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Star Trek: Debt verseXsparklemuffin

The ship of Sabal had the design of a metal eruption, a comet made out of long pyramids clustering around a dense center. Not your typical warbird, and it did not carry your typical Klingon, either. The clan of Sabal took it upon themselves to enact vengeance. It was honorable to tend to honor, after all, that's what their race was about. And such pursuits could not exist without the violence that was stitched into their brutal hearts.

Meymat stood at the console, slightly to the right of the middle in their bridge. Transparent steel and more traditional, oxidized metals were braided and built to make out the innards of their vessel. The light glowing from the machinations and power sources acted as other illumination through the transparent materials. It currently cast frightening shadows between the ridges of the spine that ran down his forehead. Longer than other Klingons, and with more angular features and a larger mouth, Meymat looked more like a hunter of large fields than his sturdier brethren who stayed at the other stations around him, controlling the Baktan, a birthright of the Sabal leader.

Another birthright, was the seeking of vengeance wherever he may find it. As the position of judge in their own court, by their own law, there were many collisions with other Klingon clans, but reputation backed by unforgiving action, had kept the Sabal respected and feared, despite their small numbers. It was said, though, that some of his methods were indulgent, disgraceful, that he would allow himself freedoms in dishonoring others should he deem it fitting. Sabal was also a stain upon the Klingon pantheon. That's why the ones who knew the reason and prey of his current hunt didn't mind.

He had come upon a wreckage within their territory. No survivors, but there were traces of a lander that made it out to Federation space. He gathered enough from the ship's all but destroyed logs and feeds to know it had been that pesky faction within Star Fleet that liked to traffic in information and deceit. Going after Federation vessels was always a bigger ordeal, but Meymat liked to leap headlong into challenges, to any perverse end. His morals were always his compass, and he was fueled by revenge, whether his or others, so he carried himself with a quiet rage that made it easy to push toward most obstacles, even the staggering might of armies upon armies of united worlds.

It was this kind of tenacity and the religious attachment between the Klingons on the Baktan that brought them here. That silvery disk leading the ship they'd been stalking had its name plastered all over it. Meymat raised his hand and their cloaked, weaponized vehicle stopped by a rock in the belt the Star Fleet ship was passing by. They wouldn't be looking this way. He flicked a finger at a red console and the three Klingons there readied three javelins. They were shot off without warning and darted out of the Baktan hull with haste. When two first warheads impacted, it sent ripples through the federation's shield. The third one, intentionally tardy, went through and hit the disk dead on.

Meymat hailed their bridge.
 
Six solar days ago...

Beautiful Redhead Starfleet Officer 2.jpg Lieutenant Commander Jessica Nellis stripped away her black uniform, and let the the garment fall to the floor as she stumbled through her tiny research pod. She held her side; blood welled between her fingers. Their daggers were sharp -- she couldn't believe a patrol had caught her out there! Boarded her! She had to kill them, they had left her no choice. Allowing herself to be captured was not an option, neither was letting them go...

Jess reached the console and initiated an emergency launch, destination: Federation Space. She glanced back at the vibrant pink stains on the carpet, as her own blood ran down her leg to pool at her foot. The Klingon blood, her black uniform, the datalogs and video records! Jess had to clean everything before she reached home. She needed to scrub any evidence of the two Klingons she'd killed, and anything that could tie her to Section 31.

But first, she had to see to her wound.



Now...

Ensign Jessica Nellis tugged on the hem of her blue science-officer's skirt, bearing her yellow rank stripes on the sleeves. She swore the skirts got shorter every year... And that didn't help her nerves as she stood in silence, waiting for the Captain of of the USS Vancouver to finish reading her full report. It was a simple cover story, only a few shades from the truth -- she was a simple researcher, the Klingon encounter took place in Federation space, and she barely escaped with her life. No mention of dead Klingons whatsoever -- they were alive and well in her report, and if the Klingons ever claimed anything to the contrary it would be pure propaganda. The lies were almost too easy.

She was eager to hear Captain Byrd's commentary, though standing on the bridge in that ridiculous skirt made her skin crawl. It felt like all eyes were on her, and probably her hemline.

