prisoner, buck naked, hands bound behind her back as she stood on her toes to ease the discomfort of her nipples being pulled upwards.
Tan’Alac pulled the redhead’s supple breasts together, cruelly grabbing and holding both her pink nipples with one large powerful hand. With his other hand now free he reached down to Lanlee’s curly red bush. The Vedik obviously never shaved her snatch. She regretted it now.
“Aaaaahhhh!!” the Bajoran cried out, the Jem’Hadar pulling on her pubes with one hand while at the same time stretching her soft tits with the other. Tan’Alac’s fingers maintained a sadistically tight hold on the redhead’s nips and pubic hair, holding on even as she gasped and writhed and shook her head, red hair flying around her beautiful features.
“You think your gods protect you, Bajoran?” Tan’Alac challenged. “My gods demanded that you be stripped of your clothing and used for our purposes. Which gods do you think are the stronger?” For emphasis he yanked her tits upwards while pulling her pubes downward, maintaining the distressingly uncomfortable hold until the redhead wailed in defeat.
Then he pushed her onto her ass, leaving the beautiful priestess panting and
flushed with humiliation. Tan’Alac looked over the
other women, seeing each captive lower her eyes as he looked at them, none
willing to risk the Jem’Hadar’s powerful hands on
their bodies. “Now you will march.”
+++++
T’Pol’s long legs pumped beneath her, her generous melons bobbing on her chest as the nude Vulcan endured the humiliating trek. The planet’s harsh sun was beating down especially hard on the foreign girls. Neither Deltans, the Bajorans or the humans were used to this heat and quickly the many teenagers in the group were slippery with perspiration. Every pair of bouncing breasts wore either a sheen of sweat or was caked with sand after a fall. The Jem’Hadar would haul a fallen girl back on her feet and smack her on the ass until she was keeping up with the others again.
“At least this is only a quick walking pace,” came Deanna’s thoughts, empathically transmitted to her companions. “I don’t think many of these girls could have stood up under worse.” The Betazoid’s ample tits moved deliciously on her chest as she maintained the slow jog. The first time the counselor had been forced to trek naked across a desert she had collapsed from exhaustion. This time she was faring much better, her pale legs maintaining a smooth rhythm, in part thanks to the heightened metabolism her Orion-conditioned body now enjoyed.
Ahead of T’Pol was a wall of bare bottoms, most of them belonging to Bajorans. Young women who should have been heading home for Bajor in triumph, returning art and relics stolen from the occupation, were now bound, naked and deeply humiliated by their plight.
A glance over her bare shoulder rewarded the Vulcan with the sight of a row of naked bald beauties, breasts bouncing and thighs pumping beneath delicious bald pussies. These teenagers should have had no concerns beyond their next assignment or an upcoming test. Instead they had been stripped down to their footwear and their wrists tied behind their backs.
Alia Belles tried to remain with her Deltan schoolgirls while Vedek Lanlee shepherded her youthful Acolytes. Even naked and bound the two women tried to do their duties, guiding their young charges.
Elizabeth Shelby and Robin Lefler ran side by side, the bare breasts of the Sutherland’s captain bouncing in time with the Junior Grade Lieutenant’s boobs. The two officers were shifting their position across the pack, trying to stay with Ensign Hedril. The teenager was struggling in the heat, her head bowed in shame as she ran bound and naked. The Cairn seemed to be the most shaken at their situation, tears streaking her pale cheeks and her face flushed far more than the heat and exertion should have caused. Her every stride was awkward, her thighs close together and her feet taking tiny steps. Robin and Elizabeth took up position on either side of Hedril, speaking to her softly, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. Slowly the Ensign’s strides grew stronger.
T’Pol turned about, running backwards briefly, the new movement making the science officer’s generous melons bounce in new and interesting ways. She could see another Jem’Hadar following a few hundred feet behind the nude women, sweeping a boxy device across the sand. He too was running backwards. With each movement of the device he carried the many footprints and tracks left by the prisoners was obliterated from the sand. It was some kind of sonic device and it was cleaning away the signs of their passage. There would be no evidence that thirty five women had been forced to run nude across this stretch of the Vulcan desert.
“Halt!” Tan’Alac signaled, lifting one fist. The three-dozen naked women slowed and stopped, bare breasts heaving as they breathed heavily from the run. The younger girls moaned in discomfort at their aching legs and sore feet while and others complained of their throbbing tits, forced to endure the bouncing of their melons without the support of a bra or even a shirt. Many leaned forward heavily as they panted for air, bare breasts dangling and teen pussies peeking out between firm thighs.
“Observe!” the Jem’Hadar First said to his men, pointing at the exhausted young women, “See the weakness of our enemies. Separate the Class Threes and line them all up.”
As the women were pushed and shoved into another queue, one of the Jem’Hadar removed a large plastic container from his back. As it was set down it produced a sloshing sound, revealing that it contained a great volume of water. The young women gathered together, their nudity briefly forgotten as their thirst became more prominent. The Vulcan sun made their skin surrender perspiration, making their gorgeous bare bodies glisten with sweat. They could faintly see the outline of the water-level inside the plastic container, so much refreshing moisture contained within.
A tube was fitted to the water container and it was hoisted up on the back of one of the powerful Jem’Hadar. Tan’Alac strode across the front line of captives, observing the row of bare breasts lined up in front of him. He grabbed one set that happened to belong to Lanlee Milos. The redheaded bajoran gasped, her lips opening wide as she was pulled forward by her boobs, and then she received a mouthful of water. She gulped gratefully and took the next few mouthfuls just as quickly.
