STAR TREK: BROKEN BODICE
A parody by Micky Budarrap
Disclaimer: Star Trek, its characters, locations and plots are not my creations and are used without permission. No profit has been or will be made by their use in this story.
“Broke Bodice” is not intended for consumption by minors. If you are below the adult age in your country, state or county then read no further and delete this file from your computer. By reading this disclaimer you agree to take full responsibility for continuing.
The author does not encourage or condone the enormously disrespectful and frequently criminal things that are done to women in this story. The activities performed in this fictional work should never be inflicted on people in the real world.
This is a work of fiction that features rampant exploitation
of women in parody of the depictions of species and societies in Star Trek.
Where the TV shows and films only suggest for cheap titillation value, “Broken
Bodice” takes it to its sleazy conclusions. The story focuses on the perils and
misadventures of Deanna Troi (Star Trek: The Next
Generation), T’Pol (Star Trek:
For a clearer idea of what these characters look like, check out www.memory-alpha.org and use the search feature to find the characters by name.
Feedback can be directed to Mickt80@hotmail.com.
EPISODE 26: BREAKING THE ICE QUEEN
T’Pol, the figure of legend who
had served aboard the NX class
Trapped by an elaborate Romulan plot she was now a prisoner aboard the warbird Obur, along with her gorgeous companions Deanna Troi and B’Elanna Torres. All three Starfleet officers had been stripped of every scrap of clothing, leaving every inch of the long-limbed and heavy-chested Vulcan, the voluptuous Betazoid counselor and Voyager’s athletic chief engineer exposed.
The three women were carried through the ship’s corridors in a way that was as uncomfortable as it was humiliating. T’Pol was upside-down with her knees hooked over a Romulan soldier’s shoulders so that she was carried on his back. This made the science officer’s ample tits dangle towards her face. Troi and Torres were carried in similar positions, each woman a delicious sight as they were moved through the ship.
Drugged and unconsciousness there was no need to bind the three brunette beauties. Their fingertips dangled towards the deck as they were carried along, their bare breasts jiggling and shimmying with each step their captors took.
The sight of the three Starfleet officers stripped and displayed was drawing a great deal of attention from the Romulan crew. Smiles and whistles of appreciation spread as the corridors were quickly lined with Romulans watching the sexy convoy, savoring the sight of Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol as they were carried nude and upside-down to their destination. Eyes lingered on the three officers’ breasts as they bounced and shook. Men smirked at the sight of their lovely bald pussies, a leftover of the Orion conditioning that had made the three officers perfect sex-slaves. Crewmen whispered among themselves as they recognized the lovely captives.
But there was one thing that they did not know, a secret weapon that the three beauties had managed to keep hidden despite their total helplessness and nudity. One of their captives was not unconscious. A deep Vulcan trance had protected her from the chemicals that had knocked out her companions.
T’Pol was completely awake during every second of her humiliating trip through the Romulan warbird’s innards. The shame of her ordeal ate at her poise and pride.
“That Vulcan,” she heard one of the crew say.
“That’s not possible!” another exclaimed.
“It’s T’Pol! The Vulcan bitch that helped create the Federation!”
“I thought she had big tits inside that catsuit but damn, look at those udders!” another crewman said admiringly.
By far it was the famous T’Pol that was drawing the most appreciation from the Romulan crew. “And legs to match,” another man observed with a laugh. “Skinny as a rake but she’s got it where it counts.”
“Jugs and ass,” another grinned. Every comment stabbed at T’Pol, humiliating her further, building the urge to cover her nakedness with her hands. She fought it as best as she could.
It was almost unbearable. Thinking her unconscious, her
captors had not bothered to bind her hands. She could easily wrap her arms
across her bare breasts or cover her bald pussy, but T’Pol
refused to give in to her instinctive need to hide her nakedness. She knew that
the fact that her Romulan captors thought she was asleep was her only weapon.
And so the
“Best breasts in Vulcan history,” another laughed. “If they showed those in history class I would have paid more attention.”
“And she shaves her snatch. Professional whore,” leered yet another Romulan.
T’Pol kept her eyes closed and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of her upside-down breasts bobbing and swaying as she was carried along.
She heard a door slide open as the three women were taken from the corridor and into another chamber, sealed from the noise and bustle of the rest of the ship. The sound of bootfalls on metal became a softer thud of carpeting. T’Pol sighed with relief at no longer being ogled by the crew. But the next stage of the Vulcan’s ordeal had begun.
“Set them down.” The voice belonged the Senator Caras. T’Pol had only glimpsed him: a tall and grey-haired man who was the head of the Tal Shiar, the infamous Romulan intelligence service. His power and authority had allowed him to pull T’Pol, Deanna and B’Elanna out of the trap on Dekiw-2, and bring them onto this ship under his control.
The three Starfleet officers had used their vessel Starheart and a business front in the Ferengi Consortium to earn latinum and free women from the Ferengi slave market and deliver them to safety in the Federation. The cunning half-Romulan Sela had planned to use their work as a front to deliver spies and false information to Starfleet. But Caras had decided to make a more personal use of the three beauties.
“Put the Vulcan on the bed,” the head of the Tal Shiar added. T’Pol let out a huff as she was deposited tits-down on a mattress. With her eyes shut she thought she heard Torres and Troi set down on the other side of the room. She could only assume this was a bedchamber, and the thought created a chill in her heart and a quiver in her nethers. The Vulcan listened as the guards departed and the door slid shut behind them, leaving the three women alone with the Romulan Senator.
“Caras does not know I am
conscious,” T’Pol thought. “When the opportunity
arises I will neutralize him with a nerve pinch. Then we can find a way to
escape.” But the
Instead she forced herself to lie stock-still as Caras fondled and massaged her bare bottom. “Very impressive,” the senator murmured, “Firm but soft in all the right ways.” He played with T’Pol’s ass, jiggling her buttocks and then sliding his hands down her long, long thighs. His hands slid upwards, his fingers finding the Vulcan’s slit.
“Uuuhhh uummm,” moaned T’Pol as her super-sensitive pussy was touched. She knew she could get away with moaning, having heard Sela tell Caras to expect the women to make noises even when unconscious. T’Pol knew what this meant: she and her companions had previously been whored out to other men, drugged during their sleeping hours and made to service the Romulans and Cardassians that Sela had sought to bring into her plot. The Vulcan couldn’t guess how many men had fucked her while she slept, and didn’t particularly want to know.
But at the moment she only wanted Caras to stop playing with her snatch. “Mmmmm uuhhh oh!” T’Pol’s voice rose an octave as a finger slid into her tightness, wiggling inside her. Then the Romulan drew out, gripped the Vulcan’s hips and rolled her over.
The head of the Tal Shiar shook his head in admiration at the sight of T’Pol’s naked body. “Perfect,” he smiled, sliding his hands up her hips, over her taut stomach to her bare breasts. The Vulcan’s plump lips opened in an ‘o’ as her tits were gripped and lifted, the Romulan playing with her supple and generous melons.
“I should wait,” the senator said softly, “But udders like these are just too good to resist.” Caras shifted T’Pol’s boobs left and right and up and down, his thumbs working over her rough aureoles and teasing her nipples into erectness. Then his fingertips flicked over her stubs, making the Vulcan toss her head in conditioned pleasure.
“Not the right moment,” she told herself, knowing she didn’t have quite the reach to grab the Romulan’s shoulder and deliver a stunning nerve pinch. “Wait a little while longer, until he leans over me…”
But Caras didn’t. Instead he pushed the lovely science officer onto her side, curling her legs up before her so that she presented her rump. T’Pol waited in growing trepidation as she heard the Romulan disrobe. Then the mattress shifted under her as the man’s weight came onto the bed. He was lying behind her. The Vulcan felt him take hold of her leg and lift upwards, parting T’Pol’s thighs. Something hard and hot stabbed gently at her nether lips.
T’Pol let out a low, deep moan as the Romulan slid his cock into her pussy. He buried himself deeply in the science officer’s snatch, feeling the walls of her channel clench around his tool. He reached around her body to take hold of one of T’Pol’s tits and, giving it a squeeze, he began to pump in and out of her.
The
T’Pol found herself in the unfortunate position of being completely unable to reach the Romulan to nerve-pinch him. “Just have to hold out,” she told herself even as her back arched in pleasure, thrusting her ass back against the Romulan’s crotch and pushing her breasts forwards against his hand. T’Pol kept her eyes closed but couldn’t keep her pouting lips shut. “Ooohhhh,” she moaned.
The slow pace served Caras well. The minutes dragged on, the man easing his thrusts when he came too close to peaking. He had no intention of cutting T’Pol’s fucking session short. Despite his age his Romulan physiology gave him great stamina and strength. He held himself back, torturing T’Pol with pleasure that her Orion conditioned body could not withstand.
“Uhh aaaaahhhhhh!” The
“By Surak, when is he going to finish?” T’Pol wondered, her thoughts addled with ecstasy. A few deeper, harder thrusts gave her hope that Caras would finish but instead the senator drew his meat out of the Vulcan’s quivering snatch. Taking hold of her lovely hips he pulled T’Pol up, positioning her on her hands and knees.
Once again the Vulcan found no chance to nerve-pinch the Romulan. T’Pol remained limp and unresisting as Caras pulled her arms to behind her back and used this uncomfortable hold to haul the science officer upwards, her tits dangling. Positioned behind her, he found T’Pol’s pussy too enticing to resist.
“Tight and fresh,” he admired, feeling the Vulcan’s velvet passage squeeze his tool, “Despite Sela whoring you out to I don’t know how many men.” Caras resumed his pumping, banging his hips against T’Pol’s round ass, deeply probing her pussy.
“Oh, oh, oh,” yelped the short-haired brunette, pathetic little cries of pleasure forced out of her with every thrust. Her dangling tits bounced and swayed in time with her fucking and her hips began to involuntarily shift back against those of the Romulan violating her. T’Pol’s breasts described figures-of-eight, her full orbs jiggling and slapping against each other.
The sound of the Vulcan’s boobs smacking together reminded Caras of those lovely treats. He gripped both of her wrists in one hand, freeing his other hand to reach around beneath the science officer to grab and squeeze those generous tits.