But before there was even a chance, chaos erupted on the bridge. The ship jolted; consoles exploded! Sparks flew and the lights failed. Half the crew were on their asses, but Jess slammed into the comms station and braced herself.

"We're under attack!"

Someone, somewhere shouted.

"Shields up, full power!" Captain Byrd snapped, but that console was dead... ST.jpg

Jess counted three hits. Then the comms chirped... "Captain, they're hailing," she said. She already noticed the signal type -- it was Klingon.

"Well? On screen, Ensign!"

The screen flared to life; and as soon as it did their attackers were face to face with Starfleet Captain Katherine Byrd of the USS Vancouver... A shrewd looking woman with stern features.

Behind the Captain, it was easy to spot Ensign Jessica Nellis at the comms.
 
The screen would have been clear, since the Baktan took pride in keeping its technology pristine, but since the USS Vancouver was worse for wear any distortion of disturbance may still be coming form their end. The different breed of Klingon that was produced on the main screen could be recognized as such by those who were familiar with the mainline examples of the race. There among the 'science officer' cowering behind the captain. The icy eyes of Meymat paid Katherine Byrd what little courtesy she was owed, and then they made no secret out of zoning in on what he really wanted.

"Captain! They've trained five more Javelin at us!" One of the bridge workers told the female, human captain. Maymat shrugged to confirm.

"Four. One just has a double payload. The next one will render your ship inoperable." Meymat informed. He didn't have to tell his weapons unit to ready the smaller silos, that were hidden between the jagged shards that made up the Baktan. "And we have enough smaller shells to shoot down your escape pods."

He made a gesture toward the ensign he wanted and then tilted his head. A firm hammering to his own console solidified Jessica's verdict. From the information he'd gotten, it had been easy to discern that red hair. For some reason the length of her skirt and the invitation it suggested made sense. "You will hand over that crewmember, or we will pull you apart and board, and drag her over your corpses." There was no leeway in his voice or expression as her informants told her the Javelins were armed.
 
Jess refused to look directly at the screen; though all eyes were on her the moment the Klingon singled her out. Except for the Captain's. Captain Byrd knew not to show weakness before her attackers -- she sat in her command chair, her gaze never left the screen.

"I am Captain Katherine Byrd, and you have just assaulted the USS Vancouver -- a Federation research vessel -- in Federation space without warning or provocation. This is an act of aggression. Further attacks could be considered an act of WAR. We are a science vessel, not a machine of war... But our destruction would be a diplomatic disaster that would set our people's negotiations back for generations."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Diplomats..." She muttered, disdainfully under her breath. Finally she looked to the screen -- the look on the Klingon's face told her he wasn't about to back down. He'd singled her out, he knew... She supposed it was nice that Captain Byrd wasn't going to turn her over, but it was suicide.

Jess found a chair and braced herself for the coming barrage.
 
He had always found loyalties quaint. His own race understood adhesion to concepts and individuals if they were formidable, but Federation creatures were attached on principal, not for the result. They did it for unity, to present a strong front, he had to assume, and thereby they were kind of compatible with Klingon logic. It was the same with the Sabal and their vengeance. Now they would have to see which was stronger, unity or revenge.

He shook his head at Jessica's ungratefulness as her captain put her entire crew and herself between him and the disgraceful ensign. "Then let it be on record, that Captain Katherine Byrd of the USS Vancouver started a war when she should have handed over a single criminal." he did not break the hailing contact as their ship was rocked. He did split the screen with the proof he had of Jessica's dishonorable actions.

"Captain! They cloaked the Javelins somehow!" one of the workers said on the bridge. He'd be right. The Baktan could charge their projectiles with a stealth cloak, but it only lasted as long as the static attachment, which meant the Javelins would still have to travel faster than most before their disguise faded. "Damage to the hull is at 45 percent!" What did they expect? They hadn't done anything different, and they'd already established he had enough firepower to get through.

The exchange might be slowed down by Federation heroics, which were usually more prevalent when unwise, heroic captains were at the helm, but today would not be a hard-won victory for a scrappy, tightly knit crew. Today military might would overwhelm their brave hearts. He would simply keep pouring advanced and unrelenting Klingon war-technology into the open wounds of the Vancouver vessel, until it was silenced and paralyzed and in pieces.

