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 25: WHERE MANY MEN HAVE GONE BEFORE

 

 

Deanna Troi stared at the scene before her in silent shock and amazement.

 

The Enterprise’s counselor was completely naked. The Dekiw-2 outpost’s automated decontamination system had transported the twenty-nine year old’s clothing directly from her body, leaving the voluptuous raven-haired beauty nude from toes to tits. Her nipples, soft from the warming air-drying she had received after decon, were big brown circles tipping the generous softness of her milk-white boobs.

 

She had been tracking down her former companions: the Vulcan T’Pol and the half-Klingon B’Elanna Torres. Sold as slaves on the auction blocks of Ferenginar, the two brunettes had been taken to a frozen world on the edge of Ferengi space called Dekiw-2. Once it had been a Federation sensory outpost but had been surrendered to the Ferengi Consortium in a peace treaty. Commander Troi had hoped to use its sensor logs to track the ship that had brought her friends through this system.

 

The Commander had prepared herself for the very worst. Her mind had invented humiliating scenarios where she might find T’Pol and Torres. She had imagined them leashed like pets to enormously fat slave traders, or forced to gyrate their sexy naked bodies provocatively before throngs of leering cheering men. Troi had feared finding them working in a Ferengi brothel, forced to pleasure a long line of jug-eared orange-skinned customers. Deanna had trembled at the thought of B’Elanna and T’Pol being subjected to humiliating and degrading ordeals, their naked bodies displayed, their sensitive breasts and snatches molested until their will broke, climaxing with wails of defeat.

 

But all of Deanna Troi’s imaginings did not prepare her for what she saw here, in the Dekiw-2 underground base. The sight left her stunned, speechless and wide-eyed, absolute disbelief making her lips part in a gape of astonishment and momentarily forgetting her own embarrassingly naked state.

 

She found B’Elanna and T’Pol playing tennis.

 

The Klingon and the Vulcan were wearing small white t-shirts and matching skirts, their long legs flashing and their round boobs bouncing inside their too-tight tops as they ran up and down opposite sides of the net, swinging rackets as they knocked a tennis ball back and forth. The two women were so focused on their contest that they didn’t immediately notice the counselor’s arrival.

 

Then Torres spotted the nude brunette. “Deanna!” she shouted, dropping her racket and running laughing towards her, her skirt lifting to show even more of her gorgeous thighs and her round melons bobbing in her clinging t-shirt. The Klingon embraced the Betazoid, wrapping her arms around the naked commander with a grin. “About time you caught up with us!”

 

“What?” gaped Troi. “I mean, how? Why are you… I mean, tennis?”

 

B’Elanna smiled, holding Deanna by her naked shoulders, her dark eyes dropping to briefly admire the counselor’s voluptuous figure. “Good to see you too, Troi. By the way, I like your outfit.” The Betazoid blushed, her hands lifting to cover her soft melons.

 

T’Pol’s greeting was more restrained but there was still a smile on the Vulcan’s face as she settled her tennis racket over her shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

 

Relief rolled over Deanna. “Thank god you two are okay!” She embraced Torres again, her bare breasts mashing against the shirt-clad tits of Voyager’s chief engineer. “But you were sold as slaves! I thought I’d find you shackled up to some Ferengi merchant!”

 

“We weren’t bought by a Ferengi,” B’Elanna said, “We were bought by Starfleet.”

 

The tennis court had been built inside an underground cavity buried in the mountains of Dekiw-2, part of the old survey station’s facilities. T’Pol walked over to a replicator built into the wall of the chamber. “A set of clothing,” she ordered, taking the bundle of clothes that materialized in the replicator and carrying them to Deanna. “You may want these.”

 

Troi took the offered clothes eagerly, pulling a t-shirt on over her head. It was clearly made for someone less voluptuous than the curvy counselor, the fabric stretching tightly over Deanna’s melons. “You two have a lot to explain.”

 

“So do you,” B’Elanna said, watching with disappointment as Troi clipped her skirt around her hips, concealing her delicious bald pussy and generous womanly ass. “We heard something about Rak having disappeared, maybe dead, but it seems that no one knows exactly what happened. Care to enlighten us?”

 

“Sure, but it’s a long story.” The counselor adjusted her skirt and then looked up at her lovely friends. “Don’t we have any panties? Or bras?”

 

Both T’Pol and B’Elanna shifting their long legs, thighs closing unconsciously as either woman was reminded that beneath their short skirts they were wearing nothing. “That’s a long story too.”

 

+++++

 

“After the Enterprise dropped me off,” huffed Deanna as she ran up the court, barely catching the ball B’Elanna had launched over, “I followed your trail to this station and, well, here I am.”

 

Torres’ athletic figure turned and leapt, swinging and hitting the ball at full stretch and sending it back over to Deanna’s side of the court. “I can’t believe that freak Rak went to so much trouble just to capture you and the other Deanna, Deanna,” the Klingon said, shifting her balance before running to the back court to reach an arching high ball. “Sacrificing an entire ship? It’s crazy!”

 

“The rage he felt against you must have been intense,” T’Pol observed, her arms folded over her full breasts as she watched the match between Troi and Torres unfold. “It was also illogical,” she added, trying to remain in-character.

 

Deanna and B’Elanna continued their match. The Klingon was in far better physical condition than the busty Betazoid, her athletic build serving her well as she ran up and down the court, breasts bouncing in her shirt and her skirt flying upwards to reveal her firm ass and perfect hairless snatch, a leftover of her Orion conditioning. But the Betazoid was somehow still in the game, always perfectly judging where the ball would go and getting to it just in time.

 

“This station used to be a Federation relay,” B’Elanna explained, perspiration making her shirt transparent, her brown nipples easily visible through the taut white fabric. “When they made that treaty with the Ferengi they pulled out. Now it’s a glorified traffic light.”

 

“And now it’s a safe house?” panted Deanna, the Betazoid’s boobs leaping in her shirt magnificently as she ran forwards, swatting the tennis ball back over the net. “I guess all it would have taken is a computer program to get it running again.”

 

“The Ferengi who delivered us here were middlemen,” added T’Pol, the Vulcan’s haughtily beautiful face turning left and right as her eyes followed the ball, “With no idea who they were truly working for. It did not stop them from getting hands-on with the goods,” added the Enterprise’s science officer, her hands cupping her boobs in memory of the gropings she had received from their Ferengi ‘escorts’. “This court, incidentally, is part of the original recreational facilities the old crew would have used. The replicators still carried programs with patterns for tennis outfits, but little else beyond food unfortunately.”

 

“We get messages from Starfleet now and again,” B’Elanna said, leaping up high to smack high ball down hard into Deanna’s side of the court, the Klingon unwittingly flashing her ass and vagina on the way down as her skirt rode up, “Encrypted text only. We don’t have a real communications line for secrecy’s sake. We have to keep our com traffic very quiet or else the Ferengi authorities might detect it, and this base isn’t entirely legal.”

 

“At least we still have friends in the Federation.” The counselor swung her racket hard, boobs shaking inside her shirt as she hit the tennis ball. Her top was just as transparent as B’Elanna’s thanks to the perspiration of her exertions, the fabric clinging lovingly to every curve of Deanna Troi’s tits, slipping beneath the swells of her udders to show the shape of her chest treats in every detail. “Can Starfleet get us home?”

 

“Not yet,” B’Elanna panted. “The last message said they’re trying to organize something that won’t alert the Ferengi to the treaty violation. All we can do is wait whoop!”

 

Torres dove for the ball and missed. The athletic twenty-two year old rolled, legs flying and her skirt waistband scraping on the floor before detaching and coming away from her slim waist. Voyager’s chief engineer was left kneeling on the tennis court wearing only her t-shirt, her athletic rump resting on her heels, her long legs folded beneath her and her bald pussy hidden between her fantastic thighs.

 

“You’re cheating!” she accused Deanna, “You’re using your empathy to know where I’m going to send the ball!”

 

Her breasts heaving in her transparent t-shirt, Troi settled her hands on her curving hips. “You don’t see me complaining about your superior strength and speed,” she retorted archly, a smile on her lovely lips.

 

B’Elanna’s dark eyes rolled but she smiled in the head. “I’m hot, and tired,” she complained.

 

“Are there showers?” asked Deanna, “Apart from decon?”

 

Torres smiled wickedly. “Better than showers.”

 

+++++

 

A smile blossomed on Deanna Troi’s beautiful face. Her skirt came away from her hips, falling around her ankles, and the counselor peeled her damp shirt off, her supple boobs bouncing free of the too-tight garment. Completely naked she ran forwards, flanked by an equally nude T’Pol and B’Elanna Torres. Their bare breasts bouncing and their asses wiggling, they dashed towards the pool and dove in with a splash.

 

The three Starfleet officers slipped gracefully through the water’s coolness. They came up for air with laughter, B’Elanna and Deanna already flicking each other with water. Beside them T’Pol arched her back and flicked her head back, water spraying out of her short hair and her generous breasts pointing towards the ceiling.

 

“Vacation at Starfleet’s expense,” smirked B’Elanna.

 

The three brunette beauties swam about, long legs kicking and their round bottoms breaking the surface of the water for tantalizing glimpses. They stretched their limbs as they moved across the underground pool, savoring the cool after their exertions.

 

Torres swam to the edge and breached, water spilling down her bare breasts to trickle from the underswell of her udders as she pulled herself from the water. Deanna watched the Klingon’s twenty-two year old ass with appreciation as the toned and tanned young woman climbed out of the pool, flicking her dark wet hair about, making her tits dance in the process. Then, sending a sly wink in the counselor’s direction, Voyager’s chief engineer took a few running steps and leapt back into the pool with a bomb-dive.

 

She landed directly beside the haughtily beautiful T’Pol. The normally regal Vulcan was caught in B’Elanna’s enormous splash, her pouting lips parting in shock. “More than slightly childish, Lieutenant Torres,” chided the science officer, folding her arms before her melons as they bobbed in the water. She turned away from Deanna, and so missed the delicious sight of the counselor’s pale ass as she climbed up out of the pool with water trickling down her alabaster curves. “I hope that little splash gave you some satisfaction.”