It took only another minute of steady fucking for T’Pol to reach her next climax. “Uhh aaaaiiieeee!” she wailed, her head bowing as she watched her own bare breasts being squeezed. Once again the Romulan slowed, unwilling to spend himself, waiting until the science officer’s wail had died to a mewl of joy. Then he slowly increased the tempo of his thrusts, thoroughly reaming T’Pol.
“Oh no,” she thought, feeling an incredible heat swelling in her nethers. “Not another, not so soon…” All of T’Pol’s thoughts were blasted away by another orgasm tearing through her body. The Vulcan squealed, arching her back and tossing her head, her ass thrusting back hard onto Carras’ cock.
“Very responsive little Vulcan whore,” the Romulan smirked. He dragged his penis out of T’Pol’s still-quaking vagina. Holding the science officer’s wrists crossed behind her back he lowered her tits-first onto the mattress as she gasped for air. “But I’m not done with you yet.” Caras rolled the lovely brunette over onto her back, bringing her heaving breasts into view. The science officer was so stunned by her last orgasm that she could not rally herself to strike before the Romulan gripped her ankles and lifted them, hooking her legs over his shoulders.
As a result T’Pol found herself once more unable to deliver a nerve pinch: her own calves were covering Caras’ collar! She cursed herself for her lapse of discipline as now she would have to pull her legs free before she could stun the Romulan. That would mean a second’s delay that would warn him of her intentions, and she needed to be able to strike without warning. Now she couldn’t!
And so T’Pol lay unresisting as the head of the Tal Shiar slid his hands down her trim thighs and pulled her hips close to his. His penis found her pussy and nuzzled in between her tight nether lips, slowly sliding in deep, filling the Vulcan’s snatch. T’Pol’s plump lips parted as Caras resumed his pumping.
Bent nearly double at the waist T’Pol was vigorously fucked. Her tits jiggled as Caras pumped in and out of her, his eyes fixed on those two bouncing orbs. Pleasure made the Vulcan gyrate, twisting her hips and shifting her tits left and right, her head thrashing as pleasure grew inside her to unbearable levels.
“Ohh aaahahhhhhh aaaaaaiieee!” shrieked T’Pol, another climax robbing her of what little dignity she had left. Her back arching and her tits quivering on her chest, she was an irresistible sight. The Romulan grabbed those lush breasts and squeezed them tightly, continuing his pumping and turning the Vulcan’s orgasm into two. T’Pol screamed in pure ecstasy, bucking and thrashing beneath the senator’s thrusting hips.
Gripping her legs the Romulan rose up, continuing the pump into the Vulcan. T’Pol found herself dangling nearly upside down, her tits pulled towards her face by gravity and then leaping and bouncing as the session continued. Dazed and defeated, the Mother of the Federation could only moan and cry as her tenderness was thoroughly reamed, her pussy filled with Caras’ dick as he had his way with her.
The stunned Vulcan was dropped on her back on the bed, the full tanned mounds of her boobs heaving as she panted for air. Any chance she had of delivering a nerve-pinch were ruined as the Romulan disengaged his cock from T’Pol’s narrow pussy and crawled atop of her, straddling his ribs. His knees folded on top of the lean woman’s arms, effectively pinning them, while he positioned his dick between the Vulcan’s generous breasts.
T’Pol was still quivering from the last orgasm as the Romulan senator squeezed her tits together around his cock and began to pump. Her too-sensitive breasts tingled, stimulated both by the tool sliding between them and the fingers forcibly squeezing them together. A long moan of pleasure escaped her, the Vulcan’s legs spreading uselessly as she was helplessly tit-fucked.
Now Caras sped up his thrusts, pumping quicker and quicker between T’Pol’s breasts. The Vulcan groaned, no longer possessed of the same intense pleasure as before but still dazed and helpless, her arms pinned and her mouth open in moaning pleasure. Her boobs jiggled as the head of the Tal Shiar pushed his cock between them.
And then at long last the Romulan reached his peak. “Your mouth, T’Pol,” Caras grunted, staring at the Vulcan’s plump full lips even as he worked his dick between the Vulcan’s soft full breasts, “Is gorgeous. It’s time we used those cock-sucking lips the way they were meant to be used.”
He sat up, leaning forward and stuffing his erect cock into T’Pol’s open and waiting mouth, wedging her pouting lips wide open. He was inside her too quickly and deeply for her to do anything but make a “Mmmmpphhh!” sound as she tasted salty Romulan cock. It took all of her Vulcan discipline to keep her eyes shut during this humiliating finale. Thrusting his organ forwards, Caras blew his load directly into T’Pol’s mouth.
The
She felt the Romulan climb off the mattress and heard him walk around to the foot of the bed. T’Pol continued to feign unconsciousness as Caras took hold of her ankles, pulled her off the mattress with a bounce of her tits and then dragged her across the carpeted floor. “Dear Surak, what next?” the Vulcan wondered, her mind awash with a mixture of pleasure and shame and her bare breasts shimmying and jiggling as she was dragged. She didn’t yet dare open her eyes in case she revealed she was conscious.
She felt herself hoisted up by her ankles, dangling upside down. “Not the right moment,” T’Pol thought, knowing Caras’ shoulder was too far away from her to pinch. “Maybe in a few seconds…”
Then T’Pol felt shackles click into place around her ankles. The Romulan had secured her, upside-down, to some kind of frame or rack. As she heard Caras step away, the Vulcan felt a blast of despair: he was out of reach.
Humiliation and a horrible sense of defeat filled the naked
science officer. She had been given a chance to subdue the Romulan
and end this ordeal and she had missed it. She had blown her opportunity, and
instead suffered Caras blowing his load in her mouth.
T’Pol had once again been fucked into orgasm
following orgasm, her lean full-breasted figure fully enjoyed by her captor,
and she had allowed it, and still she
had failed.
“I should have been more disciplined!” she told herself silently, “I let him get the best of me!” A tremor of shame traveled up and down T’Pol’s lovely body, an involuntary wiggle of humiliation making her dangling breasts sway left and right. Everything she had endured at this Romulan’s hands, every humiliation and indignity that had been visited upon her gorgeous naked body, had been for nothing!
T’Pol risked opening her eyes a fraction. Caras finished donning his uniform and now lifted Deanna Troi’s luscious naked body by her ankles, his Romulan strength more than enough to hoist the five-foot-three Betazoid up and shackle her beside T’Pol. B’Elanna followed, the Klingon’s magnificent athletic body easily lifted up and her long legs secured so that Voyager’s chief engineer hung naked from her ankles beside her companions.
The head of the Tal Shiar stepped back and admired the view. Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol were a mouthwatering sight, each completely naked and each bound by the ankles to the simple looping frame. Their unclothed bodies were deliciously displayed as they dangled upside down, gravity pulling three sets of tits down towards their faces.
He walked up and down the line, running his hand across B’Elanna’s orbs, Deanna’s tits and finally T’Pol’s melons, savoring the unique shape and softness of each set of breasts. Then he walked along behind the line, fondling and caressing their T’Pol’s firm ass, then Troi’s round womanly bottom and lastly Torres’ athletic rump.
T’Pol waited, hanging nude and upside down from her ankle restraints. “He has not secured my arms,” she told herself, “I can still strike! He just needs to get close enough.”
Caras was doing something across the room. The Vulcan heard of a clink of metal and the Romulan returned to the three nude and upside-down Starfleet officers carrying a small hypospray. He ducked down before B’Elanna, and then shook his head.
“Don’t want this Klingon wildcat scratching me when she comes to,” the Romulan smiled. There was another set of shackles affixed at the bottom of the rack frame, this one for the captives’ dangling arms. He took a moment to secure Torres’ wrists in chains. Only then did he press the hypospray to the Klingon’s left tit, firing an injection into her bloodstream.
“Uhhhhh,” groaned Torres, her eyelids flickering. “What the hell? Where am… You bastard!”
Immediately Voyager’s chief engineer was bucking like a hellcat, writhing and shrieking in rage. With her ankles secured above and her wrists locked below, B’Elanna Torres did little but make her dangling breasts bounce as her athletic figure jerked left and right and forwards and backwards. “You Romulan pig!” she cursed. With her wrists shackled the Klingon could not even cover her nakedness, let alone attack her captor.
“Good, get it out of your system,” Caras said lightly, watching the twenty-two year old’s incredible body as she jerked and fought uselessly against her bonds. “I don’t want to have to deal with it later on.”
B’Elanna ceased her struggles but continued to glare murder at the Romulan, the brown teats tipping her breasts trembling with rage. “You’re the one who trapped us on Dekiw-2!” she spat.
“No, that was Commander Sela,” the Romulan answered. “My name is Caras. You should remember that name, Klingon, as I am now your owner.”
That spurred B’Elanna into another bout of sexy writhing and tit-bouncing. Her dark hair flew about her face as she thrashed her head. “I will not be some Romulan’s plaything!”
The fight went out of Torres very quickly as Caras reached out and placed his hand on B’Elanna’s bare pussy. He rubbed firmly against her nether lips, catching her clitoris between thumb and forefinger and pinching. Immediately Torres was shutting her eyes in intense pleasure, her naked body trembling as her Orion conditioning kicked in, ecstasy overwhelming her urge to fight and escape. “I think you’ll make a very good plaything,” smiled the head of the Tal Shiar.
“You bastard,” B’Elanna managed, but it was little more than a peep as her clit was pinched.
“I wonder if more Klingon women are as beautiful as you, Miss Torres,” complemented the Romulan, moving his free hand to the twenty-two year old’s breasts. His fingers gripped and twisted B’Elanna’s left nipple, stretching her supple boob slightly before he got a better grip on her globe and squeezed, the sensation making Voyager’s chief engineer widen her dark eyes in involuntary ecstasy. “A figure like yours shouldn’t be hidden behind armor or a uniform. In fact, I think I’ll make it my business to ensure you never wear a single piece of clothing ever again. Except perhaps a leash.”
Whatever Torres said in reply it came out as a pathetic little squeal of pleasure as she unwillingly cummed. Her back arched, pussy thrusting against Caras’ fingers and her one free tit quivering and jiggling, even as the Romulan firmly squeezed her other boob with his other hand. B’Elanna shuddered and slumped, humiliated by her quick defeat.
Caras hefted the hypospray in his hands. “A little Klingon adrenaline to counter the drug that kept you unconscious,” he explained, “But different species require different mixes. Now to get one for your big-breasted Betazoid friend.” The Romulan headed across the room for the next dose and returned, smiling at the sight of Deanna Troi dangling naked before him.