And then, as promised, the Baktan would sniper fleeing escape pods out of space with expertly aimed lasers as he boarded a heavily armed lander, and visited the broken hull himself.

When the Klingon captain stepped on board, he carried a a light, long blade, and a double barrel handgun, dispatching justice that looked a lot like slaughter, as he cut and shot his way to the bridge. "Jessica Nellis." he asked a man who had his lower half blown away. His emptying eyes directed Meymat where he needed to go next. Meymat shouldered the last of the door to the bridge open, and let a celebratory salve of shots lick at the stations in there, sure to slay at least two or three federation workers still in there. He was here for Jessica, but he wouldn't mind finding the Captain Byrd as well.
 
"Criminal..?" Byrd began to question, disingenuously, as the proof came on screen and the ship was rocked again.

Chaos.

Consoles burst; crew screamed and fell silent from their injuries. The hull report was dire, backup power couldn't restore the shields! Jessica was tossed straight into the nav console and felt a POP in her right shoulder! Not many people had the convenience of watching the screen, but Jessica was there, clad in black and boarded by a Klingon planetary patrol...whom she caught off guard and slaughtered. Fewer still would have understood what a black uniform even meant -- but Katherine Byrd fell into both categories.

A screen nearby flashed as escape pods launched, and were shot down in kind as the Klingon had promised. Jess pulled herself to her feet by the console's light.

"I c-could halve helped y-you..." Captain Byrd said from the floor; one of her legs horrifically broken. "If you had told me what r-really happened, we could have contacted S-Starfleet..."

"Section 31 would never let this get out." Jess said, and winced as she tested her shoulder. "That message would not have made it home. And neither would we."

Katherine shook her head. "We could have thought of something, Ensign!"

Jessica stood near a support strut and bashed her shoulder against it! Twice, then a third time. She tried not scream, but by the fourth she cried out -- and it took seven before her right shoulder was back in its socket. "Would you have turned me over to the Klingons?" She asked, panting.

"Never. The Federation doesn't even have an extradition treaty with the--"

"--Then you wouldn't have changed a thing." Jessica Nellis toyed with a control console and the lights dimmed.

Byrd looked around the bridge, suddenly concerned. "What are you doing?"

"Transferring all power to the warp core, overloading it. And ejecting it. Boom."

"And killing everyone on both ships!"

"Cleaning up my mess."

The Captain looked around, frantically. "Stop her!" she commanded, though the bridge crew was looking sparse by then. "Phasers on stun!"

dktahg2.jpg Jessica laughed. She counted six, including the Captain. "Alright." As the bridge crew of the Vancouver scurried to reach her and draw their weapons, her own phaser was already in hand. In her other was a short blade -- but with a flick of her thumb it extended, and two tines appeared at the sides. A Klingon D'k Tahg; the very same she brandished onscreen. She tapped a console and the lights went out, leaving the cabin lit by only the main screen.

Phasers fired. Men bled...



By the time Meymat reached the Bridge there were few people left, but plenty of corpses. One man went down in his intimidating salvo, which left only three others on the bridge of the USS Vancouver. Two standing, a third sitting. The latter was Captain Byrd herself, propped up in her chair with a mangled leg and a phaser aimed directly at the Klingon. The others were a cut and bloody man, who held Jessica Nellis by the back of her neck.

Jessica's wrists and arms were bound by cables and wires pulled from the consoles; something had been stuffed into her mouth to shut her up as well. Her own panties from the looks of it. As the skirt rode higher up her leg it easy to see the red tuft of tangles between her thighs, barely concealing the soft curves of her camel-toe.

"If you're finished killing my people..." Captain Katherine Byrd said with a stern edge. She barely glanced to the freshest corpse on the bridge. "I'm ready to negotiate."
 
It had amused Meymat to see some of it on his screen. The Nellis rat was resourceful, but as tactless about it when she used it as could be expected. He hadn't really needed to show them the kind of woman she was, but he enjoyed it. Even though he came collected into the enemy ship, Meymat's cadence was considered unhinged among his own people, more than what was necessary to be feared. The communication of the techs of his own ship whispered in his ear why it may be paramount he find the bridge soon, but eventually the threat was cut off. Meymat knew he may see something pleasing when he ripped the bridge doors open.

