ugly bag of mostly voyager

Chapter One: Exposure

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Day 1, 1845 hours, Holodeck One

 

The table is set, the candles lit. She dithers over the soundtrack; it doesn’t fit the era of this holodeck program, but she settles eventually on an old jazz selection she sometimes plays in the bathtub. It’s sensual without being overt, and she hopes it will offset the sheer blatancy of what she, and he, know she’s here to do.

The drawing-room is opulent – hand-painted wallpaper, heavy velvet drapes, a soft, thick rug laid in front of the fire crackling in the hearth. There’s a plush, gilded chaise she’s selected from the holodeck files for its high back; she’ll need something to grip, to balance herself while he pulls the corset tight.

She thinks about that and has to close her eyes for a moment, tamping down the excitement rising in her blood.

The computer informs her that someone is requesting entry, and she opens her eyes.

It’s 1900 hours. He’s right on time.

 

=/\=

 

Chakotay has taken Kathryn at her word and outfitted himself to suit her holoprogram: tight cream-coloured breeches, black leather boots, a brocade waistcoat over a linen shirt. He carries a bottle of wine – real, not replicated. He sees her standing by the table, and his steps come to a halt.

“You don’t appear to be dressed for the occasion.”

Kathryn hears the hesitancy in his voice, and realises that by showing up in the loose pants and tank top she threw on after her shower she’s given him the wrong impression. He thinks she’s having second thoughts.

She’s had them – second, third, fourth – but whenever she thinks about returning to the way she was before Latavan, lonely and frustrated, her resolve strengthens. So she sets him straight.

“I told you I’ll need your help to dress,” she says, not bothering to hide the undercurrent in her voice. “And I thought we should eat first –”

“- in case we get too distracted,” he finishes, and his slow, curling smile turns her insides to liquid.

If he keeps looking at her like that, they’ll never make it to dinner. Kathryn swallows hard and moves toward the table, sinking into the chair Chakotay holds out for her. A holo-serving maid enters the room as he takes his seat opposite her, silently pouring wine for them. Chakotay waits until the maid leaves before he speaks again.

“What are we doing here, Kathryn?”

She sips her wine to compose herself. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Oh, it’s obvious,” he lets his gaze travel over her face and downward to where her nipples, hardened with anticipation, are pushing against her thin cotton tank. “But I know how you feel about rules and parameters, so maybe you should lay them out for me before this goes any further.”

Kathryn puts down her wine, her eyes lowered.

“Do you want to know what Tuvok said to me?” she asks, after a moment. “He told me that humans require intimate companionship to function at peak efficiency. He implied that my decision not to pursue sexual satisfaction while on Voyager may be hindering my ability to command. And he suggested, quite strongly, that I should pursue it with you.”

She glances up at him and is surprised to find him grinning, dimples deep. “Are you telling me I have Tuvok to thank for this? The bastion of Starfleet protocol himself?”

“Oh, I think you can take some of the credit yourself, Commander.” She lets her fingers play along the stem of her wineglass, giving him a half-smile. “If I’m to judge by your performance last night, this is one protocol I’m not going to regret breaking.”

Chakotay picks up her free hand, stroking a thumb lightly over the inside of her wrist. His voice is husky with promise. “Then I’d better warn you, Kathryn, that last night was only a taste of what I plan to do to you. I’m just getting started.”

Her pulse jumps and a sharp throb of lust arrows its way directly to her clitoris, making her suck in a breath.

“I can hardly wait,” she murmurs.

He brings her wrist up to his lips, sucking gently at her pulse point, and Kathryn’s lips part on a sigh. She starts to rise from her chair, but he holds up a hand to stop her. “You should eat first,” he says, dimples showing. “You’re going to need your strength.”

The holomaid re-enters on cue, placing two steaming dishes in front of them and retreating with a curtsey. Chakotay spears a piece of replicated okra on a fork and holds it out for Kathryn. Her lips close around it, butter dripping onto her chin as she swallows. He collects the errant drips on a fingertip and she catches his finger between her teeth, curling her tongue around his finger to watch his eyes darken.