“Two standard measures each,” Tan’Alac said, leaving his men to the business of dispensing the water ration. “Class Threes are to be watered last.”
Down the line the women were given water. Vedek Lanlee Milos had been the first, and standing next to her was one of her acolytes. The eighteen year old obediently opened her mouths to receive her ration, some water escaping her lips to splash over her pink-nippled tits. Another Bajoran took her ration and cringed with humiliation, the priestesses-in-training unused to such degrading treatment but she too took her ration.
Then it was T’Pol’s turn. “No,” she said.
The
Ninth K’Mataclan held the hose up to the Vulcan’s full pouting lips. “You will drink.”
T’Pol lifted her haughtily beautiful face and looked at the Jem’Hadar with poise and self-control. “I have calculated, based on the volume of water remaining in that canister, the average ration you provide to each prisoner, and the number of prisoners present, that you will deplete our water reserves before you supply all of the Class Three prisoners.” The Vulcan lifted one naked shoulder in the direction of the dozen slim-figured, flat-chested girls and young women at the back of the cue, the movement making T’Pol’s lovely breasts shift and jiggle.
With wide eyes the Class Three females looked at each other, at their own humble breasts, then at the schoolgirls and would-be-priestesses also in their group. Each of the young women had already known they were considered expendable and, being positioned at the rear of the water queue, had feared there would not be a ration for them. With that fear confirmed the dozen captives began to tremble, one of the pretty Bajoran’s face screwing up as teardrops appeared on either side of the ridge on the bridge of her nose.
“It is unnecessary,” T’Pol continued. “As a Vulcan I can go without water for several days without ill effects.”
“I can stand to go a while longer too,” B’Elanna said, the
twenty-two year old half-Klingon stepping forward, her tan athletic figure
glistening with perspiration. She half-turned, pointing her brown nipples in
the direction of the six flat-chested girls. “They
need the water more than me.”
Elizabeth Shelby, Deanna Troi and Robin Lefler all stepped forward at the same time, joining the thirst strike. After a second’s hesitation and a deep breath that made her bare breasts rise magnificently, the red-haired Ensign Hedril stepped forward to stand with the other five nude but defiant Starfleet officers
There was something like a sigh from the prisoners as each and every woman felt a surge from the courage and strength of these defiant women. Vedek Lanlee lowered her blue eyes in shame at having taken her own ration without thinking, while Alia Belles’s beautiful features showed a smile of admiration as she gazed at the six women who were making a stand for the most vulnerable of their number. Even stripped naked, even with their hands bound behind their backs, the six Starfleet officers possessed something that the Jem’Hadar could not take away from them.
Tan’Alac had noticed the change in the atmosphere, looking across the bare bodies of the thirty-five women with narrowed eyes. “Bring the trouble makers forward,” he ordered, and in short order T’Pol, B’Elanna, Deanna, Robin, Hedril and Elizabeth Shelby were standing naked and bound before the Jem’Hadar first. The six women were turned, bare breasts and bald pussies exposed to the crowd.
T’Pol was the first to flinch as Tan’Alac smacked her hard on her bare ass. She nearly jumped, tits leaping on her chest. B’Elanna jerked as another Jem’Hadar swatted her firm ass. Then Troi gasped and jumped, her tits jiggling as she was slapped on her womanly bottom. Shelby, Lefler and Hedril all held in their yelps as their rumps received loud and firm smacks.
The gathered Bajoran and Deltan girls flinched with each sharp blow as they watched the six women being spanked, naked and bound, in front of them. Each tried to contain her cries as they endured the cruel slapping of their bare asses but the Jem’Hadar were strong and their hands calloused. Soon each woman was emitting yelps and squeaks. All the poise and defiance they had shown when they began their thirst strike trembled and cracked, the six Starfleet officers turning their faces left and right with each blow, hair flying and tits trembling on their chests as they flinched and cringed. Firm asses turned pink from the repeated hits.
Then Tan’Alac struck T’Pol on her left tit with his open palm and the Vulcan gasped out loud. Another hard slap made her right breast bounce into the left. The other Jem’Hadar took their cues from the First and began to titslap the other women. Soon cries of distress and humiliation were being pulled from all of them, from Captain Shelby to Ensign Hedril, as all self-control and dignity was torn from them.
Tits jiggled as asses were hit hard enough to make the women jump. Nipples stiffened as blow followed blow. Tears were appearing in eyes. Hedril was flushing pink in humiliation, the eighteen year old flinching before the blows even came. Robin Lefler’s braid lashed around her naked body as she thrashed her head in distress. Elizabeth Shelby squealed in discomfort as her aching tits were squeezed tightly, lifted, then dropped and smacked again.
But it was even worse for Troi, Torres and T’Pol. Their Orion conditioned bodies gave them particularly sensitive erogenous zones and this cruel punishment was rousing their lush sexy figures. Their pussy lips became puffy and excited, their breathing grew faster and their cries came out a pitch higher than the discomfort alone should have been causing.
Finally, when the six Starfleet officers were all bowing their heads in defeat with tears in their eyes, their shoulders shaking as they held in sobs of humiliation and discomfort, did Tan’Alac cease to slap T’Pol’s generous melons and signaled his men to stop.
