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: Enterprise) and B’Elanna Torres (Star Trek: Voyager).

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 22: ELEMENTARY, DEAR DEANNA

A single droplet of moisture gathered at the mouth of the pipe. The narrow metal tube pointed down, gravity drawing water into a gleaming silver point where it grew, quivered, and broke away.

The water drop fell past a pair of shackled ankles, milk-white calves and bare thighs before landing directly on Commander Deanna Troi’s bare pussy lips.

“Ahhh!” The counselor bucked, her naked figure wiggling as her nethers were struck by the ice-cold droplet. The shock brought her back to the waking world, the Enterprise’s counselor twisting in her restraints and looking around with confused dark eyes.

With dismay Deanna realized that she was completely naked, her deliciously full-figured body utterly exposed. Her elbows were bound behind her back, forcing the curvaceous counselor to thrust her bare breasts forward in a humiliating way. More emarrassingly, she realized that she was presently suspended upside-down by her ankles!

Deanna Troi’s soft, generous melons dangled towards her face, her lush orbs drawn by gravity’s pull and jiggling as she wiggled uselessly in her bindings. “What happened?” the counselor said in embarrassed confusion, “Where am I aahhhh!”

The twenty-nine year old brunette cried out again as another droplet of water struck the folds of her vagina, teasing her clitoris. Her voluptuous figure, tuned for sexual sensitivity thanks to her time as a slave on Ferenginar, responded to the contact with mind-addling pleasure. Troi rolled her dark eyes in a mix of helpless, shame and ecstasy as a third drop struck her clit.

Her pale body flexed as she performed a half sit-up, looking up along the length of her nude form. She could see that her ankles were tied to a large metal ring two feet in diameter, forcing the counselor to keep her thighs spread just wide enough so that the water drops would have a clear path to her pussy. The pipe was perfectly positioned above her, insidiously aimed at her snatch.

She swung back down, the movement making her naked figure rotate where she hung. “Those monsters wouldn’t do this,” Deanna said, breathing deeply as she tried to fight both the pleasure and her own sense of sharp humiliation at her position. “Neither would Shelby.” Her beautiful dark eyes moved around the room. “This doesn’t look like the Sutherland.”

Instead of the clean and neat compartments of the Nebula class cruiser, the room Deanna found herself bound and naked in was an ugly metal chamber loaded with cargo crates and heavy machinery. “Some kind of cargo bay?” she wondered, still turning slowly in her bonds. The naked Betazoid’s gentle spin brought something into her field of vision that made her gasp in shock.

The pipe that was feeding drop after drop of water to Deanna’s snatch traveled across much of the chamber horizontally. Perched on that lengthwise length of pole was B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol.

Voyager’s chief engineer and Enterprise’s science officer had been denied any clothing or dignity. The nude duo’s wrists were tied behind their backs, preventing them from covering their bare bodies. But their bindings were even more humiliating than Troi’s.

The Klingon and the Vulcan sat on the pole with their thighs spread, allowing the cold metal to press against their nether lips. Ropes tied their ankles to their thighs, forcing them to keep their knees bent and their legs spread.

The two brunettes were suspended by cords traveling from their ankles to a crane arm positioned above them. And worse both Torres and T’Pol’s tits were bound with narrow ropes, also attached to the crane overhead. Their weight was awkwardly distributed between their ankles, breasts and their pussies pressing against the pole! B’Elanna and T’Pol’s bare breasts poked out with distressing prominence as they supported a cruel portion of their body weight.

As a final humiliation, two short lengths of chain clamped B’Elanna’s nipples to T’Pol’s teats, tethering their boobs together. If one women moved, it would tug on both captives’ tits!

Voyager’s chief engineer and the NX-01’s science officer turned to stare at Deanna, their own eyes filled with confusion and helpless outrage. Torres and T’Pol were both gagged, preventing them from voicing any objection to their humiliating bondage.

Then another droplet struck Deanna’s pussy and the counselor cried out loud, wiggling in her bonds and making her bare dangling breasts sway enticingly. She shook off the unwanted pleasure and looked back towards her helpless companions.

Then Deanna realized that the gagged Klingon and Vulcan were not looking at her, but at something behind her.

An enormous hand reached around Troi’s body to take hold of one of her breasts. The Enterprise’s counselor gasped as she was pulled by her tit and forced to turn and face her captor. “Who are oh my god.”

Although she had only met him once before Troi recognized this man. He was a Reman, the brother-race of the Romulans and Vulcans, banished to the hellish planet Remus thousands of years before. All grace and beauty had been bred or tortured or irradiated out of them until there was nothing but cruelty and brute strength.

The giant’s skin was deathly pale and his eyes pitch black, buried in deep sockets. His mouth was a mass of fang-like teeth and his bald head was framed by his sharp-ended curving ears. This Reman was enormous, a tall and powerfully built figure wearing dark plate armor and an expression of pure malevolence as he gazed at the naked figure of Deanna Troi.

“Rak!” the counselor whispered. When Deanna had been put on auction on Ferenginar, to be sold as a sex slave, the Reman arms merchant Rak had spent a staggering amount of latinum to acquire the winning bid. Troi had been his property. Only a timely escape had spared her from the Reman’s attention. But now she was deeply in his control.

His fanged mouth smiled. “Good, the air-headed Betazoid remembers my name.” He released Troi’s teat, the young woman shutting her eyes in relief as her boob swayed freely alongside its twin.

“You’re responsible for all of this!” accused Deanna, trembling where she hung with her dangling breasts quivering. “You set up that delivery! You created the infection that transformed the crew! You,” she gasped, “You’re responsible for the deaths of nearly seven hundred Starfleet officers and crew!”

Rak grunted in disappointment. “But the big-titted bimbo forgets the important part. I also stole your vessel Starheart.” As Troi gaped in disbelief, the Reman offered her another satisfied smirk. “You must have wondered why you weren’t able to communicate with your pretty toy ship,” he commented, his eyes moving up and down the counselor’s naked figure, “But you could speak with that Bajoran slut and the Trill tart so easily?”

“You must have been jamming our signals,” realized Deanna.

“Only until you gave me your command over-ride codes.” The enormous alien stepped around Deanna, tracing the lush curves of her voluptuous figure with one over-sized hand. “Your holographic Andorian had communicated many times with Ferengi navigation systems. A little interference, and suddenly a splice-together recording of that blue-skinned bitch’s voice sounds like the real thing. You gave me Starheart, counselor Troi.”

“Oh god no,” despaired Deanna. “I was never talking to Melika! It was you all along!”

A humming sound made the Betazoid twist and look over her shoulder. The pipe on which B’Elanna and T’Pol were tied was beginning to vibrate! The two brunettes shuddered as the cold metal rubbed against their super-sensitive pussies, stimulating their most tender of places. Troi shut her eyes in shared pleasure as her empathic mind sensed their ecstasy, making her naked body jerk and shiver.

T’Pol bucked slightly, then her eyes widened. “Mmmph!” the Vulcan objected, her movement causing her breasts to yank her tit-chain. Simultaneously B’Elanna wiggled in unwanted pleasure and discomfort as her own boobs were pulled by the chains attached to her nips. And still the pipe continued to vibrate.

“What are you doing to my friends you sick ooohhh!” Deanna’s outrage was muffled as the pipe began to deliver more droplets of cold water to her snatch. One after another they fell and struck her nether lips, teasing her sensitive folds and making the nude Betazoid wiggle and quake where she hung. The flow of water was what was making the pipe vibrate! An worn-out water valve had been put to insidious use, stimulating all three brunettes simultaneously.

“Tricking you was easy enough,” Rak said, fondling Troi’s round bottom. “You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Betazoid. But the infection that brought down the Sutherland was far harder. It took a great deal of latinum to purchase those capsules you carried aboard for me,” Rak said, his deep-set eyes locked on the wiggling brunette as her pussy received drop after well-aimed drop. “They were the work of a brilliant and very dangerous man who is now in a Federation prison. I doubt there are any more capsules in existence, if that comforts you.”

“Let,” gasped Deanna, feeling her Orion-conditioned body rise towards orgasm with every droplet that landed on her clitoris, “Let my friends go! Your quarrel aaahhh! Your quarrel is with me!”

Rak’s smile was vicious. “Your two busty friends sold for more than five hundred bars of gold pressed latinum.” The Reman turned his gaze to B’Elanna and T’Pol, the two women now leaning together as they panted in shared ecstasy, trying not to tug on the chains that connected their sensitive nipples. It was a losing battle: the vibrating pipe pushed them both steadily towards climax, and in short order they were rising and dropping in their restraints, placing more pressure on their bound boobs and involuntarily rubbing against the pipe between their thighs. “I can’t seriously expect me to just let them go.”

“If you do, I’ll do whatever you aaahhh!” Deanna gasped again as a stream of water fell on her pussy, pushing her to the edge of climax.

The Reman smiled with evil triumph, reaching for Troi’s tits. “Don’t worry, counselor. I have ways of securing your co-operation.” He gave Deanna’s boobs a satisfied squeeze.

It pushed her over-stimulated body over the edge. Troi arched her back as she hit orgasm, wailing in humiliation and ecstasy as she cummed. The pleasure she was empathically feeling from Torres and T’Pol, the cruel water-torture being inflicted on her kitty, the feeling of Rak’s fingers around her breast and the left-over pheromones from the assaults on the Sutherland all combined to tear down the counselor’s self-control and leave her screaming and wiggling in her bonds with a humiliating climax.

She panted and gasped in the aftermath of her ecstasy. Then Deanna flinched as Rak slapped her dangling breasts. “You really are as sensitive as Golga advertised,” the Reman smiled. “Good. I didn’t expect you and your friends to prostitute yourselves to those animals,” he said, directing his words not just to the naked Betazoid hanging upside-down before him but also to her two nude and wriggling companions. “But I suppose three sluts like you just couldn’t resist. Since you’ve done the work, thank you. You’ve saved me the trouble of cleaning the ship myself. You’ve gift wrapped the Sutherland for me,” Rak smiled.

“What do you intend to do with her crew?” Deanna demanded in a gasp, still recovering from her climax, wiggling uselessly with her boobs shaking left and right before Rak’s hideously ugly smirk.

“Three hundred females that the Federation will soon believe are dead?” Rak brushed his hand through Troi’s dark hair. “That bimbo Trill and that Bajoran slut Kira will be rescued, eventually, and report that in your last transmission you said you intended to destroy the Sutherland before letting the infection spread. A few well-placed pieces of debris and a convincing log buoy will convince Starfleet that you’re gone. If anyone comes looking for Shelby and her girls it will be in the Gugatan system, and we’re already long gone from there.”

The Reman’s evil smile grew broader. “I’m thinking of turning the Sutherland into a whorehouse. More than it already is, I mean. Fly her through Orion controlled space, Gorn territory, and other places the Federation can’t reach. Once they’ve been suitably conditioned, the girls can service men out of their own quarters. Their new uniforms will be simple enough… a collar will do.”

Both T’Pol and B’Elanna jerked in objection, muffled complaints emerging from their gags. Both brunettes flinched as their motion yanked on their tits, the chains that connected their nipples going taut. They sagged, slumping together in humiliated defeat. They could no more help Shelby and her crewwomen than they could save themselves.

“Why are you doing this?” Deanna said with despair in her voice. The water dribbling on her pussy tricked down her marble-pale body, wetting her raven hair before dripping to the deck. “Why do you hate me so much? Why did you come after me?”

