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Archive-name: Fantasy/j-bashir.txt

Archive-author: The Phantom

Archive-title: Delightful Education of Julian Bashir, The

Julian Bashir's fingers trembled slightly as he pressed the door

chime.  It was only a scant few hours ago since he had met her, when

she had come to the infirmary with a slashed hand.  At first, he had

been preoccupied with healing the cut -- obtained in Quark's after,

according to her, some of the other patrons had taken exception to

the fact that she cheated better than they did -- but after finish-

ing, he had looked up to see more.  They exchanged a few words, and

he learned that she was from Ishtar.  That had explained several

things to him: her skill with a knife (the other man had sustained

considerably more damage) and the way her eyes held him like a cat's

held a mouse.  Her gaze alone was enough to make him flush slightly.

He had turned to replace the protoplaser in the sterilization field,

and when he turned back around, she was no more than three inches

away from him.  Stammering an apology, he tried to edge past her but

could not; her hands were around his slim waist, and she had

positioned her hips directly in front of his.

"Have you eaten?" she asked him, her voice low and rich.  He had

managed to force a "no" past his lips, feeling more and more like a

mouse as her eyes roved over his face.

"My ship is called the Ariad.  It is docked at Bay 2," she had told

him.  "You are very lovely, Doctor.  Be there in two hours."

And then she had left, leaving him quite warm, with a thin film of

sweat on the back of his neck.  He sat down to collect himself,

feeling the slightly pleasurable ache between his thighs that always

signalled arousal.  I guess it's true, he had thought, what they say

about Ishtarian women.

The intervening two hours had passed slowly, with no incident, making

it hard for him to ignore the insistent throb that reminded him of

his appointment.  Finally, out of boredom and a desire to distract

himself, he asked the computer for information on Ishtar, the woman's

home planet.

When at last he looked up from the desk viewer to discover that the

rest of the two hours had passed, he wondered what would happen.  I'm

not going, he told himself.  I'm just not going to go.  I'll get back

to my quarters, get something out of the food replicator, and just

get to sleep early.  He sat back in the chair, leaning his head

against the headrest.  Though he tried not to, he couldn't keep from

looking at the last image on the viewer -- that of one of the twelve

Ruling Queens of Ishtar with six of her consorts.  Six of ten.

I'm just not going, he told himself again.  He got up, licked his

lips nervously, smoothed his uniform, and walked out of the infir-

mary, dead set on returning to his quarters.

Now, he stood before the docking entrance to her ship, unable to

restrain his curiosity and thinking even that, perhaps, she might be

something that he needed.  He remembered the way she had looked at

him after he had regenerated the skin on her palm, and how he had

felt like a rabbit looking up into the eyes of a sleek hunting bitch,

his throat tight and he barely able to speak.  It'll just be a nice

dinner, he told himself, but that thought died faster than Warp 9.

He knew how she had looked at him, and he knew after reading more

about Ishtarian culture why she had looked at him as she did.

He pressed the chime again, and the door slid back to reveal darkness

lit by firelight inside.  The same rich voice that had caught his

attention so completely in the infirmary told him to enter and swal-

lowing once, hard, he obeyed.

He saw nothing at first, his eyes still adjusting to the change in

lighting, but when they had, he nearly gasped in astonishment.  The

rich voice came again, from nowhere, "I told you I was good at


The ship was opulent, and everywhere he looked, he saw beautiful

things to delight his eye.  Tapestries hung from the bulkheads, flame

lamps stood from the floor, lighting the deeply colored room with a

somber and quieting glow.  He moved forward, feeling as if he were

walking in liquid topaz light, looking for the source of the voice.

Nervous, he said nothing.

"I'm over here," the voice said, from directly behind him.  Julian

jumped and spun around -- and gasped yet again.  She walked toward

him, and he felt his chest rise and fall in little pants.  He swal-

lowed again.

"Are you nervous?" she asked him, raising her sharp, dark face in a

challenge.  She took a step toward him, the click made by the heels

of her boots audible against the polished hardwood floors of her

vessel.  She wore only them and a pair of dark fingerless gloves that

reached to above her elbows.  In one hand he could just see two

velvety blue cords dangling down to reach the floor.

Any reply he made would be a lie.  He tried to shake his head and

muster some bravado and failed, settling only for licking his lips

yet again.  He had only guessed at her physique earlier on in the

infirmary; now he was able to see what had previously been only

hinted at.

She was tall, nearly as tall as him, and muscles stood outlined under

her smooth flesh as she moved.  He was unable to take his eyes off of

her, but could only gaze.  Her breasts were firm, and as she breathed

their perfect rosy nipples appeared to point at him, over and over.

Her stomach was hard-looking, with the muscular outlines that spoke

of peak physical condition.  Under this were a set of very female

hips, and he could just see in the dark lighting the outlines of her

vulva, inviting and mystifying.  Then came the long, fit legs,

muscled and strong looking -- what he could see that was not hidden

under the boots she wore.  Only the barest hint of thigh showed; the

rest was covered in the black animal skin.  No elevated heels were on

these boots; this woman's feet were planted solidly on the ground.

She was directly in front of him now, reaching up to run her fingers

over his moist lips.  "I enjoy watching when you do that."  Her eyes

were riveted to his face, raking over it like nails.

"I . . . I . . . thought . . . we were going to have dinner," he

managed to stammer.  He felt lightheaded, and she started backing him

toward the massive bed in the far corner of the main room.

"I said nothing about dinner," she told him.  "I asked only if you

had eaten."  She reached out with leather-gloved hands and took one

wrist firmly.  "Have you?"

"N-no. . . "  He could only watch in fascination as she tied one of

the two soft blue cords firmly around his wrist, letting the ends

dangle down from his arm.  He did nothing to stop her as she repeated

this with his other wrist.  "What . . . " he began, but she placed

her hand very firmly against his mouth.

"No questions."  He felt her reach down and take his hips again, and

with a push, he was thrust backward to land on the bed.  She stepped

directly onto the bed until she stood over him with one foot on

either side of his chest.  He could make out more of her moist and

tantalizing vulva, but tried only to squirm his way into a sitting


She would have none of it, and placed one booted foot directly on his

chest.  "You will not move until I give you leave to move," she said.

Stunned and wondering what this night would teach him, he said no-

thing, only looked up at this beautiful and dangerous woman standing

over him.  As he watched, he saw the undersides of her breasts moving

rhythmically, bouncing gently as the bed cushion rocked in response

to his attempts to get away.

"I saw you in the infirmary," she told him, still standing over his

supine form.  "That's when I decided I wanted to teach you."  She

moved her foot from off of his chest and descended on him hard, to

land sitting with her legs straddling his ribs.  He cried out in

surprise, and felt the bed roll under his back.

Taking his face in her hands, she looked directly into his wide eyes.

Her voice softened but lost none of its resonant quality.  "You are

so very beautiful, Doctor, with your large eyes which you use to melt

my heart.  I can't let you melt it, though."  She shook her dark

head.  "A teacher must be firm and disciplined with her pupils."  Her

dark, sharp-featured face dipped close to his until he could feel her

breath against his trembling lips.  "You, with your lovely mouth and

lips and soft voice, which you will beg with, but I can't let your

begging sway me."  She took two handsful of his hair and drew his

head back hard.  "Your long slender neck, which I will see bend and

arch as I will it . . . "  He turned his head, trying to get it free

of her grasp, breathing hard, and a puppylike whimper escaped his


"Please, don't hurt me . . . " he said.  His eyes were wide with

incipient fear.  "Don't hurt me . . . "  Immediately, her voice

softened, and she placed her hands on his smooth young cheeks.  He

could smell the rich leather and feel it against his skin.

"Beautiful child, I would never hurt you."  Her eyes became moist and

soft.  "I will teach you, not hurt you."  She ran her hands over his

chest and stomach.  "So beautiful . . . " she said with hunger in her

voice that frightened him.  No, he thought, not a rabbit.  And she's

no hunting bitch.  As he watched her tawny, muscled body over his,

with its cape of wild dark hair he realized what she was -- a lion-

ess.  That makes me the lamb, he thought, or the cub.  Maybe a ga-

zelle, after being run down and caught.  His breath came faster, and

he felt his mouth go dry.

"What is your name?" he managed to choke out.

"Why do you need to know?" he was told.  "You need only call me

Lady."  She took one wrist and pulled it away from his chest where he

had raised it to protect himself, and he turned his head to see her

fastening the dangling ends of the cord to one of the corner posts of

the bed.  He could not defend himself; before he knew what was hap-

pening, his arm was stretched out and he could not budge it.  She

slapped him lightly.  "Stop this ridiculous struggling."  Taking his

other hand, he was soon defenseless and completely vulnerable to this

woman atop him.  His heart contracted and he cried out in fear when

she rose from the bed and returned carrying a large, vicious looking

knife.  She saw his face, questioning and afraid, and her own expres-

sion hardened slightly.  "I am not going to hurt you," he was told.