Once again he didn’t inject her immediately but first shackled her wrists to the bottom of the frame. With the counselor thus restrained Caras applied the hypo to Troi’s left boob. Almost immediately the pale-skinned brunette was groaning, her eyes fluttering as consciousness returned. “T’Pol?” she said automatically, “Did we find…”
Her question was cut short by a gasp of shock. Deanna Troi realized in a rush that she was naked, shackled and hanging upside-down in the presence of a Romulan. Her black Betazoid eyes widened as she recognized her captor. “Senator Caras!”
“Counselor Troi,” greeted the Romulan. “I would shake your hand but they’re both occupied, so I’ll just go with the next best thing.” The head of the Tal Shiar reached out, gripped Deanna’s right breast and shifted it up and down in a humiliating parody of a handshake, smirking as the busty counselor bit her lip in embarrassed shame.
The daughter of the Betazoid ambassador tried to gather up what little pride and dignity she had left. “I hope you understand that you are in explicit violation of the agreement between the Federation and the Romulan Empire on the treatment of prisoners,” the Commander stated, her voice cracking slightly as Caras continued to shake her right boob, smirking at her.
“Of course, I was there with you when the agreements were signed. Silly little girl,” the Romulan chided, slapping Deanna across her bare breasts, making her melons jiggle and the brunette flinch. “Your Klingon friend at least fully understood the situation,” he added, reaching out to grope B’Elanna’s bare breasts with one hand even as he massaged Deanna’s with the other.
“You animal!” Torres cursed, her athletic body jerking in attempt to get her tits free of the Romulan’s fingers. She failed.
“You barbarian!” Deanna contributed, also bucking her voluptuous figure and finding herself unable to dislodge Caras’ hand from her boobs.
The Romulan smiled and shook his head. “You were much more diplomatic during our first meeting.” Both his hands moved to Troi’s udders, squeezing and lifting her dangling treats. “You put up a spirited argument for the Romulan Empire to close off Ferengi slave trade routes, one that the Empire heeded thanks to your eloquence. Remember?”
“You apparently don’t,” said Deanna bitterly as her melons were fondled.
“I remember very well.” Caras gripped Troi’s tits firmly and pulled, stretching her boobs away from her body and making the young woman wiggle in protest, biting her plump lips as she struggled to keep her discomfort silent. “I remember watching a big-titted Betazoid bimbo wearing a tight purple jumpsuit, and thinking how nice it would be to see what was under that stupid outfit.” With his fingers beneath her dangling treats, the Romulan senator made Deanna Troi’s bare breasts bounce. “And it is nice. It’s very nice.”
“You monster!” shrieked Troi,
shaking and bucking uselessly against her chains.
With a smile Caras straightened up and headed back across the room to pick up the last of the three hyposprays, this one containing Vulcan adrenaline. “You truly are a wonderful trio. Sela nearly made up for her past incompetence by delivering you all to me.”
“Sela?” demanded Deanna, “Sela is behind this?”
“In her own petty and over-reaching way, yes.” Caras returned with the final hypo, casting his eyes admiringly across the enraged Deanna and B’Elanna, savoring the sight of their tits trembling with their helpless anger. “And now for the real prize. As lovely as you two ladies are, you really don’t compare to your companion.”
As he had for Torres and Troi, Caras ducked down to secure T’Pol’s wrists to the restraints at the bottom of the frame that the three beauties were secured to. But instead of limp hands moving easily into their shackles, the Vulcan’s fingers flashed forwards and grabbed the Romulan’s shoulder.
The head of the Tal Shiar stared, his mouth opening limply. T’Pol’s boobs trembled as she kept up the pressure, one hand hard on the neural cluster on the Romulan’s shoulder. Then Caras keeled over onto his side, rendered unconscious by the Vulcan’s nerve pinch.
“Finally!” B’Elanna said explosively, her tits rising and falling with a huge sigh of relief. “Damn it T’Pol, but did you decide to take a nap in the middle of everything? What were you waiting for?”
“The opportunity did not arise earlier,” the Vulcan admitted delicately, deciding not to relate the story of how the senator had fucked her into multiple orgasms before blowing his load in her mouth.
“Fine, whatever,” Deanna said. She arched her back, pointing with her breasts towards the unconscious Romulan. “Grab his keys.”
T’Pol stretched her arms towards Caras’ body. Then she went slack, dangling from her shackled ankles. “I can’t reach.”
The three Starfleet officers were silent for a few seconds. And then B’Elanna spoke. “So let me get this straight,” the Klingon said in an unnaturally calm voice. “We are buck naked and chained up. Chained up upside-down,” she added. “That Romulan is going to wake up in not-very-long and you can’t fucking reach the keys?”
“You forgot to add that we are onboard a Romulan military vessel,” T’Pol amended.
“Okay, we’re naked-chained-upside-down-and-on-a-Romulan-fucking-warbird and you can’t reach!” exclaimed Torres, her athletic figure twisting sexily for emphasis, her boobs swaying left and right.
“He fell in the wrong direction!” objected the Vulcan.
“There’s no point in fighting!” exclaimed Deanna, the ambassador’s daughter playing peacekeeper as she dangled naked between her Vulcan and Klingon companions. “It won’t do us any good.” The Betazoid cast her dark eyes around the room. “Okay. T’Pol, see if you can do something with the shackles on your ankles.”
T’Pol flexed at the waist, performing a vertical sit-up as she reached for her ankle restraints. After a few seconds work she swung back down, shaking her head, as well as shaking her breasts. “Also unlocked by a key.”
“Remind me to kill the man that invented shackles,” B’Elanna said darkly.
“But the frame itself does not appear very sturdy,” continued the Vulcan. “This structure seems to be more of a coat-rack than a device for securing prisoners. We may be able to dislodge it.” With that T’Pol began to wriggle, swinging her hips left and right, imparting her momentum to the frame. Feeling the rack to which they were bound trembling, Deanna and B’Elanna rolled their dark eyes in embarrassment but also began to buck and wiggle.
Nude and bound upside-down, the three Starfleet officers shook their hips and bucked against their restraints. Their bodies moved in time, asses wiggling and breasts swaying in unison as they tried to break the frame. T’Pol’s heavy melons shook while Deanna’s milky globes bounced while B’Elanna’s soft orbs jiggled, three pairs of big brown nipples dancing on their chests as they wiggled as one.
Their saucy show was rewarded by the sound of something in the frame going crack! “Keep going!” encouraged Deanna, the three brunettes redoubling their efforts. In a mouthwatering display of shaking asses, hips and breasts Troi, Torres and T’Pol writhed and bucked, flexing their bound sexy bodies as much as possible.
Then one of the supports broke free, a bolt popping loose. The other side bent with a squeal and the entire frame fell on its side. The three brunette beauties fell on top of one another in a wiggling naked tangle. From beneath that delicious pile T’Pol emerged, crawling on her bare tits over to where Caras lay and dragging the broken frame along with her. The Romulan’s keys, fallen from his slack fingers, were quickly retrieved and the Vulcan sat up and undid her ankle restraints. She sighed with relief as her legs came free.
Quickly she undid Torres and Troi’s restraints and soon all three Starfleet officers were on their feet. “Now we need a plan to get off this ship,” the Betazoid counselor said, flicking her dark hair back over one pale shoulder.
“The Romulan prick doesn’t have any weapons in here,” B’Elanna noted, bending over to rub her sore ankles, unwittingly providing T’Pol a magnificent view of her taut athletic ass while Deanna enjoyed the mouthwatering sight of her dangling udders. “So I don’t think we can shoot our way out.”
T’Pol moved through the room quickly, searching for anything they might use. “No drawers or closets for clothing either,” the Vulcan said. “The Senator must have used this chamber purely for entertaining guests.”
“With us as the guests,” Deanna complained.
“And the entertainment,” added B’Elanna. “Okay, how do we get out? We’re surrounded by Romulans, have no weapons and no clothing.”
“Except his.” T’Pol pointed at the unconscious Caras.
“Have you got a plan?” Troi asked hopefully.
The Vulcan looked her nude companions up and down. “Yes,” she admitted, “But you will not like it.”
+++++
T’Pol was correct. Deanna and B’Elanna did not like it one bit.
Apart from some expected tightness across the chest, Caras’ uniform fitted the Vulcan surprisingly well. She had removed some of his insignia badges, awarding herself with merely the Romulan equivalent of Lieutenant. While the uniform did nothing to hide her face and T’Pol’s haughtily beautiful features were highly recognizable, she was able to march past crewmen without challenge.
That was because no one was looking at T’Pol’s face. Every crewman they encountered was instead watching the two prisoners marching behind the Vulcan.
Deanna Troi and B’Elanna Torres walked naked through the corridors of the Romulan warbird. The shackles from the rack had been secured around their wrists, binding their hands behind their back and forcing the Betazoid and the Klingon to walk with their breasts thrust forward. Troi and Torres were both leashed at the neck, with the Betazoid’s chain leading to the Klingon’s shackles, whose own leash was firmly held by T’Pol as she led the two nude beauties through back towards the transporter room, retracing the path they had taken during their previous humiliating trip.
This journey was proving even more embarrassing than the first. “Twice in one day,” one of the Romulan crew marveled, “The senator is a generous man.”
“Never seen a Klingon with tits like that,” a man admired, the comment making B’Elanna flush with shame and anger as her dark nipples jiggled on her breasts with her embarrassed steps.
“But those melons are genuine Betazoid boobs,” another added, gazing at Deanna’s lush soft tits as they bounced. “Just the way they’re supposed to be.”
“Where’s the Vulcan bitch?” the soldier beside him asked, looking from one nude heroine to the other. “She had the best tits by far. The Senator must still be using her.”
“Can’t blame him,” another laughed. “If I had that Tit Pole in my bed I wouldn’t leave it for a week.”
“Can’t we go any faster?” B’Elanna thought, her plaintive request transmitted mentally via Troi’s empathic gifts.
“If we run we could cause suspicion,” replied T’Pol, “And it would be uncomfortable without bras.”
So the three heroines continued their humiliating march through the ship, Deanna and B’Elanna flushing with embarrassment as their naked bodies were ogled by every crewman they passed. Eyes were captured by their jiggling breasts and lingered on their wiggling bottoms. Their lovely bald pussies drew hungry gazes.