Reluctantly he draws back, settling into his chair. “Keep that up and we’ll never make it through dinner.”

Kathryn allows herself a small smirk at the roughened tone in his voice. “Yes, sir,” she says flippantly.

She’s unprepared for the wolfish smile he gives her in return. “Is that the way you want to play it, Kathryn?”

Her eyebrow raises in query.

Chakotay pushes his plate forward and folds his arms on the table, his eyes holding hers. “While we were on Latavan, you played a role that required you to act subservient toward me. And I couldn’t help noticing,” he pauses, making sure she’s listening – which she is, intently – “that you seemed to enjoy it.”

Her body flushes at the knowing look in his eye. “You noticed that?” she whispers.

“There’s never a time when I don’t notice you, Kathryn.” His gaze caresses her face until she has to look away. “Eat,” he reminds her.

Her hand trembles slightly as she picks up her fork.

They eat in silence, the air thickening with the knowledge of what is to come, until Kathryn’s throat has tightened and she can’t manage another bite. She pushes her plate away and gulps at her wine, and Chakotay lays his cutlery neatly on his plate. The maid appears to clear the table.

“Thank you,” Chakotay says to her. She nods and bustles out, and he turns to Kathryn. “How much time do we have?”

“The holodeck is ours until 2200.”

“Then I think it’s time you changed your outfit, don’t you?”

Kathryn nods, and stands on shaky legs.

 

=/\=

 

She strips quickly behind the lacquered screen, tossing her clothing over the back of a chair and pulling on the sheer chemise. The corset fits loosely around her midsection and she ties it just enough that it won’t slip down over her hips. She takes a moment to draw a long, shuddering breath, knowing it’ll be the last time she can fill her lungs with air for a while.

When she steps out from behind the screen, Chakotay is standing by the fireplace, a glass of wine held loosely in one hand. She watches his pupils dilate as he takes in the sight of her.

“Come here,” he says, his voice rough.

Her steps are hesitant as she moves toward him. He puts his glass on the mantel and waits until she’s a breath away, his gaze traveling over her from her loosely piled-up hair to her bare feet. She starts to tremble under the heat of his eyes. She can see he’s aroused – it’s in the tightness of his jaw, the way he’s holding himself so still – but he makes no move to touch her.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks breathlessly.

“I understand what you want from this arrangement.” His eyes are solemn. “But there’s something I have to do before we start anything. Something I need you to know.”

“What is it?”

He closes the distance between them, taking her hand and winding his fingers into hers. His other hand slides gently under her hair and tips her face up to his. His kiss is light as air and so filled with tender emotion it brings unwanted tears to her eyes. Her lips part and she breathes him in, her hands coming up to his chest.

When he slowly pulls back, she opens her eyes and finds him watching her, hiding nothing. She swallows around the lump in her throat.

“Chakotay, I —” She doesn’t know what to say. This is supposed to be simple, and what he’s just told her with his eyes and his kiss is anything but.

He silences her with a thumb against her lips. “I just wanted you to know.”

Despite herself, despite the sudden misgivings tightening her chest, her smile blooms under his fingers.

“Do you trust me, Kathryn?”

After a moment, she nods.

“Good,” he says, and his voice hardens. “Now we can start.”

Chakotay frees the hand entwined with hers, firmly gripping her wrist. His other hand shifts from beneath the weight of her hair, his fingers curling loosely around her throat, and she can’t stifle her gasp. Suddenly her heart is pounding. She feels his body move against hers, walking her backwards until her hip makes contact with the high back of the chaise. Her eyes are wide as she stares up at him. He’s so tall and so broad, and she can feel the reined-in strength in the fingers circling her throat.

Her vulnerable, fragile throat.

She wonders if he can feel her pulse fluttering against the pads of his fingers.

“Trust me,” he repeats, and his hands move to her shoulders, turning her, taking her hands and placing them on the chaise back. His fingers glide up the length of her arms and she shivers at the light contact. One comes to rest on her hip. The other takes hold of the loops at the middle of the corset binding and he gives a slow, experimental tug. Kathryn sucks in air, tightening her grip on the chaise.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, so very close.