Then, "Do you have another uniform?"  Confused, he nodded.  "Good."

Fascinated and unable to stop her, he watched as she straddled him

again, slid the knife under his tunic, and cut it away from his body.

He fought against the bonds she had placed him in, feeling the soft

cord cut into his wrist, but she had done her job well, and the knots

did not give a millimeter.  "If you don't stop struggling, you could

get cut.  You must stay completely still."  He did so, and could feel

the dull edge of the knife brushing against his skin as she cut away

the uniform shirt to expose his chest, rising and falling quickly,

and his slim stomach.  "My . . . " she said, and placed the knife on

the bed cushion.  "I see you're this beautiful caramel color all

over, Doctor," she whispered.  As her eyes devoured him, she placed

her hands on either side of his neck, drawing them down toward his

waist firmly.  He felt her touch, and writhed as her nails contacted

the sensitive skin on his sides and near his waist.  He could not

hold back a small sound of mixed distress and pleasure at the sensa-

tion that made his hair stand on end and lit up every nerve ending in

his body.

Her face lit up as well.  "Ah!" she said in the voice of someone who

has made a great discovery.  His eyes shot to her.

"No . . . "

"`No, Lady,' you mean," she instructed him, drawing her nails against

his smooth cafe-au-lait skin again.  His muscles tensed under her

touch as he bucked against her.

"Stop!"  His voice broke.  "Please . . . "

"Please WHAT?" she demanded, not letting up but intensifying what

seemed to him to hover on a thin and exquisite border between torture

and pleasure.  He cried out again.  Finally:

"Please, Lady!" was wrung from his quivering mouth.

"What?"  She did not stop.

"Please, Lady, stop!"  Instantly, the sensation ceased, and he threw

his head back, panting, eyes closed, the muscles in his arms aching

from his struggle against the cords.  His eyes jerked open again,

though, when he felt her gloved hand against his cheek again.  He

looked at her, saying nothing, only trying to get his breath back.

She was regarding him with a hunger that seemed to make her previous

appetite pale to nothing.  Her beautiful face closed in on him, and

she placed her mouth against his, but did not kiss him.  He felt her

own breath coming more quickly, and realized that she was becoming as

badly aroused as . . .

 . . . as he was.  He was very badly aroused now, he suddenly saw.

He could feel himself pushing against his uniform trousers, and he

wished with all his heart that she would cut them from around his

legs as well.  "I want you," he whispered to her, his lips brushing

over hers as he spoke.

"You beg . . . so beautifully . . . " she told him, and he could feel

her lips moving as well.  "But . . . " and she pulled back, "I will

take you when and if I decide that you have earned it."  He watched

with excitement as, after pulling off his uniform boots, she picked

up the knife again and slid it underneath the cuff of his trousers.

Slowly, slowly, he felt the edge brush against his skin as it rose

along his inner thigh, sending chills along his spine and making

goosebumps stand out all over him.  When progress would have endan-

gered him, she slid the knife up along his abdomen, making him writhe

anew as he felt the edge tickling him, his skin's sensitivity now

heightened with anticipation.  The same sensation met his other leg,

and as she then cut away his underclothes, he burst forth, ready and

aching horribly for her.  He was completely unclothed, and completely

at her mercy.

She turned and threw the knife hard; it thudded into the wall oppo-

site them, the Starfleet doctor supine and defenseless and the Ish-

tarian woman who had made him that way.  She was silent for a brief

moment, and then drove her hips down on his, plunging him deep inside

her.  He gasped and shuddered at the warm wetness that clutched at

him, and moaned in horror when he felt her withdraw and get up from

the bed.  "That is a taste," he was told as he moaned in frustration.

"IF you satisfy me, that is what you can win.  If not, you win


"Lady . . . " he gasped, his voice soft and pleading.  She turned

back to face him, and he saw in her eyes what she saw: his bare body,

shining with the light sheen of sweat that had formed on him, long

legs stretched out along the bed with his rigid sex between them,

arms forced wide, face alive with a mix of fear and arousal.  She

turned away then, and he watched as she disappeared into another

room.  After an awful pause during which she was out of his sight,

she returned carrying a small silver jar.  He only watched as she

resumed her position standing over top of him.  This time, he could

see her sweet vulva more clearly, and he felt himself throb and

thirst to be inside her again.  "What . . . what is that?" he managed

to whisper.  She reached down quickly and grasped him hard, squeezing

tightly.  Julian's head swam.

"*What* do you say?" she demanded softly, in a voice of great affec-

tion and patience.

He could barely think for the roaring of blood in his ears.  "What is

that . . . Lady?" he choked out.  She released him, and he began

breathing again, not sure of whether he would want her never to touch

him like that again, or do so over and over until he was wrung dry.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked at his inner thigh idly as

she told him, and he could barely concentrate on her words.  "It is

called kamireh."  She removed the lid slowly, then resumed stroking

his thigh.  Not even addressing his body, twitching with every move-

ment of her fingers, she explained further.  "It is very sweet," she

scooped out a small portion on a fingertip and smiled at him a smile

he had been waiting to see all his life, "and VERY sticky."  Languid-

ly, she placed her finger in her own mouth, and sucked at it as he

watched, his large eyes riveted to her lips and how they draped

around her finger, how her cheeks pulsed as she sucked.  Allowing

this tension to mount, she then scooped out another little mound of

the kamireh and held it over his anxious mouth.  "Would you like


He parted his lips.  "Yes, Lady . . . please."  She withdrew her

finger slightly as his mouth rose for it.

"I should warn you that it has some . . . unusual qualities," she

informed him, pulling her hand back until it was directly between her


"What . . . unusual qualities?" he asked, then added quickly, "Lady,"

at her budding expression of displeasure.  She was satisfied.

"Pleasure-enhancing qualities, or rather stamina-enhancing.  Are you

really sure you want some?"  She shifted her position slightly, open-

ing her legs just a bit so that he could see past the leather and be-

tween her firm thighs.  She saw him looking at her and her eyes be-

came hooded at the naked hunger on his face.  "That's for later, if

you do your job well."  Then, she held her hand over his mouth and

slowly placed her finger between his eagerly parted lips.  His eyes

closed in sheer pleasure as he sucked at the intensely sweet creamy

confection.  He could feel it making his blood pulse faster, and his

sex, previously beginning to surrender to frustration, bounded back

to stand at attention, thirsty and throbbing.  His appetite rebounded

with it, and he heard himself moaning in response to it.

He had never wanted anything so badly.

After a few moments, the silence in the room caused him to open his

eyes.  She was watching him, plainly taking great delight in witness-

ing his reaction to the kamireh.  "You are VERY responsive," she said

approvingly.  "Few men so young respond so well and so completely to

it.  Would you like another taste?"

He had to gather his breath.  "Yes, Lady, I would."  A chill swept

over his naked body, and he shivered.

"Very well."  She resumed squatting over him, painfully not such that

he would be able to be inside her, took another little mound of kami-

reh and, as he watched in growing excitement, placed it on her

tongue.  She bent over him and his lips parted again; his heart

knocked hard enough to burst from his chest in anticipation of . . .

He felt her tongue slide between his lips, the sweet cream at the

tip, and meet his own.  For a few moments, he felt nothing, was no-

thing, save the delicious sensations flowing over him like wet velvet

as he sucked at her tongue.  Her breasts touched lightly against his

chest as she bent over him, and for a time they were silent, toying

with one another's warm nimble tongues and delighting in the sweet-

ness of the kamireh.

Then, he felt another burst of hot fire run through and over him, and

the hard throb that pounded at him from his sex felt as if it could

drive him through the roof.  He was gasping now, and whimpering

lightly on every exhalation.  Finally, he found the consciousness to

open his eyes, and saw a similar hunger in her face, felt as her

breasts pushed rhythmically at him as she panted as well; the kamireh

affected Ishtarians, too.  "I must . . . " she began, then broke off

as a shudder ran through her; her felt her sex also twitch and pulse

against his naked belly.  "I must . . . be careful of the kamireh, or

I will not be able to," she looked at his shining body with greed,

"restrain myself long enough to instruct you properly."  For a brief

few seconds, she simply stared at him, grasped his upper arms, and

gripped them so hard that she left the imprints of her nails in his

skin.  "It's a pity you Starfleet types are so dedicated, and so

easily missed, or else I might never let you off my ship."  At his

expression, she patted his cheek.  "Don't worry, Doctor.  I have

every intention of allowing you to return to your duty, but," and she

traced her fingers along his sternum down to the hollow area between

his hips, "your duty lies with me right now."  Yet again, she drove

her hips down onto his, this time lingering a little longer.  He felt

her muscles contract as she squeezed at him, and felt rather than saw

her take two handsful of his hair and pull his head back until his

neck was extended completely.  Fleet doctor, brilliant specialist in

multi-species medicine, he was now nothing but a mass of raw nerve

endings, knowing and caring about nothing but the satisfaction of the

woman that had swallowed him up.  She was right; his duty was here

now.  She clutched at him for a few more times, her own face betray-

ing her excitement and desire as she watched his body arch under

hers, and then she withdrew, oblivious to his sobs, and stood over

him on the bed.