Instead the First pulled the Vulcan’s bound wrists up sharply behind her, forcing the science officer to lean forward at a sharp angle, her aching tits dangling beneath her. The other Jem’Hadar followed suit forcing Troi, Torres, Shelby, Lefer and Hedril to shudder in discomfort and shame as they were displayed, naked and defeated with their aching boobs swaying beneath them, in front of the other prisoners.
T’Pol felt Tan’Alac slide one finger along the lips of her vulnerable vagina. “This is only a fraction of what I can do to you.” As he felt the Vulcan tremble at the thought of what might be worse, the First nodded to the Jem’Hadar carrying the water container and he pulled T’Pol upright.
Her full lips opened and water was squirted into the Vulcan’s mouth. She drank without resisting, as did the other five women of the failed thirst strike. They were returned to the crowd, tits throbbing and asses aching. With their arms bound they could not even cover their sore pink flesh.
The rationing continued without any further displays of defiance. The water level in the container dropped with each thirsty gulp. Just as T’Pol had predicted the reservoir was almost dry when it reached the twelve young women at the tail end of the queue.
The Deltan schoolgirls and Bajoran priestesses drank, each slim small-breasted teenager self-consciously trying to drink only a little, to spare as much as possible for the young women to follow. But there was not enough.
Five girls at the end of the queue missed out. The three Bajorans and two Deltans stared in dismay at the empty container as it was dropped and neatly vaporized by a Jem’Hadar pistol. Dry lips were licked in silent disappointment.
Watching them go without, Elizabeth Shelby looked down at her own bare breasts with despair in her blue eyes. She had received a water ration not because of her name or her rank of Captain, but purely because of the size of her breasts. And those five girls might die of thirst simply because they weren’t as heavy in the chest as she was.
One of the Deltans began to cry, her little tits quaking beneath her as she doubled forward.
The sound of that eighteen year old’s wail filled T’Pol’s mind as they resumed their march. Tan’Alac assumed a slower pace, at least for now, and the thirty-five women could walk without the uncomfortable leap and drop of their bare breasts. The six women of the failed thirst strike found themselves moving as one group, each woman’s breasts and bottom reddened by the public spanking each had suffered, their steps particularly careful as they tried to not aggravate their tender boobs and bottom. With their hands behind their backs the six heroines were not even been able to wipe the tears of humiliation from their cheeks.
“T’Pol.” It was Deanna Troi, empathically contacting the Vulcan. “My god T’Pol, look at this. The girls in the back.” Her long naked legs continuing her striding pace, T’Pol looked over one naked shoulder at the five young women who had been denied a water ration.
Alia Belles, the Deltan schoolteacher who had been entrusted with the safety of her fifteen students, was walking beside her flat-chested schoolgirls. Her sexy voluptuous figure was in sharp contrast with the slim, small-breasted girls marching naked beside her. Although Belles was less than a dozen years their senior they seemed like children in comparison to her mouthwatering beauty.
She and her student turned sideways, walking chest to chest, Belles’ full breasts pressing against the eighteen year old’s small but cute mounds. The bald Deltan schoolteacher leaned forward and kissed her student on the lips.
A drop of water escaped the union. T’Pol’s eyes widened as she realized what she was seeing. Alia Belles had saved the last mouthful of her water ration and was now passing it on to one of the girls who had gone without!
“A kiss of life,” she heard Vedek Lanlee whisper, awe and gratitude in the red-headed Bajoran’s voice.
Other Deltan girls moved back among the group, their lovely tight bottoms wiggling as they positioned themselves among the Class Three prisoners. Alia Belles had used the humiliation of the six Starfleet officers to quietly instruct her students on what to do.
A Bajoran acolyte who had missed out of a water ration blushed furiously but nevertheless kissed a Deltan girl her own age, their bare breasts pressing together as life-giving water was moved from lips to lips in a kiss. Just as she disengaged from that intimate transfer another bald beauty was pressing on her other shoulder with her breasts, getting her attention. Only a step away from them two Deltan girls pressed their breasts together as water was gifted from one to the other, their soft lips meeting. Quickly the five girls received at least a portion of the water ration they had been denied.
When Tan’Alac gave the order to pick up the pace, the Jem’Hadar First eyeing the descending sun, all thirty five of the women bound and naked in his control found the strength to run. The Deltans’ small sacrifice lent all of them a little more pride and purpose as they continued their trek across the Vulcan desert, bare legs pumping beneath them, rumps wiggling and breasts leaping with each stride.
+++++
The sun fell towards the horizon and the desert darkened to twilight. The arid atmosphere could not hold heat long and soon the bare-bodied women were walking in a chilling cold. Gooseflesh rose on naked skin and nipples hardened to erect points. Soon T’Pol could hear the chattering of many teeth as the teenagers felt the cold licking at their trim naked bodies.
Her boobs still throbbed from her earlier spanking and the cold was doing T’Pol no favours either. Her teats hardened to stubs in the chilly air, tender and stinging the Vulcan as they quivered with every step she took. The darkness made their footling less sure, as the science officer discovered. One booted foot slipped on a dune’s face and the Mother of the Federation landed face-down in the sand, her tender aching tits taking her weight. She cried out at the sensation, only to be pulled to her feet by a Jem’Hadar who slapped on her still-stinging ass until she was back in line.