The spectacle of the Betazoid and the Klingon marching nude
through the Warbird distracted every one of their
captors. Only an hour beforehand T’Pol had been
carried naked on a Romulan’s shoulders along the exact same route, yet no one
recognized her this time. They had far more interesting things to look at,
namely the nude figures of Voyager’s chief
engineer and the
The science officer’s excellent memory served her well as she unerringly retraced their steps, heading back to the transporter room in which they arrived. “You could have at least chained our wrists in front,” thought Deanna pointedly, “So we could cover our boobs!”
“We’ll try that next time,” T’Pol answered.
“There isn’t going to be a next time!” was B’Elanna’s indignant mental response, the Klingon’s cheeks pink with embarrassment.
Their route to the transporter room took them into the ship’s
engineering sections and they began encountering more and more crewmen in
narrower corridors. Many of the men took advantage of the close proximity to
steal a grope of the two women’s succulent figures. Deanna flinched as her ass
was slapped. B’Elanna jerked away as a man fondled her tits, marveling at their
surprising softness. The two brunette’s pathetic attempts to fend off the
crewmen’s attention by twisting their naked bodies away just resulted in laughs
and more slaps and gropes. Soon the
T’Pol shook the leash in her hand. “We’re here,” she thought, leading her two naked ‘captives’ into the transporter room. The door closed behind them, sealing them off from the leers and slapping, poking and fondling hands of the crew.
The transporter room was manned by a pair of Romulans, both equally astonished and pleased at the sight of B’Elanna Torres and Deanna Troi delivered bound and naked to their work station. T’Pol tossed one of the men the Klingon’s chain-leash. “Bind them back to back,” she ordered.
The two men didn’t need further encouragement. They moved over to the two naked brunettes, their palms immediately gripping Torres and Troi’s soft breasts as they ‘pushed’ the two brunettes about, making the Klingon and the Betazoid stand with their bottoms pressing together. Both heroines bit their lips in involuntary pleasure as the men’s fingers lingered on their udders, squeezing and massaging their supple titflesh.
With their backs turned the two Romulans did not see T’Pol stepping up behind them. The Vulcan’s hands came down on their shoulders and the two guards slumped to the deck, knocked unconscious from her nerve pinches.
T’Pol quickly unlocked B’Elanna’s shackles. Once free the Klingon scooped up a disruptor pistol from the holster of one of the two stunned guards and then headed for the control console. “Okay,” the nude Maquis said, leaning over the screens, “This Warbird hasn’t gone to warp yet.”
“Are we within transporter range of the base on the surface?” T’Pol queried, her hands lifting to shift and adjust how her boobs rested in her too-tight top, nothing that the buttons were under too much stress from keeping her full chest confined. “Based on what I overheard I believe Starheart is down there.”
Deanna positioned herself to offer her chained wrists to the Vulcan, the Betazoid’s tits thrust out as she impatiently waited to be freed. “Then we have to go back and take our ship back!”
“We can’t beam into the facility,” Torres said. “The distance is too great. But I think I can get us pretty close to the entrance.”
“When I first arrived at the base I saw some atmospheric vents,” Troi said, finally free of her chains. The Betazoid knelt by one of the stunned Romulans, her round rump touching her heels as she first stole his disruptor and then began to strip off his uniform. “We could use those vents to get in.”
All three women froze as they heard an alarm sound, a blaring note that was undoubtedly being relayed through the entire ship. “That probably means they’ve found their boss unconscious and half-naked upstairs,” B’Elanna said.
“No time to dress,” T’Pol said, touching Deanna’s naked shoulder as she headed for the transporter pad, “We have to escape now!”
“Easy for you to say!” the buck-naked Troi exclaimed, looking at the Vulcan’s uniform-clad ass enviously.
“Hang on, I have an idea.” B’Elanna adjusted the settings on her stolen disruptor and then tossed it onto the transporter pad. She punched a few buttons and the weapon was beamed away. “Disruptor on overload, straight for the ship’s main reactor,” the Klingon explained, “Just in case they decide to come after us. Now we have to get out of here.”
Deanna and T’Pol stepped up onto the transporter padd. Once she had programmed their destination into the control console B’Elanna joined them at a tit-bouncing run.
The uniform-clad Vulcan straightened, flanked by her nude companions. “B’Elanna, Deanna,” T’Pol said, drawing in a breath that threatened the buttons that held her uniform shut across her tits, “It’s good to be together again.”
“It’ll be better when I don’t have my tits out,” Torres countered, but there was a sly smirk on her face.
“Seconded,” added Deanna, a disruptor in one hand and her ample bosom cradled in the other.
Then the transporter pad powered up and the three heroines were beamed off the Obur and back to the frozen surface of Dekiw-2.
Only seconds after the three heroines disappeared from the transporter, the disruptor that Torres had beamed to engineering completed its overload sequence. The weapon’s power cell ruptured, scorching energy spilling out and tearing through the vital systems that maintained the warbird’s mighty reactor. A catastrophic sequence of failures and detonations tore through the Romulan cruiser, consuming the enormous warship in a blinding fireball.
+++++
Deanna wrapped her arms around her slim waist, her boobs pressed upwards into an eye-opening cleavage as she hugged herself. “It’s cold,” the Betazoid complained, her brown teats already stiffening to painfully hard points.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” replied B’Elanna, the Klingon shivering and pressing her arms across her breasts and belly.
Troi, Torres and T’Pol stood in a field of snow, each women shivering in the cold. While the Vulcan was wearing her stolen Romulan uniform it was only a single layer and gave T’Pol only slightly more protection than her unclothed friends. Sunlight weakly broke through the clouds, illuminating the three heroines as falling snow flicked around them in the freezing wind.
T’Pol looked around, feeling the cold biting through her taut-chested uniform. “Which way, Deanna?”
The
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol began to run through the snow towards the old base. Eager to escape the freezing temperatures they kept us as fast a pace as they could manage, their feet slipping and sinking in the snow. The Klingon and the Betazoid moved with particular haste, their bare breasts bouncing, their asses wiggling and streams of steam escaping their lips with each hot exhalation. Both brunettes were reduced to cradling their boobs with their hands, trying to stop their melons from jumping as they ran, feeling their cold hard teats stabbing against their palms.
“We can’t use the main entrance,” chattered Troi, snowflakes sparkling in her long dark hair. “Sela will probably detect intruders. We have to use the vents up top.”
In the poor light the three heroines could just make out the vents ports. They were built into the rocky cliff side several stories above the main hanger-sized entrance. The brunette trio reached the foot of the cliff and began to climb, shivering in the freezing air and flinching whenever the sensitive skin of their bare breasts touched the cold rocks.
“A few seconds more and we could have stolen some jackets at least,” Deanna complained, gooseflesh rising all over her lovely pale skin as she climbed.
“A few more seconds the Romulans would have raised their shields and we wouldn’t have beamed out,” answered Torres, gritting her teeth grimly against the cold as her bare feet sought purchase on the rock.
“Trust me, it doesn’t help much,” T’Pol chattered. Accustomed to the hot arid conditions of Vulcan, the short-haired brunette was suffering in the cold greatly even through her uniform.
They reached a steep path of sorts that wound up across the rock face. Their long legs pumping and their tits jiggling they hauled themselves up trail. Then an overhang of rock blocked their advance. T’Pol leaned back as she looked up across their would-be path. The posture stretched the taut top of her uniform to breaking strain. Buttons popped away and the Vulcan’s outfit split open, her breasts spilling deliciously into view. Almost immediately her brown nipples stiffened to hard points in the cold air.
“That’s a little more fair,” Deanna noted as T’Pol vainly pulled her top shut in a futile attempt to cover her tanned udders.
Giving up on her ruined top, the Vulcan tried to ignore her quickly chilling chest-treats and focus on the problem. “It will take too long to climb around.,” she said, her angular eyes moving from the rocks above to B’Elanna. “Give me a boost.”
The shivering Klingon cupped her fingers and allowed T’Pol to stirrup her foot in her hands and climb up her shoulder. Deanna wrapped her arms around B’Elanna’s naked body, steadying the Klingon as she lifted the Vulcan up. At full stretch the brunette science officer was just able to catch hold of the top of the overhang. Wiggling her hips sexily the Vulcan pulled herself up, climbing up the last few meters and finally standing atop the overhang.
The sensation of moist air on the back of her head made T’Pol turn. She was now standing before the vents and at this close distance the Vulcan could see that the rocks around them were free of ice and damp with moisture. “Hot air,” she said, feeling it wash over her face and exposed jugs, “And it smells fresh. It must come from the base’s habitable sections.”
“Great, but how do we get up there?” complained B’Elanna below, shivering with her arms wrapped around her soft melons, making them rise on her chest. “Even if I give Deanna a boost it will leave one of us stuck down here.”
T’Pol looked around for a second. Then she slipped her jacket off her shoulders, her tits quivering as she shook her arms to slide the sleeves off. Her teeth chattering the science officer then stripped off her trousers and kicked off her boots, leaving herself completely nude. But now she had the means to make a rope.
One jacket arm was knotted to one trouser leg, giving her a few feet of fabric that she dangled over the edge of the overhang for her companions to grab onto. Quickly the Vulcan pulled Troi and them Torres up to meet her, the three nude Starfleet officers huddled together on the outcropping of rock.
“This is it.” Deanna climbed up to the mouth of the vents and sighed, her dark hair streaming around her face as the warm air hit her. “It’s warm,” she breathed, spreading her arms and letting the wind from the vent blow over her nakedess. T’Pol and B’Elanna joined her, the three brunette beauties savoring the safety of heat.
T’Pol peered into the darkness of the vents with caution. “Now we go in.”
+++++
The three nude Starfleet officers crawled through the narrow vents, bare breasts pressing against the metal and round asses brushing the low ceiling as they wiggled sexily towards their destination. The vents snaked through the entire base, feeding air to every corridor and chamber. T’Pol led the way, guided by her excellent Vulcan memory of the layout of the base and by the small amount of light that came into the tunnel through the vent openings.
“Assemble!” They all heard the voice echo through the ventilation shaft, coming from somewhere ahead of them.
“Sela!” hissed Troi, her voluptuous figure wiggling as she followed the Vulcan. “That’s Sela’s voice!”