It was more than just a question. Ever since her conditioning as a sex slave, Deanna Troi’s empathic abilities had been significantly more sensitive. She had found herself able to pick up words as well as emotion, and even to read the normally unscannable minds of Ferengi. But Rak’s Reman brain was impenetrable to her Betazoid senses. She could sense absolutely nothing from him.

Rak moved his hand from Troi’s hair to her face, tracing her imperiously beautiful features. “Few Remans are accepted into the ranks of the Romulan military, Commander Troi,” he growled. “The path is long and painful. The Remans we leave behind see us as traitors serving our oppressors, and the Romulans we serve will never see us as equals. But I was one of the few,” he said with a lifted fist. “I sacrificed everything to serve.”

That fist lowered, uncurling to settling his palm directly on top of Deanna Troi’s left breast. “So when the empathic meddling of a brainless, big-breasted Betazoid bimbo reveals one of our operations and disgraces a Reman officer, he tends to remember. And it wasn’t even my mind you had read.” His fingers tightened on the counselor’s boob, making the brunette beauty cringe helplessly.

B’Elanna’s dark eyes were hard with her anger. “Mmmmpph!” she objected, twisting in her restraints, unwittingly pulling on T’Pol’s tit-chains and making both women spasm in ecstasy.

“This was all about your career?” Deanna cried out in disbelief and distress as her melon was cruelly squeezed.

“This was about my life!” He released Troi’s tit and stepped back, regarding the defeated woman before him with a satisfied smile. Deanna Troi, counselor of the USS Enterprise, a pivotal figure in Federation diplomacy, hung naked and upside-down before him, her tits dangling towards her face and her nude figure shaking and trembling as another series of droplets rained down on her bald kitty.

“I’ve waited a long time to have you, counselor,” Rak smirked. “I can wait a little longer. Try to relax.” The giant Reman turned and strode out of the chamber, leaving the three women alone in their bindings.

“Mmmmph,” was all T’Pol was able to say, her plump lips parted by her gag. The Vulcan’s bare hips shifted sexily as she twisted at the waist, turning to look towards Deanna. The Betazoid could sense the science officer’s helpless pleasure as the pole between her legs continued to vibrate, but through the growing ecstasy Troi could also detect the Vulcan’s message.

“Yes,” Deanna thought, “We have to find a way out of here.”

The flow of droplets falling onto Deanna’s bald snatch suddenly ceased. The Betazoid’s dark eyes rolled and her tits heaved with a sigh of relief.

Then a jet of icy-cold water fired down directly against Troi’s pussy!

“AAAAaaaiiieeee!!!” the counselor squealed, bucking and jerking where she hung, her head thrashing, her hair flying and her tits jumping. Her bonds prevented her from shifting her sensitive nether folds out of the path of the water.

In the same moment the pipe between B’Elanna and T’Pol’s legs began to vibrate with even more power. “Mmmmpph mmmmpphh!” the Klingon and the Vulcan objected, their backs arching in ecstasy and involuntarily pulling their nipple chains taut, stretching their teats.

The three heroines climaxed in unison, their backs arching and their tits quivering as ecstasy blasted through their naked bodies. But the pipe between Torres and T’Pol’s thighs did not grow still and the jet of water streaming against Deanna’s snatch did not weaken. Their super-sensitive bodies wriggled and shook and spasmed as they were pushed towards another orgasm, and then another, and another. All thought was blasted out of Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol’s minds as sheer pleasure overwhelmed them. Helpless in their bonds, the three Starfleet officers could do nothing but cum over and over, squealing and crying and bucking as climax after climax bombarded their wriggling naked bodies.

+++++

Deanna Troi awoke. The first thing she did was flash her hands up to cover her breasts. Finding that her elbows were no longer bound behind her back, she gasped and fell back against her shallow mattress.

For a few seconds the raven-haired beauty lay on her cot, her hands on the soft mounds of her tits. Enterprise’s counselor was a voluptuous woman with wonderful curves, her soft, round and resilient tits merely finishing off the package. Her inviting melons were toys that Deanna had enjoyed playing with even before she had received Orion conditioning. Since the tuning of her body’s sexual centers she had discovered she could spend hours playing with her tits, or with B’Elanna’s or T’Pol’s. But now was not the time.

Deanna was on the ship of the Reman arms merchant Rak, the man who had orchestrated the fall of the USS Sutherland and its crew, as well as the capture of the women who had tried to save it.

Commander Deanna Troi, counselor of the Federation flagship, had been captured, stripped naked and imprisoned. Another humiliation was added when she felt something around her throat. Her hands lifted to the cold metal collar. “What is this?”

“Rak’s men put it on you while you were unconscious,” said B’Elanna Torres helpfully. The Klingon was in a cell opposite the one where Deanna was held. Voyager’s chief engineer stood completely naked before the metal bars of her prison, the twenty-two year old’s flat stomach, firm ass, fantastic thighs and proud but soft tits on display. “They also felt you up,” the half-Klingon added.

“I could have guessed they would do that,” Deanna complained, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her bare breasts. Her black Betazoid eyes quickly found T’Pol, lying in a third cell positioned beside Troi’s. The Vulcan seemed to still be unconscious, her lean, long-legged body flat on the floor of her cell, the globes of her generous breasts shifting with her breaths, the big brown circles of T’Pol’s nipples gently rising and falling.

“They felt up T’Pol too,” Torres added, annoyance in the Maquis’ voice, “And me. And I was awake!”

Deanna fiddled with the slim bracelets that she now found on her wrists. She had been cuffed with gravimetric shackles often enough to recognize them, and knew she had no hope of removing them without a key or cutting tools. At least at the moment the devices were dormant. “Do you know what’s happened to Shelby and the rest of her crew?” the raven-haired beauty asked.

Folding her arms in front of her breasts Torres nodded grimly. “I overheard the guards complaining about all the other women being transferred to a freighter bound for Ferenginar. They bitched that there were only four of us left for the crew to have fun with.”

“Four?” Troi looked around the chamber. There were two rows of cells separated by an access-walk area in the middle. But apart from herserlf, Torres and T’Pol, the full-figured Betazoid beauty could not see any other prisoners. “Did he keep Shelby?”

“No, the fourth is some Romulan woman,” B’Elanna answered. “They dragged her out of her cell a few hours ago and took her somewhere. She was even less happy about it than we are.”

Deanna was suddenly struck by a sense of something being wrong. She could hear B’Elanna’s anger but could no longer empathically sense it. Her hands lifted through her raven-black hair to press against her head. “I can’t feel! I can’t sense anything!”

Voyager’s chief engineer sighed, settling her hands on the bars of her cell and leaning forwards, her tits swaying slightly. “They said the collar was some kind of telepathy blocker. I guess they’re worried you might read a security code from one of them and find a way to escape. Don’t meddle with it,” Torres warned as Deanna pulled on the collar harder and more desperately, “I think it might be booby-trapped.”

Deanna let go of the collar, her lower lip trembling. The Betazoid somehow felt even more naked, as if her empathic gifts had been stolen away from her. It was as real an impairment as if she had been blindfolded.

A moan from T’Pol drew her out of her self-pity. “Welcome back to the waking world,” Deanna said gently, moving over to the cell bars that separated her from the naked Vulcan, her melons pressing between the metal as she reached out to stroke T’Pol’s short hair.

Her eyelids fluttering and then opening, T’Pol looked down at her own nakedness. Then the haughtily beautiful face of the Enterprise’s science officer lifted to consider the cell she was trapped within. “I was hoping it was a nightmare,” the Vulcan admitted as Deanna stroked the side of her face. She sat up, kneeling face to face with the Betazoid, the Vulcan’s heavy breasts, narrow waist and hairless pussy mirroring Troi’s. “We must escape.”

B’Elanna leaned forward against the bars of her cell, the metal rods squeezing her breasts into interesting shapes. “I’m open to suggestions how.” She lifted her head, listening. “Hear that? Engine hum. I’m pretty sure we’re onboard a ship of some kind.”

“I hope Rak isn’t taking us into Romulan space,” Deanna breathed, lowering herself on her knees so that her bottom pressed against her heels.

“A ship may have shuttles,” T’Pol said, shifting from knee to knee, her boobs swaying left and right in a delicious movement.

“Shuttles are a way out,” finished B’Elanna, her hands on her magnificent hips.

At one end of the long narrow holding area chamber was a console, presumably used to monitor and control the cells. Behind it was the sole exit from the chamber. At that moment the entrance slid open and a woman staggered in.

Her head was bowed, her short blonde hair hiding across her face behind her fringe. She was, like the other female prisoners, naked except for the gravshacks that held her wrists behind her back. The woman was slimly built with creamy fair skin, a flat stomach, delicious hips and thighs and a pair of proud and perky tits. Her nipples bounced as she was shoved forwards, her long legs awkwardly trying to close to cover her tiny blonde thatch.

“Get in there, Romulan,” sneered the guard following behind her. A hard smack on the ass made the short-haired blonde gasp and lift her face, eyes wide and lips parted. Deanna recognized that face.

“Tasha!” she called out, and then saw the points on her ears. “Sela?”

Troi was shocked to see the half-Romulan child of Tasha Yar in this place, and even more stunned to see her stripped naked and shackled. The last Troi had heard of Sela she had held a high position in the ranks of the Romulan military. “What are you doing here?”

The guard escorting Sela to her cell was a blue-skinned Bolian, clad in a dark and bulky suit of armor. His sneering face, split by a crease of tissue down the center of his face typical of his species, turned at the sound of Deanna’s voice. Shoving Sela into her cell so that the Romulan tumbled to the deck in a display of naked legs and bouncing breasts, the Bolian turned to where Troi stood at the bars of her cell and touched a device attached to his wrist.

Deanna gasped as her gravimetric shackles activated, levitating above her head and locking together. With another press of a button the Bolian directed Troi’s gravshacks to magnetize to the cell’s metal bars. Enterprise’s counselor was pulled forwards with a yelp of objection, her breasts suddenly pressed against the cold steel rods of the cell’s bars and her trembling features only inches from the Bolian’s smirking face.

“You must be the high-and-mighty Starfleet bitch the Boss told me about. He said you would cause trouble.” He reached through the bars to grip Deanna Troi’s bare breasts. “He also said to be quick to put you back in your place.” The Betazoid flushed with humiliation as her boobs were lifted and squeezed, the Bolian running his thumbs over the roughness of her aureoles. Despite herself Troi felt her lungs swell faster and her heart begin to race as her super-sensitive conditioned body responded to the intimate fondling.

Deanna could see B’Elanna over the Bolian’s shoulder and T’Pol in the cell beside her. Her companions were looking away, the Vulcan folding her arms in front of her generous melons while the Klingon paced and stalked in her cell, both clearly uncomfortable as their friend was helplessly groped.

“I should have joined Starfleet,” the Bolian grinned, “Do all top-ranking women have udders like these?” He pulled Deanna’s tits towards him so that they were poking between the bars of the cell. The brunette couldn’t help but open her mouth in an ‘o’ of discomfort. “Or just Ambassador’s daughters? You’re one classy slut to be having her tits felt up.” He gripped and pulled on Troi’s nipples, squeezing the counselor’s tits together around one of the metal bars and then cruelly lifting both melons up before stretching them down. The twenty-nine year old whimpered in distress, her dark hair falling across her naked shoulders.