The Vulcan night sky was filled with moons, their shine painting the desert in deep blues. It also ensured that the women marching bound and naked across the sand were surprisingly well-illuminated despite being night time. The twilight would offer only limited concealment if one of the girls tried to escape the Jem’Hadar. T’Pol suspected that even if it were pitch black the genetically-engineered soldiers would still be able to see them.
“It is here. Halt the prisoners,” Tan’Alac ordered. The thirty five nude and bound women and their Jem’Hadar captors had reached a rocky island in the sandy sea of the desert. The Jem’Hadar First touched the rough rock surface of the structure and a section of stone vanished: a hologram concealing a cave. “Bind the six trouble makers more securely.”
Lieutenant Torres gasped as she was pushed down to her knees, tits jiggling. With her hands tied behind her back B’Elanna could do little but look sullen as she was forced to lie on her chest. Robin Lefler was also pushed down on her knees, then on her tits next to the Klingon. Their long legs were gripped, lifted and pulled towards those of the other woman. The two brunettes gasped in shock and shame as they felt their thighs meet and press together. The two young women held in their outrage as they felt their ankles being tied.
T’Pol watched helplessly as Torres and Lefler were bound together scissor-style, their exposed pussies meeting and their long legs traveling up the other woman’s chest and back and their ankles bound to the other captive’s neck. Robin and B’Elanna shut their eyes in embarrassment as their nether lips rubbed together. In this position neither could walk, or even crawl.
Then T’Pol gasped in discomfort as her aching tits were pressed against the sand, the First Modern Vulcan forced to lie flat on her chest. The Vulcan was bound in the same manner to Elizabeth Shelby, while a few feet away Hedril and Deanna were also scissor-tied together, the empathic Betazoid and Cairn forced to press their pussy lips together. The six women had been tied into three sexy bundles, and would find it impossible to make any move to escape.
The Vulcan heard
Then the other females were herded in. In the dark confines of the narrow cave entrance girls bumped tits-first into each other, biting their lips as their cold-erect nipples stung with the contact. Breasts and bottoms and thighs and bellies pressed against bare skin as they were pushed through the cramped entrance to the larger hollow within the cave. Lanlee Milos gasped as she felt Alia Beles’ erect nipples poke against her own soft globes, and saw the Deltan flinch away in embarrassment at the contact.
The six embarrassingly bound Starfleet officers were lowered to the sand in the center of the cave. A hole in the ceiling created a pool of moonlight that illuminated the captives’ nude bodies as the Jem’Hadar withdrew.
“Rest,” ordered Tan’Alac. “We move at dawn.” Leaving several of his men within the cave to keep watch, the Jem’Hadar First departed.
The Deltan schoolgirls stood in a tight group, pert teenaged tits and firm youthful asses and flat stomachs above bald snatches all pressing together for warm. Seeing her students so shamefully stripped and bound Alia Belles spoke in a low whisper. “They always move us in daylight and each of us naked as a newborn! I thought the Jem’Hadar were soldiers, not perverts.”
“Rule forty six,” Lefler whispered from where she was bound pussy-to-pussy against B’Elanna, “Life isn’t always fair.”
“They’re not doing this for pleasure,” Deanna Troi said quietly. The nude counselor watched K’Mataclan with her lovely dark eyes, the low-ranking Ninth assigned to guard duty, and tried to ignore the sensation of her nether lips pressing so deliciously against Hedril’s tender vaginal folds. “I don’t sense anything like that.” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep calming breath. Every time Hedril wiggled it rubbed Troi’s slit, and the eighteen year old redhead was certainly a wiggler.
“During the daylight they can see escapees easier than at
night,” the blonde
“I’m naked,” Hedril complained, her blue eyes shutting in shame. Her long legs shifted, finding one ankle trapped between Deanna’s generous breasts. “Why did they strip us if not to enjoy it?”
“It makes it difficult to conceal weapons,” Lanlee Milos said, her blues eyes suddenly wide with memory. “It is harder to hide tools. We are less likely to socialize and plan, being seen nude by potential rescuers discourages escapes, and while naked the weather and environment are greater obstacles to freedom.” The Bajoran lowered her face, the short light chain clipped to her ear shining in the weak light. “It is Cardassian logic, how they treated Bajoran women during the occupation.”
One of the Bajoran Acolytes spoke up, stepping forward and unknowingly making her lovely little boobs jiggle. “Vedek Milos protected us from the Cardassians. She cut our hair, bound our breasts and disguised us as boys so the occupiers would not know.”
“My parents did the same for myself and my sisters,” the Vedek explained quietly.
Alia Belles looked down the redhead’s voluptuous figure, taking in those lovely wide hips, narrow waist and generous breasts. “It’d be hard work hiding all of that,” the stunning Deltan commented dryly. Lanlee rolled her blue eyes in annoyance but her lips twisted slightly in almost-a-smile, acknowledging the schoolteacher’s compliment.
A chill night-time breeze made a faint howling noise as it touched the cave and every naked woman within shivered. “There was no one to tend for us but ourselves,” the strawberry-blonde Vedik said, “Just like now.” Lanlee Milos walked across the cave, a stunning sight as moonlight fell on her long red hair and the lovely curve of her naked bottom as she approached the six Starfleet officers tied so sexily together. The Bajoran lowered herself to her knees, her tits dangling. “Make yourselves useful, sisters,” she ordered as she lay down with Torres and Lefler.
The Vedek’s Bajoran acolytes began to move, obeying their mistress and lying their slim teenaged bodies around Shelby, Troi, T’Pol and Hedril, lending the warmth of their bodies to their bound and helpless heroines. Alia’s Deltan schoolgirls followed.