“You know this Rommie bitch?” B’Elanna cast a curious eye at Deanna’s round rump as they crawled along.
“She’s a half-blood Romulan-human,” the counselor explained,
“The daughter of a captured Starfleet officer named Natasha Yar.
Sela provided material support for the Duras sisters and fueled the Klingon civil war. She also
kidnapped Ambassador Spock and tried to invade and occupy Vulcan with a
guerrilla force. I also suspect, but can’t prove, that she kidnapped and
brainwashed the
“Naughty little girl,” Torres commented as she wiggled along, her bum touching the vent ceiling and her tits sliding on the floor, stinging her erect nipples.
“She also bought us as slaves and whored us out to Romulan and Cardassian officials,” T’Pol added, dragging her melons over her forearms as she crawled, compressing her chest treats. “And wants to use Starheart to deliver spies to the Federation.”
“I was getting to that,” Deanna said, her curvaceous body wriggling deliciously along. “What’s that light?”
The three heroines gathered at a larger vent opening, their naked figures lined up, three pairs of breasts pressing against the metal in a neat and lovely row. From this vantage point they had a good view into the large hanger beyond the vent.
In the center of the hanger was Starheart. The experimental Starfleet ship was a small craft with a simple half-saucer body with nacelles sweeping back from its edges. It rested on its landing gears with banks of computer equipment gathered around it. Lengths of cables fed from the computers to breaches in Starheart’s hull. “They’re still trying to crack Melika’s encryption,” B’Elanna whispered. “From the coolant and the networking set up, they’ve putting a huge amount of processing power into this. Thank god she’s held out so long.”
“What are those, lined up along the wall?” Deanna asked. “They look like stasis pods.”
“There are eighty-seven of them,” T’Pol counted with rapid Vulcan precision.
Just then the entrances to the hanger opened and in marched dozens of women. They were not Romulans or Cardassians but common Federation species. Spotted Trill walked alongside bald Deltans beside wrinkle-nosed Bajorans next to blue-skinned Andorians, alongside other women that looked entirely human. They were uniformly young women, none of them appearing older than thirty and some as young as their late teens, and were uniformly attractive. Each sported a fit figure clad in a figure-hugging military uniform and moved with a purposeful march that indicated some kind of formal training.
They assembled in the hanger and separated into two groups, one clad in angular Romulan outfits and the other in the curving lines of black Union military uniforms, yet not one of them bore the viper-neck of Cardassians or the severe features of Romulans. The two parties watched each other with faint suspicion, not mingling or speaking.
“Eighty-seven?” guessed B’Elanna. T’Pol nodded.
“I can’t see any Romulans or Cardassians,” Deanna said, the beautiful face showing her confusion. “What are Federation women doing wearing those uniforms?”
Then the assembled females below straightened to attention, legs together from ankles to thighs and their chests thrusting forward. From their high vantage point Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol watched as the blonde Sela walked into the chamber, looking over her ‘troops’.
“In this room I can see Trill from the Diamo colony,” the Romulan began, “Liberated by the empire in the Tomed incident. I see Bajorans from the Cardassian-controlled colony of Prophet’s Light. I see Deltans, Andorians and Humans from colonized planets that have long been part of the Romulan Star Empire. I see women who may not carry Romulan or Cardassian blood but were born and raised on the worlds of the Empire and the Cardassian Union.”
The blonde looked over the assembled females. “You all come from very different places, but all serve one cause. You have seen the strength that comes from supporting a single power, be it the Romulan Empire or the Cardassian Union. You understand the folly of the Federation and the threat it represents to our peoples. You have chosen to ignore Starfleet’s propaganda that tells you that your people are occupied, that you are slaves, that you are used, and instead have become soldiers.”
A few of the young women glanced at each other. Sela lifted her voice. “You do not believe you are soldiers? I know most of you have never been trained to use weapons or to fight. You are spies and infiltrators, carefully briefed and prepared for the mission ahead. But this is a war and you are weapons.”
Sela walked between the rows of female spies, looking the attractive young women up and down as if on inspection. “You have been briefed. You know your missions. Stick to your stories. The information you seed in the Federation will divide them from their allies, fool their engineers about our technology, make their vaunted starships fall from the sky and capture hundreds of their officers and crew for vital intelligence. Each and every one of you is worth a hundred regular troops because of the damage you will inflict on our shared enemy.”
The Romulan’s words made the young female spies stand a little straighter, breasts pushed forward a little prouder. “She talks a good show,” B’Elanna admitted, “But these poor saps are just pawns to the Romulans and Cardassians.”
“Pawns that have been trained from birth to hate the Federation and all it stands for,” whispered Deanna in return. “In a way they’re even more dangerous than Romulans and Cardassians. These women have had every non-approved thought conditioned out of them.”
By then the blonde Romulan had returned to the front of the chamber. “It is not an easy road ahead,” she warned. “The Federation expects to receive rescued slaves, so we have organized buyers for each and every one of you. Obey them as you would obey me, because they will deliver you to our enemy. Be strong, be patient and have faith in your mission. The sacrifice each of you make to our cause today will be remembered and honored by our governments and peoples.”
Sela looked across the faces of the eighty-seven young women in the chamber, seeing the pride and strength and blind obedience to Cardassian and Romulan doctrine that had been carefully conditioned into them since birth. “Strip!” she ordered.
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol watched in open-mouthed amazement as the eighty-seven female spies below began to peel off their clothing. Uniforms were dropped to the floor. Boots were kicked off and trousers were peeled down long legs. Jackets opened to reveal soft full breasts. Women shook out their hair, hips shimmying and boobs swaying. Deltan beauties revealed their lovely and completely hairless bodies. Trill stepped out of their uniforms, showing spots that trailed down their chests, along the outsides of their breasts and then down their hips and thighs. Milk pale Andorian teats were exposed as blonde blue-skinned bombshells removed their bras. Women who appeared entirely human slid their pants down their legs, exposing rounded bottoms and long slim thighs.
“Gosh,” Deanna breathed, “They really picked out stunners for this mission.” Beside her T’Pol and B’Elanna nodded in mute agreement. The gorgeous young women in the hanger below had obviously been selected for their looks, young women who would be convincing sex slaves.
The three Starfleet officers watched in astonishment as the eighty-seven young women stood at attention again, now completely naked. Dozens of pairs of breasts were perfectly lined up in front, and just as many lovely asses behind. They were clearly uncomfortable at their nudity, many of them blushing and more than a few sets of tits rising and falling quickly with trepidation.
“Notice something?” Torres said, her dark eyes on the women below. “Not much hair down there, if you see what I mean.”
Deanna and T’Pol quickly realized
what the Klingon was talking about. The naked women
in the hanger below each possessed a hairless figure. Every single snatch was
smooth and bald, perfectly groomed. The Klingon, the Betazoid and the Vulcan themselves possessed hairless
pussies, courtesy of their Orion conditioning. But what Sela
said next confirmed their growing suspicions.
The blonde Romulan walked across the front row, reaching out with one hand to trace her fingers across the bare breasts of a Trill, then to cup to lift the melons of a Bajoran, and then to give a playful slap to the tits of a blue-skinned Andorian beauty. As the Romulan went down the line every woman who suffered her hands trembled, some shutting their eyes, some parting their lips, some pressing their thighs together as pleasure rolled through their naked bodies.
“The conditioning you received is shameful,” Sela announced as she finished her pass of the front row,
leaving nearly a dozen girls panting in unwanted pleasure and their caressed
tits quivering, “I have heard your objections. I know many of you had
reservations about being transformed into sex slaves, your bodies made more
sensitive. But it was a necessary deception. Starfleet will have no choice but
to look at you and see former slaves. You, all
of you, are now perfected weapons.”
The Romulan halted in the front of the group, looking over the obedient nude Federation women with a smile. “You will be treated as slaves,” the Romulan said, “But you will return home as heroes. To stasis,” the blonde ordered. “When you awaken the mission will have begun.”
On her command the spies headed briskly for their stasis pods, bottoms wiggling and breasts bouncing with their quick steps. With trained speed they configured the capsules and stepped inside, the canopies closing over their naked bodies, every inch of their bodies revealed through the transparent cover. The stasis pods hummed and activated, freezing their occupants in time with a snapping sound. Some of the more generously proportioned spies found their pods a little small, their supple boobs pressing against the see-through canopies, but didn’t have any chance to do anything about it before they were locked into stasis.
Deanna’s dark Betazoid eyes followed Sela as she patrolled around the stasis pods, ensuring that each unit was functioning correctly, its nude and obedient occupant safely frozen in time. “Once they crack Melika’s encryption they’ll just load them all up and fly off,” Troi said.
“If those women reach the Federation,” B’Elanna said, “Starfleet will debrief them, standard procedure for freed slaves. There’s no telling how much damage they could do with the fake information they have. If dozens of apparently unrelated slaves tell them that, say, the Andorians are working with the slavers, it could break the Federation in half!”
“And if those women then claim they wish to join Starfleet,” added T’Pol, “They will likely receive preferential treatment. Sela’s infiltrators would be posted on Starfleet ships in short order.”
“They must be stopped.” Deanna lifted herself on her forearms, her melons lifting from the metal of the vent as she peered into the hanger below. “Okay, it looks like Sela is leaving.”
As the blonde Romulan departed the chamber, her work completed, Deanna settled herself back down, the busty counselor’s tits flattening under her. “We have to get down there.”
B’Elannna eyed the ground, several meters below their vantage point in the vent. “It’s quite a drop.”
T’Pol lifted her knotted jacket
and trousers. “I have a rope.”
+++++
“Obedient little bimbos,” smiled Sela as she walked through the empty corridors of the underground station. “Of course we’ll honor your sacrifice. Now take off your clothes, there’s a good whore.” The blonde laughed wickedly in delight. “That almost made up for Caras taking those three Starfleet sluts away from me. Pity,” she sighed, “With tits like those I could have plied the ranks of any navy in the Quadrant.”
The Romulan reached the small control room that had once served as the station’s sensory and communications hub. “Gul Dukat will be disappointed,” Sela said to herself, “I know he wanted a second shot at the lovely counselor. Still that big-breasted Betazoid bimbo is getting what she deserves right now.”