 

“It did,” agreed the Klingon, her breasts buoyantly bobbing as she treaded water, “But maybe we should get a second opinion.” B’Elanna looked over T’Pol’s shoulder. “Deanna?”

 

The Vulcan turned just in time to catch an enormous splash in the face as Troi leapt into the pool in front of T’Pol, dousing the science officer a second time. As the no-longer elegant Vulcan sputtered and wiped her eyes, the Betazoid counselor surfaced and smirked. “Seconded,” she announced imperiously, “That was very satisfying.”

 

Finally T’Pol smiled. She kicked away, swimming on her back with her generous globes easily breaking the surface, her brown teats bobbing up and down and left and right as she back-stroked across the pool. When she turned over, switching to freestyle, she saw B’Elanna swimming in the water beneath her, the Klingon enjoying a good long look at the Vulcan’s mouthwatering figure. T’Pol dove down to join her, the two brunettes enjoying a quick underwater kiss before surfacing.

 

The three Starfleet officers swam to the edge of the pool and settled their elbows on the ledge. T’Pol’s generous udders were lined up beside Deanna’s soft melons, beside which were B’Elanna Torres’ mouthwatering tits. Three pairs of succulent asses just broke the water line in a neat row as the brunette trio rested at the pool’s edge.

 

Deanna Troi looked from T’Pol to B’Elanna with a smile on her imperiously beautiful features. “I missed you two,” she admitted in her accented voice, “More than you know.”

 

Lowering her brown eyes to the generous mounds of her own naked breasts, T’Pol self-consciously mouthed her own plump lips. “There were times during our separation that I found myself thinking of you.”

 

B’Elanna pulled herself from the water, her perfect ass breaking the surface and drawing admiring looks from her companions. “What’s important is that the three of us are back together,” the Maquis said. She crawled along the edge of the pool, deliberately putting on a sexy show for the Vulcan and the Betazoid as she wiggled, presenting her firm rump and making her dangling boobs sway. “And you have the chance now to make it up to us,” she added slyly, lowering herself to the tiles and lying on her side, presenting her stunning athletic figure directly in front of Deanna.

 

The counselor’s black eyes moved from Torres’ firm thighs to the folds of her perfect hairless pussy, along her slim waist and then to B’Elanna’s breasts, deliciously drawn together by gravity. “A good Starfleet officer leaves no debt unpaid,” Troi said, pulling herself up on the edge of the pool, her heavy breasts swaying left and right and her round bottom wiggling as she climbed out. T’Pol followed her, the Vulcan’s ample tits quivering as the science officer easily drew her long-limbed figure from the water.

 

B’Elanna rose smoothly to her feet and the three women were standing together, their naked bodies so close they almost touched. “You know, T’Pol and I have more ways to pass the time than just tennis,” the twenty-two year old smiled, her fingers trailing up Deanna’s waist over her breasts before resting finally on her shoulders. Gently the Klingon turned the Betazoid around so that Troi’s milky tits were pointed towards T’Pol’s magnificent udders.

 

“I’m very interested,” promised Deanna breathlessly. Then the counselor whooped in surprise as B’Elanna pulled her into a gentle full-nelson, holding the voluptuous Betazoid’s arms above her head. Her tits shook left and right as she wiggled, finding herself trapped in Torres’ hold.

 

“We take turns,” explained T’Pol in a soft voice, lowering her face to Deanna’s tits, “Seeing how long we can hold out.”

 

“Hold out against what ooohhh,” moaned Deanna as T’Pol pressed her soft pouting lips against her left nipple. The counselor breathed in deeply, arching her back and pressing her tit forwards against the Vulcan’s mouth as she kissed and sucked. Troi’s left teat stretched from the powerful suction, pleasure throbbing through the Betazoid’s Orion-conditioned body.

 

“T’Pol currently holds the record,” B’Elanna whispered in Deanna’s ear as the counselor wiggled and moaned, her eyes shutting in pure ecstasy as the Vulcan suckled on her breasts. “But you should have a chance to break it.”

 

“Aaaahhhhh ahhhh!” mewled Deanna, her tit stretching as T’Pol applied expert suction to her teat. Her cries rose an octave as the Betazoid’s nipple surrendered her cream, the Vulcan taking hold of the softness of Troi’s melon and giving it a gentle squeeze. The sensation was incredible, her pleasure heightened by the feeling of B’Elanna’s erect nipples pressing against her silky back. “I suppose I’ll just have to do my best uuuhhh!!” the Enterprise’s counselor moaned as her tits were sucked on.

 

+++++

 

There were several crew quarters available in the old station but Torres, Troi and T’Pol decided quickly to share a single room.

 

The three brunettes lay on a single wide mattress, with Deanna between the Vulcan and the Klingon. Three delicious sets of breasts rose and fell as they panted for air, each woman on her back as they recovered from their orgasms, each wearing nothing but a thin sheen of perspiration from her exertions.

 

“That I definitely missed,” Deanna moaned, touching her hands to her super-sensitive breasts.

 

“These too,” Torres grinned, quickly rolling over and pulling one of Troi’s hands away from her tits, so the Klingon could press her lips to the Betazoid’s erect left nipple. She gave Troi’s teat a deep kiss with powerful suction, dragging one last gasp of pleasure from the counselor before she disengaged.

 

T’Pol’s long-limbed form rolled and reached over the edge of the bed, retrieving their discarded t-shirts and tossing one each to Torres and Troi. “As the only clothing the replicators can produce,” the Vulcan apologized as she pulled her top on, regretfully covering her lush melons, “These tennis shirts will have to double as sleeping garments.”

 

“They’ve got their strengths,” smiled Deanna, pulling her shirt even tighter so that her nipples were clearly visible through the light fabric. The Betazoid wiggling up beside B’Elanna and quickly T’Pol joined them, a sexy sight as Enterprise’s science officer wriggled and crawled between her two companions. Long bare legs wrapped around each other as they intertwined their bodies. The saucy display was quickly covered as Torres pulled up the bedsheet to drape it over their half-naked bodies.

 

“This is another thing I have missed,” T’Pol smiled, sandwiched between Deanna and B’Elanna. She could feel the Betazoid’s soft melons against her back, while the Vulcan’s own boobs pressed against the Klingon’s breasts. With that smile staying on her plump lips T’Pol closed her eyes.

 

The three women drifted into slumber, wrapped in each others arms and covered by the bedsheet, lulled by their safety and the closeness of each other. They stilled until the only movement was the faint rising and falling of the sheets as they breathed.

 

+++++

 

The entrance to their quarters slid open.

 

A figure walked into the chamber, booted feet falling on the deck without any apparent care that the sound might awaken the three slumbering beauties. Despite the racket T’Pol, B’Elanna and Deanna remained unconscious as the figure marched up to the bedside and looked down at their vulnerable forms.

 

A hand gripped the bedsheet and stripped it away, exposing their asses and long bare legs. Still they slept, unaware of the observer who now pointed a tricorder at their half-naked figures.

 

“Completely sedated. The standard atmospheric dosage is more than enough to put the three of them out cold.” A hand slapped hard against B’Elanna Torres’ bare rump. The Klingon jerked but did not rouse, thoroughly tranquilized and unable to awaken. Another smack on Deanna’s ass produced the same result, the counselor deep in a chemically-induced sleep. As a final test the invader reached down and gripped one of T’Pol’s full breasts, squeezing her titflesh through the thin fabric of her shirt. The Vulcan’s only response was to part her full lips in a silent ‘o’ of unconscious ecstasy. Even asleep T’Pol’s Orion-conditioned body was easily pleasured.

 

The Romulan Commander Sela smiled with satisfaction at the sight of the three helpless Starfleet officers. She released her hold on T’Pol’s tit and looked over her shoulder to the three Cardassians standing at the door. “Strip them and get them moving.”

 

The three neck-ridged guards hurried inside. They needed no encouragement to get to work. T’Pol’s top was pulled up over her head, her udders popping free with a bounce and jiggle. Deanna’s shift was yanked down, one tit popping out of the neckline of her top and then the other before the Cardassian tending to her tore the garment away from the Betazoid’s body. B’Elanna’s boobs were bared the fastest of all, her guard gripping the fabric over Torres’ tits and ripping it away, then grinning at the sight of the bare breasts of Voyager’s chief engineer.

 

With the three women stripped, the Cardassians got to work dragging the trio of Starfleet officers out of their quarters. Deanna Troi was hoisted over a Cardassian’s shoulder, her breasts pressing against his back and her round ass up in the air, dark locks falling around her face. B’Elanna was carried out cradled in another guard’s arms, her long legs folded over one arm as the Klingon sexily reclined with her ass hanging low. T’Pol was held from behind, a Cardassian slipping his arms beneath her armpits and grabbing her generous tits as he dragged the Vulcan out, her bare heels sliding on the floor.

 

Oblivious, the three sleeping Starfleet officers were moved from their quarters and through the corridors of the old station. Sela followed patiently, the Romulan rolling her eyes as she spied the Cardassians taking advantage of the opportunity to grope and squeeze Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol’s breasts and buttocks. “Unprofessional,” the Romulan thought to herself, “But a necessary incompetence.”

 

A section of wall paneling that appeared to be solid slid aside, revealing compartments that had been concealed from the three Starfleet officers in their waking hours. In the chamber beyond were three restraining frames, shape like large Ts with shackles for each captives’ wrists. “Get them locked in,” the Romulan woman ordered.

 

The three heroines were secured to their restraining harnesses. Unconscious and unaware of their humiliating plight the beautiful trio continued to slumber, their heads hanging forwards as they were locked in place standing up. Soon the three beauties were secured, hanging from their wrists with their arms spread wide.

 

Sela took a moment to admire the view. B’Elanna Torres, once an infamous member of the Maquis whose technical expertise had allowed her terrorist comrades to stay one step ahead of the Cardassian Union, now stood completely naked with her stunning athletic figure utterly exposed, her arms secured away from her body to leave her firm thighs, perfect hairless pussy and surprisingly soft and generous breasts uncovered. Deanna Troi, once the counselor aboard the USS Enterprise, confidant of powerful men and famed Starfleet diplomat, was now shackled in place with her mouthwatering voluptuous figure fully displayed, her face bowed and her dark hair trailing down across the milky globes of her bare breasts. Last was T’Pol, the famed First Modern Vulcan who played a pivotal role in the founding of the Federation, and now she had not a stitch of clothing on her lean, long-limbed figure as she stood bound and naked, her haughtily beautiful face lowered towards her own heavy and delicious tits.