He could restrain himself no longer.  "Lady!" he begged her.  "Lady,

please . . . "  His voice broke as he begged.  "Lady . . . "  But she

simply stood over him, looking down at him stretched beneath her, his

arms tense with their tendons standing out in clear relief as he

strained against the cords, fists gripping them.  "Please," he whis-

pered.  She stood still for long agonizing seconds, moving only as

the bed swayed under her from Julian's twisting and arching.  Then,

she squatted slowly over him, again not taking him in despite his de-

sire, and picked up the silver jar again.  This time, however, he

shook his head in fear.  "Please, no," he begged her.  "No more,

Lady.  I don't want that."  His soft voice caught.  "I . . . want

you . . . "

She was silent and removed the cap, and then her gloves.  Taking a

little kamireh out of the jar, she placed it caressingly on the head

of his sex, and with languid strokes, covered the shaft.  He watched

as she did this, thrilling to each touch of her hands, gasping as his

body reacted to them, heightened by the kamireh already.  "This," he

was told, "will intensify the experience.  For both of us."  She re-

placed the lid of the silver jar, and grasped him firmly, hard enough

to make his eyes squeeze shut.  He gritted his teeth, awaiting what-

ever would come next.  When nothing happened, he looked down and saw

only her face looking straight at him.  Then, with great delibera-

tion, she placed her sex directly over his and guided him into her.

He only stared and swallowed, not sure of whether or not she would

allow him to remain inside of her.  Her face gave him no clues; it

was expressionless, looking into his eyes, or rather through them.

"Your eyes are," she bent down until she was on top of him, her face

even with his, "most remarkable.  They are . . . like liquid . . . "

Then, she devoured his mouth, unable to control herself.  She was

whispering now, as she took his face in her hands.  "You will keep

your eyes on mine at all times."  She paused and put her lips over

his without kissing him, all the while maintaining eye contact.

"Even when you come."  Her voice was soft and delicious as she began

to squeeze at him and undulate herself against him.  He shuddered and

closed his eyes, and she stopped.

Nearly sobbing, he looked at her, his face a question between her

hands.  "You will keep your eyes on mine at all times," she repeated.

"Even when you come."

"Yes, Lady," he breathed, and she resumed, keeping her grip on his

head and keeping his face turned to hers.  More slow clutching, more

languid movement of her hips, becoming gradually more energetic as

the kamireh took effect on her as well.  She watched as he tried to

control his reactions, keeping his eyes locked with hers.  At one

point, he bit his lip to keep from crying out.  Her face tightened in

distress.  "No!" she told him.  "You may use your voice."  He nodded

slowly in response, his nods gradually taking up the cadence of her

muscles gripping him, her hips grinding into his.  Quietly at first,

but growing in volume, he moaned with each breath.  Every part of his

body, every action, became synchronized with the woman to whom he had

somehow come to owe his bodily allegiance.  He watched her head bob

as the kamireh took her, saw her wild hair drag over her wet body,

felt her spasm as the hot throbbing laid its grasp on her, saw her

sweat-filmed breasts move in little up-and-down circles as her body

became synchronized as well with the wave that had taken them both

over.  Together, they moved, together they moaned, together they

breathed -- all the while with their eyes locked.

He was tightening, becoming very tight, so tight . . . "Lady," he

moaned quietly.  He could feel himself nearing the peak as she re-

leased his head and slowly dragged her nails down his chest and sto-

mach until her hands were at her own hips.  He was beyond gasping,

felt only the first shuddering surge of energy; she saw it as well,

and her hands flew back to his cheeks to hold his head rock steady.

She bent again to him, focusing her eyes directly on his.  "Even when

you come," she reminded him, her voice a ghostly hiss.  He could not

respond, but only react as she clutched and thrust, finally feeling

the tightness build to the point where he felt that he could not

stand it any longer, to the point where he felt that the horrible

ache would remain with him all his life if he . . .

Then suddenly, with consuming thunder, he felt the first wave break

over his slick body.  Though she kept her hands around his head, he

managed to break her iron grasp and his eyes rolled back.  His voice,

inarticulate and wondering, gave way to such sensations that he never

imagined a human body could sustain without losing consciousness.

Over and over, he felt himself bucking wildly underneath the weight

of the woman who owned him; over and over, his hips thrust upwards,

driving himself so deeply into her that he felt he never wanted to

come out.  Oceans of cold water poured over Julian Bashir, drowning

him in icy fire.  The cords, wet with his sweat, cut against him,

rubbing the skin from his wrists, but the hot electricity of the raw

skin on his arms only added to the intensity of what was breaking

over him with the power of a tsunami.  All the nerves in his body

were nothing but hot wires, coursing with voltage that threatened to

burn out his mind.  The sensory burnout sustained itself until he

felt he could take no more; incoherent from pleasure, he could only

be buffeted about by the storm raging around and through him.  Mi-

nutes, hours . . . he did not count time.  When he at last knew him-

self again, the flame lamps were nearly dark, and his Lady was in a

state similar to his own -- asleep on top of him, covered in her own

sweat and his, exhausted.

His eyes took some time to adjust to the light level, and he wondered

how long he had been unaware of his surroundings.  A trickle of their

mingled sweat that had once seemed so hot drew a sensuous icy line

down his side, and he caught his breath.  Turning his head took every

ounce of energy he had, and he saw that his arms were still tied in

the cords -- cords that had become frayed and strained through his


Every muscle in his body was sore.  His stomach, his legs, his arms

especially.  His abdomen and thighs were stiff and refused to respond

to his orders -- particularly with the prone form of his Lady asleep

on top of them.  Still feeling the exhaustion, he sighed and dropped

back to sleep.

                    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When he woke, he was alone in the bed and completely unaware of how

much time had passed.  In a panic, he tried to sit up, and found that

he was yet bound.  Sounds issued at him from the next room, and he

called, "Lady?"  The sounds stopped, but there was nothing further.

"Lady, are you there?"  She appeared in the room, with no boots and

no gloves, but dripping wet, her muscular body glistening with water.

"You are awake," she observed.

"Yes, Lady."  His voice was gentle and quiet.  "May I get up?"

"Of course."  She reached to the knife, still stuck in the wall op-

posite the bed, and with two quick flicks of it over his head, he

felt the cords fall away.  Stiffly, he moved his arms back down to

his chest, trying to rub at them and finding that his hands were rub-

bery and weak.

"I was in my spa," she told him, helping him sit upright.  His head

swam and lights danced in his vision.  "Would you like to join me?"

Sheepishly, he replied, "Lady, I don't think I'm ready . . . " but

she shook her head at him.

"It's only a nice warm soak.  You could probably use it."  She helped

him to his feet and guided him into the next room, where a lavish spa

greeted him.  Steam hovered on the surface, swirling gently like fine

mist over a lake.  The spa itself appeared to be set into a lush

green lawn and was ringed with fragrant jasmine, and rolling fertile

hills stretched toward the horizon as far as he could see, some dot-

ted with trees in autumn colors.  A fresh cool breeze caressed his

tired face and washed the scent of the improbably flowering jasmine

over his bare skin.  "A holosuite, Lady?"

"Yes.  Expensive, but as I told you, I cheat quite well."  She

climbed into the water, and made a motion to him to follow.  He did

so, lowering himself gratefully into the steaming spa.  Slowly, he

felt the stiffness disappear from his muscles, to be replaced with a

weak lassitude.

"How long have I been here, Lady?" he asked.

"Only a few short hours," she told him.  "Six hours.  You are due

back on duty in six more."  Purring with pleasure at the gentle

breeze that tugged her hair and his, she told him.  "It is a slow

time now.  I will be finished instructing you by then."

His eyes widened.  "There is more?"

She laughed at his question.  "Of course there is more.  You didn't

think I could teach you everything in one lesson, did you?"  She

stretched like a contented lioness.  "As it is, I must leave tomorrow

and hence can teach you only a little of what I would like to."  She

opened her eyes.  "I can arrange to be back at this station in some

time, you know."