But behind the Bolian guard, out of his line of sight, Sela was awkwardly getting her to feet in her cell. With her wrists locked behind her back her movements were clumsy but the Romulan lifted herself into a low crouch, slim thighs spread and the pink lips of her pussy revealed beneath her blonde muff. Her bare breasts swayed under her as she slowly and silently moved forwards, inching out of the still-open door of her cell. The Bolian guard was so interested in groping Deanna Troi’s breasts that he had momentarily forgotten about his prisoner, and had not closed Sela’s cage.

But in the meantime the Bolian’s hands were wandering. “I could play with your tits all day,” he said, holding onto Deanna’s right breast with one hand while the other slid down her belly to her bald snatch, “But you’ve got too much going for you, Commander.” He stroked Troi’s soft folds, making the brunette moan in unwanted delight. His touch quickly grew firmer, fingertips rubbing against her pussy lips before pinching and pressing hard against the woman’s nethers. Deanna writhed in her sexy torment, pressing her naked body against the bars of her cell, her breasts rising as she drew in a deep pleasured breath.

Sela stalked forwards, still crouching with her boobs dangling and jiggling beneath her. But instead of coming to Deanna’s aid and striking the guard from behind, the Romulan began to move towards the main control console instead. Troi could have cursed Sela but she was too busy being fondled by the Bolian.

The voluptuous Betazoid mewled as she felt a finger slid into her pussy, wiggling in her most sensitive of places. “The boss said you moaned like a whore,” grinned the Bolian before he slid a second finger into Deanna Troi’s snatch alongside the first, smirking as the counselor squirmed and wriggled sexily at the sensation. He pumped his hand quickly and vigorously, finger-fucking the helpless Starfleet officer.

“Ah ah aahhh!!” The black-eyed beauty cried out loud, bouncing on her toes in a vain effort to keep those thrusting fingers out of her. The motion made her heavy breasts leap enticingly, spurring the Bolian on. His fingers plunged deeper and faster, driving the Betazoid wild. Troi thrashed her head, her dark hair flying and her boobs hitting the cell’s bars as they leapt and bounced.

Meanwhile Sela reached the console and looked over the holding cell controls with sharp green eyes. With her wrists still grav-shacked behind her back she leaned over the displays, the light from the screens shining on her gently swaying tits. She found what she was looking for: the controls for the cell doors. With no other way to touch the controls Sela leaned forwards, her breasts dipping deliciously, and touched a button with her tongue.

T’Pol and B’Elanna both took breast-bouncing jumps back as their cell doors open. Rows of metal bars moved from side to side, each cell unlocking and. Meanwhile the Bolian cried out in pain as his arms, reaching through the bars to fondle Deanna’s helpless body, were brutally pinned. The metal crunched into flesh and bone as the moving bars tried to overlap the stationary bars. With her grav-shacked wrists still locked to the bars, Troi twisted and tried to turn her nakedness away from the Bolian’s hands as he wrenched and spasmed in pain.

Then T’Pol and B’Elanna were running from their cells and grabbing at the Bolian. The short-haired science officer jammed her fingers down on the man’s shoulder and in seconds he was unconscious, subdued by a Vulcan nerve pinch. “Hang on!” Torres said, pulling on the cell bars against the machine-driven motion. The cruel bars that had captured the guard’s arms eased their hold and T’Pol pulled the Bolian away and lay him aside, allowing the door to open.

Deanna sighed in relief, but was still bound to the cells of her bar by the grav-shacks still holding her wrists above her head. “Good move, Sela,” she admitted.

The Romulan ran over to the nude trio with tit-jiggling steps. “There’s a controller on his wrist, use it!” Sela ordered, turning her slim figure to shake her gravshacks, unwittingly making her bare breasts bounce in the process. “Unlock us!”

“And get his gun!” Deanna added, twisting where she hung from her wrists, unwittingly displaying her voluptuous figure to excellent effect. When her gravshacks shut down she let out a deep exhalation, her dark eyes rolling in gratitude and cradling her now-throbbing tits in her hands. “I’m guessing we all have the same plan, Sela?”

“You mean get the hell out of here?” the blonde Romulan snapped, one pointed ear pressed against the door as she listened for men outside. “That about sums it up for me.”

Troi’s hands moved to her collar, leaving her lush breasts bare. She felt an enormous relief had being free from her cell, the adrenaline-charged hope of escape pushing back the dread and fear she had felt. But the Betazoid still felt a sharp void where the sensations of the people around her should have been. The damn collar was still blocking her empathy, and until she removed it Deanna knew she would not feel whole.

But maybe she could feel clothed. The voluptuous Betazoid knelt down by the stunned Bolian, reaching across his armor for the clasps. “Maybe we can…” Any fantasy she might have had of stealing the guard’s uniform and marching them all to safety disappeared as she saw how secure and comprehensive the guard’s armor was. It would take time to peel the Bolian out of it.

And time was something they didn’t have. “When Rak sent me back to my cell,” Sela said softly, still listening at the door, “He ordered our blue-skinned guard to pick up Troi and take her upstairs for a session with him. He’s expecting you in ten minutes,” she said pointedly, looking directly at the newly-freed Betazoid, “And when you don’t turn up this is the first place he’s going to look!”

The thought of Rak taking further liberties with her naked body made Deanna’s hands return protectively to her boobs. But Sela wasn’t finished. “He likes to parade his women before, and after, his sessions with them,” the blonde said bitterly, “So his men can enjoy the view, and so we know who’s boss. But there’s an upside: I know the ship’s layout, and we’re not too far from the shuttlebay. If we can steal a ship we have a chance of getting out of here.”

“And we’re armed,” B’Elanna added, hefting the phaser she had taken from the Bolian’s holster.

“Won’t do us much good,” disagreed Sela. “Fire that and you’ll alert security. I’m guessing you already know Rak’s transporters are accurate enough to beam a woman out of her clothing? Hang on… the coast is clear.” The short-haired blonde touched the door controls and the entrance slid open. With a nervous grin at the other three nude women, Sela nodded her head towards the corridor, the movement causing her proud boobs to jiggle slightly. “Let’s move while we have the chance!”

+++++

The corridors of Rak’s ship were plain cold metal punctuated by lights that left as much in shadow as they illuminated. The doors and occasional maintenance closets they passed were ugly and crude designs, far from the sleek technology aboard Starfleet ships. The four nude women moved in a line, one behind the other, each staying low and stepping carefully on their bare feet to reduce to sound of their footfalls.

“How did you end up as Rak’s toy?” Deanna whispered, her melons swaying gently as she crept along.

Sela’s pale eyes narrow in recollection. “My plans for an entrenched force on Vulcan was foiled and our support of the Duras family amounted to nothing but wasted resources. The Romulan High Command blamed me for the failure of those plans.”

“I suppose Rak has an axe to grind with you?” commented B’Elanna, in the lead with her breasts pressing together in a tasty cleavage as she held their only phaser at the ready.

Sela’s reply was delivered in a low and angry voice. “He was under my command once. He enjoys having the roles reversed.”

T’Pol eyed the blonde’s bare bottom, her pussy lips just visible between her slim thighs as she walked. “It seems he has done more than just reverse the roles.”

B’Elanna, in the lead, stopped suddenly and the saucy convoy bumped to a halt, tits pressing briefly against backs.

“Footsteps ahead!” the Klingon hissed, “Look out!”

“Don’t shoot!” Sela whispered urgently, “Remember the alarms!”

T’Pol turned as the Vulcan beauty quickly examined their surroundings. “In there, quickly!” she said, lifting one slender arm to point at a maintenance supply cupboard. With as much haste as they dared while remaining quiet they headed for the maintenance door and opened it.

Inside was a dreadfully confined space already loaded with cleaning equipment. Buckets stubbed toes while broomshafts pressed uncomfortably against naked bodies as Torres, T’Pol and Sela piled in. Deanna hesitated, her dark Betazoid eyes considering the cramped cupboard skeptically. “Come on!” the Romulan insisted, reaching out to grab the counselor’s wide womanly hips and yank her inside, and then pull the door closed behind her.

The sheet metal door didn’t shut all the way. The generous curve of Deanna’s rump was too large, the metal thumping against her pale bottom. “Get your fat ass in here!” Sela cursed, the blonde pulling the brunette tightly against her and finally pulling the door shut.

T’Pol and Torres were pressed tits-first against the cupboard walls, their melons flattening against the cold metal. Meanwhile Deanna and Sela found themselves face to face, their naked bodies meeting from thighs to breasts. The Romulan peered over Troi’s shoulder, peeking out through the cupboard’s grill.

They could hear heavy footsteps outside. “Did you see that Vulcan?” The man’s voice was shockingly loud. “Man, what a set! Skinny as a rake but she’s got it up top. I just wanted to take hold of those melons and start sucking. Way bigger than that Romulan bitch’s jugs. She squeals real nice, but she hasn’t got the size.”

Deanna Troi, on the other hand, was finding Sela’s breasts uncomfortably large. The Betazoid looked down at their combined cleavage, where her own tits pressed firmly against the Romulan’s peaches. Sela’s boobs were not as large as her own but still a mouthwatering shape, round and high and deliciously soft, except for her nipples which were currently as hard as rocks and poking into Troi’s own tender titflesh. There simply wasn’t enough room in the cupboard for both women’s tits.

“The Vulcan’s a joke,” disagreed another of Rak’s crew. The sound of footfalls stopped, the men halting only a few feet outside the cleaning cupboard where the four women stood naked and trapped. “The Klingon, now, she’s got the complete package. Ass, hips and tits. Those brown nips of hers are sensitive as hell. I only got a few minutes working on her when we were loading them into their cells, and she is a squealer and a moaner.”

Sela lifted and lowered herself on her toes, trying to get a good view over Deanna’s shoulder out the door’s tiny grill. The motion rubbed the Romulan’s tits against the Betazoid’s, much to Troi’s distress. Her breasts, super-sensitive thanks to her Orion conditioning, ached with pleasure as Sela’s erect nipples rubbed and poked and pressed against Deanna’s supple melons. It didn’t help that the Romulan’s hands were firmly squeezing Troi’s ass to hold her close, preventing their numbers from forcing the closet door open. The counselor bit her lips as she fought the desire to mewl in pleasure, flushing hard as she stared down at where her boobs pressed against the blonde’s pair.

“The Betazoid has the best tits,” argued a third of Rak’s crew. “Big, soft, plump jugs. Just the shape of them is beautiful. Very nice pair. Pity she’s going to be the Captain’s pet.”

Deanna shut her eyes. Her breasts ached with the need to be squeezed. Her hands trembled with the desire to grab and massage her boobs. The sensation of Sela’s tits against hers was hitting all the right buttons.

“Face it, they’re all prime sluts,” the first guard said. The four women heard his footfalls resume as he continued down the corridor, the other crewmen following. “Even the Romulan’s high on the fuckable scale, that’s why the boss has them. The Betazoid is probably going to be off limits,” he continued, his voice growing fainter as they headed away, “But her friends are going to be fair game. So do your jobs and keep Rak happy so we don’t miss out on the chance.”

Deanna struggled to control her breathing. Ecstasy pulsed between her thighs, the lips of her pussy growing moist and puffy. Sela was still wiggling and shifting, her tits rubbing against Troi’s, and the Romulan’s peaches were obviously nowhere near as sensitive as the Betazoid’s melons. Troi’s head bowed, her dark hair falling across her cleavage and inadvertently tickling her sensitive skin.