As K’Mataclan stood guard over them the thirty-five women all lay together in a mouthwatering arrangement of slim legs, round asses and soft breasts, sharing their bodyheat. Immediately T’Pol felt warm all over, the breath of at least four naked teenagers caressing her naked skin.
Then a voice produced a quiet but clear sound, a high note that hung in the desert air before gracefully dropping into a slow calming melody. As she lay nude among unclothed schoolgirls and naked acolytes Alia Belles began to sing. Her words were Deltan, and the defrocked captives had no Universal Translators with which to translate, but the soothing rhythm and gentle tones were universal themselves. The Deltan was singing a lullaby, one that her eighteen year old students gently added their voices to. The achingly beautiful sound filled the cave.
Deltan women were infamous for sexual escapades, which was a myth built on their ability to actively manipulate the nerves of other species on physical contact. Now they made use of those abilities, using soft lips, delicate tongues and bare breasts to make contact with the other women as the Deltans soothed and calmed the group.
Bajoran acolytes sighed with contentment, their naked bodies gently making contact with the slimness of Deltan schoolgirls. The bald beauties focused their attention on the six Starfleet officers, easing the discomfort in their spanked asses and tits as well as soothing the soreness of their bindings. The humiliation and shame of their ordeal of was eased, fading to a peaceful calm. Their lullabies and neural abilities eased bound muscles, letting tense bodies relax.
T’Pol was asleep in moments and the rest of the prisoners quickly followed, each falling under the gentle Deltan spell until only one woman remained awake. Alia Belles’s bare breasts rose in a sigh as the last of her students descended into slumber, her bald head resting across the schoolteacher’s naked lap. There was no one to help Alia find sleep but at least the others would be well-rested for tomorrow’s trek.
+++++
Bajoran and Deltan teenagers jumped up and down, bare breasts bouncing as they tried to be the highest to catch the water in their mouths. With their hands still bound behind their backs the acolytes and high school girls hopped and gulped as water splashed across their nude bodies, morning sunlight shining on their bare wet skin. Both small cute apples and fuller rounder melons competed for height as more than twenty girls jumped in a delicious group, their slim legs flexing beneath firm teenaged asses.
The cave that had been the night’s shelter had been built above a fresh water spring, providing more than enough for the prisoners. With a pump and hose the Jem’Hadar watered the captives, two dozen naked teenaged girls jumping and gratefully swallowing every droplet they could catch. Hedril and Robin Lefler were among the teenagers, the redheaded Cairn and long-braided Lieutenant jumping on their toes and gulping, their naked skin moist with water and their tits bobbing enticingly.
Both Alia Belles and Vedek Lanlee had given up on trying to make their teenaged charges act with any decorum. Instead they sat on the rocky slope and waited for their rations with as much dignity as they could while being naked with hands tied behind their backs and tits thrust forward. Elizabeth Shelby joined them, the three women unintentionally creating a mouthwatering sight as three pairs of lovely tits lined up, nipples erect in the chill of the morning air that would soon fade in the day’s heat.
The six women who had been specially tied the night before had been unbound in preparation for the day’s journey. Thanks to the ministrations of Belles’ Deltans during the night they were nowhere near as sore as they might have been after sleeping in such uncomfortable positions.
“They will require food as well as water,” T’Pol said loudly to the nearest Jem’Hadar, her brown eyes watching the Deltan and Bajoran girls as they jumped bare-breasted under the spray, moisture shining on cute teenaged asses and thighs.
“They will be provided for,” said Tan’Alac, walking a circuit around the thirty-five gorgeously naked prisoners, inspecting his troops positioned around the captive females. The First stopped uncomfortably close to T’Pol, his eyes moving up the Vulcan’s nude body from the slimness of her legs, the curves of her hips, her trim waist and then to the swell of her bare breasts, so much fuller and more ripe than the bulk of the teenaged Bajorans and Deltans under his power. “They are part of events greater than they could have imagined. Just like you, T’Pol.”
The
“Stripping thirty-five women of their clothing and marching them across the desert is no great and noble achievement, Tan’Alac,” T’Pol said sharply. “You created an energy-damping field to trap ships, then concealed your Jem’Hadar on passenger craft to adjust their courses and drag them into your trap. Why?”
“You cannot see our destination yet,” the Jem’Hadar said. “I am told that you were present at the Founding of the Federation. Now you will be present as the Dominion spreads over the Alpha Quadrant. The key to our victory is there,” he said, nodding his head over to where the teenaged captives continued to shamelessly leap for gulps of water, bare skin glistening in the morning sunlight.
T’Pol looked at the girls, seeing only thirsty girls with bare bottoms and bouncing breasts. “The key?”
“It is as easy to see as these.” Tan’Alac’s hands snaked forward and suddenly he was squeezing and lifting the Vulcan’s generous orbs, making T’Pol gasp in sudden distress and pleasure. Her Orion-conditioned body delighted at the intimate contact, a flush rising in her cheeks and her nipples hardening to erect points. “Very easy to see,” the Jem’Hadar First added, regretfully releasing T’Pol’s tits and letting them bounce back into their original lovely forms. The science officer took a few unsteady steps back, cautiously creating a distance between Tan’Alac’s hands and her breasts, the Vulcan breathing hard with a flush on her cheeks.