He looked back at her, the warm water lapping at his shoulders and

around his chest.  "I don't know if . . . "  He swallowed.  She

reached over and patted one shoulder.

"The first lesson is most involved, as it is then that I must teach

you proper submission and willingness to learn.  Subsequent ones

become more and more . . . leisurely.  There are only a few small

things further that I can teach you in the time we have at any rate,

and they should leave you considerably less . . . "

"Exhausted?" he finished.

"Precisely.  After all, you will have to go directly on duty from


He swallowed again, wondering what would be required of him, and

settled for remaining quiet and lowering himself into the blood-warm

water until only his face was above the waterline.  Nearly an hour

passed with them like that, silent, simply content in each other's

company and enjoying the sensation of the water rippling against

their skin.  At one point, he felt a light tickling on his face and

opened his eyes.  He saw her hand over him, her face smiling at his,

as she sprinkled a handful of the tiny jasmine flowers over him.  He

could only return her smile, and closed his eyes again.

More time passed.  "Lady?" he said finally.


He hesitated.  "Lady, Quartermaster only gives us a certain number of

uniforms in a given period of time.  I can't have another one des-


She laughed at this.  "Don't worry, you won't need your uniform, Doc-

tor."  She sat up.  "That reminds me."  She rose from the water.  "I

have something for you."  Julian watched as her sinuous shining body

moved to one of the trees lining the glade in which the spa was set.

He saw her pick something up but could not make out what it was.

When she returned, she bent down next to him and held the object out.

Dark blue, soft, and shimmering, it lay in her hands.  It was a col-

lar.  Attached to it was a long beautiful silver chain that glittered

in the holo-sunlight, and dangling from the end of the chain were two

more binding cords like those that had cut his flesh in the first


Julian sat up at this, and looked up at her.  "This is . . . ?" he

began, but she cut him off with a finger against his lips.

"This is yours," she told him, "the only thing that will be recog-

nized as yours as long as you are on this ship."  He felt the soft

kid leather wrap around his neck, and heard the tiny click of the

fastening.  The chain and binding cords lay on the ground behind his

head.  He fingered the collar, mark of his bodily duty to his Lady

and watched her as she lowered herself into the water again.  "It is

your mark of allegiance to me.  By undergoing the initiatory lesson,

you've proved your worth to receive the collar."  He was silent at

this.  "It's actually a nice fit; I had to use a smaller one than

usual for you."  She leaned forward and touched his face.  "You have

such a lovely slim neck, you know."  Her hand dragged down his wet

chest, disappearing under the water that covered him.  Again, his

nerve endings awakened to her.

He knew then that he would have stayed, no matter what, and endured

even more exhaustion than previous, all for her and what she could

teach him.  He moved his hand under the warm water, taking hers in

it, and said, "Lady, I'm yours," and felt it with all his heart.

She looked directly into his dark eyes.  "I knew you would be," she

whispered to him, and kissed him, the first and only kiss they had

shared while he was free, and the last.  He returned it, gently, and

felt his own sincerity and dedication to her filling him like wine.

Then, she pulled away from him, one hand firmly on his chest to keep

him from following.  He held her eyes with his own, gazing up at her.

"Enough informality," she said softly.  "This could compromise your

disciplining if it continues."  Julian was crestfallen but under-


"Yes, Lady," he said, and could not keep the disappointment out of

his voice.  He shivered as he felt her fingers brush against his skin

one last time and withdraw.

                    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He knelt on the bed this time, sitting on his heels and facing the

bronze headboard between the sturdy wooden posts at the corners.  His

Lady was reaching past him to lock the chain of his collar to a ring

at the center of the headboard; he wondered whether it had been

placed there for that purpose.  "Give me your hands," he was told.

He complied silently, for she had instructed him that he was to make

no sound whatsoever during this lesson.  That order alone was enough

to unsettle him, and he wondered with some trepidation what she would

teach.  He asked no questions, though -- he was not to do so.

His wrists were once again bound, this time to the end of the chain

at the headboard so that they hung in front of him, mimicking the

curve of the hanging chain itself.  Wordlessly, he awaited her ac-

tions.  He was unprepared for her to get up without a sound and walk

out.  Turning his head, he saw her disappear into the next room, and

she did not return for some time.  He waited nervously, wondering

what she was doing, until he saw her return with a tray of food.  The

aroma tantalized him, and he remembered that he had not eaten before

coming there.  His stomach awoke, and he stared at the tray with ob-

vious hunger, hunger that his Lady saw.

"Would you like some?" she asked, taking a small piece of meat from

the tray, a piece which dripped with juices, and putting it with very

deliberate movements into her mouth.  He started to say yes, but re-

membered her injunction against talking and only nodded, his eyes

riveted to the tray.  "Very well."  She walked toward him and sat on

the edge of the bed to his left, placing the tray next to her.  On

it, he saw all sorts of delicious things, each cut into pieces.

There were meats of all textures, crisp-looking vegetables of every

color under any sun, and pieces of fruit that glistened with sweet-

ness, as well as a number of delicacies which he had never seen be-

fore.  Saying nothing, his Lady picked up a piece of tender meat and

held it to his eager mouth.  Saying nothing, he opened his lips and

took it, feeling the rich juices of the flesh coat his throat.  With

a feeling of great satisfaction and great awakening of hunger, he

swallowed, closing his eyes in pleasure.  When he opened them, he saw

that she had taken another piece and held it out for him.  He took it

from her again, languidly sucking the meat's juices from her fingers.

Over and over she held out some tasty morsel for him, and over and

over he wished he had the power to thank her for doing so.

The melon, however, she saved for last.  Holding his gaze with hers,

she picked up a royal blue piece and ran it sensuously down his back,

leaving a sticky trail of sweetness from the back of his neck to the

base of his spine.  He inhaled sharply at the delight of the cool

glistening melon running down him, and even more so as she traced up

the sweet trail with her tongue.  With a small smile, she popped the

piece into her mouth.  Then, picking up another, she teasingly traced

two slow circles around her rosy nipples, enjoying the anticipation

in his eyes as he watched.  With an expression of triumph, she held

her breasts together and nestled the little morsel of blue heaven

between them.  This she offered to him, who took the piece between

his lips and marvelled at its sweetness, licking every drop of nectar

from her when he was finished.  Again, he wanted to tell her how de-

licious this was, but could not.

"Your expression tells me that you are enjoying this," she remarked.

The tray was deposited on the floor next to the bed, and she placed

herself behind him, her hands on his shoulders, her knees around him.

He felt her breath on his neck as she came close, and shivered once,

all over, at the thrill of anticipation that ran through him.  He had

no idea what she had planned.

She waited, doing and saying nothing, merely sitting there with her

hands on his shoulders and her mouth against his neck.  For many long

minutes, they sat like that, he unsure and nervous with anticipation,

she silent and knowing, enjoying the gentle curve of his back and how

his skin was lit by the faded flame lamps, their glowing topaz light

pouring over him like melted butter.  He felt as her slow hands ran

down his sides, her fingers flickering over his skin, making his sto-

mach muscles twitch.  She was content to do this, experiencing his

body under her hands, tracing his spine with her fingertips, tracing

the curve of his neck and shoulders, the smooth clean shaven skin on

one cheek, the line of his brow, teasing her fingers through his

hair.  Julian sat quietly, wordlessly, simply listening to her

breathing and his own, and feeling her hands brushing and sliding all

over him, gentle as birds' wings, making him gradually aware of the

entire surface of his body.  With a jolt of excitement, he felt her

fingers brush over his genitals, but they lingered there only for a

moment.  "Patience," she said lovingly, for she had seen his start,

felt it as she pressed herself softly into him, heard the soft clat-

ter of the chain against the headboard.  He turned his head, wanting

to apologize, but could not.  "I know," she told him softly.

Then, almost unnoticeably at first but with more conviction, he began

to feel her nails also sliding over him, just as before, all over.

Again, he started and writhed, inhaling sharply, but became quite

still when he felt the collar tugged back firmly.  "Not a sound," she

told him.  "I want complete silence."  Then, she resumed, and Julian

fought for all he was worth not to gasp or cry out as he felt her

nails exciting his skin, in his most sensitive places -- his sides,

the hollow between his hips, his waist, his inner thighs, his neck.

He could not suppress his body's reaction totally, though, and she

felt him buck against her at her every movement, though he was fight-

ing not to.  "Yes," she whispered into his ear as he battled to re-

main still and quiet, "it's hard, isn't it?"  He nodded, and could

not help a light whimper from low in his throat; she did not seem to

mind.  "It will get easier, I promise you."