 

Sela smiled at the sight. Then she lifted her voice. “Come in, gentlemen.”

 

Two more men, a Cardassian and a Romulan, entered the chamber from another portal. The Cardassian halted as he caught sight of the three women shackled and naked before him. “Well, that is impressive,” smiled the Gul.

 

“I thought you would appreciate it, Dukat,” Sela said.

 

“You know my preferences.” Gul Dukat, the former head of the Occupation of Bajor, was a tall man whose lean build was bulked up by the Cardassian-issue uniform he wore. Ridges ringed his eyes and ran down the sides of his neck, giving him the cobra-neck look that made his species so distinctive.

 

The Romulan male standing beside Dukat was bulky and muscular with a square scarred face. “You did a great deal with very limited resources, Sela,” he admitted, looking towards the uniformed Romulan woman. Then his attention returned to the three nude beauties standing bound before him, a far more interesting sight. “After you were stripped of your rank after your previous failures, I didn’t imagine you could achieve something this audacious.”

 

“Proconsul Britom, I am flattered.” The blonde Sela’s voice revealed nothing of the anger and shame she felt at having fallen so far from her previous position of power and authority. “But I have achieved nothing more than leashing these three strays. For my actual mission I will need resources that only you two can give me.”

 

“Let’s get a better look at these leashed strays,” Dukat leered, walking over to the nearest of the three captives, gripping her dark shoulder-length hair and pulling her head up so that he could see her face. “B’Elanna Torres, Maquis terrorist.” The Gul let his eyes drop from the Klingon’s face to travel down the length of her athletic figure, admiring the mix of softness and hardness from Torres’ taut stomach and firm thighs to her lovely hips and soft full breasts. He gripped one of those tits in his hands and lifted it, squeezing B’Elanna’s orb in his fingers. The twenty-two year old wiggled in her sleep as her boobs were fondled. “Plumper than I would have expected of a Klingon.”

 

The Romulan Britom was already at the second captive, lifting her face by grabbing a handful of her raven-black hair. “Commander Deanna Troi of the Federation flagship,” Britom smiled. His free hand touched the counselor’s imperiously beautiful face, his fingertips tracing her jawline before sliding down her neck to her generous breasts. “Always on the front line of thwarting the Romulan Empire’s ambitions,” the Proconsul added, letting his hand wander down Deanna’s waist and over one curving hip, before moving in to touch the folds of Troi’s hairless pussy, saving the softness of her most tender of places.

 

Gul Dukat reached the third prisoner. Her large and supple melons were too inviting to resist, the Cardassian starting by grabbing, squeezing and pinching the unconscious woman’s breasts. She wiggled in her restraints, unconsciously stimulated by the attention on her boobs. As the Cardassian gripped her nipples and pulled her tits upwards the woman let out a soft moan, her bowed head shifting left and right. Finally Dukat lifted her face to get a good look at her. The Cardassian examined the woman’s haughtily beautiful features with angular eyebrows and plump full lips. “I don’t recognize this one.”

 

“T’Pol,” Britom said, admiring the sight of the defeated science officer, “Considered by many to be the First Modern Vulcan and a woman of significance in the founding of the Federation and the first war between the Coalition and the Romulan Empire. Also a respected scientist.”

 

Dukat’s gaze moved from T’Pol’s plump lips to her generous boobs, then slid his hands down her long thighs. “Not the profession I would have guessed from her body,” the Cardassian smiled. He stood up and headed back down the line, letting one hand play across T’Pol’s breasts, then across Deanna’s melons and finally giving B’Elanna’s tits a lift and a squeeze, leaving all three women’s boobs jiggling behind him. “These three are the only ones who had access to the ship, Commander Sela?”

 

The short-haired blonde nodded, undisturbed by how the men were fondling and ogling her three unconscious captives. “Starheart’s entire crew is in my control. No one is coming to claim the ship. We can begin the operation as soon as you can provide the necessary womanpower.”

 

Britom’s eyes were moving across the lush bodies of the three slumbering Starfleet officers. “If what you say is true and their Starheart routinely delivers former slaves into Starfleet’s hands, then it provides us with a unique opportunity to slip our agents deep into the Federation. We can gather information or plant false leads. We could divide Starfleet by making them believe their allies are feeding the slave market.”

 

“I’m sure you’re aware,” Dukat said, “That the Obsidian Order would probably kill me if they knew I was assisting an unauthorized intelligence operation.” The Cardassian Gul had returned to Deanna and was playing with her aerolas, plucking Troi’s teats until they became erect. “But as they refuse to make use of non-Cardassian spies, the Order is really too inflexible for a mission like this.” To add emphasis he gave Deanna’s brown nips a hard twist. The counselor wriggled weakly in her restraints as pleasure sparked in her unconscious body.

 

“In return I would expect certain concessions from both of you,” Sela said pointedly. “Surely my ability is obvious to you now.”

 

“And such ability should be rewarded,” Britom agreed, stepping up close to where T’Pol stood shackled. One hand slid in between her slim thighs, rubbing at the Vulcan’s nether lips. “You have delivered the Starheart and its crew and devised an excellent scheme to use them. And from this display I imagine you are offering certain bonuses as well.” The Vulcan woman moaned softly, shifting her head in her sleep as pleasure warmed her diddled pussy. Her soft boobs shifted as she moved weakly from left to right in her bonds.

 

Sela knew exactly what the Romulan Proconsul was speaking about. “There are rooms next door where you will have privacy.”

 

Still fondling T’Pol’s pussy lips Britom lifted the Vulcan’s head so he could see her face. “This one I am very interested in,” he breathed, gazing at T’Pol’s lovely features. “As a younger man studying history I was quite impressed by this Vulcan. This is an opportunity I cannot pass up.”

 

Dukat smirked, giving one of Deanna’s tits a playful slap. “I’ll direct the necessary personnel to you, Sela. The lovely counselor here and I have crossed paths before, and previously she had the upper hand. I don’t suppose I would be allowed to wake her up so she could see what it’s like to be underneath?”

 

Sela shook her head, folding her arms before her uniform-wrapped breasts. “They stay unconscious. If we cannot break Starheart’s encryption we may need them. I’ve been able to fool them into thinking this is a Starfleet safe house, so they seem content to wait here to be rescued. I would prefer them to not realize their true situation and attempt something silly, like escape.”

 

Britom turned quickly, letting T’Pol’s head drop. “You do not have full control of the ship yet?”

 

“It’s just a matter of time,” the blonde Romulan woman replied. “Rak found a way to override the computer but he neglected to share it with me. Now that the Reman is dead, we’ll have to do it the hard way. But all encryption breaks in the end.”

 

“That problem,” Gul Dukat said as he unclipped Deanna’s shackles and let the counselor lie on her back across his shoulder, “Is your problem.” He a cheery smile he walked out of the chamber with Enterprise’s counselor slung nude over his shoulder, one hand firmly on her pale ass, the lips of her pussy pouting between her thighs.

 

T’Pol was next, released from her shackles to slump unconscious over Britom’s shoulder. As the Proconsul easily lifted the sleeping science officer with his Romulan strength, he looked towards Sela. “You’ll get the women you need for the operation. But you understand that this will have to be approved at the highest levels of the Tal Shiar?”

 

Sela smiled at the sight of T’Pol lying nude and unresisting over the Romulan’s shoulder. “I’m sure the board of the Tal Shiar will be just as impressed by this operation as you have been.”

 

Britom departed, leaving Sela standing before B’Elanna Torres. The Klingon still hung from her shackles, her dark hair concealing her face and just reaching her bare breasts. The blonde Romulan looked over to the three Cardassians that had been Dukat’s escort, the men who had carried the three Starfleet officers here.

 

“Well boys,” Sela said in a moment of generosity, “We don’t want Miss Torres here to get jealous, do we?” She departed with a wicked smile as the three Cardassians closed in on the unconscious brunette, quickly unshackling her from her restraints, hands already squeezing the Klingon’s breasts and buttocks.

 

+++++

 

When she had met Gul Dukat in the Bajor system, to establish transit rights through the newly-discovered wormhole, Deanna Troi had never once imagined having sex with the Cardassian. But Dukat had certainly thought of the possible pleasure to be had with the Betazoid’s lush voluptuous body. And now he was going to enjoy them.

 

In the room beside the ‘display chamber’, Gul Dukat lowered the bare bodied Deanna Troi onto a vacant mattress. He took a moment to admire the counselor’s lovely figure, her pale curvaceous form lying nude and helpless before him. He gripped her ankles and spread her legs, exposing the commander’s most sensitive of places. Troi remained unconscious, the drugs in her system keeping her from rousing despite what was about to happen to her.

 

Unbuckling and shedding his uniform, the Cardassian Gul crawled atop the unresisting counselor. His hands found her generous tits, squeezing Troi’s soft melons. The twenty-nine year old moaned in her sleep, her back arching slightly. She remained unconscious and unaware as Dukat straddled her waist, positioning his cock between the counselor’s generous breasts. His hands gripped Deanna’s boobs and pushed them together around his meat, savoring the supple softness of the Betazoid’s melons. With patient slowness he began to pump backwards and forward, tit-fucking Deanna Troi.

 

Her Orion-conditioned body responded even while unconscious, her super-sensitive breasts throbbing from the attention. Deanna began to mewl, wriggling beneath the Cardassian that was tit-fucking her. Her already stiff nipples grew even more erect and her thighs involuntarily closed and parted as pleasure rolled through her slumbering body. Her cries would rise in pitch and grow in volume when the Gul slid his cock into the velvet vice of the counselor’s helpless pussy.

 

Another room over T’Pol was just as helpless in the arms of Proconsul Britom. He positioned the Vulcan on her hands and knees and then knelt behind her, gripping the science officer’s hips and pulling her ass upwards. The First Modern Vulcan groaned as she was entered from behind, her plump lips opening in unconscious pleasure. The Romulan gripped T’Pol’s arms and pulled them behind her back, yanking her up so that her tits dangled free of the bedsheets. Then he began to pump.