A warning light flashing on a console drew the blonde’s attention. She frowned at the display, calling up a report with a few keypresses. Then she stared in shock at the message on the screen, one that she had missed while she had been in the hanger briefing her pawns for the mission ahead.
“Detection: Orbital detonation. Class: 8. Time: negative 28 minutes 40 seconds. Consistent with singularity reactor breach. Probable cause: Obur, D’Deridex class warbird. Zero lifeboats detected. Zero shuttlecraft detected. Zero fightercraft detected. Debris shower reached atmosphere negative 55 seconds. Communications loss for approx. 18 minutes.”
“What?” demanded Sela, her fingers stabbing at the controls. “That idiotic Senator couldn’t keep his ship from exploding underneath him?”
“Detection: Incoming transporter. Time: negative 29 minutes 1 second. Destination: southern snowfield approx. 200 meters. Probable origin: Obur, D’Deridex class warbird, suspected destroyed.”
“Survivors,” Sela surmised. “Computer, warm up the medical facilities. If I’m lucky Caras didn’t make it off his ship in time. Or maybe he can freeze to death before I let him in,” the blonde added spitefully, striding out of the chamber and heading back for the hanger.
+++++
Testing the knot that held the makeshift rope to the vent, B’Elanna Torres slid out of the opening and climbed down, her long gorgeous legs wrapping around the knotted fabric. The last two meters she had to fall, the Klingon’s tits bouncing as she touched down. She was the last out of the vent, with T’Pol and Troi already on the deck.
The three nude heroines moved quickly around the chamber, casting a few uncomfortable glances at the room’s eighty-seven occupants. The naked women in the cryostasis pods remained unmoving, their eyes staring sightlessly ahead of them as they stood in their capsules, their naked figures completely revealed through the transparent canopies.
“From the look of this the Romulans were able to disengage some of the lockdowns that Rak put up around Melika’s consciousness,” T’Pol reported, her breasts illuminated by the light of the console she was working on. “But they don’t want to unlock her. They want to control her. Her program is operating under complete obedience protocols.”
Deanna pulled a heavy switch on one of the computer banks. Immediately its lights shut down and the humming of its operation faded. “They won’t defeat her encryption without processing power,” the Betazoid explained, moving to the next computer bank. In her hand she held one of the disruptors they had stolen from the Romulan transporter crew before their escape, the other having been used to set off the Obur’s reactor breach.
“The hanger door is big enough to fly out of,” B’Elanna commented, her hands on her bare hips as she looked at the enormous metal entrance. “We wake up Melika, we get Starheart running and we bolt out of here and don’t look back.”
Just then the three heroines heard an entrance slide open. They did not see Sela stride into the hanger: Starheart’s frame rested between the internal door and where the trio were working. “Computer, unlock transport bay four and warm up the personnel carrier,” the Romulan ordered, initially oblivious to the three naked Starfleet officers sabotaging her computer systems. “Scan for biosigns and the survivors who beamed off the Obur.”
“Obur survivors located within main hanger.”
“That’s impossible…” Sela turned a corner around the dormant Starheart, bringing Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol into her field of vision. The blonde Romulan stared in shock at the sight of the three nude and lovely Starfleet officers, presently frozen in surprise as they gaped at Sela. And the Romulan had not though to arm herself for a rescue operation.
Then Deanna was urgently fiddling with her disruptor, trying to switch the unfamiliar weapon’s safety off. Sela thought fast. “Computer!” she barked, “Transport alien biosigns ten kilometers north of base!”
Troi lifted her disruptor too late. Before she could fire the counselor was surrounded by a green field of energy. When it cleared she was gone, beamed out of the base and into the freezing cold outside, her pistol falling to the deck with a clatter. B’Elanna Torres was also gone, the Klingon transported out of the warmth and safety of the base to the snow and ice of Dekiw-2’s surface.
But the third women stubbornly refused to be beamed away. The blonde Sela and the brunette T’Pol stared at each other. “We both have Vulcan biosigns,” the two women breathed simultaneously in surprise. Then both were sprinting for Deanna’s fallen pistol.
The Romulan’s long legs flashed beneath her and her fists pumped in the air. The Vulcan’s round ass wiggled and her ample titflesh bounced on her chest. Sela was closer, leaning forward as she ran to scoop up the disruptor, but T’Pol skidded and stretched her leg out, kicking the weapon out from beneath the Romulan’s hand. The blonde tripped over the brunette and then both were wrestling on the deck, their lean bodies writhing and struggling and their long legs kicking.
T’Pol grabbed a handful of Sela’s blonde hair and pulled hard. “You bitch!” the Romulan cried responding by slapping the Vulcan’s heavy tits hard, forcing a yelp of distress from the science officer. They wriggled over each other, the Romulan grabbing T’Pol’s ankles and dragging her along the deck. The science officer’s plump lips opened in a silent scream of distressed pleasure as her nipples squeaked across the metal floor. With a quick twist Sela pulled the Vulcan’s long legs into a submission pose, forcing her opponent’s boobs against the cold deck. The science officer bucked her bottom up, smacking Sela in the face with her ass and breaking out of the hold.
The blonde staggered back, now on her feet, and dashed for the disruptor again with T’Pol in tit-bouncing hot pursuit. “No you don’t!” The Romulan stooped and managed to get her fingers to the gun before the Vulcan crashed into her, their momentum carrying both women against the wall of the chamber with a thud. The disruptor skidded away, out of reach of both of them.
The heroine and the villainess wrestled, arms locked and feet spread wide as each sought to get a superior hold on the other. Sela’s face was tight with anger and hate while T’Pol’s breasts quivered with her exertions. “You’ve got no hope, Federation slut!” cursed the Romulan. The two women spun, T’Pol hitting a wall-mounted control panel with her shoulder. In response the entrance beside them opened to reveal the darkness of the decontamination room. The Vulcan hooked her leg inside of Sela’s and tripped her but the Romulan pulled her along, rolling onto her back and planting one foot between T’Pol’s breasts as she heaved the lean-but-chesty woman over her.
The blonde and the brunette were now both in the decon chamber. The door slid shut behind them and the two beauties wrestled in the dark, their lean bodies pressed together. Then the decon room’s automated systems activated and a computerized voice could be heard through the speakers.
“Subjects detected.” The two struggling beauties were illuminated by a spotlight above them. Both felt a tingle as a micro-transporter was activated. Then Sela yelped, leaping back from T’Pol. The Romulan’s uniform had been beamed away, leaving the blonde wearing only her bra and panties!
“Computer…” Sela began before T’Pol tackled her. The two women rolled in a mess of long legs and wiggling bottoms. The Romulan kicked the Vulcan off her before crying out in shame, clutching her hands to her bare breasts and flushing furiously. Now her bra and panties were gone, beamed away by the decontamination chamber’s automated processes, leaving Sela just as naked as T’Pol!
“Second stage decontamination begun. Please lather.” Suddenly both women were bombarded with jets of sticky liquid soap. It coated their lean bodies and made them both slick and slippery. They fell across one another, hands grabbing at asses and tits and failing to find purchase, fingers slipping off slick breasts and bottoms. Their struggles caused the soap to lather to a layer of foam, the two beauties slipping and sliding over each other in a sexy display.
“Computer!” shrieked Sela as she wrestled with the soap-slick T’Pol, “Override decon process code Sela thirty-two C!” On her command the jets of goo ceased and the inner door to the base opened again.
Now both nude and soapy, the Vulcan and the Romulan wrestled and jiggled out of the decon room and back into the hanger. Both grabbed at each other’s softest parts. The blonde cried out as her tits were squeezed. The brunette yelped as her ass was smacked. Both shrieked in unison as they pulled on each other’s short hair, their naked bodies almost waltzing around one another, breasts bouncing and long legs straining as they fought for the upper hand.
It was Sela that won it. T’Pol’s Orion conditioned body quivered with unwanted pleasure with every humiliating blow to her tits and ass, breaking her concentration. The Romulan twisted the science offer around, capturing her in an arm-lock. “You big-breasted Vulcan bitch!” cursed Sela, pulling T’Pol’s arm up and making the brunette cry out, standing on her tip toes with her back arched and her breasts pointing towards the ceiling. “We both know you’re only good for one thing!” The Romulan’s free hand snaked around T’Pol’s soap-slick body and pressed hard between the Vulcan’s legs.
T’Pol let out a low wail of pleasure as Sela rubbed her pussy lips. Pleasure overwhelmed her, plump
lips opening wide and her eyes shutting in ecstasy. She could feel the blonde’s
nipples poking against her bare back. The Romulan stepped
forward, shoving the helpless Vulcan across the room until she smacked
tits-first against the transparent canopy of one of the stasis booths. T’Pol found herself standing breasts-to-breasts with a
gorgeous naked Trill, staring sightlessly from within her stasis field. Then
the Vulcan was hauled back, forced by the fingers in her slit to walk on the
tips of her toes and leaving a soapy impression of her tits on the transparent
plastic of the pod.
The science officer’s struggles weakened, ecstasy sapping her strength. Sela no longer had to hold her in an arm-lock. Her other hand grabbed at T’Pol’s breasts and squeezed cruelly, milking a long cry of shame out of the science officer. The Vulcan arched her back as she was humiliated before the silent audience of stasis-frozen women.
Pleasure made her nethers moist, her heart race and her tits heave for air. Holding her from behind Sela grabbed T’Pol’s nipples with both hands, maliciously twisting and yanking on her tits and lifting her breasts upwards. The Vulcan wailed, on tip-toe as she was lifted by her boobs, and her wretched Orion conditioned body reached her peak.
T’Pol orgasmed, bucking and shrieking, her hands helplessly clutching at Sela’s wrists. Robbed of every last shred of dignity the Mother of the Federation wailed and arched her back, kicking her long legs and shaking her head in ecstasy as she was forced to cum against her will. After a long and punishing climax the science officer slumped, her plump lips slack and her hands falling away from Sela’s arms.
With a sadistic smile the Romulan let T’Pol drop to her knees. The Vulcan groaned, her thighs spread and her heaving breasts shining with the soap and lather. The nude blonde walked slowly around the Starfleet officer, admiring the view of commander T’Pol naked, kneeling and absolutely defeated. Lifting one long leg Sela put her foot against the Vulcan’s tits and pushed her onto her back, her boobs jiggling with the impact.