As the Jem’Hadar First departed Deanna and B’Elanna discretely approached the blushing Vulcan. “That one wouldn’t strip you naked just to make it hard for you to hide a weapon, T’Pol,” Troi commented. “He’s very interested in you.”
“Did you need to be an empath to sense that, counselor?” Torres said dryly. “You’re stating the obvious again. I preferred it when you were just crashing the ship into things.”
K’Mataclan, holding the hose on the teenaged girls, now turned it on T’Pol and the women standing around her. The nude beauties flinched at first and then began to jockey for position with open mouths, moisture splashing across their hair and naked shoulders and bare breasts as they eagerly gulped at the water they would need for the journey ahead.
+++++
Within an hour the Vulcan sun had killed the morning chill with scorching heat. Through the arid inferno the women were forced to run.
Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna were in the front, running three abreast as their generous tits bounced and their round asses wiggled. Just behind them was Alia Belles with her schoolgirls, the stunningly built Deltan leading a classroom of eighteen year old students, some slim and some full-breasted but all bearing the beauty of their sensual species. Behind them ran Vedek Lanlee Milos, long red hair flying behind her and her ripe melons bouncing with her long-legged strides. In her wake were her twelve acolytes, most the same age as Belles’ schoolgirls, and all wearing nothing but their sandals and socks that rose up to mid-thigh, thei firm teenged asses wiggling.
At the very tail end was Elizabeth Shelby, Robin Lefler and Hedril, buck naked and bound like the rest, their tits jiggling as they ran. And behind and all around the captives were Tan’Alac’s Jem’Hadar, keeping a close eye on their nude prisoners.
The sand beneath their feet became rock and the terrain became rough and uninviting. With deceptive suddenness the captive women found themselves running along the edge of a cliff with a dizzying view of a desert plateau far below. A surprisingly strong wind blew in from the plateau, the breeze a pleasant change from the infernal heat they had endured that morning.
Coming to an outcropping of rock that stretched out over the cliffside Tan’Alac slowed to a walk. “Halt the group!” he barked, “Third and fifth, set up the descent equipment! Six through nine, form the prisoners into a line!”
Concealed beneath stones and boulders were coils of rope and a disassembled swingarm with a pulley at its end. As the Dominion soldiers set up the equipment, with the mechanical arm positioned to swing out over the cliff, it became clear what they intended.
“We’re going down the cliff by rope?” B’Elanna Torres’ brown nipples jiggled on her boobs as she leaned forward to voice her objection. “What about the girls who don’t have any training or experience with this? We don’t have protective gear! We don’t even have clothes!”
Tan’Alac cast a cold look at the former Maquis. “Send her down first.”
“Hey wait you bastards!” Torres yelled as she was pushed first to her knees and then down on her full chest. The twenty-two year old bucked and struggled, her boobs pressing against the sun-warmed rock and bulging out left and right of her athletic body, but she could not resist the weight of the Jem’Hadar’s foot on her back. Her knees were bent and the athletic twenty-two year old was hogtied yet again, her thighs forced to spread apart.
Two Jem’Hadar gripped the rope and leapt from the cliff, performing a quick and practiced descent to the sand far below. When the main line was available again it was brought over to where Torres lay hogtied, her breasts flattened against the hot rock. “You can’t mean to send me down like this!” objected B’Elanna as the rope was tied around her hands and ankles.
And then, with a shriek of embarrassment and useless anger, Voyager’s chief engineer was hoisted into the air bound and naked!
The twenty-two year old shut her eyes tight with humiliation as she dangled from the rope, her bare breasts swaying and jiggling beneath her. A Jem’Hadar found one of her melons a convenient handhold and used it to pull the bound Klingon over to the cliffside, uncaring of how the Klingon wiggled and cried out at the sensation.
B’Elanna was the first captive to be lowered down the cliff. Her dangling tits bobbed and swayed as she descended in fits and starts, her dark eyes opening to stare at the great fall below her and then shutting with shame at her undignified and vulnerable posture, dangling hogtied and naked from the rope. The two Jem’Hadar at the bottom caught hold of her, hands on her thighs and breasts, and set about untying her from the main line.
Next to go down was a Deltan schoolgirl and a Bajoran Acolyte. The two teenagers were made to stand back to back, bottoms firmly touching as ropes were slipped beneath their armpits and around their waists, tying the girls together. In a final humiliating touch the rope was slung beneath them, running between each eighteen year old’s thighs. When the two young women were pushed out into open space, supported solely by the main line, the rope kissed up into their exposed pussies intimately, forcing their nether lips to part and rubbing hard against their clits. The Bajoran gasped in shame while the more sensitive Deltan panted with pleasure as the two girls were lowered, bare breasts heaving with their respective ordeals.
Next in line was Elizabeth Shelby
and Ensign Hedril, the blonde and the redhead forced to
stand belly to belly, their bare boobs pressing together as they bound as a
pair. The Captain spoke quiet but calming words to the Ensign as the ropes were
tightened, but both women cried out in distress as they were pushed over the
edge. The line took their weight, squeezing their nude bodies together while
the line between their thighs pressed up against their slits.
Most of the young women were lowered in twos, some back to back and others breasts-to-breasts. Some of the girls cried from the frightening height while others wept from the humiliation of the rope tied beneath their breasts or sliding between their trim thighs. Three Deltans, all flat-chested class threes, were tied together back to back, their bottoms pressing hard together and their long slim legs kicking helplessly as they were lowered.