And this continued.  Slowly, slowly, he began to control his body and

his involuntary reactions, only biting his lower lip -- until she saw

this, and placed her hand on his mouth.  "No."  He parted his teeth,

and she smoothed the reddened skin.  "Gently, gently.  Relax."  He

tried to still his panting, aware of the sound of it.  "Relax."  He

felt the nearly unbearable sensation of her skittering nails lessen

somewhat, but they did not stop entirely.  "Do you have control of

yourself?" she asked him.  He nodded completely silently, and she

resumed.  This time, although he was still fighting hard, she saw

that he was fighting himself better, managing to remain for the most

part completely still and silent -- except for his light panting.

She could feel his chest rise sharply with each pass of her hand over

the insides of his hips, but even his reflexive bucking had lessened

until it was merely a tightening of his back, a slight rhythmic

pressure as she felt his round buttocks seat more firmly between her

thighs.  "You're doing very well," she told him approvingly and

kissed the back of his neck.  "You learn very quickly, and try very

hard."  She rose at this point until she was standing on her knees

and, with one finger under his chin, tilted his head back until he

was looking directly up at her.  The kiss they shared then was as

deep and complete a kiss as Julian Bashir had ever experienced; she

was as far into his mind as she was between his lips.

Then, it was over, and she was once again looking down at him.  He

saw in her eyes a glimmer of wonder, and until she spoke, he truly

thought it was only the wonder in his eyes reflected back from hers.

"How I wish," she said in a voice so soft he had to strain to hear

it, "that I could keep you always."  Her fingers were on his brow,

and he gently shook his head back and forth like a cat under its

keeper's hand.  "How I wish . . . Goddess . . . what a consort you

would make."  She bent down to his upturned face and brushed her lips

against his, not kissing.  As they caressed one another's mouths, she

reached down to his genitals, taking them gently in her hand, and

felt him inhale.  Opening her eyes, she saw that his entire face was

a pleading question.  "Yes," she replied.  "Soon."  Then, she resumed

kissing him for a time -- she kneeling superior to him holding him in

her hand, he kneeling before her with his head upturned.  He felt

fluttering fingers as she traced out the lines of his throat and

sighed in pleasure as he felt her other hand caress and excite him.

Thus, all the more vivid was the jolt he received when she raked her

nails down his back hard enough to raise welts.  His head flew up-

right and he started to twist away from her before remembering that

she still gripped him firmly enough to keep him still.  An expression

of shock and surprise flew out of his mouth before he could shut his

lips around it.  Belatedly, he realized the breach he had committed

-- his voice and the clattering of the chain dropping into the si-

lence like a stone -- and his eyes shot to her face.  He did his best

to quiet his panicky breathing and still his body, yet trembling in

surprise and shock.

She felt his trembling, could feel it through her own body, close as

she was to him, could feel his shaking on her own bare skin, but did

not let it show on her face; she was impassive.  Before he knew what

was happening, she had clamped her left hand over his mouth and drawn

his head back hard until it was against her shoulder and he stared up

at the ceiling.  For a time, she merely held him that way, silently,

and waited for his breathing to slow and the film of cold sweat on

him to dry.  His eyes looked up at her from over her hand, filled

with apprehension; her other hand still held him.  Nothing moved, and

not a single thing stirred.  Only his breathing, slowly regulating,

disturbed the quiet.

Then, painfully, she shook her head.  Her disappointment nearly

crushed him.  "I thought you were relaxed sufficiently to begin, Doc-

tor," she said sadly, her lips against his ear.  "I see I was wrong."

He started again at this, and tried to shake his head.  This time he

was able to suppress the beseeching noise that he almost made, but

wished he had not.  "I was trying to teach you . . . " She shook her

head again, released her hold on him, and relaxed her hand over his

lips.  Frantically, he turned his head and pressed them into her

throat, not saying a word, silently begging her to continue teaching

him.  His hands were fists, his arms taut against the cords that held

them.  The hanging chain alone was slack and relaxed, swinging slowly

as she watched and as she felt his breath against the skin of her

neck.  "I should not offer you another chance," she told him, and

felt as he pressed his mouth into her neck harder, fondling the skin

there with his tongue, pleading wordlessly.  Firmly, she pushed him

away, ignoring the straining in his body to remain close to her.

"You are here to learn, Doctor," she stated.  "You are beautiful, but

I cannot allow you any more breaches in discipline."  Her expression

appeared to soften as she looked into his large eyes.  "If you were

any less beautiful, I would already have put you out and ended the

lesson."  At her words, his face became anguished and he bit back

each word, wanting to throw himself at her and beg her not to stop,

wanting to feel her warm skin against his, her lips on him, even her

nails, the raw touch of which was delight compared to the empty

coldness he felt.

"My time away from my home world has eroded my ethics," she finally

remarked, almost conversationally, and she stroked his face.  She

said nothing for several seconds, then whispered to him as if she

were afraid the walls would hear her, "I find that I cannot put you

out.  It appears that I am the one in chains, Doctor."  The glimmer

of joy in his eyes pleased her, deep within herself.  "But, I must

insure that discipline be maintained.  If you remain, you must be

punished for this breach."  Again, she felt his lips against her neck

in silent gratitude -- silence not counting his eager breathing, the

soft liquid sounds of his lips and tongue against her skin.

She stood, and walked out into the other room again, leaving him to

wonder what form his punishment would take, leaving him to tremble in

mixed joy and fear at being allowed to remain in her care at a price.

The flame lamps went out, leaving him in complete darkness.  He

looked around himself wildly, the metallic noises from his chain

dropping into the stygian darkness like tiny bits of broken glass.

A glimmer of flickering yellow light ran over the bronze headboard,

ruddying it and him, and making his kneeling shadow jump and cavort

over the walls with a freedom which he did not now possess.  He

turned his head, and saw his Lady return, and his heart leapt.  He

tried to move toward her, but the collar restrained him and he felt

it tug him back into his place.  He could see only the barest portion

of her -- her face and hair, her hands, the upper crescents of flesh

of her breasts -- from the long red taper she held, lit and

flickering like something alive.  She was wearing her boots again,

and her gloves, and he could hear the cool tapping of her heels

against the wood floor as she came wordlessly to the bed, to where he

was waiting, apprehensive and unsure of what was to come.

"You will be silent, Doctor," she told him, placing the taper down

aside the bed, and he saw her take something out of the thigh of her


It was a gag.  He swallowed at the sight of it.

"I would not wish to use this, but evidently, it is needed," she told

him.  "It will be tight but not uncomfortably so."  She knelt behind

him once again, and he felt the band of cloth go around his mouth --

saw it only by the jumping dark shapes on the wall where a shadow

woman reached around the neck of a defenseless shadow man and fasten-

ed the cloth over his lips.  The ends were tied firmly, and he was

silenced.  Again, Julian swallowed and felt himself begin to sweat.

He shook once, all over.

She saw it.  "This will be slightly painful, but may not be unplea-

sant."  He turned his head at her words, and saw her pick up the ta-

per and kneel again behind him.  "Lean forward," he was told.  He did

not, but tried instead to twist away from her, looking with fear at

the flaming candle.  From over the gag, she saw his eyes, lit by the

candle flame, watching her -- awaiting her actions.

"Lean forward," she repeated, taking a handful of his dark hair and

pushing his head toward the headboard.  He could not resist, and was

gradually pushed until his bound hands pressed against his brow.  He

was shaking.

A sparkling spot of heat awoke the nerves on the skin of his lower

back; he jumped and inhaled sharply at it, but before he could react

to it, the heat was gone.

Another little stab of heat sprang to life on his left shoulderblade.

He tried again to squirm away from it, but his Lady held him fast by

his hair, and he could not move.

Another -- this time on the back of his neck.  It was quickly follow-

ed by yet another in the middle of his back.  As the bed undulated in

reaction to his starts, little hotspots began tickling and alighting

all over him, dancing like fingertips all over his supple, trembling

body.  He was inching his way closer to hug the headboard, but then

felt a finger inserted into the band of cloth around his lips, and

his head was pulled back roughly until it rested in the crook between

her shoulder and neck.  The little fingertips danced all over him

once more -- punctuating the skin on his jumping chest, running down

his neck, tracing lines along his tense belly and thighs, running all

over him, running their heat all over his skin.  He felt an unbear-

able line of liquid heat trickling down his shoulder, and bucked and

squirmed in his Lady's arms.  She pulled his head back ever more

firmly, and he felt a line of heat drawn down his neck, from chin to

sternum.  It continued down his chest and over his belly, and he

twisted in panic, not wanting it to go further.  He gasped as he felt

it gently touch his tightly curled ebony hair, and then it was else-

where, drawing hot thick lines against his hips and waist.