“We have missed out on the chance,” complained one of the other men. “The boss had hundreds of pieces of ass from that Starfleet ship and now they’re heading for Ferenginar, as if those big-eared shits would even know what to do with them…”

The men moved out of ear shot. “Count to ten,” B’Elanna whispered, “Give them time to move away. One, two…” Troi pressed her thighs together, trying not to cry out in pleasure. “Three, four, five, six…”

Deanna felt orgasm approaching. She pulled away from Sela, her round rump hitting the closet door and knocking it open. The Betazoid stumbled back out of the maintenance cupboard, flushing bright pink and panting.

To her good fortune the crewmen had moved too far away to hear. “What’s your problem?” Sela demanded as she, Torres and T’Pol emerged from the closet. Then the Romulan’s pale eyes moved up and down Deanna’s voluptuous nakedness, taking in the pink flush, the goosebumps on her bare skin and her rapid breathing.

“So it’s true,” Sela observed, the nude blonde regarding the curvaceous counselor with something between pity and contempt. “A normal woman wouldn’t be so far gone so quickly. You really were conditioned to be a perfect whore. You’ve fallen a long way, Commander Troi.”

“You don’t look much better, Romulan,” B’Elanna said tartly, eyeing Sela’s slim naked figure. “A Reman fuck toy? I bet the Tal Shiar use your name as a punchline at parties.”

“Perhaps we can carry on this discussion at another, more convenient time?” interrupted T’Pol. The Vulcan peeked a look around the next bend in the corridor, her lean naked form kneeling at the corner. “I see two guards up ahead.”

The blonde joined the short-haired brunette at the corner, her hands on the Vulcan’s tanned shoulders and her breasts dangling to nearly touch T’Pol’s hair as she peered around. “That’s one of the ways into the shuttlebay. They must be guarding it.”

B’Elanna lifted her mostly-useless phaser while settling her other hand on her hip, unconscious assuming a sexy pose. “If we shoot, we raise the alarm.”

“Four buck naked women walking down the corridor towards them isn’t something a man ignores!” Deanna insisted.

“I was thinking more along the lines of one buck naked woman,” Sela suggested, her eyes moving down Troi’s lovely body.

Deanna’s beautiful dark eyes widened. “What you planning?”

T’Pol and B’Elanna considered their beautiful and voluptuous companion with speculative eyes. “Sela,” the Vulcan suggested, “You mentioned that Rak parades his captive women for his crew?”

+++++

A minute later Deanna Troi headed around the corridor and began walking towards the two guards, completely naked.

Her pale body trembled nervously, her bare breasts swaying with each step. The raven-haired beauty forced herself to stand straight, her hands clasped behind her back to create the illusion that her gravshacks were binding her. Her head lowered as she tried to create the impression of humiliating defeat, unaware that her conditioned hips were swinging sexily from side to side as she advanced.

The two guards at the door, a human and a Cardassian, quickly spotted the brunette and grinned at the sight of her. “My my, looks like Commander Troi is lost!” the Cardassian smirked.

The human’s eyes moved up and down Deanna’s lush figure, taking in the fullness of her breasts, the curves of her hips, the narrowness of her waist and her lovely little hairless pussy. “That’s not a regulation uniform, Miss Troi.”

Deanna flushed in humiliation. With a tit-lifting breath to settle her nerves she forced her arms to remain behind her, leaving her nakedness completely exposed. “Master Rak gave me an order,” she said in a tiny shamed voice.

The Cardassian stepped around to Deanna’s side, admiring the curve from the small of her back over her round rump. “What order might that be, Commander?”

The counselor bit her lip but knew that the deception was the best way off Rak’s ship. “I am to… entertain you.” Then Deanna let out a cry of distress as the Cardassian slapped her hard on the ass. The busty Betazoid jumped, her milky tits bouncing.

“That’s why Rak is a great Captain,” the Cardassian grinned, grabbing a handful of Deanna’s derriere.

“I second the motion,” the human quipped as he wrapped both hands around Troi’s tits. “I was sure the Boss was going to keep these treats to himself!”

Trapped between the two guards Deanna could only moan in distress as her breasts and bottom were fondled. “Hurry up,” she thought, wishing her companions into action. “They must be able to see these men are well and truly distracted now.” Her thoughts were cut off as the Cardassian behind her took hold of Troi’s dark hair and forced her to turn her head so he could kiss her. The counselor’s back arched, her breasts thrusting forwards into the human guard’s groping hands.

“Mmmpphh!” Deanna complained around the kiss as the man molesting her breasts went from fondling to biting. “Mpphh! Mmmpphh!” His teeth worked around the slopes of her tits, leaving aching red marks. The sensation was incredible, Troi’s Orion-conditioned body rousing quickly from the attention.

The Cardassian broke the kiss long enough to smile. “I don’t think our little Starfleet officer is happy,” he joked, reaching around Troi’s wide hips to diddle with her pussy lips. The Betazoid mewled in pleasure, her hips wiggling and her bottom pushing back against the Cardassian’s crotch as she tried to keep her nethers out of his reach. It was no use. His fingers relentlessly played with Deanna’s slit, stroking her extra-sensitive folds and flicking her responsive clitoris.

Meanwhile Deanna’s nipples were painfully erect as the human guard continued to bite and jiggle the Betazoid’s breasts. His attention focused in on her puffy teats. Troi squealed with pleasure as her buds were gripped gently between the man’s teeth and tugged on. “What is taking them so long?” she thought, feeling her super-sensitive body moving relentlessly towards orgasm.

With a quiver of distress and anticipation Deanna found herself lifted onto the toes of one foot as the Cardassian lifted her left leg up and outwards. Enterprise’s counselor was forced to spread her pale thighs, giving the man excellent access to her perfect hairless pussy. Her dark Betazoid eyes rolled in pleasure as he played with her snatch, rubbing her with frenetic energy.

“Uhhhh ahhhhh,” Troi moaned, her hands helplessly clenching behind her back as she tipped her face back in ecstasy. She was so close! “Ooooohhh mmmpphhh!!” Her moan was muffled suddenly by a mouthful of cock. The human squeezing her tits had suddenly changed tactics, yanking his tool from his trousers and pulling the counselor forward so she leaned over, tits dangling, to find his cock in her mouth! “Mmmmpph,” she mumbled around the man’s penis as he began to plunge it in and out of her lips, pressing the head of his cock against her tongue. Instinctively Troi swirled her lips and tongue around the man’s rod. Her Orion conditioning gave the counselor an excellent technique that she used almost unconsciously.

Naked except for her shackles, Deanna Troi bobbed and sucked on the man’s cock, looking up longingly with her beautiful dark eyes. He reached down to squeeze her breasts, rewarding her efforts, and the Betazoid shuddered in pleasure. Her nipples were hard stubs poking against his palms as he massaged the counselor’s udders.

Meanwhile the Cardassian behind Troi was still busy. She stiffened in trepidation as she heard him unbuckle his trousers. With her mouth stuffed with penis, her breasts dangling as she leaned forward, Deanna Troi felt acutely exposed and vulnerable.

“Mmmpphh mpphh!” Troi objected, vainly wiggling her shoulders and making her boobs jiggle as she tried to warn the Cardassian off. But his eyes were firmly locked on Deanna’s lovely bottom and the pouting folds of her snatch that peeked out from between her thighs. Holding her ass with one hand and guiding his tool with the other, he pressed his cock against Deanna Troi’s pussy and nuzzled his organ into her.

“Rak said this Troi is a tart but she’s tight,” the Cardassian groaned as he slowly pushed his meatstick into the counselor’s velvet passage. “Fuck, she’s grabbing my cock!” Deanna moaned around a mouthful of hot rod as the guard began rhythmically pumping in and out of her slit, savoring the sensation of the Betazoid’s vaginal canal clenching around his tool. The Cardassian gripped Deanna’s wide hips and used them to pull the woman back along the length of his cock. The counselor’s boobs swung freely as she was fucked.

The two men built up a quick tempo, one thrusting into Deanna’s cunt while the other slid his cock between her lips. The raven-haired beauty moaned and wriggled, her voluptuous figure a gorgeous sight as she was fucked by the two guards. She had become a sexy substitute for rope in his cruel tug-of-war. Her generous tits were gripped and squeezed by the man with his dick in Troi’s mouth, pulling on her breasts in order to drag her lips further down his shaft, while the other yanked her curving hips back to push himself in her snatch. Faster and faster the two men thrust, pulling the voluptuous brunette back and forth between them.

Deanna Troi’s well-conditioned body peaked. She climaxed, her ecstastic cry reduced to an awkward “Mmmpphhh!” by the dick that filled her mouth. Only seconds later the two guards cummed, one shooting his load down the counselor’s throat and the other firing his seed into the Starfleet officer’s womb.

Swallowing and flushing with humiliation, Deanna found herself pushed away from the two men and fell to her knees, panting and shaking in the aftermath of her orgasm. “You barbarians eeewww!” The buxom Betazoid’s outrage became a squeal of humiliated disgust as both the human and the Cardassian pumped their cocks and ejaculated the last of their seed across her face and bare breasts!

“Now that’s a well-trained Starfleet officer,” the Cardassian grinned, savoring the sight of the Enterprise’s counselor naked, kneeling and now splattered with cum, her imperiously beautiful face flushed with shame and her dark eyes lowered to her semen-sticky breasts in defeat.

“She’s a bonafide diplomat,” added the human guard, watching Deanna’s tits rise and fall with her embarrassed breathing, “An expert in dealing with awkward situations.”

Then both men stiffened, faces twisting and freezing in expressions of discomfort as T’Pol delivered a pair of stunning Vulcan nerve-pinches to them both. The science officer’s bare breasts trembled as her body tensed with effort, paralyzing the two guards and lowering them to the deck.

“Took you long enough!” accused Deanna, grabbing one of the unconscious men’s sleeves and using it to wipe up the humiliating mess on her face and tits before clambering up on legs shaky from her orgasm.

“There were two of them,” B’Elanna said helplessly, just behind T’Pol, “One of them was always facing in our direction until you finished them off.”

Sela stripped a pair of phasers from the two guards’ belts. Handing one to T’Pol she gestured to the three Starfleet officers with a tit-jiggling wave. “No time to waste, we’re close to the shuttlebay!”

+++++

There were a few crewmen stationed in the hanger aboard Rak’s ship. They were lucky enough to see Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres, T’Pol and Sela dash across the hanger deck as fast as their long legs could carry them.

They were a magnificent sight. Each of the beauties were naked except for the inactive gravshacks on their wrists. Four sets of asses wiggled as their long bare legs pumped beneath them. Four pairs of breasts leapt and jumped, a delicious view as the four women dashed for the nearest shuttle. The Betazoid, the Vulcan, the Klingon and the Romulan sprinted four abreast as fast as they could and reached the waiting shuttlecraft at a dead run.

The bright red beams from their phasers distracted the men from the mouthwatering sight of the naked escapees. T’Pol and Sela used the little craft’s hull for cover as they laid down covering fire, shooting at the crewmen stationed around the hanger. Alarms began to blare but it was too late for stealth. “B’Elanna, get that hatch open!” the Vulcan shouted.

“I’m working on it!” Voyager’s chief engineer leaned down to work on an access panel at the rear of the ship, her posture showing off her firm rump and making her tits dangle beneath her. “I think I can fool the lock into thinking I’m trying to rescue a crewman trapped inside.”

“Don’t explain, just do!” urged Deanna, her back pressed to the hull of the shuttle as she hid from a burst of phaser fire that came down from one of the walkway’s. The counselor’s melons rose and fell with her quick breaths and she nervously pulled at the empathy-blocking collar she still wore. “It’s going to get very hot in here very quickly!” T’Pol ducked out from behind cover and fired a few shots from her weapon, and was rewarded by the sight of an enemy guard falling from the walkway in a shower of sparks.