And he did. It was quite a new scene from the one he'd left on the screen of his own bridge. He tilted his head at the female he'd been hunting, kept in place by someone of her own crew, left indignant with her mating parts out. It was to his taste whereas his brethren may not be so inclined. The wounds on the fresh corpses around them told the story of people having met their fate both at the hands of outer aggressors, him, as well as an insider. It had cost them nearly everything. If not for the blood of her people the long Klingon with the blue eyes and dark ridges running down the center of his face, each peak adorned with thin metal rings, the visiting captain would have been pristine. He did lower his sword as he came over to the captured redhead. His gun hung by his side, but ready.

He lifted his blade again, this time between Jessicas legs, and making sure to rest the broad part of it against her exposed labia. The sharpness of the edge made itself known when just a few strands of red hair that reached it, were cut and fell down. The press of the flat part of the metal should keep Jessica from moving about too much, even as she was held in place by the man. Meymat kept his sword there and looked at Byrd.

"I like the wrapping." Meymat said and pressed the metal just a little tighter to Jessica's womanhood, parting her cunt lips a bit. Depending on her temperature and humidity contra the room's, she may fog up the weapon. "But if you want to play at haggling, you should know I can be a veritable Ferengi." Still he eyed the captains poor state up and down. That leg would need all of their medic's skill. "You too." he said and nodded toward Jessica for the human captain to see. It was up to Captain Byrd to understand he wanted to asses her genitals too, and that her compliance to it may or may not mean some or all the lives of her surviving crew. After all, he had meant to annihilate them at their initial refusal, the captain needed to be very amicable to sway his mind on that point. There was amusement, but no mercy in the Klingon's icy eyes.
 
Jessica felt the cold metal part her lips; she stood quite still and drew shallow breaths, lest the Klingon slip. The Captain was playing a dangerous game, and now there was a razor-sharp blade teasing her most tender flesh. Jess stood on her tip-toes, but as the blade rose with her her position was all the more precarious...

Meanwhile, Captain Byrd made a sour expression as it dawned on her what the Klingon wanted. Her glare was stern, contemptible...but this wasn't the hill she would die on. It wasn't easy with the bad leg, but the Captain slid her pants and standard-issue panties down to mid thigh. There wasn't much to see; a thick chestnut muff and her seated position hid everything interesting from view.

"Satisfied?" Byrd asked. "My terms are simple. Take her. Get the hell off my ship, leave Federation space. No more deaths, no more shots fired. You leave the Vancouver and her crew in peace."

Jess fidgeted during the exchange. The Vancouver's fate wouldn't alter her own -- but she was not keen to see the blade-wielder antagonized...
 
So, despite her haughty nature, Jessica Nellis did feel humiliation and fear. He looked down at her pussy as it was made to maw his blade. He kept the angle so that she would be safe from its edges for now. She couldn't struggle much even in the human male's grip when she stood on her toes. The Klingon was satisfied and let the mostly still clad woman be held by her captor, former crew member, and dedicated all his attention to Captain Byrd as she complied. It was a deliberate show of weakness, a showing of her throat, so to speak, when she gave, and let him see that part of her as well. He was happy she was reasonable.

"Enough for now." it wasn't jest. He made no promises if they acted dishonorably on his way out. Meymat even refrained from stabbing the male as a safety measure when he claimed the redhead. She should be happy he did not pull his blade upward, extending her pussy gash to split her torso. As he held her by her hair, his gun tucked away, and having her walk ahead of him, he used the pommel of the sword to stuff the panties deeper into her mouth. He made no effort to adjust her skirt, and left her ass and cunt out as he steered her toward the exit.

"More show of good will?" he asked as he passed the captain who still had her bushy part out. While there'd be no direct reward for Katherine showing him more pink, he supposed she could gain more of his amicability as he left. It depended on whether she chose her pride over more reassurance for her remaining underlings. Either way, he'd be out and toward the hole they'd blown through the hull down the corridor. With or without more detailed memories of the female captain's pussy.

"You're not loved by your own, are you?" he asked Jess as he shook her violently by the red mop he held in his hand, pushing her briskly along. The blade rapped her ass once, hard enough to leave a crimson welt. Klingon strength wasn't the playful kind, when applied. They were stepping over the blood and meat that was the result of it, after all, and soon he'd be shoving her over the threshold to his lander, not really minding how she fell.
 