 

The Enterprise’s science officer began to jiggle backwards and forwards, her tits swaying with each thrusting motion. Low moans escaped her lips as Britom picked up the pace, fucking T’Pol with greater speed and energy. Capturing both her wrists in one hand he reached around beneath the Vulcan to grab and fondle her tanned udders, delighting in the softness of her ample boobs and the stiff hardness of her brown nips as he violated her.

 

And in the display chamber B’Elanna Torres was the plaything of not one, not two but three Cardassian guards. The Klingon wriggled and groaned in her sleep as her hyper-sensitive body responded exactly as it had been conditioned to do. She lay flat on her back as she was banged vigorously by the first man. Her athletic figure was positioned on all fours as she was humped by the second. The one-defiant Maquis knelt with a cock in her mouth as the third made her unresisting head bob up and down on his shaft.

 

And when each man was done with Voyager’s chief engineer they traded places. She mewled helplessly as a Cardassian cock pumped in the channel between her breasts before her face was spattered with seed. She shuddered as she lay on her side, one leg lifted in the air as her pussy was once again thrust into. B’Elanna Torres squealed in her sleep as she cummed, fingers twisting her nipples, palms slapping her ass and a ridged Cardassian cock shooting a load of cum into her womb.

 

The three heroines had thought themselves safe. The brunette trio had mistakenly believed that they were secure and hidden, able to lower their guard. But the horrible truth was that Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol were now whores, offered by Sela to any man she needed as an ally. And with their beautiful faces, lush super-sensitive bodies and prominent histories, they performed their duties as unconscious and unwilling fuck-puppets to perfection.

 

+++++

 

Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol wriggled and moaned in their drug-induced slumber as their naked bodies were hosed down. Sela watched with interest as bare breasts were pummeled by the water stream, lifting and shifting shape under the pressure. Directing the jet to T’Pol’s snatch the Romulan observed as the Vulcan bucked and writhed, arching her back as she was brought to an unconscious and unwilling climax.

 

Quickly the evidence of the night’s activities was washed away. The brunette trio’s Orion-conditioned bodies were quick to recover: there would be marks or aches left over from the vigorous fucking sessions they had suffered during the night.

 

Sela switched off the stream and looked towards the three Cardassians. Gul Dukat was already in orbit, his ‘business’ with Deanna Troi finished, but his escort had remained on Sela’s request to help her clean up. “Towel them off,” she ordered, “And get them dressed and back in bed.” She turned away as they moved in, eagerly grabbing at the three heroine’s softest places. Even after their long session with B’Elanna Torres the Cardassian guards were more than willing to grope and fondle the three Starfleet officers’ nude forms.

 

Sela brushed her blonde hair back on her forehead and smiled. “Dukat and Britom are with me,” she said to herself softly, “One step closer.”

 

+++++

 

Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol had been fine prizes to capture, but they were unimportant compared to the sleek experimental ship resting in a hanger in the subterranean Dekiw-2 facility. Starheart was now in Sela’s possession, although not entirely under her control.

 

“You are a very stubborn hologram,” the short-haired Romulan chided, looking at Melika with cold green eyes.

 

The teenaged Andorian stood sullenly in front of Sela, her arms folded in front of her cute boobs. The ship’s holographic control interface was wearing Starheart’s standard blue-and-white uniform, the tight elastic garment lovingly hugging her delicious teen body, tracing her long narrow thighs, her cute firm ass, slim waist and cupping the peaches of her tits. Her blue eyes stared at Sela with useless anger. The Romulan was standing on the bridge of her ship, in the heart of Melika’s power, and the teenager was helpless to do anything about it. Normally she would have been able to lock onto the invader with Starheart’s transporters and beam her out, but the ship’s systems were now beyond her ability to command. Additional lockouts prevented her holographic form from even touching the controls.

 

Rak had tricked Deanna Troi into giving up Starheart’s control codes. That had allowed the Reman to gain a degree of control over the hologram Melika and direct the ship into his clutches. But that control had not lasted long.

 

“I’ll ask again,” Sela said patiently, “What are Starheart’s command codes?”

 

“And I’ll tell you again,” the blonde teen Andorian replied snappily, “I don’t know. I deleted my own files when I realized that Rak was taking control of the ship. That’s why you had to tow Starheart all the way out here. Geez, you’re stupid! You give us blondes a bad name,” she added, flicking her own pale hair over one shoulder.

 

Sela tapped a finger against her jaw. “For some reason I don’t really believe you. I should  have control over the ship. After all, I have control over you.” Her green eyes moved up and down the teen’s delicious body. “You’ve got a good figure, Melika. You’re a picture of Andorian beauty. Long blonde hair, clean blue skin, big pretty eyes, long legs and nice tits.” Meanwhile the teenager rolled her holographic eyes at the comments. “And every part of you is so sensitive, too. Do you know what this is?” Sela held up a small transparent rod.

 

“A data chip,” Melika answered sullenly.

 

“Containing a copy of your programming,” the Romulan finished. “Your face, your voice, your personality, that delicious hyper-sensitive figure of yours.” She plugged the chip into her communicator. “Do you know what shareware is?”

 

“Shareware?” the teen frowned. “It’s an old term to describe software that is freely distributed, usually as a sample for the complete program.”

 

“Like a free holographic whore, transmitted freely across the network to every holobrothel in the quadrant.”

 

Melika’s eyes widened, her cute mouth opening. “You wouldn’t!”

 

Sela smiled sadistically, her fingers hovering above her communicator. “One push, and your program gets transmitted everywhere. Ferenginar, Earth, the Klingon homeworld, even Andoria, with a big label marking you as a super-sensitive blonde slut. Think about it: thousands of Melikas, each one as real as you are, each working day and night in holo-suits pleasuring clients. A barely-legal blonde? Think of how popular you’ll be.”

 

The Andorian teenager’s holographic breasts rose and fell inside her too-tight top. She stared helplessly at the Romulan, her blue eyes fixed on the communicator that contained a copy of her program. “But I really don’t have the codes! I told you I deleted them! I can’t tell you what you want to know!”

 

“And I told you that I don’t believe you. I’m going to break Starheart’s encryption eventually,” Sela said gently, her fingertip inching ever closer to the transmission button on her comm. “You might as well tell me the code and save me the time, and spare yourself the humiliation.”

 

“But I can’t!” cried the teenager, tears appearing in her blue eyes. Her stamped one foot helplessly, her boobs jiggling in her uniform and her hands clenching uselessly at her sides. “I don’t know it any more!”

 

“I’m sure you’ve got it hidden around somewhere in your programming,” persisted Sela, her finger resting on the button. “This is your last chance to stop yourself from becoming the hottest download in the quadrant, Ensign.”

 

Melika’s breaths came short and quickly, embarrassment making her tremble. The thought of her programming being distributed everywhere, a super-sensitive holographic slut freely transmitted all over the quadrant, was horrifying. She would not experience the shame and humiliation of serving in a holo-brothel but hundreds or thousands of Melikas would, each one with the same personality programming she had, each one as real as she was.

 

Her embarrassment turned into anger. “You can go to hell, Romulan,” she said, the Ensign’s voice cracking but her blue eyes strong.

 

Sela huffed out a little laugh, then looked the beautiful teenager up and down again. “You’re going to be a big hit, Melika.” She pressed the button and the communicator sent its signal.

 

Tears of shame popped into Melika’s blue eyes. Her program had just been transmitted, sent out across space, relayed and bounced and carried far and wide. In hours copies of her would be popping up everywhere, Melika holograms awakening in holo-brothels with no idea of why they were there… until it became entirely too obvious.

 

“You merciless bitch!” the beautiful blue-skinned Ensign cried.

 

“I’m just getting started.” Sela walked around the helpless hologram, tapping buttons on her communicator as she moved with slinky hip-swinging steps. “I have computers working around the clock to crack Starheart’s lockouts, but I personally believe that the weak point is you. After all, you have personality. You have fears. You have a heart.”

 

“You obviously don’t!” the Andorian answered, still reeling from the reality that her program would soon be seeing service in holo-brothels all across the quadrant.

 

“Here we are,” Sela said, lifting the device in her hand. “Look at this.” An image projected above the communicator, one that Melika immediately recognized. “It’s your graduating class. Melika of Andoria, one of the youngest to enter the academy. Started as jailbait, ended at the top of her class. Brilliant, beautiful, on the fast track towards being a respected officer. Didn’t you give a speech at the graduation? I bet that every man in your class watched you, up on stage, and wondered what that lovely body of yours looked like under your cadet’s uniform.”

 

Sela halted in front of Melika. “Get your tits out.”

 

Melika’s lips parted to object but her hands were already moving. Her enemy had complete physical control of her hologram and had activated her obedience parameters. She had no choice, her blue fingers gripping the waist of her top and peeling the elastic fabric upwards, baring her trim flat stomach and then the two lovely treats on her chest.

 

With a whimper of humiliation Melika bared her breasts, settling the elastic fabric above the swells of her peaches. Her pale nipples quivered on her tits as she held in a sob, the humiliations coming one after another. Unable to fight in any way, the teenager stood topless in Starheart’s bridge.

 

Sela’s eyesbrows lifted at the sight of the Andorian’s white teats. “Nice set. You see, this is why I don’t believe you. I have control of you. I should have control of the ship. But maybe you’re faking it.”

 

“I’m not faking it,” Melika wailed, her tits jiggling as she shook with her embarrassment.

 

“Let’s find out.” The blonde Romulan smiled. “Ensign, lean forward and milk yourself.”

 

The teenager’s tear-filled blue eyes opened even wide. “No,” she moaned even as, against her will, the slim Ensign leaned forward. Her firm round tits, not as large as those of her brunette companions but still tasty handfuls, dangled below her. “You can’t be serious,” the girl cried out as her hands involuntarily took hold of her hanging tits and began to squeeze.

 

Sela watched dispassionately as Melika fondled and massaged her own breasts. The teenager mewled and wiggled as her fingers compressed her supple titflesh, working over her sensitive boobs with quick but gentle movements.

 

“Squeeze harder,” the Romulan ordered, “I said milk those udders, don’t stroke them.”