Then, the pressure on his neck was gone, and the presence of his Lady

was gone with it.  She was gone, vanished, into the mysterious other

room after having placed the burning taper at the bedside.  He looked

down at himself as he tried to catch his breath and saw spots and

trickles of the scarlet wax all over his body, but could think only

of the return of his Lady.

She did so, peeling one glove off with slow and deliberate movements.

Before he knew what was happening, she leapt onto the bed with him

and pushed him flat into the headboard, the engraved and hammered

metal cold as ice against his bare skin.  He did not have time to

react before he felt a stinging crack against his buttocks, one that

pushed him even harder into the hard metal.  A gasp and sound of

shock squeezed itself past his gag, closely followed by another as

the same harsh sting radiated from his buttocks and ran up his spine.

It was joined by another, and another, and soon he was gasping and

moaning -- trying desperately to quell the moans -- in time with his

Lady's punishment.  With a jolt, he realized that he was beginning to

grow hard and stiff, realized that he wanted her to swallow him yet

again, even while she drove her hand over and over into his soft

skin, even while the crimson wax now solidified on him cracked and

splintered with his gyrations.  It went on, seemingly forever, until

he felt raw and the once icy headboard seemed like fire against his

chest.  The pounding had taken on a rhythm of its own, until his

entire being resonated with her every stinging blow, until every

movement he made -- even the beating of his heart -- had become

synchronized with her punishment.

And then it was over, and she was gone from behind him yet again,

leaving him to slump against the headboard, exhausted and trying to

catch his breath.  After a time, her voice came from a far corner of

the room.  "Have you learned?"  With effort, he turned his spinning

head to look in the direction of her voice.

In a regal-looking plush chair, high backed and covered in the ubi-

quitous dark leather, she was seated with her long black-encased legs

crossed, regarding him like an ephemeral judge in the dim halflight.

For several moments he could not muster any reply at all, could only

imagine what she saw when she looked at him like that; again he was

the cub or the gazelle, shivering and defenseless, and she the pre-

dator.  He looked down at himself again -- his skin in the dim can-

dlelight the same color as the metal headboard -- and saw the broken

traces of wax all over his body.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep

breath and nodded, still feeling the tingling aftereffects of her


"You have?" she asked, idly running her index finger up and down her

sternum.  Julian tried to read some emotion, some hopeful sign, in

her face and failed.  "I hope you have.  There is little time left

for us now until you must return to duty, Doctor, and I can't afford

to waste any more trying to teach you to hold your tongue."

He lowered his eyes, wanting to convince her that he could be trusted

to keep silent and learn.

She bounced one leg forward a few times, considering his kneeling

form.  "I think," she said as she unfolded herself and got up, "that

we will retain the gag.  Just to be on the safe side."  At the sight

of her walking toward him, Julian felt his heart leap.  For the thou-

sandth time, he cursed the bonds that held his wrists fast to the

bed, wanting to take her and hold her, plunge himself into her as

deeply as he could -- soul to soul.  He was not to be put out; she

would continue!

She saw his happiness, and it stopped her for a few moments.  His

Lady only looked down at him as he gazed up at her; she could read

the joy in his face, and it appeared to touch her.  The ungloved hand

raised and patted his cheek over the gag, and her expression became

infinitely tender.  "None have been so eager before . . . " she told

him quietly, her voice gentle.  She stroked his hair.  "Perhaps I was

too harsh with you.  None have ever wanted to please me so much."

She smiled at him, and her other hand moved to the gag.  He felt it

loosen slightly, and it dropped to his chin.  "Only for a few mo-

ments, dear Doctor."  His beautiful Lady leaned forward then, saying,

"I wish I could keep you," and kissed him as tenderly as he had ever

been kissed.  He tasted her sweetness and wanted very badly to match

it with his own.

The kiss deepened, and he lay himself mentally bare to her as she

probed into him, threatening to touch the secret sensitive places in

his mind and soul, the places he had barely dared to recognize him-

self.  She was everywhere, all things to him, and he fervently wished

she could take him into herself -- physically and mentally -- for-

ever.  Then contact with her lessened, and the gag slid back into

place over his lips.  Without a word, he understood.  The lesson must

continue, and he would not breach protocol this time; he would die

before disappointing her again.

She stepped back from him and stood silently, appearing to consider

something.  "Maybe we need a . . . brief rest."  Her hands were on

her hips, and she looked down at him with great affection -- watching

his eyes over the gag and the way they caught the spare candlelight.

Light and shadow flickered over him, coating him in a neon

butterscotch glow that jumped like a live thing, skittering all over

his bare skin -- illuminating first the nestling space between his

beautiful neck and shoulder, then the gentle S-curve of his back,

then the taut and graceful arms and legs, folded under him as he

knelt.  She watched as it ran itself through his dark hair, casting

fiery highlights in its depths, sketching out the waves and the

tight, damp curls that ringed his face and neck.  For a moment, she

almost loosed the gag completely, so badly did she desire to see his

fine, delicate lips in the halflight of the candle, but she restrain-

ed herself, knowing that the gag must remain, and that her own train-

ing as an Ishtarian teacher would be too severely compromised were

she to follow this impulse.

She chuckled to herself, low in her throat.  "You would make me cast

aside my training, Doctor, all for your beauty and my own desire."

She placed one flat palm against his hard, healthy belly and sighed.

He made no reply to this, with voice nor eyes but only remained

looking at her, awaiting her.  "I must finish instructing you in

relaxation and control first.  After that," and she toyed with the

tightly curled jet hair between his hips, "I will be able to instruct

you only in one more technique, one in which every man should be

well-versed."  An enigmatic smile.  "After all, when the time comes

for you to please your next partner, you may not have access to


Next partner?  With a shock, he realized what she meant.  His head

whirled at the thought.  How could he have, or want, a next partner?

He looked at her, lit by the flickering flame, and shook his head.

You are my partner, my owner, he told her silently.  You possess me

now -- and always.  His deep eyes were transparent and honest, and

she read everything she had to in them, and was dismayed by it.

"No," she whispered gently.  "You must take others, my beautiful

Doctor.  You must."  Her statement was met only by slow shaking of

his dark head.  She saw his slim chest rise in a sigh, and saw the

devotion and fear at her departure shining out of his eyes.  "You

cannot remain here, and I cannot have you wait only for me.  I am

your teacher, not . . . " and her expression softened.  "I am sorry,"

she told him.  "I cannot take your fealty."  His fists tightened.  "I

cannot," she repeated urgently.  Her hand went to him then, alighting

on his sharp smooth cheeks like a feathery fan.  "Doctor," she said

with great intensity, "how could I keep you from others?  How could I

live knowing that you were not my consort but would take no other?"

Her fingers fluttered down to his jaw.  "There will be others,

Doctor.  And I cannot live knowing that I have taken you from them."

He tugged fiercely at his bonds, desperately wanting to tear the gag

from around his mouth and give voice to what he was feeling, take her

and disappear in her, inside her moist enveloping flesh -- thrust

himself into her as deeply as he could and never come out, never

leave the deepest embrace he had ever known.  He leaned his head back

and moaned, agonized at his inability to tell her this.

And her eyes dropped at this moment, as she regarded the devotion she

had inspired.  For a brief time, she leaned forward and forgot

herself.  Julian saw the opportunity and took it.  Throwing up his

left arm, he brought it down over her shoulder and caught her at

last, feeling his tortured muscles cry out as he pulled her tightly

to him, so tightly.  Her back was to the headboard, and she was

between his arms, her own wrapped around him as they pressed their

bodies together, feeling flesh against warm flesh, moistened by

excitement.  Her hands ran over him, all over him, and she could feel

the outlines of the tense slender muscles and tendons over his back

and shoulders as he clutched her, feel as well the spots and curls of

wax all over his skin.  Her face was against his neck, and she felt

as well the tickling damp curls of his hair, moist with his sweat,

running over her cheeks.  Wordlessly, she moved her right leg around

his hips.  Wordlessly, she embraced him thus.  "You are yet in your

bonds, Doctor," she said, almost to herself.  "I do not break

training.  You are yet in your bonds."  And she pulled her head back,

to see his eyes, his large amazing eyes, shining clear and intense

with all he was feeling -- dedication, arousal, smoldering desire.

And he plunged himself into her.