“Got it!” grinned B’Elanna as the shuttle’s hatch swung open.

The four nude women piled inside, Sela almost diving for the helm seat. “Door sealed, engines powering up, charging weapons.”

“Weapons?” Troi asked, “What for?”

With a vicious smile the Romulan fired the little ship’s disruptors on the walkways of the hanger. Crewmen who had previously been firing upon the four nude escapees were vaporized or sent falling to the hanger floor in flames. Then Sela turned the craft’s guns on the shuttlebay doors. The metal barrier buckled and then melted away in an eruption of fragments as the superheated metal was blown into the vacuum of space by the atmospheric pressure escaping. Its engines fired and the shuttle hissed forwards, scraping the jagged edge of the hanger door with its side before racing out into open space.

Deanna settled her bare bottom into one of the two chairs in the small cockpit. The counselor felt another surge of relief with the knowledge that they were out of Rak’s ship, but knew that the fight was far from over.

T’Pol and B’Elanna had no seating options and had to settle for leaning over the Betazoid’s shoulders, forced to stoop in the limited headroom. Trying to ignore the Vulcan and the Klingon’s delicious tits hanging on either side of her face, Troi summoned up the ship’s sensory systems. “Visual on Rak’s ship.”

The vessel of the man that had captured, stripped and tormented Deanna and her friends was as ugly as the Reman himself. It had a broad body and wide hooked wings studded with weapon systems. The shuttlebay they had escaped through was just a tiny breach in its tail as the ship turned around, moving to follow the fleeing shuttle.

“Going to warp,” Sela reported. In a flash Rak’s ship was gone as the shuttle escaped at lightspeed. “That ship is a Reman Kukri-class destroyer. Something that size will easily outrun this little tin can at warp!”

“We have to call for help,” suggested T’Pol. She pointed to one of the controls in front of Deanna, one of her melons brushing against the Betazoid’s naked shoulder. “Navigational sensors. Where are we?”

“In Romulan territory, close to the Federation border,” Deanna said. Hope made her heart leap as she realized just how close they were to Starfleet-protected territory. She leaned forward and punched buttons, the light from the displays shining on the pale moons of her breasts. “I’m sending a distress signal on Federation channels indicating we are under attack. Unless you’d rather wait for Romulan reinforcements,” she said to Sela’s naked shoulder.

“I’ll take the Federation over the pigs who dropped me on Rak’s lap any day,” Sela retorted, turning angrily in her chair with enough energy to make her bare breasts jiggle. The nude blonde returned her attention to her console. “Adjusting course for the Federation border, but we’re going to take too long to reach it. Unless they cross the border to help us.”

“I’ll put everything we have into the engines and buy us some time.” B’Elanna was working on an engineering display built into the ceiling, her hands lifted above her head. The posture made her lovely breasts lift, her tanned treats swaying left and right with the movements of her arms. “Backfeeding power from the disruptor reserves to the warp drive. Transferring shield battery power to the navigational deflector.”

“Speed is increasing,” reported Sela, “But so is reactor temperature.”

“I am attempting to divert coolant flow from non-critical systems to the reactor and engines,” said T’Pol, joining B’Elanna with her hands lifted to the displays built into the pod’s low ceiling. The Vulcan and the Klingon provided a mouthwatering view as they worked, breasts bobbing as they lifted their arms and their trim thighs shifting beneath their bald pussies.

Sela gunned the shuttle’s engine. The pod began to tremble, the engines producing a rough grinding sound as the small craft was forced to warp speeds it wasn’t built to hold.

Meanwhile Deanna was examining the navigational displays before her. “Looks like Rak had fairly up-to-date reports of where Starfleet craft were last seen. Wait! That’s the Enterprise!” The voluptuous twenty-nine year old pointed at the blinking icon on the screen. “According to the Reman logs, the Enterprise is on patrol near the Romulan neutral zone! The Enterprise E Sovereign class?” asked Troi, “What happened to the Galaxy class Enterprise?”

“Destroyed in a fight with the Duras family,” Sela answered over her shoulder, “But the crew survived. A Sovereign could jump across the border very fast.”

“That won’t do us any good,” B’Elanna said sharply, “Starfleet isn’t going to breach the neutral zone for an anonymous distress signal!”

“Then it cannot be anonymous,” T’Pol said. She, B’Elanna and Sela all looked directly at Deanna Troi. “You must send a message.”

The raven-haired beauty felt a surge of trepidation. Once upon a time she had served aboard the Galaxy class Enterprise, or at least remembered doing so. But she was not the “real” Deanna Troi, but a virtually identical version created by Starheart’s unique drive.

Troi and her companions had refrained from contacting Starfleet: the Ferengi Consortium would interpret Federation involvement in their slave-freeing business as enemy action, and some in Starfleet would see their work as a violation of the Prime Directive. They had tried to keep the number of people who knew their true purpose to a minimum.

Deanna wasn’t sure how a doppelganger of a Starfleet officer would be received, particularly accompanied by a Romulan, a Maquis terrorist and a Vulcan from two hundred years in the past!

The full-chested Betazoid swallowed her doubts. “How do you get a really tight-angle view on this thing?” the nude brunette asked. “I don’t want to give everyone on the bridge a view of my boobs.”

Sela grinned. “Are you sure? They’d break the engines coming to rescue us if they could see those jugs. Okay,” she surrendered, “I’ll configure the sensor so they just see your face.”

“And I’ll include our co-ordinates and engine signature in the data package for them to track,” added B’Elanna. “But whatever you tell them, it has to be convincing. It has to be something that only their Deanna Troi would know.”

“I think I’ve got something that will do that,” the Betazoid said with eyes wide with nervousness. “T’Pol, B’Elanna, could you back off a little? Your boobs keep getting in-frame.”

A moment later the lovely and naked Deanna Troi was speaking into the console, keeping her chin up and speaking as calmly as she could manage.

“Troi to Enterprise, this is an urgent request for rescue. I know that you have a Deanna Troi onboard. She is not an imposter, but neither am I; we’re both real, and you have to believe me. Myself and three other captives have just escaped from a Reman Kukri-class destroyer that will be in pursuit of us shortly.”

She drew in a breath. “This addresses the woman onboard the Enterprise known as Deanna Troi. To prove my identity to you…” The Betazoid hesitated for a second. “Tooshipam. Our flight path co-ordinates are enclosed.”

B’Elanna and T’Pol exchanged questioning looks, then turned their eyes to the voluptuous brunette sitting in the co-pilot chair. “What is ‘Tooshipam’?” the Vulcan asked delicately.

Troi bit her lip. “I had a puppy once. It died because I didn’t take proper care of it. So I pretended I had an invisible puppy friend I’d never have to feed, walk, clean up after, or worry about. I was five,” she added.

“And that invisible puppy was called Tooshipam?”

“It’s the sound my old puppy made when it sneezed,” Deanna said quickly, “Well, let’s set course to meet the Enterprise.”

“Already on our way,” Sela reported, her nipples quivering on her bare breasts as she quickly adjusted the controls. The half-Romulan looked at her screens. “The Enterprise would have received the message almost instantly. With their engines a Starfleet strike cruiser could reach us in minutes.”

“But they won’t move until they determine the message’s authenticity,” Deanna said. “They’ll ask their Troi about it. I hope I’m not in the shower,” she finished. Then her dark Betazoid eyes widened as she stared at her displays. “Our distress signal is being jammed by Rak’s ship!”

“Did the message get out?” T’Pol asked, urgency breaking through her normally controlled voice.

“I don’t know!” Troi cried, “I think so! I’m detecting Rak’s destroyer right on our tail and closing in fast! We need more speed!”

Again Sela pushed the little ship’s engines harder. The four nude women clustered together, B’Elanna and T’Pol’s tanned toned figures leaning over the backs of Sela and Deanna’s chairs. The shaking and rattling of the ship increased, four pairs of breasts quaking and jiggling from the rough ride. “We’re losing fuel stream alignment!” B’Elanna yelled. “T’Pol, I need to calculate dilithium re-articulation! Free up all the computer space you can!”

“Deanna, I will be taking communication and navigation from your control temporarily,” T’Pol said crisply as she ‘borrowed’ the computer processing power from the counselor’s consoles.

The screens in front of Troi winked out. “It isn’t as if they would help us any,” the nude Starfleet officer admitted.

“Re-aligning the dilithium crystal!” B’Elanna punched in a quick sequence of keys. A second later they felt the shuttle surge forwards with a new burst of speed.

T’Pol lowered her hands from the controls, her breasts rising and falling with a quick breath as she looked over their handiwork. “The crystal is now under intense pressures and temperatures. There is a ninety-eight percent likelihood that its structure will fail in the next six minutes, but we have increased our warp speed tenfold.”

“But in this bucket that means we’re going ten times faster than really slow,” B’Elanna added.

The ship was shaking all around them as the shuttle endured stresses far greater than it had been designed to ever endure. Deanna gripped the armrests of her chair, the tremors running through the craft making her dark nipples tremble on the curves of her breasts. “How far to the Federation border?” she said, having to lift her voice above the noise.

“Only,” was as far as Sela got before the shuttle’s port warp engine was blasted off by a disruptor shot.

The four women screamed as their craft tipped and spun. The star-streaks of warp speed travel Deanna could see through the canopy were replaced by ordinary space as the shuttle dropped violently from warp. T’Pol and B’Elana were both thrown tits-first against the cabin wall, while the jolt pulled Deanna out of her chair and threw the curvy brunette to the deck. She scrambled up, her bare breasts dangling as she leaned over the armrest of her chair and pulled herself back in.

Torres helped T’Pol back on her feet. “The warp engine is history!” the twenty-two year old Maquis exclaimed, “We’ve got get power back to shields and weapons!” Quickly the engineer and the science officer were back at work rerouting the ship’s meager energy reserves.

The shuttle turned, bringing Rak’s hideous ship into view. Deanna watched with wide eyes as the jagged shape of the destroyer moved casually towards them, like a spider closing in on captured prey.

“Hello, counselor.” Rak’s voice emerged from the shuttle’s speakers with eery loudness. “I can see your big tits from here.” Realizing that the Reman would have a magnified view of her naked body clear through the shuttle’s canopy, Deanna clamped her hands over her breasts tightly enough to make her titflesh rise around her fingers. “And I’m coming for them.”

A lance of green light reached out for them. The ship jolted and twisted beneath them as Rak’s ship punished the little shuttle with a disruptor shot. “We’ve lost the other warp pod!” shouted B’Elanna. “I’ve got power back to shields and the sublight drive!”

“I’ll make us a little harder to hit!” Sela said, directing the shuttle to race up and over the advancing Reman destroyer. More bursts of disruptor fire shot past the small elusive ship. The blonde looked over her shoulder at Deanna’s naked curves. “I hope Rak wants you alive, counselor.”

Before Troi could answer her voluptuous figure was surrounded by the glow of a transporter. “Oh no!” she cried, realizing that Rak was trying to beam her off the shuttle. Then the light was gone, and Deanna thanked heaven that she was still onboard the small ship and not standing naked on Rak’s transporter pad. Goosebumps of fear made Troi’s bare skin tingle.

“Our shields are re-modulated and their transporter blocked,” B’Elanna reported with a sigh.

Deanna’s lovely boobs leapt as she turned quickly to look towards the sensor screens. Rak’s cruiser stormed towards them, the hulking grey craft thundering after the little ship.