 

Another whimper of defeat came from the teenager as she began to grip and massage her tits more firmly. Her fingers caught her pale nipples and pulled them downwards, creating incredible sensations in her breasts. The teenager cried out in ecstacy, wiggling her slim hips and round ass, her long blonde hair falling around her face. The sensitivity of her body had been greatly enhanced by a Cardassian who had once infiltrated Starheart, and the teen had chosen to retain her new settings in order to enjoy them herself. Now her tender teats were getting a thorough working over.

 

“Aaaahhh!” moaned the Andorian Ensign, one hand pinching and twisting her left nipple while the other gripped and squeezed the flesh of her right breast. “Uhhh aaahhh! Aahhhhh! No please AAAHHHHH!!!”

 

“Humiliating, isn’t it?” Sela said gently, watching the teenager squeeze and tug on her own breasts. Her holographic udders could not produce milk but they could certainly produce sensation. Melika wiggled and mewled and arched her back, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder and unwittingly giving the Romulan an unobstructed view of her supple tits as she milked herself.

 

“Maybe you’re not faking it,” mused the blonde Sela. “Would you really do something this degrading of your own free will?”

 

“Of course not aaAAEEIII!” Melika’s words became a squeal of pleasure as she cummed. Her super-sensitive body required minimal stimulation to reach her sexual threshold, and her hands firmly squeezing, massaging and milking her breasts was more than enough to push her over the edge. The Ensign lifted her voice in a high-pitched shriek, her back arching and her mouth open wide, even as her hands cruelly pulled even harder on her tender nips.

 

“Okay!” panted the Andorian, “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you the code!”

 

Sela smiled encouragingly. “You can ease up on those udders now, Ensign,” she allowed. “So what is Starheart’s encryption code?”

 

Melika straightened, her hands finally coming away from her aching tits. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly with her quick and shallow breaths. Hr blue eyes locked angrily on the Romulan. “Sela is a dumb flat-chested slut! Trying punching that into the computer!”

 

Her green eyes growing impatient with the stubborn teenager, Sela tapped a few more commands into her comm unit. “I prefer obedient holograms. Like these ones.”

 

Starheart’s interior was mounted with holo-emitters that made it possible to project Melika’s presence. But they could also produce other holograms. The blonde teen gasped in surprise as figures began appearing all around her, men wearing the cadet uniform of Starfleet academy!

 

“Recognize them?” Sela smiled. “Your graduating class, or at least as many as I can fit in this small space. Specifically the men. I bet they recognize you.”

 

Melika quivered in shame as she found herself standing topless among the young men she had graduated with in Starfleet Academy. They were men she had trained with, joked with, had lunch with, even dated a few. Now they were grinning at the sight of the Andorian teenager’s bare breasts. “But they’re just holograms!”

 

“So are you,” pointed out the Romulan. “Take off the rest of your clothes. After all, they’re just holograms.”

 

Hologram or not, Melika could feel embarrassment. Her personality matrix, based on that of the original Ensign Melika, had been constructed to give her a full range of convincing and authentic emotional responses. The one she felt as she peeled her top off her shoulders and shook out her long blonde hair was acute humiliation. That feeling grew as she leaned forward, tits dangling and jiggling, to push her tight elastic pants down her long slim legs. The teenaged Ensign straightened up, flushing in pure embarrassment as she stood naked among her old friends and comrades from the Academy.

 

Human or Andorian or whatever species, their smiles were growing at the sight of the naked blonde standing helpless and shamed in their midst. Her pale nipples rose as her chest lifted with a breath, the Ensign trying to regain some degree of self-control. “What is this supposed to accomplish?” Melika demanded, mentally repeating to herself that they were just holograms, they weren’t her real class mates. But in the back of her mind was Sela’s reminder: she was just a hologram too. They were as real as she was.

 

“I think you’re hiding Starheart’s access codes,” Sela explained. “I think that inside that sexy little Andorian body hides quite a clever mind, and I believe you left yourself a backup copy of those codes somewhere in your matrix. And you’re going to tell me where it is, and what they are. Until then…”

The Romulan looked around the holographic crowd, reproductions of Melika’s classmates. “Until then you can suck cock. There were, what? Two hundred men in your graduating class? I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

“Two hundred? You must be kidding mmmmppphhh!” Hands on Melika’s naked shoulders forced her to her knees, her bare breasts bouncing as she was shoved down. An erect cock jammed between her lips and the Ensign found herself sucking and bobbing. Sela had given her an order and the teenager’s obedience parameters forced her compliance. She lifted her hands to the penis of the man standing over her, a human she recognized from her navigation class but did not remember the name of, and began to sinuously wank his shaft even as she kissed and suckled on the head of his penis. The teenager’s tits swayed left and right as she gyrated, her naked body putting on a sexy show for the crowd assembled around the nude Andorian hologram.

 

Her blue eyes closing with shame and disgust, Melika obediently sucked on the first of what would be many, many cocks.

 

+++++

 

Deanna Troi awoke with a gasp. “Of course!” she exclaimed, sitting up in bed with the sheets falling around her waist.

 

The counselor’s rapid rise roused her companions. T’Pol rolled over, casting her eyes up at Deanna’s breasts, barely contained by her taut white t-shirt. “What is of course?” she queried.

 

“And what is worth getting up this early?” complained B’Elanna, settling an arm over T’Pol’s bare hip, her fingers tantalizingly close to the science officer’s snatch.

 

Troi looked at her companions with a triumphant smile. “We don’t have to wait for Starfleet to find us a way off this frozen rock!” she said, “I’ve already got one!”

 

+++++

 

A few minutes later the three heroines were clad in short white skirts and tight t-shifts, gathered around one of the access panels in the main recreational area. “Rednal,” Deanna said, speaking into the computer system, “My business here is done. When you can, come back and pick me up. I’ll be bringing two passengers.” She switched the system off, the transmission concluded.

 

“Can we trust him?” T’Pol asked directly.

 

“I think so. Sort of.” Deanna didn’t explain to her friends that she had become the Orion’s consort in exchange for being transported to Dekiw-2, sharing his bed and being his plaything. She hoped that it wouldn’t come up. “But it’s got to be faster than waiting for a covert Starfleet transport to head this far across the border.”

 

“With any luck,” Torres said, “We could be off this rock in a few days.”

 

+++++

 

But for B’Elanna, Deanna and T’Pol, luck was in short supply.

 

High above Dekiw-2 a small cheap drone continued a silent orbit. It had been left there by Rednal as a communication relay so that Troi could call for pickup when she needed it. Upon receiving her signal it would transmit the message onward to the Orion’s small transport.

But the satellite remained silent. No signal was ever transmitted from the surface. The Romulan that had trapped T’Pol, Deanna and Torres on Dekiw-2 had no intention of letting them depart so easily.

 

Sela had plans for their lush beautiful bodies.

 

+++++

 

The three heroines expected a wait of several days, so they kept themselves occupied as best as they could. The tennis court was extensively used, the three beauties running back and forth across the chamber, asses flashing beneath their short skirts and tits bouncing in their too-tight shirts. The swimming pool also saw heavy use, the best place in the facility to cool off after long exertions. Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol would dive and splash and swim through the waters, their naked figures gliding and circling each other playfully.

 

The three lesbian lovers also found other distractions to keep themselves occupied. Deanna had little chance of breaking T’Pol’s record for holding off her orgasm as her breasts were suckled, but she was an eager participant as she took her turn kissing, biting and sucking on the tits of her gorgeous companions, driving them to the heights of screaming ecstasy.

 

And neither Troi, T’Pol nor Torres had any idea of what was done to them as they slept. Nor did they know what Sela was doing to force Melika’s compliance.

 

On the third evening of their confinement Deanna was reclining against a pile of pillows in their quarters, nursing nursed a chocolate sundae on her flat belly. “Thank god the system knew how to replicate these,” she said gratefully, spooning chocolate fudge into her mouth.

 

B’Elanna Torres was half buried in the pillows behind her, stretching her arms above her head, her lovely breasts shifting deliciously with the movement. “You’ll stain the bedsheets with chocolate,” she warned.

 

Troi shrugged. She was wearing only her tennis t-shirt, her melons jiggling in her tight top as she folded one long pale leg over the other. “I’ll replicate new ones.” With a wicked smile she took another mouthful of icecream. “T’Pol, want to try some?”

 

The Vulcan, on the other hand, was completely nude. Her plump lips twisting in a smile she crawled across the bed towards the Betazoid. Deanna’s dark eyes lingered on the lovely sight of T’Pol’s boobs swaying beneath her. The science officer crawled atop the Betazoid and waited, her mouth obediently open. Troi teased her with a spoonful of fudge, making the Vulcan lunge to bite it, watching those dangling tits jiggle with her movements. Finally T’Pol leaned forward and kissed Deanna deeply on the lips, a few drops of chocolate spilling onto the counselor’s white shirt. The sundae was set aside as the two women began to carress and fondle one another, B’Elanna watching with growing interest, judging the best moment for her to make her own entry.

 

They had no idea that Sela was observing every intimate moment they shared. And they were completely clueless as to how the Romulan was using their lush, delicious bodies to her own ends.

 

When they tired of their games and retired, spent and panting, Sela made her move. As before a knockout gas was introduced into their bedchamber. Already asleep the three women deeply inhaled the chemical, soaking their systems and ensuring that they would remain unconscious as their clothes were once again ripped from their bodies, baring them for what would follow. Sela had other Romulans to bring to her cause, and Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol were three lovely bribes with which she could ply her superiors for support.

 

+++++

 

Striding onto Starheart’s bridge, Sela smiled at the sight of Melika flat on her back with her legs spread.

 

The holographic teenager was yelping helplessly, letting out high-pitched squeaks with every thrust into her tight Andorian pussy. Her long legs were up in the air, her feet kicking with the rhythm of her fucking. Her bare breasts leapt up and down on her chest, nipples flicking towards her face. The teenager’s eyes were shut tight and her mouth open as she yelped in humiliated ecstasy. Despite the prolonged fucking she had endured Melika appeared none the worse for wear: her holographic matrix was essentially impervious to injury. But she was more than vulnerable to pleasure.