She only inhaled at this, her own very dark eyes wide.  Fiercely, she

tightened her legs, embracing him in the leather and her own body as

she felt him in her, deeply.  Against her own skin, she felt his

stomach tensing and relaxing, pulsing as his hips drove into her,

thrusting.  Her hands flew to his head once more, her fingers

tightening in his hair.  He felt her tugging urgently at the knot at

the nape of his neck, then felt only her mouth on his, her tongue

between his lips, thrusting as deeply into him as he was into her.

Her hands were around his neck, around the collar, pressing him into

her as she devoured him madly.  The chain from his collar cut into

her shoulder; she barely felt it such were the hot fiery sensations

exploding all over her.  Her lips which Julian's own tongue had

parted, the skin of her breasts and stomach as she felt the slick

wetness of his taut body against hers, his round lovely buttocks soft

between her thighs, and the folds of her flesh, wet and sensitive and

embracing, that took him in, feeling his every movement, his every

frantic thrust as he lost himself in her.

She felt icy metal at her own back and his fists at her neck and

realized that she had been backed into the headboard, pressed into it

as Julian pressed into her.  At first, she tried to push him away,

her hands at his driving hips, but then told herself -- He is yet in

his bonds.   He is yet bound.  Her head fell back, and his mouth was

at her neck, then her shoulder.  I am not breaking training, his or

mine.  He is bound.  His hands grasped her hair firmly, tightly; she

could not move her head.  He is yet bound, she told herself again.

He is still in his bonds.  She felt the pounding as he drove himself

into her, wildly.  Opening her eyes, she saw him -- eyes closed, jaw

clenched, his body shining and taut as wire, unreasoning, unthinking,

and realized the horror she was allowing to occur, the damage she was

doing to him.  Firmly, she placed her hands against his hips to hold

them away from her, hold them still, but such was his energy that he

easily overpowered her with his wild thrusting.  "Doctor," she whis-

pered but he did not hear.  The only response was a sound low in his

throat as he buried his face in her damp hair, a sound halfway be-

tween moan and howl.

His thrusting continued, and she realized that she had to stop him

now, before his training was ruined forever, before his wild im-

patience to unite with her overrode his tenuous training in control.

"Doctor!" she cried, and this time got a wordless inarticulate reply.

She finally grasped his pounding hips with a grip of iron that took

all her strength, stilling them completely.  For the first time since

the initiatory lesson, she felt him seriously struggling against her,

pushing with all his might to overcome her hands and drive into her

harder and further.  His eyes were wild and unreasoning as he looked

at her; were he coherent they might have been incredulous.  As it

was, he could only stare at her, fighting her hands, tightening his

embrace around her, trying with everything he had to be inside her

again.  After a time, he found his voice.

"Lady . . . "  It was urgent, its inherent softness obliterated by

his mad desire.  "Please, Lady, no . . . "  The words came faster,

tumbling out.  "Please . . . please let me be inside you again . . ."

Panic began to surface.  "Please!" he cried and began fighting her

strong hands again, pushing his hips forward as his body strained to

be close to hers.  "Lady, please . . . " he begged.  She shook her


"Not like this."  Her voice was a whisper, edged with her own frus-

tration and desire, and anger at herself.

"But Lady, why?" was all he could ask, all he could plead.  His fists

became ironlike rocks.

"Doctor, I can't!" she hissed.  "I already nearly destroyed your

training with my stupidity.  I've nearly thrown away all my own

training because of my own shortsighted desire for you."  She paused

to get her own breath back, fighting her own wanting, wanting that

she hadn't felt since she had completed her training as teacher.  "I

can't let that happen!"  His skin was slick and wet; one more thrust

would wrench his hips out of her hands, and he would be in her again.

She tightened her grip on him until her nails dug into his soft skin.

"Doctor, I have my vows to think of . . . "

"I want you," he whispered back to her, his eyes roving over her

face, his mouth closing on hers until she felt his breath.  "I just

want you . . . "

"You are here to learn control," she replied.  "This," she nearly

waved to indicate both of them until she remembered that she dare not

move her hands, "is not control . . . "

"But Lady," and his voice dropped until she felt she would melt from

its sensuous intensity, "I don't want control right now . . . "  He

ran his mouth over her neck, so lightly and exquisitely that her hair

began to stand on end.  She felt his tongue at her throat, at her

pulse, and shivered.  "I want you . . . "

"You'll have me, and I you," she told him.  "But slowly, slowly."

She inhaled.  "Please, Doctor.  This is not as it should be."

"It should be . . . I should be . . . inside you, Lady."  If she had

thought his eyes burned before, it was as nothing compared to the

fire in them now.  "Forever."

Her heart convulsed.  "Would you leave the Fleet, your position?"  He

was silent at this.  "Would you give up all that you have now for

something you do not understand?  You do not know what a consort is,

or does.  You do not know life on Ishtar, among my people.  You

barely know daily life on my ship, Doctor!"  Her voice nearly broke.

"I cannot accept your fealty.  Please do not ask me again!"  There

was silence, and then --

"Must it be as consort?" he asked, and his defenselessness almost

paralyzed her.  He lowered his eyes, and his lashes looked long

enough to brush his cheeks.

Her head shook once.  "It must, with my vows.  Teachers such as

myself may not bind themselves to a man unless it be as consort."

She closed her eyes.  "And to be consort, you must leave the Fleet."

He said nothing, only bowed his head, nestling it against her

shoulder.  "I will be back, Doctor, my beautiful pupil."  She lifted

one hand to clasp his dark head to herself.  "I will return to this

station, I promise."

"How long?" he asked, after a painful silence.

"What with the independence on Bajor, the market for traders such as

myself has grown.  Normally, I would only pass by here once in a

lifetime.  Now, it may be as soon as four or five months."

Five months . . . !  It wasn't until she stroked his hair and toyed

with its waves, making a comforting shushing sound, that he realized

he had spoken aloud, and with all the despair he felt.

"Until then," she said gently, "we have the time we have, Doctor.

Two more hours."  She kissed his head softly.  "Let us make the most

of them."

"I know . . . I know that I said this before," he began, "but, Lady,

I'm yours."  His gentle lips caressed her cheek.  "Yours."

"Then," she smiled, "let us resume the lesson . . . my lovely pupil."

Again, they kissed deeply, and the room was silent but for the sounds

of their mouths against one another.  The scent of their desire hung

heavily in the fading candlelight as the taper finally burnt to its

socket, leaving them in darkness together for long moments, a dark-

ness they shared in a simple comforting embrace, saying and doing

nothing, but merely sharing the closeness of warm bodies, each feel-

ing the other's rhythmic breathing.  Then, "Lamps on low," she said

finally, managing to make it sound sensuous.  Immediately, the flame

lamps rose from their slumber, casting shadows on the walls and turn-

ing Julian's dark rich hair into a jet cap ringed by a halo of gold.

His face was in shadow, but his features were still highlighted by

shadows on shadows, sharp and smooth and beautiful.  His Lady caught

her breath in amazement.  One hand rose to his cheek, and he leaned

into the caress.  His eyes were in shadow; all that she could see was

the devotion that shone from them, from out of their velvet depths.

He turned his head, placing his lips against her wrist until he could

feel her pulse, rapid even for one of her race.  They drew together,

led by the tether that had sprung up between them, until they met in

warmth and lost themselves, each in the other.

Her hands moved at his hips, hands that had recently left nail marks

in his skin.  They now slid gently over him, languidly sliding over

the soft skin, feeling the curves and textures of his body.  They

wandered to his waist, his slender waist, then to his back and shoul-

ders, now dry and velvetly.  She felt the muscles there moving under

the skin as he lifted his arms -- still bound -- around her and drew

her even more tightly against him.  Her mouth once again found his

pulse, and her tongue traced it out to behind his jaw.  Against her,

he shivered.  His hips moved forward, and she whispered only one word

to him: "Patience."  She felt him nod.

Again, he entered her -- slowly, gently, with easy grace.  Their

bodies met, and Julian understood her desire, her wish to keep this

as it was.  The frantic grasping he had nearly given in to was as

nothing compared to the electric unity he felt now -- in each instant

of this togetherness, there was something to delight in, nothing to

rush through.  In each movement of hers and his, there was a new

sensation -- every part of her was a part to take individually, in

his mouth, his fingers, with his tongue, and experience.  He felt her

doing the same thing to him, taking each part of him, the entire

surface of his body, and devoting long slow minutes to it.  As she

moved, he was acutely aware of his body against hers, her legs around

him, her breasts pushed against his bare chest, their gentle softness

and the strength of the muscles underneath.  Gently, he began to

thrust back and forth, back and forth.  He could feel the excitement

build in him, and he forced himself to retain the slow, easy rhythm.