“His disruptors are charging for another volley!” Sela said, “Taking evasive action!” The shuttle turned and spun as the Romulan tried to evade the shots belched out by Rak’s destroyer. A detonation nearby rocked the tiny ship. “Proximity torpedoes!”

“Coolant leak in the main tank!” T’Pol reported, “Returning fire!” The pathetic beam of phaser energy the shuttle fired harmlessly discharged on the Reman destroyer’s shields. “No effect!”

“I can’t stop the coolant leak!” exclaimed B’Elanna, the Klingon moving quickly from wall to wall as she worked on the various panels, her firm ass well displayed as she leaned forward, and her soft tits even more so as her supple globes bobbed and swayed. “The reactor needs that coolant. At the current rate of loss we’re going to lose main power in fifty seconds!”

The Betazoid looked helplessly at the alien Romulan controls, unable to aid directly. “Can we eject our antimatter fuel cells and use them against that cruiser?” she said quickly.

“That would leave us with no fuel!” Sela exclaimed, the Romulan’s slim naked figure shaking as she fought the flight controls.

“We won’t be able to use it once we run out of coolant!” Troi answered. “If we’re going to do something with it, we’ve got to do it now!”

B’Elanna punched buttons on the console above her head. “Fuel cells ready to eject, phasers charged. Sela, I’m sending you the ejection vector: use it to aim!” The Maquis’ hand lingered beneath the controls as the shuttle swung around. “Give the words.”

“Lining her up,” Sela said. The craft jerked as another proximity torpedo battered them. “Just a little closer!” A disruptor shot cleaved the shuttle’s long-range sensor and communication pod from the hull. “Just another second… eject, now!”

Torres’ hand stabbed the controls. “Fuel cells away, firing phasers!”

The shuttle ejected a pair of compact cylinders containing its remaining reserves of antimatter. The pods tumbled through space, their momentum carrying them on a collision course with Rak’s destroyer. Drawing on its failing battery reserves the ship summoned up enough energy to fire a beam of red phaser fire, hitting one of the ejected fuel cells.

They detonated directly off the bow of Rak’s squat ship, briefly covering the vessel’s cannon-covered forward end with blinding energy. But when the light faded the destroyer was still bearing down on them. “Their shields are still at eighty five percent!” T’Pol said, her Vulcan-trained cool cracking with growing despair.

Another disruptor shot pummeled the shuttle and suddenly the life went out of the craft. The hum of its engines faded. “We’ve lost impulse power!” Sela’s voice was fearful and urgent. “We can’t even shoot!”

The sound of Rak’s voice, transmitted from his vessel, made Troi’s naked body shiver. “Naughty, naughty little sluts,” came the Reman’s sneering voice, “Making us run so far. Sela, I think you, the Vulcan bimbo and that Klingon whore have to apologize to the men of my crew in person.”

Deanna stared in fear out the shuttle’s forward canopy to the terrible sight of Rak’s cruiser. A yellow beam flowed out and struck the shuttle, making the craft jolt and causing Troi’s bare breasts to lift violently. “A tractor beam!” the counselor gasped, no longer caring that her voluptuous nakedness would be visible to Rak through the canopy. The notion of being returned to the Reman’s hands was far worse.

“As for you, counselor Troi,” Rak gloated, “Time to come back to your kennel. I want to see you on your hands and knees.”

“Oh no,” the brunette breathed in horror.

Suddenly a barrage of phaser shots scorched the bow of Rak’s vessel. The squat cruiser reeled, its tractor beam disengaging as it banked away from the new threat. Streaking between the shuttle and its attacker was a sleek long-bodied craft, seven hundred meters of silver-grey alloy with elongated warp engines behind it and an angular saucer in front. It banked as it turned and Deanna could read the name on printed on its hull.

“It’s the Enterprise!” Deanna’s black eyes lit up. “They answered our message!”

The Deanna Troi that had been enslaved on Ferenginar had never seen a Sovereign class cruiser. It was slimmer and more menacing than the swanlike Galaxy class that had preceded it, its long body and nacelles stretched as if it were always traveling at warp speeds. Lean and powerful, it squared off against Rak’s destroyer.

The squat Reman ship spat torpedoes and disruptor fire at the Starfleet cruiser, creating blossoms of green light across its shields. The Enterprise turned about and returned fire, a volley of glowing white torpedoes leaping from a launcher in the bottom of its saucer. They smashed through the destroyer’s shielding and blasted flaming chunks of hull and framework out into space. “Yes!” Deanna cried, the nude Betazoid pumping one fist in triumph, her big brown nipples bobbing as her ample titflesh jiggled with the motion.

Suddenly the ship that had been chasing them didn’t seem so large and menacing. It rolled, spraying flames and jets of coolant from breaches in its hull. The Enterprise slid gracefully past it, rolling and unleashing a barrage of phaser fire from the many emitters on the underside of its body. Red beams gouged into Rak’s craft, gutting the destroyer into a hollow flaming shell. The Reman vessel spun away, no longer under power or control, reduced to a red-hot mess of tortured metal.

Deanna stared in amazement at the spectacular destruction of the Reman warship. The reality of what she had witnessed sunk in. “He’s dead,” she breathed. “He must be dead. No one could survive that.” The Betazoid beauty stood, her naked skin shining in the light of the destroyer’s destruction. The Reman responsible for the violation of the Sutherland’s female crew, the death of its male personnel, who had captured and tormented Deanna and her companions, was now in the centre of the blazing inferno she could see through the shuttle canopy.

“We’re being tractored by the Enterprise,” Sela reported, the blonde leaning her nude body back in her chair in relief. “They’re pulling us towards their shuttlebay. I never thought I’d be relieved to see a Starfleet ship!”

T’Pol leaned forwards to look through the shuttle’s canopy at the Sovereign-class starship. “That is quite a vessel,” the Vulcan commented, “I was impressed by what I saw aboard the Sutherland but would appreciate a better opportunity to examine the technology.”

“You’ll get the chance,” Deanna said confidently. “We’ll be onboard soon enough.” She had no idea how right she was, because just as she finished her sentence the four women were wrapped in the blue light of the Enterprise’s transporter beam.

Which is how Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres, T’Pol and Sela found themselves standing buck-naked in the front of the bridge aboard the USS Enterprise-E, in plain sight of the entire bridge crew!

+++++

Even though the voluptuous raven-haired counselor was only one of four beauties standing completely naked at the front of the bridge, Deanna Troi immediately realized that every single set of eyes was focused on her! From the lowly Ensign at the helm chair gaping at her bald snatch to the command crew in the center seats admiring her trembling tits, the entire bridge crew was taking advantage of the chance to enjoy the Betazoid’s naked figure.

Captain Picard and Riker both grinned at the sight of her curvy body. Worf nodded in appreciation of the lovely view of the voluptuous twenty-nine year old. Doctor Crusher folded her arms before her breasts and huffed an exasperated sigh. Geordi LaForge’s bionic vision examined the counselor’s round soft melons with microscopic attention to detail, while Data’s head cocked as he took in the view of the Betazoid’s hairless pussy.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of Deanna Troi’s life.

“OH – MY – GOD!” she cried, her hands pressing hard over her bare breasts. Beside her T’Pol’s plump lips tightened in humiliation as she wrapped one arm across her heavy bosom and slapped her other hand over her bald snatch. B’Elanna yelped in distress and quickly turned away, trying to hide her lovely tits from the eyes of the bridge crew, instead giving everyone a great view of her perfect ass. Sela’s green eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the Romulan doubled over, obscuring the view of her neat blonde thatch while grabbing at her own tits with her hands.

The awkward embarrassment was suddenly matched by a sudden and profound silence. One of the bridge crew, a dark-haired beauty with a curvaceous body wrapped in a dark Starfleet uniform, stood up and slowly approached the four newcomers. Her midnight black eyes were wide with astonishment and her imperiously beautiful face tilted as she looked in amazement at her doppelganger.

The naked Betazoid realized who she was looking at: Commander Deanna Troi, counselor aboard the USS Enterprise. After all her perils and adventures, the brunette beauty was now face to face with the first and original Troi that she herself had been patterned on. This woman was Deanna Troi. She was no transporter replica, copied from an old buffer pattern, but the Starfleet officer meant for this time and this place.

She had no idea what to say. She could only stand there, naked except for her collar and wrist shackles, one hand pressing over her smooth bald nethers and the other arm crossing and covering her soft tits. Her eyes wide and her mouth agape she stared at the original Troi, caught between humiliation at her nudity and joy at their rescue and awe at the enormity of meeting herself.

The uniformed Troi approached her double with wide eyes, looking over every detail of the other Betazoid’s face and figure. Slowly the nude Deanna grew in confidence, straightening slightly although her hands remained firmly over her privates. A laugh of release building up inside her, she drew in a breath to speak.

But before the words could leave Deanna’s mouth the uniformed Troi slapped her hard across the cheek.

“Slut!”

The word hit Deanna even harder than the slap. She flinched, blushing and suddenly ducking down slightly, trying to better cover her nakedness. Her mouth opened in shock. “What?”

Then T’Pol and B’Elanna grabbed the naked Betazoid’s arms. “Hey what are you doing noooo!!” wailed Troi was her arms were pulled back, forcing her hands away from breasts and snatch.

Her eyes opening wide with disbelief and her lips parting in shock, Deanna Troi was forced to stand naked and uncovered in front of the bridge crew of the USS Enterprise! “No!” she cried out, trying to turn one leg in front of the other so that she could at least cover her delicious little slit. “What are you doing yow!” The counselor yelped and arched her back, bare breasts bouncing for the amusement of the crew as Sela slapped Troi hard on her round ass.

The dark smile on the face of the uniformed Troi grew deeper. “Figure it out,” she said, swinging one arm back and then delivering a cracking smack to Troi’s bare left boob! “Figure it out you stupid, stupid bimbo!”

“Yaaooww!” wailed Deanna, “Aaahhh! Ooowww!” A series of sharp smacks were delivered to the Betazoid’s heavy melons, making them bounce and jiggle across her chest as the twenty-nine year old writhed and bucked in distress, pleasure and humiliation. T’Pol and B’Elanna continued to hold Troi’s arms to prevent her from resisting or even covering her nudity, the Vulcan and the Klingon apparently as obedient as robots. Meanwhile Sela continued to smack the counselor on the bottom, each vicious blow making the voluptuous young woman jump on her toes, a delicious tit-jiggling sight.

“Captain!” Troi begged as her tits and ass were spanked, “Will! Please someone stop this!” But the Captain and First Officer simply reclined in their chairs, watching Deanna Troi’s ongoing humiliation with grinning interest.

Ever since her capture by Golga Deanna Troi had hoped for rescue by the Enterprise. During their many captures and ordeals at the hands of Cardassians, Romulans, Ferengi and the Dominion the Counselor had nurtured a dream of the cavalry racing in to save them. But now that dream was cruelly broken as Deanna Troi, naked except for her shackles and collar, was spanked and tit-smacked before the Enterprise’s bridge crew!

“This can’t be real!” Deanna wept, “This must be a nightmare!”

“You must be the dumbest bitch Starfleet ever hired!” the other Troi mocked, grabbing her doppleganger’s boobs and lifting and squeezing them, vigorously bouncing Deanna’s milky moons. “I thought that re-enacting your escape from Golga’s ship would be too obvious, that you would realize that you couldn’t pull it off so easily. But once again the brainless Betazoid bimbo manages to limbo her big tits under my expectations!” she taunted, pushing the woman’s breasts together and apart and together again.