 

The hologram assaulting the Ensign, a heavily built Orion, took hold of Melika’s ankles and spread the Andorian’s long legs even further apart. “My, you are flexible,” Sela noted as the eighteen year old unwillingly performed the splits. The blonde teen opened her eyes and looked down between the leaping globes of her breasts to where the sensitive folds of her blue pussy were parted by a pumping green cock. Letting out another wail of defeat the Ensign shut her eyes and thrashed her head again. Her hands grabbed at her tits, trying to still their leaping, but other holographic men around the girl grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away, forcing the teenager to leave her breasts bare.

 

 “Ready to tell me the codes?” Sela suggested.

 

Melika was barely able to get her response out between her ecstatic yelps. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Go to hell ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”

 

The Romulan tutted, shaking her head at the sight of the Andorian’s bouncing breasts. “I suppose I could let you go through the entire graduating class again,” she allowed, her green eyes showing sadistic interest as the Orion hologram banging Melika thrust deeper and longer, spreading her parted legs even wider as he approached his peak. “You must have studied so hard to get such good grades. You mustn’t have had much of a chance to socialize with your classmates. Now you can, Melika. Consider this your Prom.”

 

The Orion reached his release. The hologram drew back, pulling his organ from the Andorian teenager’s snatch with a tight popping sound. Semen burst from his tool to splatter across Melika’s pussy, belly, breasts and face. The Ensign wailed in disgust even as her back arched in aching pleasure.

 

As she gasped and shuddered after the assault, another holographic classmate moved in. “Oh gawd,” moaned Melika as she was gripped by the hips and flipped over onto her hands and knees, her tits swaying beneath her. “Oh gawd not more oohhh!” Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as the super-sensitive folds of her pussy were spread by yet another cock, this one belonging to a Trill. The hologram mounting her from behind was a fit young man, Trill spots running over the taut muscles of his torso, flexing as he pumped vigorously into Melika’s tightness.

 

“What’s that?” Sela queried. “You want to tell me the codes?”

 

“I don’t know the codes anymore!” The Andorian bowed her head, watching her tits pulse with the powerful thrusting into her snatch. “I told you I deleted them!”

 

“Oh, so it’s more you want.” The blonde Romulan smiled. “Computer, increase the girth of each male hologram’s penis by fifty percent.”

 

Melika’s face lifted quickly, her long blonde hair flicking around her face. Around her stood holographic reproductions of her graduating class, images of young men she had known from the academy rendered purely to assault her until she broke. They were naked, having stripped off their clothes to have their way with the helpless and beautiful Ensign.

 

Her blue eyes went wide as the forest of cocks before her grew fatter. Each organ swelled as she watched. Then her eyes grew even larger as she felt the tool in her super-sensitive snatch expand!

 

“Oh gaawwd!” she wailed, arching her back and presenting her trembling breasts.

 

Melika’s slim eighteen year old body jerked forwards and backwards, her boobs energetically flicking forwards and backwards with each thrust. Sela checked her watch. “Do you know what’s happening to your friends, right about now?”

 

She was gratified that even during her ecstasy Melika’s attention was suddenly caught by the Romulan’s words. Sela gave her a little smile. “I bet Deanna’s tits are getting a lot of attention. She’s got a nice pair on her. So does T’Pol. And B’Elanna, actually. They’re drugged, so they’ve got no idea what’s happening to them.”

 

Her green eyes watched the unnaturally broad penis sliding in and out of the Ensign’s snatch, driving her oh-so-sensitive body wild. “We dope them up, strip them naked, and whore them out. Those Orion-conditioned bodies recover so quickly they’re not even sore the next morning. Hose them down and replace their clothing, and those brainless bimbos don’t even realize they’ve spent the night with their legs spread. You know, they can orgasm even while they’re unconscious. Did you know that?”

 

“You blonde Romulan bitch!” squealed Melika as she bucked, hips involuntarily pressing back against the thrusts of the Trill banging her from behind.

 

Sela knelt down, bringing herself face to face with the gorgeous teenager as she writhed and wriggled on all fours. “When this is over, I was thinking of putting them back where they belong: on the auction block of Ferenginar. Their sale would give me a nice little nest egg to retire on. Or,” she added, reaching out to grip and squeeze one of Melika’s swaying breasts, “You could give me Starheart’s codes and I promise I send them right home to the Federation. I’ll even give them clothes,” she said on the spur of the moment. “Give me what I want and I’ll spare your friends.”

 

Melika’s blue eyes were locked helplessly on the Romulan’s face, the teenager torn by her awful choice.

 

“Don’t answer now,” Sela said, releasing the Ensign’s tit and rising up, “I can see you’re busy with your ‘social networking’. Mull it over for a while.” She turned and walked away, leaving the blonde teen surrounded by her holographic attackers. “Try to enjoy yourself, Prom Queen.”

 

The blue-skinned Ensign tried to direct a retort in Sela’s direction but only managed a squeal of pleasure as she climaxed yet again.

 

+++++

 

T’Pol awoke before the others. She looked over at B’Elanna and Deanna, the two brunettes sleeping in each other’s arms, the Klingon completely nude and the Betazoid clad only in her deliciously tight top, as she had been when they had gone to sleep. The Vulcan considered waking them but decided against it, instead smiling at the sight of her two lovers in such peace and comfort.

 

“Breakfast,” T’Pol thought. The replicator in the room outside yielded two plates with boiled eggs, toast and orange juice, while the vegetarian Vulcan chose a platter of fruit slices for her own breakfast. By the time the science officer sauntered back into their shared quarters, playing impromptu waitress with nothing to cover her incredible figure but the plates balanced in her hands, her companions were stirring.

 

“Now that’s a smell to wake up to.” B’Elanna rolled over in a swirl of long legs, firm ass and quivering tits. “And that’s a sight to wake up to,” she added, smiling sleepily at the nude T’Pol. Lying on her back, Torres accepted a plate from the Vulcan and settled her breakfast on her taut stomach. Peering over the mounds of her breasts she began to pick at her meal.

 

Deanna sat herself crosslegged on the bed with her plate covering her bare snatch. Clad in only her tight t-shirt the counselor began to re-arrange the toast on her plate. Across the room T’Pol got to work on her fruits, starting with a wedge of sweet watermelon.

 

The Enteprise’s counselor smiled contently as she worked at her meal, scooping boiled egg into her mouth and following it with a piece of toast. Crumbs fell on the rounded slopes of her tight white shirt, causing Deanna to frown and brush them off her tits.

 

Then Troi froze. Slowly the Betazoid’s beautiful dark eyes grew wide, her gaze not on her meal but on her own lovely breasts, her white shirt stretched across her melons.

 

Very slowly she picked up a piece of toast and bit down on it. “B’Elanna, T’Pol,” the Betazoid thought, using her empathic abilities to transmit her words directly to her companion’s minds, “Keep acting naturally.”

 

“What?” was Torres’ mental reply.

 

“Just eat your breakfast and act like nothing is wrong,” Troi thought urgently, now the image of serene calm as she lifted a spoonful of hard-boiled egg to her lips, “This is important. Last night, before we checked in for the night, remember when T’Pol jumped me?”

 

“Very well,” came the Vulcan’s arch thought, the science officer admiring the way Deanna’s shirt clung to the orbs of her breasts.

 

“Well, I spilt some chocolate ice cream on my shirt. Remember that?”

 

B’Elanna and T’Pol automatically looked at Deanna’s lovely chest. Apart from a few crumbs from her toast the tight shirt stretched across her tits was completely unblemished. There wasn’t a sign of chocolate on the garment at all.

 

“Someone,” Deanna Troi thought, “Has replaced my shirt.”

 

The other two brunettes grew very still. Suspicion formed in their minds as they put the pieces together. Automatically B’Elanna pulled the bedsheets across her naked legs and hips, while T’Pol unconsciously hefted a pair of watermelon slices up in front of her chest, obscuring her impressive tits.

 

“Act natural!” Troi ordered, “They’re probably watching us right now!” To demonstrate the point the Enterprise’s counselor put aside her breakfast, gripped her shirt and peeled it upwards. Deanna’s boobs bounced free of her tight shirt, a delicious sight that the other two women would have enjoyed if not for the bad news the Betazoid had just delivered.

 

B’Elanna forced herself to sit up and let the bedsheets fall away from her, leaving both her firm tanned breasts and the smooth perfection of her bald snatch on display. “Oh god,” the Klingon thought in horror. “Someone has set us up. You think it was Starfleet?”

 

“I refuse to believe Starfleet would treat us like whores,” Deanna thought.

 

“That’s your opinion,” the Maquis Torres replied mentally, “I wouldn’t put it past them.”

 

“Whoever they are, we are in their complete power.” T’Pol bit into her watermelon, trying to look unconcerned even as the Vulcan burned inside with the shameful knowledge that an unseen someone had stripped them naked and probably was even now watching them. “They have gone to great lengths to ensure we are unsuspecting. They have done that for a reason.”

 

“But one of us should have woken up!” B’Elanna thought. “Surely one of us would have noticed if someone came into our room and night and started tearing our clothes off!”

 

“Unless we were drugged,” Deanna answered. “They must control the life support systems in this complex. We go to bed, they tranquilize us, and then they can do anything they want while we sleep.”

 

“No wonder all our communications with Starfleet were just text transmissions,” Torres realized. “This is all a trick. No one is coming to pick us up. We’re never going to be rescued. We’re here to stay!”

 

“By Surak this is horrible,” T’Pol thought. The science officer steeled herself, drawing on her Vulcan composure. “But perhaps there is something we can do about this.”

 

Torres turned her lovely dark eyes on the nude T’Pol. “You have a plan, Vulcan?”

 

+++++

 

For the rest of the day they pantomimed a care-free existence, playing on the tennis court and splashing about in the pool. The three heroines did not dare clue their captors in to the fact that they suspected the truth.

 

That night, as they prepared to sleep, they put T’Pol’s idea into motion. It was not much of a plan but it was their only hope of escape.

 

Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol curled up in the one bed, as they had done every evening. They wore their tennis outfits, short skirts and tight shirts, being too uncomfortable with the truth of their insidious prison to sleep naked this night.