Patience, she had said.  He looked into her eyes, large and tip-tilt-

ed and no color he had ever seen before, and had no problem maintain-

ing the languid tempo.  All of her was something to be treasured, and

he would die rather than rush any part of it.  He would die rather

than keep this time with his Lady from lasting one minute longer than

it might.  It would not be forever, but he would make it seem so, and

with the discipline and control she had taught him.

Again, her nails went down his back, but this time he did not start.

Only a softly voiced sigh broke between his lips, trembling against

hers.  His spine arched, pushing his body yet harder into her own,

and his head fell back as far as the collar would allow.  With elec-

tric sensitivity, he felt her arm around his waist, holding him to

herself, and her other hand against his chest as she watched his

supple body curve away from hers in the liquid lamplight.  Lazily,

she leaned with him, drawing whirls and spirals with her tongue

against his chest.  He was beginning to shine once again, the hot

thin sweat of wanting, and as she looked down at herself -- at her

own breasts rising and falling, at her hard stomach, at her hips

joined to his -- she saw that she was as well.  Her eyes remained at

their paired hips, and she could just see the barest edge of him

entering and pulling away slowly between her muscular thighs, could

just hear the faintest liquid sounds of friction between their skins.

She looked up then, into his deep eyes, to see him watching her as

she watched.  His arousal flared, and he pressed himself against her

even more firmly, all the while maintaining the same slow rhythm, the

same lazy pace.  All the time in the universe . . . for the next

two hours.

She buried her fingers in the dark waves of his hair and pulled his

face against hers, softly thrusting her tongue between his delicate

lips.  Gradually, she began to mimic his rhythm inside her until they

were swallowing one another in time, in slow time.  With a jolt, she

realized that this was the first time she had ever followed any man's

lead, the first time she had not directed action.  The thought was

rapidly chased away, however, by the dizzying sensations she was

drowning in.  Maiden, Mother, and Crone, she thought hazily, what a

consort he would make.

He pulled away from her suddenly, stilling their undulations.  His

eyes were closed.  "Lady . . . " he trailed off, his gentle voice

holding onto the word.

"Control," she whispered back to him, fondling his jaw lovingly as

she saw his jet lashes fluttering.  They were both silent for long

agonizing moments.  Then, "Are you ready?" she asked him.  He nodded.

"Yes . . . " he replied with sensuous sibilance.  And he resumed, for

a brief time -- only a scant few minutes.  He pulled away from her

more urgently this time, his jaw clenched.

Through trembling lips, he breathed, "Lady . . . I don't think . . ."

His eyes were wide, filled with despair and pleading.  She caressed

his soft skin, his beautiful buttocks, with her gentle hands.

"Doctor," she replied, her voice feathery and light, filled with

understanding, "this is only your second lesson."  She leaned forward

and kissed his cheek.  "You have done far more . . . progressed

further than I would have imagined possible for a novice."  He only

swallowed at her words.

"But, I . . . "  He broke off and a chill took him, making his slick

body stand out with goosebumps.

Her mouth moved against his skin.  "You have pleased me, Doctor."

She paused.  "More than any other pupil, or any other man."  She took

his hips then, and pushed them against her own, rocking back and

forth as she thrust for him.  "I give you this."  Her rocking became

more and more forceful, her strong arms taking over for him, giving

him what he meant to have, what he deserved.

He shuddered under her hands, and gasped.  Overcoming her own rhythm,

his body pressed into hers as the wave broke over him.  Like iron,

she felt him slamming into her, saw him as he lost control finally --

as he must -- heard his wonder and peaking pleasure expressed in his

beautiful voice.  Again, his head was thrown back -- this time by a

force beyond him, and his spine whipped, throwing him into her over

and over.  She clasped him to her fiercely, feeling his taut, slim

body shuddering with the seizures that had taken him, crashing into

her with a strength which he did not normally possess.  She felt him

driving into her as deeply as anyone had ever been, filling her as

she took him in, stretching her sacred gateway deliciously.  With

sudden passion, she clutched at him, her arms tightening around his

back and she wished that he need never leave.  Doctor, she thought

silently, how I wish you could remain in me . . . for all time.

Nearly weeping, she buried her face in the warm skin at his neck,

moistened with his excitement, and clasped his body to hers even


                    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Here."  She handed him his other uniform.  "I took the liberty of

retrieving it from your quarters while you were sleeping."

He took it without a word.  They had spent the last three quarters of

an hour in the warm spa, his head nestled against her chest, her arms

cradling him while the water lapped at them both and the synthesized

breezes carried the jasmine past their intertwined bodies.

Conversation had been sporadic.  He had tried so hard to convince

himself that it would last forever, and had failed.  And now, here

she was, handing him his Starfleet uniform, about to leave on a

voyage that would take her away from him for months, take her away.

Closing his eyes, he recalled the bloodwarm water, the feel of her

wet skin under his cheek as he lay against her, the feel of her body

against his as she held him.

As he pulled on his uniform, his eyes found the bed, rumpled from his

past lesson.  From the headboard, his collar still hung, limp and

empty.  Without a word, his Lady walked to the bed, her body covered

for the first time since he had originally seen her in the infirmary

-- years ago.  Without a word, she unlocked the ring that held the

collar to the headboard, walked toward Julian Bashir, and silently

held it out to him.  He took it as well.

"This should remain on board my vessel," she told him.  "Custom."

She took his hands in hers.  "But sometimes customs are meant to be

broken."  She paused, regarding him.  "It belongs with you.  When I

return . . . bring it with you.  Perhaps," she smiled wryly, "we may

determine next time how it fits me."

His eyes shot to her face, the wing brows raised in a question.

"There are, after all, other lessons to be taught, dear Doctor."  Her

hands ran over his smooth cheeks.  "Dear beautiful Doctor."

He attached his rank button to the collar of his uniform shirt and

only looked at her.  Suddenly, on an impulse, he knelt before her,

and his eyes -- those eyes that had touched her so deeply, been late-

ly so filled with excitement, with fire -- gazed up at her.  He took

her hands.  "Lady," he said, his voice filled with such measureless

devotion, and he could not continue.  His gaze dropped.

Her hand touched his dark head gently.  "I understand," she said to

him, and, after a moment's indecision, she knelt in front of him,

faced him as an equal.  He moved to kiss her, but she put her hand

against his chest, against his uniformed chest, and stopped him.

"Not without your bonds, Doctor," she said sadly.

"I understand," he echoed, dropping his arm from around her waist.

He held the collar against himself like a talisman, clutching it.

Together, they rose.

"You're due in the infirmary in ten minutes," she told him.


"And I'm due to depart in ten minutes as well."  She regarded the

docking plan on the viewer near the entrance to her ship.  "There is

a Vulcan ship due to dock in this very place then, and I must be gone

for them to do so."  She took him in her arms, then -- and again he

felt the closeness, the unity, he had felt while his body had been

against hers, inside hers, touching completely and not through awful

clothing.  They did not kiss.

After long minutes, they released one another.  "I . . . " he began,

but trailed off.

"I know."

His hands tightened around the collar, still damp with his sweat.

His legs felt like lead as he walked toward the docking entrance, his

Lady behind him.

"Five months," she said to him.  "It will pass."

"Like five centuries."  She shook her head.

"No.  Your life will continue, Doctor.  You will find things with

which to occupy your time.  Dangers, adventures, the things you came

here for."  She shrugged.  "I . . . I will find opportunities, worlds

for trading," a sly smile, "and gambling halls for cheating."  This

brought the smile she longed to see to his lips.  "And when I return

here, I will find you, and you me.  And the lessons will resume."

"Lady," he whispered, his voice colored with urgency as the bay door

rolled back, presenting the lonely and silent corridor to him.  "I'm


"I know," she replied and touched his face, his brow.  She turned

then, and walked back into her ship.  The entrance slid open, and she

turned back to see him standing in the airlock bay entrace, framed by

the door, holding the collar in his hands.

"Five months," she repeated.

"Five months."  And the entrance closed over her, cutting her off

from him with a pain that was nearly concrete in its intensity.  He

stepped back from the airlock as the door rolled back into place with

formidable solidity.  He heard the faint clicks of the safeties

loosing, then the rumble of her engines.  As he watched, the Ariad

shot away from the docking ring, its aft end glowing with the power

of her warp drive.  He would have stood there longer, watching until

her glowing ship, her presence, was gone from the sky, but his duty

to the station, his job, was once more present in his mind.  Checking

a chrono set into the wall, he saw that he had two minutes until he

was due in the infirmary.

His fists tightened on the collar again, and he looked down at it in

his hands.  Still shimmering blue and silver, it was yet damp.  His

eyes closed in memory, and he swallowed.  One last glance out the

port was all he allowed himself, and he turned away.  His steps

echoed in the silent corridor.

Five months . . . 


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