The Betazoid’s dark eyes widened. “Re-enacting? We never escaped! This was all…” Troi trailed off as the horrible truth dawned on her. Her lips trembling with the onset of tears and absolute defeat and humiliation swelling within her, Deanna lifted her voice and cried out.

“Rak!” Troi wailed, “You bastard! You tricked me!”

“Computer, end program.” The counselor’s surroundings shimmered and vanished, revealing the black-and-yellow gridlines of a holodeck. B’Elanna and T’Pol also vanished, having been only illusions meant to aid Deanna’s futile escape attempt.

But her uniformed doppelganger, the Deanna Troi who had cruelly tit-slapped and humiliated her, did not simply disappear. The illusion of the lovely dark-haired counselor faded to reveal something larger and far more menacing, something that had hidden behind her image.

Deanna Troi’s eyes widened as she suddenly saw Rak standing before her, his hands tight around her bare breasts and his evil face sneering down at her. “It was all a hologram!” she gasped, grabbing the Reman’s wrists to ease the stress of being pulled onto her tip-toes by her boobs.

“Not everything,” Sela smirked, and gave Deanna another hard smack on the ass that made her yelp and jump. The blonde Romulan was still naked but for her inactive gravshacks, but now wore an evil smile of success. Standing so close to the humiliated Starfleet officer that their bare skin touched, the slim blonde reached up behind her own pointed ear and pulled away a small device that had been adhesively attached to her skin there, hidden by her short blonde hair.

Almost immediately Troi felt a surge of emotions from the Romulan, sensing her satisfaction mixed with an ongoing embarrassment and anger that this plan required her to be naked. “I can sense you!” the Betazoid gasped, “This empathy-blocker I’m wearing doesn’t do anything!”

“Holograms don’t have emotions, so we couldn’t have you sensing that your friends weren’t who they appeared to be.” Sela held up the small device she had been wearing. “This scrambler blotted out my own brainpatterns from detection. The effect is the same: the Betazoid air-head doesn’t sense a thing.”

“But… but you’re naked!” Deanna’s objection became a squeal as Rak squeezed her tits tighter. “Why go so far?”

“My idea.” Rak’s dark eyes moved briefly to Sela’s nakedness, the Romulan blonde uncomfortably folding her arms in front of her tits. Then the Reman’s eyes returned to the supple Betazoid breasts, tightening his fingers around her supple melons. “You free slaves. A girl like you would immediately trust a naked woman. One look at Sela’s blonde muff and you would believe every word she said.” Now Sela appeared even more uncomfortable, shifting one hand to cover her pale trim bush.

Her dark eyes filling with tears of defeat, Deanna looked up at the Reman who had tricked her. Rak was smiling at her, his hands firm around her breasts, fingers tensing and squeezing as he enjoyed the helpless commander’s soft bosom. “What was this in aid of?” the brunette said breathlessly, standing naked on her tip toes as her tits were groped. “Why all this deception? You had holograms grope and rape me, trick me into thinking I’d escaped and pretended that your ship was destroyed by the Enterprise!” Her dark eyes filled with tears of humiliation and discomfort. “Was it just to see me squirm?”

“That and more,” Rak grinned. He released Deanna’s boobs, letting her gasp and drop slightly, her head bowing. Touching a control on his wrist the Reman activated the Betazoid’s gravshacks. With a cry of shame Troi’s wrists were hauled behind her back and locked together, forcing her to thrust her bare breasts forwards. Then the gravshacks repelled gravity, rising up behind the Betazoid. Deanna mewled in distress as she was forced to lean forwards heavily, her wrists pulled up behind her, her ass thrust backwards and her tits dangling beneath her.

“I needed something from you, Deanna Troi,” Rak said, running his hand through the brunette’s hair. He gently pushed aside her dark locks so that they did not fall in front of her breasts and spoil the view. “I needed a way to lure the Enterprise across the border, and you provided it.”

“The distress signal!” Troi gasped. “This wasn’t about me, you’re after the Enterprise!” Then the counselor cried out as Sela smacked her hard on the ass, making her voluptuous figure jerk from hips to tits, her hanging boobs swaying forwards and backwards.

“Clever girl,” mocked Sela, giving the Betazoid’s bare bottom another swat. “And I would like to add that contributing to the defeat of the Enterprise was well worth the effort. Your ship and crew nearly ruined my military career.” The blonde lifted her green eyes to Rak. “I’ll be taking the rest of my payment now.”

The Reman’s dark eyes did not leave the trembling the humiliated Deanna Troi. “No. You will be leaving.”

Outrage was apparent on Sela’s face. “We had a deal! You said you would give me the Vulcan, the Klingon and Shelby’s Starfleet sluts!”

“You have their ships. That’s more than you deserve.” Rak touched another control on his wrist. With a yelp of anger Sela found her own gravshacks activating, yanking the blonde’s wrists up above her head. The Romulan’s arms were pulled up just far enough to lift her off the ground, her long legs kicking uselessly and her firm ass wiggling as she tried in vain to reach the ground with her toes. “Shelby and her girls are going to earn me profit for years to come. If you want them, you’ll have to get them the old-fashioned way and buy them.”

Sela’s bare breasts trembled with fury as she glared at Rak. “How dare you Reman!”

Now the monstrous man turned his evil eyes on the nude and shackled blonde. “My kind will no longer obey yours, Romulan.” With another press of a button Sela’s gravshacks sparked, the control mechanism overloading. “That will take several hours to undo.”

Sela’s anger was quickly turning into fear. She twisted in her bonds, looking up at her sparking gravshacks. “What have you done? Release me!” The tremble in her voice revealed growing terror.

Eyeing Sela’s trembling tits, Rak spoke into his communicator. “Our Romulan guest will be returning to her ship. Beam her back now.” Seeing the blonde flush in humiliation and anger at being returned to her ship naked and bound, the Reman added, “Beam her to the bridge of her ship.”

Sela’s mouth opened in a scream of humiliation just as she was surrounded by the green glow of a transporter beam. Then the Romulan was gone, beamed back to the bridge of her vessel, naked except for the shackles holding her arms above her head.

“More than the blonde bitch deserved,” sneered Rak, who then spoke into his communicator again. “Get the Klingon on the line again. It’s time we made plans for the Enterprise.”

“Klingons?” Deanna twisted in her restraints, her dangling udders swaying as she tried to look at Rak from her awkward position. “What you are planning? And what have you done to my friends?” Troi demanded. Her voluptuous figure shivered under Rak’s touch, trembling as she held in a cry at the sensation of the Reman wrapping his fingers around one dangling breast to give it a squeeze. The hideous man smiled, savoring the sensation of Deanna Troi’s soft boob in his fingers.

“Where are they?” she demanded, her lip trembling as she enduring her tit being fondled. “Where are they?”

+++++

B’Elanna Torres rolled her eyes in helpless pleasure and humiliation as she obediently bobbed her head up and down, taking a length of Ferengi cock into her mouth.

Voyager’s chief engineer wore nothing but the shackles that bound her wrists behind her back, forcing her to leave her lovely twenty-two year old figure exposed. Her bare breasts rose and fell as she breathed desperately through her nose, her mouth filled with dick as she fellated the latest of many Ferengi clients.

Only a few feet away from the half-Klingon brunette was T’Pol, the normally regal and elegant Vulcan also nude, shackled and on her knees, her plump lips working over the eager shaft of a Ferengi penis. Pleasure made the science officer’s naked body tremble as she sucked and bobbed, looking upwards in near-mindless adoration at the face of the man she was suckling on.

The cold rain of Ferenginar ran down the two brunette’s tanned skin. On Rak’s order B’Elanna and T’Pol had been ‘deployed’ on a street corner in the red light district of the Ferengi capital, their services offered for a bargain price. It was easy to read, printed in big black letters on the two heroines’ bare breasts: “TWO SLIPS”.

B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol had been brought to the Ferengi homeworld to be whored out on a street corner, offering blowjobs for two slips of latinum a pop!

They were not alone. Nearby was Elizabeth Shelby, the blonde Captain of the USS Sutherland, likewise stripped naked and shackled with her wrists behind her back. Despite having not received the same Orion Conditioning as T’Pol and Torres, Shelby was running her lips and tongue over Ferengi cock with dazed obedience in her blue eyes, all signs of her normal strength and determination completely gone.

The cause of the three women’s helplessness was not immediately apparent. It was not the humiliation of their degrading condition or the chill of the rain, or the shackles on their wrists that ensured their compliance. It was not even Rak’s thugs, watching over their working whores from a distance. The reason for the three heroine’s mute obedience was more subtle.

B’Elanna, T’Pol and Elizabeth were each kneeling atop cunningly designed saddles that pressed up against their nether lips. Each saddle was mounted with a curved dildo that plunged up into their tight pussies and was tipped with an inflatable bulb. With those bulbs fully swollen, the dildos were lodged firmly within each woman’s vaginal passage. The three women could not hope to climb off them. As a final touch each device vibrated gently, stimulating each captive’s clitoris and pussy lips, keeping them in a pleasurable haze teetering on the edge of climax.

Shelby swallowed a mouthful of Ferengi seed, her blue eyes dazed. The man standing over her drew his organ free, watching the blonde Starfleet officer moan and roll her eyes in ecstasy. “This one is out of her mind,” he commented, watching as Elizabeth rocked and rose on her saddle, vainly lifting her hips and being completely unable to pull herself off the dildo lodged deep in her pussy. The blonde groaned and jerked, the pink nipples that tipped her breasts quivering as she gyrated sexily. The Ferengi smacked the former Captain of the Sutherland across the face with his still-erect meat, cockslapping the blonde. She flinched slightly, tits bobbing, but otherwise seemed unaware of the penis smacking her beautiful features. Deep in her humiliation with the chilling rain of Ferenginar running down her naked body, Elizabeth Shelby surrendered entirely to the sensations rising up from her snatch.

“Tell me about it,” grinned the man presently savoring the sensation of B’Elanna Torres’ lips working over his dick. “I’ve never heard of a Klingon whore this obedient.” The Ferengi’s taunt made the Maquis’ dark eyes stiffen, some trace of her old fire returning. She rose on her hips, trying to draw her mouth off the Ferengi’s cock, but a sharp twist to her big brown nipples made the twenty-two year old quiver and cum with a pathetic mewling sound. Her struggle became a writhing, wriggling show as Torres orgasmed on her knees, defeated by the insidious training saddle beneath her.

In time each man would move on, having received his service. But Torres, T’Pol and Shelby would not have long to catch their breath. The words “TWO SLIPS” printed on their bare breasts were easy to see, the bargain-basement price for a blow-job drawing a steady stream of customers. Elizabeth, as an obviously human beauty and a blonde to boot, was attracting more than her far share of attention. The Captain of the Sutherland rarely had time without a dick jabbing at her lips, hands squeezing at her soft tits or fingers twisting her erect nips.

And it was not only Ferengi they were servicing. Since the Consortium opened its borders to tourists more and more aliens visited Ferenginar, many to enjoy the fruits of the slave trade. B’Elanna, T’Pol and Elizabeth had found themselves fellating Cardassians, Romulans, the occasional Klingon and even Federation males with worrying frequency.

The other women of the USS Sutherland had not been spared. Rak’s men had taken them all over the red light district of the Ferengi capital, picking out spots on the street sides to whore them out in groups of three and four. From common crewwomen and Ensigns to the command ranks, every female member of Shelby’s crew was naked, bound with wrists behind her back and forced to kneel nude on top of one of the cunning training saddles. The swollen dildos lodged in their snatches kept them trapped on their knees and cruelly on the edge of orgasm. Their constant state of arousal ensured they remained obedient and wigglingly enticing.