Vedek Lanlee Milos maintained her composure as she was bound and lowered, tied with her back to Robin Lefler, the rope running beneath and above the two women’s breasts, making their orbs poke outwards. The crinkles on the Bajoran’s nose deepened with shame while the green-eyed Junior Lieutenant bit her lip in humiliation as the two beauties was lowered in tit-bouncing fits and starts.
Deanna Troi found herself face to face with Alia Belles, K’Mataclan tying the two beauties together chest to chest. The counselor flushed in trepidation as her soft bosom pressed hard against the lovely orbs of the gorgeous Deltan schoolteacher. Alia was such a stunning creature with so much beauty to envy that Troi found herself almost excited by being in such close contact with her.
Abruptly the Betazoid realized that the feeling was mutual. She could empathically sense Belles’ emotions and it was clear that the Deltan was just as nervous about being bound to the voluptuous raven-haired Troi. Both women flushed hard, hearts hammering in their chests as the Jem’Hadar wrapped ropes tightly around their bottoms, forcing the two women’s bald slits to make tentative contact. The last rope slung between their legs and was tied off. Then with a pair of shocked gasps Deanna and Alia were pushed out over the cliff to begin their descent.
Both Belles and the Orion-conditioned Troi had particularly sensitive bodies. The incredible contact of the rope tightening on their pussies, kissing in between their nether lips, and the softness of the other woman’s chest upon their own was almost unbearable. Both Deanna and Alia’s nipples hardened to erect points, poking into the globes of the woman they were tied to. Both gasped and moaned with each stop and start of their humiliating descent, the ropes around them tightening and relaxing, the rope pressing into their pussies harder and then softer with a will-breaking pattern.
Both women cummed before they reached the half-way mark, staring helplessly in the eyes of the other beauty and then bowing their heads towards their lush combined cleavage. Their legs kicked uselessly as they suffered the aftermath of their orgasm, Troi and Belles simultaneously ecstatic and humiliated by what they were being forced to endure.
The final captive left standing nude at the top of the cliff was Commander T’Pol. The full-breasted NX-01 science officer would be lowered alone.
Tan’Alac tied her himself. His hands moved briskly over the Vulcan’s bare breasts, lifting her generous orbs as he wrapped rope both below the swell of her tits and above them, making her boobs poke out. The Jem’Hadar First tightened the woman’s crotch rope, testing how well it slid in between her tender pussy lips and the slapping the science officer’s buttocks to ensure that it was wedged as tightly between the cheeks of her ass as possible. All the while T’Pol shut her eyes in shame at the intimate and humiliating treatment.
Then she was forced to kneel, her long legs bent at the knee so that her heels nearly touched her bottom. T’Pol’s ankles were bound to her thighs, the posture forcing her to spread her legs and allow the crotch-rope even more intimate access to her slit. At long last she was bound to the Jem’Hadar’s satisfaction and T’Pol, one of the most respected women in Federation history, was hoisted aloft naked, her bare breasts swaying beneath her tightly-bound body, her full lips open in distress at her uncomfortable and embarrassing posture.
Tan’Alac gripped the Vulcan’s chin and lifted her beautiful face. He looked over her angular brown eyes, sharp eyebrows and full pouting lips, her humiliated expression hardening into useless anger as she stared at the Jem’Hadar. “Enjoy the ride, T’Pol,” the First said, then made the science officer gasp by gripping one her tits and using it to lever her off the cliff edge. T’Pol swung helplessly from the rope and her descent began.
She shut her eyes as the crotch rope pressed hard between her pussy lips, rubbing against her clitoris. Like Deanna and B’Elanna, T’Pol had been conditioned to respond favorably to intimate contact and the ropes tightening around her breasts and the line pressing against her slit was incredible, making her heart race and her nethers moisten before she even reached the halfway point.
Then a knot came free from her ankle. T’Pol’s nude figure jerked downwards a half foot, her tits bouncing between the ropes that bound them. Her heart raced in sudden fear. Then the rope securing her other ankle to her thigh came loose, that leg now free to move. The crotch rope slid upwards, the Vulcan dropping a few more feet with the braided cord rubbing hard against her snatch. T’Pol cried out in pleasure and terror as the rope slipped free of her moist pussy and she fell.
Her right boot caught the rope and her descent halted with a jolt, flipping the naked Vulcan about. With a gasp of relief T’Pol looked up at her leg caught in the line. Now she was supported by the ropes around her breasts and the cable around her right ankle. Her right leg was stretched upwards while her left hung down, forcing the science officer to perform the splits in mid air with her bald pussy displayed for all to see. She panted, bare breasts rising against their ropes.
“She is steady,” Tan’Alac observed, looking down from the cliff top. “Continue the descent.”
In this awkward and humiliating position T’Pol was lowered, but only for a few seconds. Her leg slipped free and the Vulcan dropped another foot, stopping with a jerk and a cry of discomfort as the ropes above and below her breasts tightened. Her leg was free of the line but now the weight of her body was the ropes around her tits. She groaned as her boobs were forced to poke out aggressively. Suddenly the rope above her breasts whiplashed free, leaving so much of her weight supported by the cable running beneath the curves of her tits. T’Pol cried out loud, her long bare legs kicking uselessly under her.