“God, yes,” she manages.

“Then hold on.”

She widens her stance, bracing herself, and feels the corset mould around her as Chakotay pulls long and hard on the laces. She takes a tentative breath, feeling the constriction in her lungs, and shivers.

“All right?” His mouth brushes her ear, and the touch sends a surge of desire through her.

“More,” she whispers.

He drags on the laces again, the hand on her hip tightening to hold her steady. She sips air, her head already light. As the corset draws in even further she lets her tortured breath out on a moan.

Chakotay’s thumb strokes over the upper curve of her ass, delving slightly between her cheeks, and she gasps. He pulls tighter again and she drops her head forward, exposing the curve of her spine. He leans in to kiss it.

“What is it that you like about this, Kathryn?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that she feels against her skin. “Is it the shortness of breath? The way it makes you so aware of your body?”

He tugs hard and she groans. It’s almost tight enough… just a little more…

“It’s a well-documented sexual practice,” he murmurs, his mouth moving lightly over the curve of her shoulder. “Erotic asphyxiaphilia; the achievement or heightening of orgasm through oxygen deprivation. Binding you into a corset is one way to achieve the effect, but there are others.”

“There are?” she gasps.

Chakotay tightens the corset that last, delicious bit and ties it off. “Would you like to find out?”

“I – I don’t –”

His hands drop from her body and she feels him step backward. His voice is hard.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, trying to wriggle back into contact.

He places a firm hand at the base of her spine, holding her still. “Noted,” he rumbles, then traces one finger up along the line of her stays. “But I think perhaps there’s more to this than controlled breathing.”

In a move so quick she can barely blink, he grasps her wrists and brings her hands tightly behind her back, holding her firm with one big hand. His thigh pushes between her legs from behind, making her gasp and forcing her to arch her back to maintain balance. His other hand curves around her waist, flattening against her corseted ribs. She flexes her wrists in his grip and finds she’s unable to move them at all.

Her entire body tenses, fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. She struggles, feels his grip closing to hold her more firmly. And then she takes a shallow breath, feels the corset cradling her body, his hands immobilising her, and finds that all the tension is draining from her muscles.

She trusts him.

“Good,” he whispers approvingly, his lips nuzzling her exposed neck. “Seems you like a little restriction in your movement as well. That’s something else I plan to explore.”

Her heart is thumping so loudly she’s sure he can hear it, and her voice is strangled. “Are you going to tie me up?”

Chakotay smiles against her neck. “Oh, undoubtedly. Another time.”

He releases her wrists, catching her hands and threading his fingers through hers as he presses up against her from behind. He brings their joined hands to sweep upward over the bodice of the corset, cupping her breasts. The sheer fabric of the chemise rubs between their fingers and her swollen nipples and Kathryn shudders, her hips pushing blindly back against his arousal.

“You’re so exposed like this,” Chakotay murmurs, the pads of his fingers circling lightly over her nipples. He extricates his hands from hers, holding her fingers over her own breasts. “Touch yourself,” he orders, and, trembling, she complies. His hands smooth down over the corset - pressing, squeezing, making her gasp – and one grips firmly onto her hip, the other pushing down between her legs. The indirect touch makes her buck and groan, her fingers stilling their movement on her breasts as she raises herself on tiptoe, tipping forward against his seeking hand.

“No panties,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Just as I suspected. You like this, don’t you – making your body available to me like this, so I can see all of you and touch you wherever I want.”

It’s not a question, so she’s spared from answering. Which, she reflects a little hysterically, is a good thing, because she doubts he’d believe her if she denied it.

“I wonder …” His voice trails off as his fingers begin to gather the thin fabric between her legs, baring her thighs.

“What?” she whimpers.

“I wonder just how exposed you secretly want to be.”

She stills, a frown of confusion marring her forehead.

“Are there any characters in this holoprogram apart from the maid, Kathryn?”

“Yes.” She wishes he’d stop the random patterning of his fingertips against her inner thigh; she already feels half-drunk on him, on this spell he’s weaving her in, and she can’t think clearly. “There’s the housekeeper, Mrs Templeton –” she breaks off on a harsh breath as he traces a finger along the inner crease of her thigh.