Once they had been the pride of Starfleet. Now they were anonymous sex slaves kneeling naked in the rain as they offered cheap blow jobs on the streets of Ferenginar. Whether Caucasian, African, Asian, blonde brunette or redhead, spotted Trill or bald Deltan or pointed-eared Vulcan or Earth-born human, every woman of the Sutherland had been reduced to the same humiliating level.

Their training and experience had been no match for the practiced professionalism of the slavers. Each and every female member of Shelby’s crew had been stripped and publicly displayed, forced to endure the humiliating mass of a vibrating dildo filling their pussies, held torturously on the edge of orgasm as they kissed and licked dick after dick for degradingly tiny amounts of latinum. The female crew of the USS Sutherland had been reduced to cocksucking whores in hours.

Several of the established brothels and whorehouses had made petitions to the Commerce Authority in protest, objecting to a newcomer business flooding the market with cheap and unregistered whores. For the moment the Authority was ignoring those protests: Rak had been able to bribe them generously, particularly as Shelby’s girls were bringing in so much latinum.

But for the moment Elizabeth Shelby, Captain of the Sutherland, was oblivious to these machinations. All she was aware of was the swelling pleasure in her pussy, the delicious chill of rainwater trickling down her trembling naked body, the warmth of hands grabbing at her bare breasts and the seemingly endless line of cocks on which she had to suck. Nude, shackled and obedient, Shelby bobbed and suckled eagerly even as her crew were unwillingly trained for their future lives as whores.

B’Elanna and T’Pol were no different. Voyager’s chief engineer and Enterprise’s science officer professionally attended to Ferengi cock after Ferengi cock. They had lost count of the dozens they had fellated so far today and had no concept of how many more were yet to come. All thoughts of their companion Deanna were gone as they sucked on orange Ferengi dicks, swallowed the hot saltiness that spurted into their mouths, and squealed as eager hands grabbed and squeezed their supple melons.

And this was only the beginning of Rak’s plans for B’Elanna, T’Pol and the equally nude and humiliated crew of the Sutherland.

+++++

Far away from the wet and squalid Ferengi homeworld, on the bridge of the warm and dry USS Enterprise, Commander Deanna Troi sat primly in her chair.

Her voluptuous figure was clad in a fleet issue black uniform with grey shoulders, with her blue sciences undershirt visible at the collar. The raven-haired beauty seemed to be looking straight ahead at the navigational display on the main screen that showed the Starfleet cruiser’s course towards the border, but her black Betazoid eyes were not looking at the viewer.

Troi could only think of the face she had seen in the recording. They were own features, but paler than the flushed healthy tan the counselor now sported, with curly black hair rather than a straight-haired style she wore these days. It was like looking into the past, seeing herself as she had appeared during her years on the old Galaxy class Enterprise.

“We will be in violation of the border treaty in one minute forty-five seconds,” announced the gold-skinned android sitting at the forward helm position. The typically precise Data turned in his chair and cocked his head, directing his synthetic yellow eyes back at the counselor.

“Tooshipam?” Data inquired.

“Yes,” added a handsome bearded figure sitting on the opposite side of the Captain’s chair, “That’s certainly what’s been eating me.” William Riker directed an eyebrow at Deanna. “Mysteries upon mysteries.”

Troi’s embarrassment made her fidget in her chair, adjusting how her round rump rested on her seat. “It’s a long story, but it’s one I’ve never told anyone. I’m the only one who knows that word. The message must really have been sent by me,” she said confidently.

“Long range sensors, report,” demanded Captain Jean Luc Picard, leaning forward in the center chair.

“Nothing matching the ship signature that accompanied the distress signal,” answered Data, “But we are still a significant distance from the indicated co-ordinates.”

The hiss of the turbolift door opening announced the arrival of Doctor Beverly Crusher. “Doctor,” Picard said as he stood, the curvaceous Troi lifting her full figure out of her chair at the same time, “Have you come up with anything?”

“Not much,” admitted the long-limbed redhead, walking down to stand with the Captain, his bearded First Officer and the voluptuous counselor. “I’ve had the entire science department pouring over the recording. Analysis reveals no sign of reconstructive surgery, animatronics, visual tampering or holographic effects. Whoever she is, she really looks like that. Like you,” she added, nodding to Troi. “From her skin texturing and tissue patterns I was able to extrapolate a basic physical profile of her. She’s a few years younger than Deanna, late twenties, with a noticeably better body-mass index than ship records indicate Troi had at that age.”

Beverly glanced down at Deanna’s womanly hips. “She can apparently stay away from chocolate better than you can.”

Troi gave the doctor an annoyed look. “That leaves cloning as a possibility, but a clone wouldn’t inherit my memories, or my accent.”

“If I may contribute a theory,” Data interjected from where he sat, “Several years ago we encountered a duplicate of Commander Riker. A transporter accident had created two destination bodies rather than one, each sharing the same memories up to the point of divergence.”

“Another Thomas Riker,” Commander William Riker finished. “Maybe she can borrow your middle name, Deanna.”

“But when was she created?” Crusher questioned, “And how?”

“And why,” added Picard. “A duplicate of a prominent Federation officer appearing in Romulan space? There is clearly more going on here than meets the eye.”

“We will cross the border in thirty seconds,” reported Data. The android’s head moved suddenly one of his screens. “I am detecting weapon fire in Romulan space. At maximum warp we can reach its source in thirty eight seconds.”

“Yellow alert!” ordered the Captain, “Ready shields and weapons, scan to determine the identities of the combatants. What do you think Number One?” Picard asked in a lower voice, easing back in his chair.

Riker grimaced, his previous good humor faded and a serious expression replacing it. “Weapon fire and a distress signal is enough military justification to cross the border. But diplomatic? I don’t want to be the one to explain breaching the treaty.”

“Let me worry about the treaty,” Picard said. “Counselor?”

“I’m sensing…” Deanna’s dark eyes narrowed, as if looking a great distance away. “There is a presence, very prominent. She’s filled with despair.” The Betazoid looked towards the captain in shock. “It’s me. I mean it’s her. She feels so familiar it’s like a hand and glove. It fits.”

“Mister Data, hold our course,” the Captain ordered. “Take us in.”

There was no physical difference between Federation territory and Romulan space. But Deanna could sense the shift in the crew as the Enterprise crossed the border. Now they were in violation of the treaty.

“The weapon fire originated from a vessel with energy signatures similar to Romulan technology,” reported Data, “Possibly the Kurki-class Reman destroyer described in the message. Their target is a small short ranged shuttle. They are returning fire… the shuttle is heavily damaged,” he added. “Their energy readings are unstable and I am unable to make sensory scans or achieve transporter locks.”

“Ready dorsal phaser emitters, our targets will be impulse and warp propulsion,” Riker ordered. “Cripple them if we have to.”

“Open hailing frequencies.” Picard rose to his feet. “This is Jean Luc Picard, Captain of the USS Enterprise of the United Federation of Planets. We have detected military action dangerously close to our border and must ascertain if this is a threat to Federation territories.” He ignored the surprised look Riker was giving him at the diplomatic sleight-of-hand. He was aware of Deanna Troi’s dark eyes on him, waiting to see how this would play out.

“Slowing to impulse,” reported Data.

The viewscreen showed a tiny battered shuttle racing towards them, its badly damaged hull leaking sprays of gas and jetting flames. Behind it loomed a far larger vessel, not as large as the seven-hundred-meter Enterprise but still an impressive sight with jutting heavy weapons and a predatory shape.

“Run us straight at them,” Picard ordered, “Put us between that ship and the shuttle. We’ll be their shield.”

“For their sake let’s hope they look at how well we’re armed and reconsider fighting us,” Riker added.

“For more than their sake,” added Troi, sensing that horrible feeling of despair swell in her chest. It was incredibly intense and so immediate that Deanna could almost feel tears welling in her eyes. A shiver went through her, the young woman’s voluptuous body involuntarily trembling beneath her uniform. The counselor received an unpleasant sensation of a draft on her bare skin and had to check herself to be absolutely certain she somehow hadn’t been deprived of her clothing. Her uniform was still there, and she was relieved: despite being a Betazoid Deanna had no fondness for being naked, particularly not in public.

“They have weapon locks but are not firing,” Data indicated.

The fleeing shuttle’s trajectory would take it over the top of the Enterprise, towards its rear-facing shuttlebay doors. But when it reached the cruiser it violently changed course. The pod accelerated and dipped down to dive into the Enterprise’s saucer section directly in front of the bridge, crashing into the ship’s shields!

The shuttle had not carried escapees desperate for rescue. It had carried antimatter. The little craft exploded, tearing at the Sovereign class starship’s shields. The Enterprise jerked, its bow forced downward as its shields flashed and failed.

“It’s a trap!” Picard shouted, “Fire phasers, get our shields back up!”

“Bow up forty degrees and ready quantum torpedoes!” ordered Riker.

But in the critical few seconds it took for the Enterprise to restore its defenses Rak made his move. Green transporter light flashed into existence around Deanna Troi. Her dark eyes widened and her full lips opened to speak but it was too late. The light disappeared and it took the beautiful counselor with it, snatching her away.

“My god!” Doctor Crusher exclaimed, “They’ve beamed out Deanna!”

“Shields back online!” a crewman at the back of the bridge reported. But even as the mighty Sovereign class cruiser lifted its nose, bringing its heavy torpedo launcher to bear, the Reman destroyer turned about and engaged its warp engines. The wide-bodied ship disappeared as it surged to faster-than-light speeds.

“Pursuit course!” ordered Picard, “Alert transporter rooms and ready security for boarding operations. Transmit log recordings of these events to Starfleet headquarters to justify our pursuit into Romulan territory.”

The Enterprise corrected its heading and activated its warp engines, blazing after the fleeing Reman ship. “Our engines outclass theirs,” Riker predicted, “We’ll be on top of them in no time. Full scan of the enemy vessel.”

“I am detecting unusual energy patterns Commander,” Data said with an android frown. “Non-standard reactor placements and erratic crew biosigns. I believe they are using some sort of sensory dispersive field to counter our scans.”

“Romulan tricks built on their stealth technologies,” guessed Picard. “Time to weapon range?”

“Eight seconds.” On the viewscreen the destroyer was a jagged metal scythe, its wide wings stretching out from its ugly body as it raced away through the streaks of warp-speed travel. Data’s head cocked as he looked at his readouts. “They are accelerating to match speeds.”

“That’s insane,” Crusher said, the long-legged redhead stepping down from the rear area of the bridge, her blue eyes on the viewscreen, “Romulan ships of that size can’t keep pace with the most advanced ship in Starfleet.”

“Not unless they’ve have been hiding the extent of their warp technology from us,” added Riker.

Data’s synthetic hands blurred over his console. “That does not appear to be the case. Detecting thermal buildup within the destroyer’s warp nacelles. I believe…”

The Reman ship’s warp engines imploded. The vessel’s broad grey body crushed inwards like an empty can, drive plasma blasting out of the tears in its hull. The ship annihilated itself, having pushed its warp drive too far, transforming its frame into a starburst of flaming fragments and spinning debris. The glorious lightshow lasted only a second and then the Enterprise was well past the decelerating wreckage.

“Imzadi, no,” Riker breathed, still seeing the destruction of the ship that had abducted Deanna Troi in his mind’s eye. “She’s gone.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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