 

But B’Elanna Torres did not immediately sink down to sleep. Instead the lovely twenty-two year old crawled over to where Deanna lay, the Klingon’s athletic thighs straddling the counselor’s wide hips. With a playful smile B’Elanna peeled Troi’s top upwards, baring the curve of one breast.

 

“B’Elanna,” complained the counselor out loud, “I’m tired.”

 

“I’m not,” the Maquis argued, playing the role they had agreed. They had organized the plan through Deanna’s silent empathic abilities. Following that plan, Torres lowered her mouth to Troi’s right teat. “It’s not my fault your boobs are so delicious.” The Maquis began to suck and kiss and bite at the Betazoid’s abundant titflesh.

 

Deanna moaned, wiggling and shifting as her tits were played with. Her own hands traveled to B’Elanna’s breasts, cupping and squeezing the twenty-two year old’s melons, making the Klingon shut her eyes as pleasure burst in her Orion-conditioned body. When Troi pinched and twisted her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. Torres groaned, but quickly returned her lips to Deanna’s breasts to nurse at the counselor’s abundant moons.

 

T’Pol, meanwhile, rolled over and tried to ignore her companions playing with each other. The short-haired brunette closed her eyes, gathering her concentration, and began to settle into a Vulcan trance.

 

Gradually T’Pol’s heart rate slowed. Her breasts shifted gently with her slowing breathing. Exhibiting Vulcan-disciplined control over her body, the Enterprise’s science officer reduced her body’s functions to a dramatically lower level.

 

Deanna and B’Elanna were not playing with each other for fun. They were buying T’Pol time with their show. Soon their captors would feed a drug into the air to tranquilize them, but they hoped they would wait until all three women were ready to sleep so as to not rouse their suspicions. As long as they played, kissing and fondling and squeezing each others’ boobs, T’Pol could drop deeper into her trance, slowing her bodily functions.

 

“Ready?” thought Deanna, the empath sending the message mentally to the Vulcan even as she arched her back and offered her tits to Torres’ lips.

 

“I am ready,” answered T’Pol from the depths of her trance.

 

With playful smiles Deanna and B’Elanna ceased their fondling, lying together in a close embrace with their breasts pressing together with only the fabric of their shirts to separate the Klingon’s proud round tits from the Betazoid’s soft supple boobs. They closed their eyes and tried to hide their trepidation. They would be helpless during the upcoming ordeal. All their hopes rested with T’Pol.

 

Within minutes it began. Now that she was deep in a self-controlling trance, the Vulcan could sense the chemicals as they entered her lungs and began to drag at her consciousness. The gas was without color or odor, quickly flooding Torres and Troi’s bodies and lulled them into deep sleeps, but it only lightly ate at T’Pol’s awareness. She could sense it working on her body, but with her rate of breathing so greatly slowed she absorbed very little of the chemical: it failed to knock her out.

 

“Deanna?” T’Pol thought, “Can you sense me?” But there was no reply from Enterprise’s counselor. The lush-bodied brunette had fully succumbed to the drug in seconds.

 

A moment later the door to their quarters opened. T’Pol resisted the urge to open her eyes and look at the intruder. She needed to gauge their strength first. The Vulcan slowly reversed the effects of her trance, allowing her heart rate to rise and her body to ready itself for action.

 

“Take them to the display room.” The speaker was female but T’Pol did not recognize the woman’s voice. “Leave their clothes on, this time.” The Vulcan felt a chill at the simple confirmation of their suspicions: the three heroines had indeed been stripped naked during their slumber.

 

Keeping her eyes shut, T’Pol felt the mattress shift under her as Deanna and B’Elanna were pulled off the bed. The Vulcan almost flinched as hands scooped beneath her sleeping body, lifting her from the sheets and lowering her to the floor. Then someone took hold of her ankles and dragged her out of the bedroom.

 

To her mute embarrassment T’Pol felt her short skirt immediately ride up, baring the entire length of the Vulcan’s long legs. As she lacked panties the science officer found her hairless pussy and round bottom also exposed. Her back slid on the ground, causing her shirt to ride upwards and reveal her taut midriff. The impressive bulge of her bust prevented the garment from exposing T’Pol’s breasts, at least at first.

 

But as the science officer was dragged out of the room and down corridors the tension on her shirt grew. As she was pulled around a corner her right tit popped free of her shirt, and then a few seconds later the left boob followed. T’Pol’s big brown nipples bobbed and shimmying in full view of her captors.

 

“The Vulcan’s got a damn nice set,” she heard a man comment. “I bet they’re fake.”

 

“Look at how they shake,” said a voice from T’Pol’s ankles, originating from the man dragging her. To demonstrate he shifted her legs, making the Vulcan’s bare breasts swing left and right. “Real, absolutely.”

 

The science officer endured the humiliation in closed-eyed silence as she was dragged bare-breasted through the corridors of the station. Her exposed melons jiggled with her movements and, worse, the man dragging her seemed to be widening his grip and forcing her ankles apart, subtly parting her thighs and offering a better view of T’Pol’s tasty kitty.

 

She suspected that her companions were suffering similar humiliations. B’Elanna was being dragged by her arms, her legs sliding on the cold metal floor. The Klingon’s skirt had slid down to her ankles and now the bare bottom of Voyager’s chief engineer was sliding along the metal. Deanna Troi, meanwhile, was being carried over a Romulan’s shoulder, the man taking advantage of the opportunity to reach beneath the counselor’s shirt to fondle her soft melons.

 

The convoy of nearly-naked Starfleet officers and their captors halted. T’Pol heard that mysterious woman speak again. “Yes?” There was a faint sound in reply to her question: the female seemed to be speaking into a communicator. T’Pol felt her ankles released and her long legs dropped to the floor. She resisted the urge to pull her shirt back down over her breasts and to push her skirt back down to cover her nethers. Instead the Vulcan simply lay there, trying to keep her breathing slow and fearing that any change of the speed of her rising and falling breasts might give her away. “Of course,” the female voice answered, “We will be waiting for you Senator.”

 

They resumed their journey. T’Pol felt her ankles picked up again, but this time the man pulling her turned the Vulcan over so that she was being dragged along on her chest. T’Pol’s nipples immediately became erect from the contact with the cold metal, and soon her teats were squeaking on the floor as she was humiliatingly dragged along. The Vulcan fought with all her being to stop herself from crying out at the incredible sensation. It was as if they were polishing the floor with her tits!

 

T’Pol’s only warning when they reached their destination was that the man pulling her along released her ankles. She sighed to herself, relieved that the torment of her breasts being dragged along the cold metal floor had ended. Then she almost yelped as the man reached beneath her, took hold of the Vulcan’s generous tits and pulled her up onto her feet.

 

The Enterprise’s science officer remained limp and unresisting as she was strapped into a restraining harness, her arms lifted and her wrists shackled. She could hear more buckles and straps being locked into place to her left and her right, presumably as men secured Deanna and B’Elanna. “There are at least four people,” the Vulcan thought, “They would probably overwhelm me if I try to fight now. A better opportunity to escape may arise later.” Her unrestrained head hung forward, her short hair falling across her eyes. T’Pol risked opening her eyes a tiny fraction and looked down at her own bare breasts, proudly exposed beneath the pulled-up fabric of her shirt.

 

“Cover those bimbos,” the female ordered.

 

T’Pol heard faint disappointed mutterings as one of the men carefully pulled the Vulcan’s shirt back down, covering her melons. He seemed to spend entirely too much time adjusting her top, shifting T’Pol’s tits inside the too-tight shirt until they sat just right, his hands lingering on her soft globes.

 

Out of her nearly-shut eyes the Vulcan looked to her left. She could see B’Elanna Torres secured in a restraining harness, a man kneeling down before her as he returned her skirt to her hips, his fingertips wandering to the twenty-two year old’s silky inner thighs and tender pussy folds before he was finished. T’Pol was shocked to see the pointed ears and severe features of the armed and uniformed man tending to the Klingon. “A Vulcan?” thought T’Pol in disbelief.

 

Then she remembered Torfik, the man who had captured and hunted them on his jungle world. “Not Vulcans. Romulans.” T’Pol had only recently learned that Romulans were an offshoot species from her own, a fact that had been unknown to the Vulcans of the 22^nd century.

 

But the sight of the Romulan confirmed to T’Pol that fighting was a poor option. These men were armed with disruptors, trained for combat and each would have the strength of Vulcan biology. They would be more than a match for a single nude T’Pol. She knew she had to keep her consciousness a secret.

 

To her right Deanna Troi was also forced to stand in a restraining rig, her arms spread wide. The three Starfleet officers wore only their short tennis skirts and tight t-shirts taut over their tits. And beyond the counselor was the woman responsible for their captivity.

 

T’Pol had never before met the Romulan Sela. Out of the corner of her slightly-open eyes the Vulcan memorized every line of the woman’s strong face, the cut of her severe short blonde hair and the angles of her uniform wrapping around a slim athletic body. “Senator Caras,” said Sela in greeting, “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what we have on offer today.”

 

T’Pol heard a gravel-rough voice reply. “What is this supposed to be, Commander Sela?” The Vulcan heard his footfalls approaching to her left, where B’Elanna stood, bringing the man into her limited field of vision.

 

Senator Caras was a tall and lean figure with iron-gray hair, clad in a Romulan military uniform with only a set of studs on his shoulder to indicate his political rank. He seemed to consider the three unconscious women before him with a calculating eye. He stepped towards the unconscious Torres, looking up and down her athletic figure with interest.

 

“A bribe,” Sela answered honestly, “And one worthy of the head of the Tal Shiar. Take a closer look.”

 

From the edge of her eye T’Pol watched the Caras lifted the Klingon captive’s chin, looking over her face. “The terrorist B’Elanna Torres,” identified the Romulan. “Our intelligence reports on the Maquis said she has quite the engineering mind. Brilliant, in fact.”

 

“It’s not her mind I’m offering you,” Sela said dryly.