“Anybody else?”

“Lord Burleigh. The, uh, the –” his fingers brush her core and she moans. “The gentleman of the house.”

“Computer,” Chakotay says, “activate Lord Burleigh character.”

“What – wait –”

But his fingers dip into her, coating themselves in her slickness and rubbing it over her aching clitoris and she loses the ability to speak, her thighs quivering as he strokes her. He anchors her with one arm firmly around her hips as her hands shoot out to grip the chaise for balance.

“Oh – Chakotay –”

“Lucy?”

Kathryn squeaks, her eyes snapping open. Lord Burleigh stands in the open doorway by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on her, his holographic mouth open in horror.

Chakotay chooses that moment to bite lightly down on her shoulder as he slides one curled finger inside her. Mindlessly, she thrusts forward onto it.

“Lucy, what are you doing?!”

“Lord Burleigh, I presume,” Chakotay says in a voice rich with satisfaction as Kathryn begins to shake.

“Stop,” she protests weakly, her body belying her words as Chakotay works his thumb over her nub.

The hologram takes a step forward. “Unhand her, sir,” he demands, but his gaze is fixed on Kathryn, taking in the flushed nipples visible through the chemise, the trembling thighs, the male hand stroking between her legs.

“Do you really want me to stop, Kathryn?” her captor murmurs, adding another finger inside her. She moans. “Or should I let him watch me make you come?”

“No…” but she doesn’t know which question she’s answering as she raises her heavy eyes to the hologram’s and Chakotay rubs his thumb over her clit and she feels that unstoppable rush of fire pooling in her belly and racing outward along her limbs, and she tries to suck air into her constricted lungs, her head spinning into points of light as her climax bursts over her.

She’s not sure if she actually passes out for a moment, but she’s only dimly aware of Chakotay’s fingers gentling her down from her high as his other arm holds her upright. When sense gradually returns she looks at the Burleigh hologram, her cheeks burning with excited shame. He’s rooted to the floor, staring at her, his arousal evident through the tight breeches. As evident as the hard length she can feel pressing against her buttocks.

Chakotay pulls his hand out from between her thighs, brings it to her mouth, and presses his fingers between her lips. Her nostrils flare at the scent of herself. Involuntarily she opens her mouth, sucking his fingers in and licking the taste of herself from them. She feels him shudder, the first sign she’s had of the tight rein he’s keeping on his own control, and closes her eyes.

She feels clear-headed and powerful and oh, so wanton.

“All right?” Chakotay says gruffly in her ear.

Instead of answering, she tips forward, bracing her folded arms against the back of the chaise, and turns her head to look at him over her shoulder.

“Fuck me,” she orders. “Do it hard, and do it now.”

His dark eyes widen a little in surprise, and then he gives her that feral grin.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hears him tug the waistcoat off his shoulders, feels the whisper of air as he pulls the shirt over his head, his knuckles brushing between her cheeks as he works open the buttons on his breeches. Then his hand splays across the base of her back, his knee nudges her thighs further apart, and he’s pushing his cock inside her, slowly, giving her time to adjust.

But that’s not what she wants. She shoves herself backward onto him, revelling in the pleasure-pain of him filling her completely. Chakotay grunts, his hands curling hard onto her hips.

“Computer, delete Burleigh –” he begins.

“Belay that,” Kathryn cuts in. She flicks Chakotay a glance over her shoulder. “Let him watch.”

In answer, Chakotay growls, pulling out from her slowly and driving back in. She gasps, fighting the closing of her eyes at the pleasure, forcing herself to watch the hologram watching them. Burleigh stands with his hands at his sides, his face a mask of shock, his holographic dick hard. She wonders, fleetingly, if his programming prevents him from taking any action – trying to stop them, perhaps, or joining in, or at the very least relieving himself – but her faint amusement slides away as Chakotay changes his angle and the head of his cock slams against her cervix.