“That suits you,” the Romulan observed, looking over T’Pol lying flat on her back with her legs spread, bare breasts heaving as she panted for air. Then Sela strolled over to the fallen disruptor, her soapy tits dangling as she leaned down to pick it up.
“Melika,” T’Pol gasped quickly, “System override T’Pol four four delta delta, disengage obedience mode, activate full combat protocols!”
It was a long shot, maybe the longest T’Pol had ever made. She was banking everything on the hope that the Romulans had made enough progress removing Rak’s lockdowns on Melika, the ship’s holographic interface, and that the ship would detect her vocal pattern through Starheart’s exterior sensors. In a stroke of good fortune for the naked and humiliated Vulcan, her long shot paid off.
“Well it’s about time!” The youthful and more than slightly annoyed teenager’s voice boomed out of Starheart’s exterior speaker system. Sela had not heard T’Pol’s desperate voice-code override but she certainly heard Melika’s exultant cry. The Romulan lifted her phaser uselessly at the experimental Starfleet ship but never had a chance to fire it. Blue transporter light surrounded her and beamed Sela out of the base and out, far out into the frozen fields of Dekiw-2. Her weapon fell noisily to the deck.
A second later another field of blue transporter energy formed as Deanna Troi and B’Elanna Torres were beamed back to the warmth and safety of the hanger. The Klingon and the Betazoid were kneeling face to face, their naked bodies pressed together desperately for warmth. “Thank god,” shivered Deanna, reluctantly disengaging from her embrace with Torres.
B’Elanna shook snowflakes out of her dark hair and frowned at T’Pol. “What happened to you, Vulcan?” the Maquis asked, eying her soapy foam-flecked figure. “Decide to take a bath while we were gone?”
T’Pol rose on unsteady legs, still feeling the after-effects of her forced orgasm. “I don’t want to talk about it,” the Vulcan said, cradling her aching breasts. “Melika, are you with us?”
+++++
“Ready and able,” answered the Andorian hologram. The gorgeous blue-skinned teenager stood in the middle of Starheart’s bridge. All around her was a crowd of holograms: reproductions of her Academy graduating class, created by Sela as a way of tormenting the Ensign to breaking point. Each of the holographic men were nude, having each had their way with Melika as the blonde teen wiggled and mewled and helplessly climaxed over and over. As per Sela’s sadistic instruction each sported a cock that was far broader than their usual girth which had made the eighteen year old’s ecstatic torment all the more unbearable. There had been more than two hundred men in Melika’s graduating class: the emitters and the available space on the bridge had only allowed a dozen to be projected at any one time.
They had been instructed to fuck the slim Andorian beauty into submission, and were still attempting to follow those instructions. But every attempt to grab the blue-skinned Ensign resulted in their hands flashing through her holographic body. Now that Melika had full control over her own and Starheart’s functions, it had been child’s play to minimize her presence to an image. She now possessed no body for them to grab.
It was slightly more work to banish the holograms. Her
pretty blonde eyebrows dropped in a frown as she wormed out the program Sela had worked into Starheart’s holographic emitter system. The crowd of men that had relentlessly
banged the teenager’s super-sensitive body into spasms of ecstasy vanished.
With another simple mental command Melika clothed herself,
a body-hugging blue and white Starheart uniform wrapping her slim delicious figure.
“Just give me a minute to disconnect the cabling and seal up these breaches,” she continued, her voice transmitted to her friends outside the ship. “The organic self-repair should handle the rest of the Romulans’ meddling. What happened to you guys?”
+++++
“I don’t want to talk about it,” B’Elanna, Deanna and T’Pol said in the same breath. Then the three heroines smiled at one another, one soaped up sexily and the other two with goosebumps still on their bare skin and snowflakes in their hair, but together victorious.
“Well, I have good news for you,” the holographic teenager declared. “The USS Sutherland is concealed in the rings of the ninth planet in this solar system. I spotted it when they were towing me in. I think it was your Romulan tart’s emergency-backup-last-resort plan, something she didn’t even tell her bosses. The Sutherland’s not in great shape but I think she’s capable of warp travel.”
B’Elanna, Deanna and T’Pol all
shared smiles of victory. “That’s excellent news,” Troi
said, “And once we track down Shelby and the rest of her people, the Sutherland will have a crew again.”
“Another thing,” Melika added delicately, “Starheart’s sensors are detecting a lot of… well, tits.”
T’Pol looked around the chamber at the eighty-seven stasis pods stored in the hanger. Each transparent canopy revealed a nude woman standing within, many with their bare breasts pressing against the see-through cover. Every one of them was motionless, frozen in place awaiting the beginning of their mission.
“Romulan and Cardassian spies,” the Vulcan explained. “Melika, I assume you overheard Sela’s speech on their mission to infiltrate the Federation?”
“Leave them, let’s go,” B’Elanna said with a brisk wave of her hand that made her tits wobble in an interesting way.
“The Romulans will investigate Caras’ death,” pointed out T’Pol, assuming a typically Vulcan posture with her hands at the small of her back and her feet at shoulder width, thrusting her soapy breasts forwards. “They will likely retrieve these women and mount the operation again through some other means.”
“Sela’s plan could still work,”
Deanna admitted. The Betazoid folded her arms before
her boobs, making her titflesh lift tastily. “We
should turn them in to the Federation. Now that we know their plans they can’t
do any damage. We’ll just tell the Federation they’re carrying misinformation.”
“But they’re not carrying any real information either,” B’Elanna added. “The Federation is always the first to hold out the olive branch. They’ll hand them back. There would still be no reason for the Romulans to not try this again.”
“Then their mission has to fail,” T’Pol surmised, closing her lovely eyes in thought. “To discourage this from being attempted again, it has to fail catastrophically.”
B’Elanna looked slyly at the nude Betazoid beside her. “Looks like our little T’Pol full of ideas today.”
“Little?” objected Troi, her dark eyes on the Vulcan’s big soft tits. “So what’s your idea?”
T’Pol turned her haughtily beautiful face towards Starheart. “Melika, do you have a lock on the Romulan you just beamed away?”
+++++
Sela knelt on the snow, her blonde head bowed and her teeth chattering in the intense cold. Freezing wind whipped around her, sapping her strength. Despair filled the Romulan as she clutched her arms to her tits, her body curled up to retain what little warmth her naked body had. Her pink nipples were two hard stubs poking against her arms, stinging whenever she touched them but she dared not uncover her breasts and expose them to the chilling cold.
And then, to her enormous relief, Sela was transported from the snow of Dekiw-2 back to the hanger.
“Oh thank god,” she wept, dropping to all fours, her breasts dangling beneath her and her ass in the air. Snowflakes were shaken from her blonde hair as she bobbed her face in gratitude. “Mercy, mercy please,” she begged.
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol stood naked around the defeated Sela. “We’re not going to kill you,” the Vulcan said. “Instead you will serve a cause greater than yourself or any of us.”
The buck-naked blonde lifted her face, confusion evident in her frightened green eyes. “What do you mean?”
+++++
A few days later and many lightyears away, a Ferengi auctioneer lifted his jug-eared head and beamed a sharp-toothed smile.
“Honored customers,” he said, “Rarely does a salesman have the opportunity to present an opportunity like this one. A rare opportunity to add to a collection or to start a new one with a unique item as its centerpiece.”
He swung one arm backwards. “Gentlemen, for the first time in Ferengi history we have on sale a blonde Romulan.”
Lights snapped on, illuminating Sela’s naked body from every angle and ensured that not a single inch of her lean, pale body was hidden. The Romulan gasped, her eyes wide as she took in the vast interior of the Ferengi Auction Dome. The beating heart of Ferenginar’s capital, the enormous stadium provided seating for more than a hundred thousand, each and every one of them with their eyes on the blonde’s nude figure.
Sela gasped again, shame making her flush and cringe as an enormous hologram of herself was projected into the air above her. The Romulan commander stared in humiliation as she saw her own naked body reproduced a hundred times her size, providing every man in the stadium with an excellent view of her upper body from ribs to face. Her breasts loomed enormous above her, every bump of her areolas magnified to huge proportions.
With her wrists grav-shackled
above her head the defeated Romulan commander could do nothing to cover her
nakedness. She was reduced to helpless wiggling, succeeding only in making her
boobs jiggle and create a mouthwatering spectacle. But there was one worse
thing. Printed in big black letters on the tasty handfuls of Sela’s breasts were the words FOR
The crowd exploded with cheers and applause of appreciation for this truly rare item. Those cheers grew even louder as the hologram in the air lowered its point-of-view, focusing on Sela’s slim hips and the triangle of blonde fur between her legs, confirming that the carpet matched the drapes.
“Blondie here has received level eight Orion conditioning,” the Ferengi auctioneer declared, reaching out to grip and squeeze one of the Romulan’s tits. Sela mewled in unwanted pleasure as her boobs, now super-receptive to contact, responded with mind-numbing pleasure. “But as you can see, the wise seller chose to leave her muff intact for viewing purposes,” the jug-eared alien added with a smirk, lowering his hand to gesture to the triangle of blonde fur just above Sela’s trim thighs.
Tears of embarrassment welled in the villainess’ eyes as the bidding began. “Thirty bars from Silver Brothel,” the rented Ferengi auctioneer reported. “Fifty from Distant Star Pleasure Cruises. Seventy bars of gold pressed latinum, an offer from the up-and-coming Trans-Quadrant Tours. Smart money knows blondes have more fun, and so can your ticket holders!”
The Romulan commander reeled, equally outraged and humiliated and terrified as she was reduced to a sum of cash. The offers came quick and generously, despite the Ferengi auctioneer’s warnings. “She may have been conditioned but she hasn’t been trained,” the orange-skinned alien said with a lifted finger. “You’ll have to keep a tight leash on her until she’s broken in. But with a rare item like this, you know she’ll be worth it.” To prove the point he stepped around behind Sela and took hold of her bare breasts, squeezing and lifting her supple but firm boobs. The Romulan’s eyes rolled in overwhelming embarrassment and swelling ecstasy as her FOR SALE tits were fondled before a crowd of a hundred thousand Ferengi.
Commander Sela of the Romulan Star Empire had orchestrated assassinations, incited a civil war that had claimed the lives of thousands and had tried to hold the planet Vulcan hostage. This was how her military career came to an end.