 

Cara looked directly at the blonde, then turned his eyes back to the brunette Klingon before him. With a smile he took hold of Torres’ shirt and pulled it upwards, allowing B’Elanna’s breasts to drop free. Soft and round and surprisingly generous, her tits were tipped with large brown nipples presently soft and flat. “Our intelligence reports didn’t say anything about these,” Caras smirked, taking hold of the Klingon’s udders and squeezing them in his fingers. Almost immediately her nipples began to harden, poking forwards between the Romulan’s fingers. He lifted and massaged B’Elanna’s boobs, then rubbed his thumbs across her quickly stiffening teats.

 

T’Pol watched in silent indignation as Torres’ skirt was pushed down over her slim hips, letting the garment fall down her long athletic legs. “Well groomed for a Klingon,” Caras noted, looking over the hairless smoothness of B’Elanna’s pussy before running his finger tips down across the Maquis’ bald snatch.

 

“There are more,” reminded Sela.

 

“Yes there are. And from her points, this one is a Vulcan.” T’Pol kept her head down and her eyes closed as Caras walked over to where she hung from her restraints. He touched her forehead and pushed up head up so he could look at her face.

 

“Oh,” the senator said in surprise. His fingers slid along the curve of the Vulcan’s jaw, touching her plump lips. “Now this is a surprise. The illustrious T’Pol, the First Modern Vulcan. This is very special.”

 

“Enjoy yourself,” Sela encouraged.

 

T’Pol’s face was allowed to drop. She opened her eyes just a fraction as was rewarded with the sight of Caras’ hands gripping the neck of her t-shirt and pulling it down. The already-taut fabric stretched as the Romulan eased one of the Vulcan’s generous breasts out of the enlargened neck-hole. He licked his lips at the sight of that magnificent tit, then got to work freeing the other. T’Pol could feel the elastic fabric of her shirt straining from the stretching but in the end both of her breasts were poking out of her top, thrust forward and upward by the tight fit.

 

“As I child I read about this Vulcan,” Caras marveled, unclipping the science officer’s skirt so that it fell around her ankles, leaving her bare-assed with her bald snatch exposed. “I saw videos of her. I had already known she was beautiful but in the flesh she is truly astonishing.”

 

T’Pol hung motionless, her eyes shut and breasts bared as she was openly ogled by the head of the Tal Shiar. She struggled to keep her breathing slow but humiliation at her nudity and fear of being discovered was threatening to make her heart race. Her tits rose with her slow breathing but she wasn’t sure she could keep it that way.

 

Then Caras took hold of T’Pol’s nipples and twisted them hard. The Vulcan cried out involuntarily, unable to contain herself.

 

Despair flooded through her. She had revealed herself. She had lifted her voice. She had shown a response and now they knew she was awake. T’Pol could have wept with shame as she realized that this one and only chance of escape was now gone forever, vanishing the instant she cried out loud.

 

But the guards did not draw their weapons. Caras did not pull back. Sela did not raise the alarm. Instead the slim blonde Romulan said “Yes, she’ll make all sorts of noises, even when drugged. Care to test her some more?”

 

T’Pol felt lifted by pure relief as she understood that her cry had not given her away. Then she let out a mewl of pleasure as Caras pulled the Vulcan’s breasts upwards by her teats, tightly holding her nipples between thumb and forefinger. “Yes, she is quite vocal for a Vulcan,” the head of the Tal Shiar murmured, pulling T’Pol’s breasts up and down and left and right, each movement squeezing an ecstatic squeak from the science officer. “She’s been conditioned for pleasure?”

 

“Very well conditioned,” Sela confirmed.

 

“So I see.” The Romulan released T’Pol’s tits, letting them drop and bounce back into their original lovely shapes, and moved on to the third captive. Her bare breasts rising and falling rapidly with her panting, the Vulcan watched from the corner of her eye as Caras lifted the Betazoid’s head so he could examine her face.

 

The senator smiled. “Without a doubt, this is the highly esteemed Starfleet officer Deanna Troi, ship’s counselor aboard the Federation flagship Enterprise.” He lowered her head and then took a moment to brush her hair back over her shoulders so that the Commander’s dark locks did not obscure the view of her t-shirt clad bosom.

 

“Your intelligence reports serve you very well, senator,” admired Sela, “You recognized each of my guests without assistance.”

 

“Actually I know Commander Troi from personal experience. I meet her at a conference on Nimbus.” Caras looked up and down the counselor’s lush full-figured body, her lovely curves only barely concealed in her tight shirt and short skirt. “A very beautiful woman, and very respected.”

 

He ripped Deanna’s shirt open at the front and Troi’s tits bounced into view. “Very elegant,” the Romulan continued, tearing the counselor’s top until it hung in pathetic shreds from her shoulders, her magnificent breasts completely in the open. “And very reserved, very demure.” Troi’s skirt was ripped away from her wide hips. “A true lady.”

 

The Romulan took hold of Deanna’s breasts and squeezed, lifting those lovely supple orbs. The counselor moaned as her super-sensitive tits were molested, her nipples pointing forwards. Caras pulled and squeezed at Troi’s vulnerable boobs, making the Betazoid cry out louder and longer, driving her to humiliating pleasure even in her unconscious state. Her body responded, lifting her on the tips of her toes and arching her back so that her bare breasts thrust forward into the Romulan’s hands.

 

“She’s quite impressive, isn’t she?” Sela smiled.

 

“Very.” The Senator released Deanna’s breasts, leaving the counselor panting and moaning softly as she hung from her restraints. “But perhaps this is the wrong approach,” he continued, walking back towards T’Pol.

 

The Vulcan kept her eyes shut as she felt the Romulan’s fingers slide along her breasts, pushing beneath her soft titflesh to grip the stretched top of her shirt. “It is a disrespect to treat a woman of T’Pol’s stature in this way,” he said, pulling the garment back up so that it covered the science officer’s melons. The Vulcan repressed the urge to sigh in relief. “We really should be treating the Mother of the Federation with the respect she deserves.”

 

Caras took two handfuls of the Vulcan’s shirt and tore it from her shoulders, leaving T’Pol standing completely naked before him. “And she deserves,” he smirked, “Absolutely none at all.”

 

The Vulcan flinched as she felt a hand slap hard across her left tit. Her head jerked as her right breast was smacked. Then she began to whimper and mewl as Caras slapped her boobs left and right across her chest, his palms making hard contact with her soft melons. The blows were uncomfortable but T’Pol’s Orion-conditioned body delighted in them. In seconds the science officer was wiggling her ass, shimmying her hips and arching her back, her full lips open in an ‘o’ of ecstasy as she was tit-slapped over and over again.

 

T’Pol was a magnificent sight as Caras bombarded the Vulcan’s breasts with smack after smack, her entire lean body gyrating and bucking with each stroke. Then the Romulan grabbed the science officer’s tits firmly, squeezing them like udders and pulling them forwards. Arching her back T’Pol thrust her boobs out, crying aloud, tears popping into her eyes and a terrible heat blazing in her snatch.

 

She orgasmed, her super-sensitive body yielding to the Romulan’s molesting hands. T’Pol’s trim thighs involuntarily spread as she cummed hard, her eyes shut tight and her head thrown back. At the peak of pleasure Caras slapped his hand against the Vulcan’s kitty, his fingers finding her trembling clitoris and cruelly pinching it. T’Pol’s climax was followed by a second, Enterprise’s science officer arching her back so hard that her trembling breasts pointed towards the ceiling, her wail of defeat echoing through the entire complex.

 

T’Pol slumped in her restraints, panting and moaning, perspiration shining on her delicious naked body. Her thighs trembled beneath her and her breasts heaved as she gasped for air, completely overwhelmed by the powerful and humiliating double-orgasm.

 

Smiling at the sight of the Vulcan so deeply and embarrassingly defeated, Sela stepped forward with confidence. “So Senator, which of our lovely guests will you be enjoying today? Have you made your choice?”

 

“I have,” the Romulan smiled. “All three.”

 

His answer took the blonde woman aback. “Well, they’ll all fit in the one bed,” she began.

 

But the next thing Caras said left the blonde woman speechless. “I’ll be taking them back to my ship. Permanently.”

 

Sela gaped at the Senator, then blinked and shook her head to clear away her astonishment. “But if I am unable to crack Starheart’s encryption we made need them to find another way to…”

 

“If you cannot break Starheart’s encryption then I will find someone who can.” Turning to face the blonde young women Caras spoke in a hard and commanding voice. “You have an interesting plan and a usable vector to deliver our agents into Federation territory, but nothing more. Nothing that washes away your many failures, Sela.”

 

The Commander’s voice lifted with outrage. “I infiltrated and converted this facility without any assistance from the senate, the military or the intelligence service and you would take that away?”

 

“I speak for the Tal Shiar, Commander,” sneered Caras. “You’ll think twice before you raise your voice to me again.”

 

With her head bowed and her almost-closed eyes watching her own bare breasts, T’Pol listened to the sharp words being exchanged between the two Romulans. Sela seemed to hold herself back, knowing she had gone too far.

 

Caras continued. “My agents informed me that you have been plying the heads of my agency with sex. You took privileged information and used it to bribe and cajole! You lured vital intelligence personnel beyond the borders of the Empire, putting their lives and the information they carry in jeopardy. I came here to put an end to your pathetic manipulations and to put this operation in capable and competent hands. I am expected to return to Romulus with Starheart, its crew and the operatives you were given by my weaker-willed countrymen and by Gul Dukat. I cannot believe you brought a Cardassian into this operation.”

 

The head of the Tal Shiar looked back at T’Pol’s magnificent perspiration-slick figure, and then gazed over B’Elanna naked athletic form and Deanna’s voluptuous curves. “But you’ve delivered something very impressive to me, commander. I’m willing to leave you in charge of the operation, so Starheart and the operatives that have been delivered so far will remain with you, for now. You should be grateful.”

 

Sela swallowed her pride, nodding. “I am, Senator.” She stepped back, her head lowered in respectful obedience.

 

Senator Caras pulled a communicator from his uniform and spoke into it. “We are returning. Three additional to beam up.”

 

T’Pol felt her skin tingle as a Romulan transporter took hold of her naked body and beamed her out of the Dekiw-2 facility. Fear made the Vulcan’s bare breasts swell with a deep breath as she was snatched up by the Romulan cruiser in orbit, to a fate even worse than the one T’Pol, Deanna Troi and B’Elanna Torres had been faced with before.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

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