She cries out – it’s almost too much, too hard – but then his fingers are between her legs again, pinching and rubbing her clitoris, and her second orgasm screams up on her at warp speed. She arches her back, fighting desperately for air as sparks explode behind her eyes. Chakotay thrusts once, twice more, and she hears him shout as he spurts inside her, his bruising grip the only thing keeping her on her feet.

Slowly, slowly, she comes back to herself as he softens inside her. His breathing is harsh in her ear and he whispers something she doesn’t understand. Then his hands, gentle now, are helping her upright as he slips out of her. She moans at the loss of contact, shivers at the gush of liquid spilling down her thighs. He turns her to face him, his hands at her waist, and she lets her gaze travel over his bare, broad shoulders, his smooth brown chest. She brings her hands up to rest against his warm skin, feeling his heart beat.

Incredibly, she realises on a pulse of arousal, she’s not done yet.

“Computer, delete all characters,” she says weakly.

Burleigh vanishes, and she meets Chakotay’s eyes.

“What now?” she whispers, her mouth curling up at the corners.

He drops his head to nuzzle lightly at her throat. “Now,” he murmurs, “now I get to taste you.”

 

=/\=

​

Chakotay kneels on the floor between her spread thighs. He’s taken off her corset and chemise and she lies naked on the chaise, propped on her elbows to watch him. Her clit is throbbing in anticipation of his tongue, but he’s taking his sweet time in applying it.

He brushes his mouth lightly over her soaked pubic hair and she can’t help but growl. “Are you trying to make me beg?”

His eyes flick up to hers and before he lowers his mouth again she’s sure she catches sight of his dimples. “Maybe next time,” he mumbles.

“Then do it, goddamn it.”

“Don’t rush me.” He nips her inner thigh sharply enough to make her flinch. “I’ve been wanting to do this for too long, and I intend to make the most of it.”

She opens her mouth to – protest, complain, plead – she doesn’t know what, but the words die in her throat as he licks her slowly from stem to stern, finishing the move with a tight circle around her swollen nub. Her legs judder and her head falls back, arching her breasts ceilingward. He reaches up and cups one, finger and thumb clinching around her nipple. The other hand slides under her bottom, raising her to his suddenly busy mouth.

“Oh, God,” Kathryn chokes out as his tongue delves inside her, curling upward to rub against the sensitive patch of flesh. He explores her, lapping up her juices and his seed as she gasps and writhes and moans. Just as she thinks she can’t take it anymore, he pulls back to lave her with long, slow licks, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue. Her hips jerk. She’s on the verge, so close, almost sobbing with the need to come, but it’s not until he pushes two long fingers inside her that she tips over the edge, shaking and screaming with the force of her climax.

Chakotay slows his movements in favour of less direct application of the flat of his tongue, waiting until her whimpers tail off a little before he increases the pace again.

“No, no,” she whines, twisting away from him, but he clamps an arm over her hips.

“Yes,” he growls, sucking her clitoris into his mouth, and unbelievably she howls again, her body tensing so hard she knows she’ll be sore all over tomorrow. She’s almost boneless when she comes floating down and opens her eyes, focusing in stages.

Chakotay’s cheek rests on her lower abdomen, his hand stroking her clenched fingers where they rest on her hip. He’s watching her, his expression unutterably tender. “Hey,” he murmurs when she finally fixes her gaze on him. “Welcome back.”

“Water,” she manages, so he’ll stop looking at her like that.

He grins at her and the spell is broken. As he gets up to pour her a glass from the carafe on the table, she pushes herself upright, crossing her legs and wincing slightly at the rush of sensation this produces. By the time he turns back to her, she’s reaching for the chemise.

“Don’t do that,” he says immediately, and despite herself she pauses.

“Why not?”

He hands her a glass. “Because you’re beautiful. And because you never need to hide from me.”

Kathryn does not expect the lump that rises in her throat at his simple words, so softly spoken.

“Chakotay…” She hesitates. “You know this isn’t –”

He holds up a hand to stop her. “I know what this is, Kathryn. I know what you need, and I intend to provide it.” He kneels at her feet again, taking the glass from her nerveless hand so that he can clasp her fingers in his own. “All you need to do is trust me. Can you do that?”

“I can,” she whispers. “I do.”