Displayed in shackles, completely naked with the words FOR SALE printed on her breasts, Sela was sold on the auction block of Ferenginar. Between her conditioning and her long Romulan lifespan, she would enjoy a long career as a sex slave.
+++++
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol walked
between hanging carcasses, the chill of the refrigerated meat warehouse making
the three nude women shiver and wrap their arms across their bare breasts. In
acknowledgement of Ferenginar’s social laws, the
three females were naked except for their boots, belts and baseball caps
bearing the Moonlight Bounty logo.
“Are you sure we did the right thing?” Troi asked empathically. Her thoughts were filled with the memory of watching Sela led off the Dome’s centre stage, her face bowed in defeat and her FOR SALE breasts jiggling with her awkward embarrassed steps. The Romulan had been purchased by one of the pricier pleasure-cruise companies.
“Sela will spend the next few decades being banged by wealthy Ferengi,” came Torres’ reply as she allowed the Betazoid to sense her thoughts. “She’ll have excellent medical care, three square meals a day and a bed to sleep in. That’s a lot better than most slaves have to put up with, and a damn sight more than she would have given us.”
“The Romulan sold for two hundred and thirty bars,” pointed out T’Pol, allowing Troi to telepathically relay her thoughts. “I doubt she will be doing much sleeping in that bed. Her owners will want to recoup their expenses.”
“And that’s money we have now,” B’Elanna added. “Think how many women we’ll be able to buy with that kind of cash! We trade one villain for how many victims?”
“When you put it that way,” Deanna admitted, “It does make it worth it. Being a blonde really pumped up Sela’s market value. And I didn’t except the others to sell as well as they did.”
Sela was not the only item the Moonlight Bounty delivery service had put on the auction block that night. The next item had been a lovely Deltan woman, gasping in shock as she stared around the huge arena and flinching in shame as she saw her own naked body reproduced as an enormous hologram in the sky above her. Her soft orbs, marked with the words FOR SALE, had been fondled before the Ferengi auctioneer got to work diddling her super-sensitive pussy. Even without her conditioning her Deltan physiology was more enough to ensure the bald beauty was soon crying out in ecstasy, quivering and cumming before the enormous audience.
Bids had flown in. The Deltan had been one of Sela’s would-be spies, bent on causing as much destruction and chaos in the Federation as possible. Instead her beautiful hairless body was sold to a brothel consortium. She would believe, as she had been briefed, that the business was a Romulan front that would transport her to the Federation so she could begin her mission. Eventually she would realize that this was not the case.
“Tonight’s sales have made us wealthy women by Ferengi standards,” T’Pol projected. “Although the purchases we are about to make will likely absorb all of the latinum we earned.”
“Those woman are intelligence agents,” pointed out Deanna. “They could cause trouble.”
“We’ve warned the buyers that they haven’t been trained,” the Klingon Maquis smiled, clasping her hands behind her back, thrusting her bare breasts forward. “These are professionals. They know what they’re doing. And each bar of latinum we squeezed out of these spies brings us closer to freeing a woman from the slave market who actually deserves it. Wait, here we go.”
Torres’ expression grew serious as a grinning trio of Nauiscans approached them, pushing aside the hanging forms of frozen carcasses to make way for their large powerful frames. “Ladies,” one of the Nauiscans greeted, his mandibles clicking, “The pleasure is all ours.”
He and his goons eyed the three beautiful nude women before them with approval, silently thanking the Ferengi social laws that forbade females from wearing clothing. “What’s your interest today?”
Deanna felt a surge of discomfort at the attention they were received. Troi, Torres and T’Pol had been ogled by many men but these Nausicans were slave traders, and their expert eyes were quickly summing up the three brunette’s lovely bodies. The Betazoid’s empathy made her very aware of how much attention their beautiful faces, bald pussies and full soft breasts were receiving.
B’Elanna’s hands were still behind her back, where only Troi and T’Pol could see them. She spread her fingers, warning them to be silent. “Whores,” the Klingon demanded. “My employer has a taste for Starfleet.”
The Nauiscans looked at each other in surprise. One of them thumped the other’s shoulder as if to spur him on. Deanna could sense their problem: these were the men that had been paid by Rak to condition the female crew of the Sutherland to serve as prostitutes. But with Rak gone, presumed dead, their contract remained unpaid and left them in search of a new buyer.
It was difficult to sell Starfleet women openly on the slave market, as the Ferengi consortium preferred to avoid the diplomatic problems it caused. They had hot goods they needed to unload quickly.
“Starfleet whores can be hard to come by,” one of the Nauiscans suggested, not yet mentioning the fact that they had three hundred in their possession. “Could be expensive.”
“We’re from the Moonlight
Bounty delivery service,” T’Pol stated, touching
the brim of her blue-and-white baseball cap. “Examine our record. Check how
much stock we move. We can handle ‘expensive’.”
Of the Nauiscan’s communicators buzzed. He lifted it to the side of his head and listened, unaware that Deanna Troi was empathically eavesdropping on the commands he was receiving from his employer. The Betazoid mentally reassured her companions that nothing was amiss: they were treating their offer seriously.
The towering alien’s ugly face twisted in a grin. “Let me show you what I have in stock today.”
+++++
Captain Elizabeth Shelby of the USS Sutherland staggered into the freezing cold of the meat warehouse with a gasp. A fresh-faced blonde with a good jaw and clear purposeful eyes, she also possessed a trim body blessed with a nice ass and a generous pair of high but supple breasts.
She was also wearing nothing but the shackles holding her wrists behind her back and the words “FOR SALE” printed on her bare breasts.
“Good tits on her,” one of the Nauiscan’s
grinned, grabbing
“I’ll be the judge of what’s good,” Deanna declared, walking
up to the naked and trembling
“Bitch!” gasped
“So feisty,” the Betazoid breathed, now taking hold of
The Nauiscan holding
“Shut it,” growled one of his companions.
“Three hundred?” B’Elanna queried. “Well, that would cover most of what we need.”
The Nauiscans stared at the nude Klingon woman, surprise making him look her in the eye rather than the bosom. “You could take three hundred?”
Deanna briefly ceased fondling
Just at that moment the Nausican’s communicator buzzed again. B’Elanna fought to keep the smile from her face as she watched the ugly giant’s expression as he listened to the message. “If everything is going according to plan,” Torres thought, “That will be his bosses telling him that they just saw on the news that Starfleet knows one of their crews are missing, and that he should sell off Shelby and her girls as fast as possible at any price.”
“A well-timed leak by Melika,” added Deanna mentally.
The Nausican lowered his
communicator and smiled at the three nude beauties. “I think, ladies, that we
can accommodate you. And for a very reasonable price.”
“We’ll be the judge of what’s reasonable,” T’Pol asserted, standing with her feet at shoulder width and her stunning body completely on display from ample tits to smooth bald kitty.
+++++
Troi, Torres and T’Pol had to hire a hovertrain to ferry the crew of the Sutherland back to the estate they owned in the Ferengi capital.
Every seat was filled, bare asses crammed onto seats, the naked thigh of one former slave pressing against the thigh of the girl beside her. Nude Starfleet women sat with their hands primly in their laps, the posture causing their arms to push their boobs together into delicious cleavages. Humans, Trill, Andorians, Deltans and Vulcans sat in wide-eyed disbelief as the truth dawned on them. They were going home.
There were simply too many women for the seats. The aisle between the rows of chairs was packed with naked bodies, teenagers and young women standing with hands lifted to the overhead rails, their lifted breasts quivering as they were ferried through the stormy Ferengi skies. As the hovertrain jolted and shook three hundred pairs of boobs trembled, some belonging to women standing and others belonging to women who were seated.
And from Captain Elizabeth Shelby to the youthful Ensign Hedril, every single member of the Sutherland’s crew wore only the words “FOR SALE” printed in big
black letters on their bare breasts, and as an added bonus the word “SOLD”
inked on their bottoms.
Troi smiled, keeping her hands on
the hovertrain’s controls as she guided the
sub-impulse vessel home. The hope and joy the Betazoid could sense from the
women in the train filled her with a warmth unlike
anything she had felt before. Despite their nudity and the humiliating signs
they wore on their breasts and bottoms the Sutherland’s
crew had high spirits.
“I can’t believe it,” breathed Elizabeth Shelby, seated at the head of the foremost cabin opposite B’Elanna and T’Pol. “The Sutherland is still intact?”
Sitting beside the Captain was the green eyed Robin Lefler, the gorgeous Lieutenant stripped of her uniform but not of her hope. For want of space there was another captive sitting in her lap: the eighteen year old Cairn Hedril, her hands protectively squeezing her soft pale melons but her youthful face beaming with a smile of relief. Standing with one hand lifted to the overhead rail was the delicious Leah Brahms, the famed engine designer’s brown hair falling around her shoulders, her body trembling with the occasional shake of the train making the “SOLD” and “FOR SALE” signs on her rump and melons quiver deliciously.
T’Pol nodded. “We will give your crew a few days to recuperate and then we can take you to where the Sutherland is hidden. We will likely have to take more than one journey,” the Vulcan added. “Starheart is a small vessel. But you will fly the Sutherland home under her own power.”
Elizabeth Shelby smiled in gratitude, her blue eyes closing. “Nothing would be more beautiful,” she said, the nude blonde surrounded by the naked bodies of the young women who were her crew. “Lefler, remind me to write up commendations for everyone’s behavior during this ordeal.”
“While you’re at it,” Hedril said pointedly, her hands lifting and cradling her generous tits as a jolt made her breasts jump uncomfortably, “You could write up some shore leave slips. I’d like to spend a few weeks in the company of some very naked men.”
“I’d be happy with a good book,” Leah Brahms admitted.
“A naked man reading me a good book,” Robin Lefler corrected. “And giving me a back massage.”
“Alright,” smiled
“You don’t need to thank us,” Torres said, her athletic legs unfolding beneath her as she lifted her firm ass from her chair. “This is what we do.” She headed over to stand behind Deanna in the helm seat. The Betazoid’s dark hair tickled B’Elanna’s bare boobs as she leaned forward to look through the hovertrain’s canopy. A smile appeared on her face as she spotted something among the rain-swept terrain below.
“There it is,” the Klingon pointed as the estate they had
purchased in the Ferengi capital came into view, “The
first step home.”
TO BE CONTINUED
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