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The Delightful Education of Julian Bashir 2
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Subject: The Delightful Education of Julian Bashir, part 2 of 2
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
boot.
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
blows.
"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
kamireh."
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
head.
"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
harder.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"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.
"Yes."
"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
yours."
"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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