Her fingers grasped at the air behind her back. The rope that ran beneath her tits also looped around behind her: she could almost reach it, and if she could grab it then she could secure herself from falling. T’Pol strained with her fingers but could feel the line slipping upwards, pinching her sensitive melons and threatening to come free. Just as the braided rope popped out over the generous curve of the Vulcan’s tits she leaned forwards and managed to catch the cord with her fingers.
But T’Pol had only the weakest purchase. Her fingertips, now her only contact with the rope, slipped inch by inch. With a desperate cry the nude Starfleet officer swung her body upside-down, her tits dangling towards her face, and managed to loop one leg around the rope. Just at that instant her fingers gave way on the line and she was dangling by her legs, upside-down with her tits hanging towards her face. The Vulcan gasped and groaned, hanging upside-down with her thighs pressing together to clench the rope and prevent herself from falling to the desert below.
It was a useless struggle. The hot desert sun had been merciless to T’Pol’s delicious naked body. Her gorgeous curves were slick with perspiration and her thighs glistened with sweat. Her own perspiration lubricating her skin, T’Pol felt the rope begin to slip out from between her thighs. She clenched her legs together as tightly as possible, trying to hold on. If she had been barefoot then she might have been able to snare the rope between her toes. But her boots were not coming off and Vulcan’s gravity was unrelenting. The foot of line slid out from between her legs, one last teasing brush against her clitoris.
T’Pol screamed in freefall. There was nothing between her and the rocks far below but empty air.
Then a powerful hand caught her boot-clad ankle and saved her. Naked, her wrists bound behind her back and hanging upside-down with her bare breasts dangling towards her face, T’Pol performed a short sit-up to look up at her rescuer.
The Jem’Hadar Ninth K’Mataclan was above her, one hand on her ankle and the other on the rope. The soldier must have performed a rapid descent down the line to reach the Vulcan before she lost her grip.
With genetically engineered strength he hauled the Vulcan up, almost throwing her towards him as he flipped her rightside-up and wrapped one arm around her narrow waist. T’Pol’s long legs flexed around K’Mataclan’s torso, her dark eyes shut and her full lips open as she panted with fear and relief. She did not object when the Jem’Hadar settled his free hand beneath her round rump, giving her more support and safety as he completed the descent.
They reached the bottom and T’Pol’s booted feet touched the sand. She almost fell to her knees, deeply relieved to be on solid ground again. Her humiliating capture, the trek across the desert and the discomfort of her bonds had conspired to strip the Vulcan of all her self control. But she fought to regain it, drawing in a tit-lifting breath and straightening as she calmed herself.
The Vulcan realized with a sudden rush of fear that she could not see B’Elanna or Deanna, nor any of the other prisoners. She was alone with the Jem’Hadar at the base of the cliff. As she looked around with astonished eyes Tan’Alac and the last of the Jem’Hadar made the descent by rope, joining the others on the desert floor. T’Pol had watched each and every woman in the party make the descent but now they were gone!
“Where…” is all she was able to ask before a Jem’Hadar shoved T’Pol’s bare breasts and sent her falling to the desert sand.
But she did not hit the ground. She fell through it, the holographic sand no obstacle to her naked body. Static electricity made her bare skin tingle, a side effect of the transition through the hologram. T’Pol was only barely able to repress a shriek of fright as she fell down a deep dark shaft. This was why her companions had ‘disappeared’. Like her they had been dropped through the hologram to whatever structure was hidden deep beneath the sands of Vulcan.
Then T’Pol came to a halt, hanging in the air with lights all around her. T’Pol’s bare boobs floated majestically in zero gravity, her fall halted by an inertial damper field. Swallowing her surprise the Vulcan was pulled out of the damping field by a Jem’Hadar and forced to kneel, leaning forwards with her breasts dangling.
The pathetic remains of her Starheart uniform, now tied around her wrists, were ripped away and new shackles locked into place. Feeling no chain or cord between them T’Pol recognized these cruel devices. They were gravimetric shackles, able to produce small gravity fields to control the movements of the wearer’s wrists.
T’Pol was pushed with tit-jiggling force into another room with dark blue walls that were almost black in the poor lighting. But the prisoners were well illuminated, white light pouring down over every naked body. Lined up against the broad wall of the chamber were Deanna Troi and B’Elanna Torres, and beside them were the captured Bajorans and Deltans and lastly Shelby, Lefler and Hedril. Each of the thirty five women wore nothing but their footwear and gravshacks on their wrists. Naked thighs trembled beneath exposed pussies while nipples quivered on bare breasts, the captive women awaiting their fate.
Standing in front of them was the author of their confinement, the woman responsible for their capture and humiliating march across the desert. The Vorta’s pale eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she gazed across the bodies of the thirty five helpless and nude females, finally looking towards T’Pol’s ripe figure.
“At last the star of the show arrives,” she smiled, running one hand down the cleavage of the light vest she wore to a control unit at her hip. With the press of a button all of the women’s gravshacks were drawn to gravity, every woman’s bonds becoming as heavy as lead. Gasps of shock and sobs of shame broke out as each and every prisoner, from the youthful Deltan schoolgirls to the Starfleet officers, was forced to sink to their knees. The gravshacks behind their backs relentlessly dropped, making every prisoner kneel with thighs spread, pussy bared and back arched, bare breasts quivering on chests as they enduring this humiliating, uncomfortable and vulnerable position.
“Good morning ladies,” the Vorta
said, looking down the line of kneeling nude beauties, “My name is Papilia and I’ll be your host during your stay here. Which will be for the rest of your lives.”
TO BE CONTINUED
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