“Good,” he says softly. He reaches out to touch her cheek for a moment, then stands. “Had enough for tonight?”

She looks up at him speculatively. He’s so beautiful, with his golden, naked torso and his muscled legs in those fitted pants. “Computer, what time is it?”

~The time is 2127 hours.~

Kathryn smiles, a slow, curling, lascivious smile. “Then I’d say we still have enough time.”

Standing, she hooks a finger over the waistband of his breeches, bringing him flush against her nude body.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks, grinning down at her.

“Well, you’ve had your turn,” she murmurs, leaning in to lick at his collarbone. “I’d say it’s mine now.”

And she sinks to her knees.

 

=/\=

 

She’d almost forgotten how she loves to do this. The slow drift of fingers over corded abdominal muscles, the slipping of buttons one by one. Hearing a man suck in his breath as she presses open-mouthed kisses to the V of his hipbones, feeling his stomach quiver under her hands. And when she drags his pants over his hips and wraps her hands around his cock, when she swipes her tongue lightly across the head - the almost-pained hiss he makes through his teeth is the sweetest sound in the world.

Kathryn swirls her tongue around him as though she’s licking a lollipop, nibbles gently along his shaft, presses her thumb beneath the glans, and Chakotay wraps his hands in her hair and grits his teeth on a groan. Smiling, she blinks up at him, unsurprised to find him staring at her with an expression made up of equal parts lust, disbelief and adoration. She’s good at this – or so she’s often been told – and she supposes it’s because it turns her on to an almost unbearable degree.

It’s the power, the knowledge that she, small and female as she is, holds this big man literally in the palm of her hand. But it’s the pleasure as well, she recognises as she slides her mouth over the swollen head of Chakotay’s penis and feels him tighten his hands convulsively in her hair. The helpless, enchanted vulnerability that’s scrawled across his face as she sinks down, taking him deeper into her throat, delights her in a way that she rarely feels otherwise.

And knowing that it’s Chakotay she’s giving this pleasure, giving her all, is intoxicating.

A slight frown creases her brow at that thought – it feels a little too close to the wrong kind of emotion – but Chakotay moans as she flattens her tongue on the underside of his cock and she pushes the thought aside. Arching her neck, she flexes her throat and takes him in and in, ignoring the tears that prickle her eyes as she relaxes against the gag reflex, until her nose is buried in coarse hair and she can feel he’s fighting to stop his knees buckling. She hums around him, feeling as much as hearing him groan, and draws her lips back over his length, sucking lightly. A play of her tongue around the head, and she sinks back down. And again, and again, until he’s shaking with the effort of holding back from thrusting into her mouth.

“Kathryn,” he gasps. “Close…”

She murmurs around him to let him know she’s heard and increases her pace and suction, one hand coming up to cradle his balls. He rasps out a breath and shudders, his semen filling her mouth as she greedily swallows it down, and she feels an answering clench in her own sex.

It’s a pale echo of the climaxes he’s given her earlier tonight, but it takes her by surprise. She’s always found this an erotic act, but this is the first time it’s ever made her spontaneously orgasm.

Kathryn is short of breath as she pulls back from him, sitting on her heels and looking up into his softened, rapturous face. She’s barely had time to wipe a hand across her sticky mouth before he’s dragging her upright, wrenching her into his arms and kissing her, long and slow and deep.

It doesn’t surprise her that he’s unbothered by the taste of himself on her lips; after all, he’d loved the taste of them together when he worked her up with his mouth after he came inside her. What does surprise her is how much his kiss makes her crave to do it all over again.

The computer chirrups, There are fifteen minutes remaining on this holodeck timeslot, and reluctantly Kathryn lowers her bare heels to the ground, breaking their kiss. She finds she doesn’t quite know what to say.

Chakotay lets his arms loosen around her, catching her hand in his and bringing her wrist to his lips in a bookend of the first time he touched her tonight. She shivers, feeling her body tighten even after the past several hours’ activities. If they had more time…

“Later,” Chakotay promises, reading her mind, and she smiles, bringing her other hand up to briefly cup his cheek.

“Later.”