Jessica should have been grateful to have the sword removed from her pussy, but with her hair in the Klingon's hand it was hard to see any improvement in her situation. She gagged when he pushed her panties deeper -- the damned brute was strong. All Klingons were, but this one wielded his strength and authority with a level of menace and malice she had never seen! And Jessica had spying on Klingons for long enough to learn their language. Even the way he pressured the Captain to show more of herself was unusual; Klingons weren't interested in human women...

Captain Byrd, for her part, acquiesced. The older woman slid down in her seat and parted her knees, wincing as she moved her bad leg. She even used two fingers to part her hairy lips and let a narrow flash of pink show. Byrd was sweating by then, on the verge of fainting if she didn't get medical attention soon.

The Klingon's quip earned a snort from Jess; and the blade yielded a high, indignant squeal, as she was struck hard enough to leave a mark.

Jessica struggled against his hold as he shoved her along, pulling her own hair as she fought to keep her balance and her pace with her captor's strides. The blood, bodies, and body parts were no help -- and she was barefoot from her fight in the bridge. After so many kicks they didn't let her keep her boots... Which made the trek an unpleasant experience in texture sensations, too. The surviving crew gave them a wide berth -- but every pair of eyes glanced down and lingered. Even with the dead everywhere, witnessing her being marched to her execution, the brats had to stop and stare at her cunt.

Soon she was shoved into a lander, and hit the floor on her right side... Jessica yelped. It was fine, but the pain from her shoulder was fresh. She rolled to a seated position with her back to the wall, and tucked her knees to her chest. It left her sitting right on her sword-welt, but it also hid her pussy from view.
 
Meymat noted Jessica's expressions of course, but didn't act like he did. In fighting, it is important not to let the enemy know what you know. She was more attuned to his otherness than the captain and her male cohort. She had been formidable enough to fell his kin, even if she'd been as underhanded in her fighting as could be. But she was a veritable resource on his own culture, as far as the rest of the fleet was concerned. She should know he was different. And he supposed she'd learn the depths of it, very soon.

He wouldn't do her the same favor of underestimating her, like this crew had, but he knew where her powers lay, so he didn't much worry as he herded her and her pussy onward. Cold eyes were excited when the proud captain obliged without a direct threat, and it pleased him that she submitted for something less acute. He took in and memorized Katherine Byrd's intimate parts, and the pained face she made when she showed him. If they met again, he'd be more inclined to negotiate, as he had insinuated. No nod of approval, that was giving too much, but when he met Byrd's eyes, his wasn't as riddled with war, as usual. She'd have to make due with that. It was more than the male got, and he was more of a threat. Maybe one day vengeance would have a reason to come for Katherine. Meymat would relish that.

He was also amused by Jessica's noise when he marked her ass, and the cheek jiggled, colored now, in a red streak, shape of his blade. They'd play a lot like that. He didn't mind that her people enjoyed his spoils. Byrd would have to explain why. Jessica displayed the same kind of fragility her race was known for when he tossed her into the lander, and the pilot and the rest of his crew returned. One of them had a wound, but mostly the damaged taken had been nullified by their armor. This had not been a warring crew. The Klingons looked at the prisoner as they undocked from the hole they'd blow into the USS Vancouver, and saw the crew panic to fill it with ballistic foam, but not before a handful of bodies, alive and dead, were sucked out.

The Klingons looked at their captive, and while some of them shared some of Meymat's unusual traits, they remained the block-shape common to Klingons, to underline their leader's departure from some of their biologically traditional traits. She was blessedly free from molestation, but that also meant no one was keeping her steady when the lander arrived on The Baktan. She may guess the set-down was particularly rough because of her. The Klingons were either strapped in or holding railings.

Once further bruised and battered, and the machine had stopped and opened up, two Klingons did pick her up. But they didn't do it in a polite way. One ankle each, and walking at a distance, the bound woman would be upside down, legs pulled in either direction, more on display than before. The silence and method in their disembarking suggested this was not a victory even worthy of their celebration. Meymat walked beside her in silence, as she bounced up and down, her legs and the sockets they were attached to her by straining, and with her womanhood fully visible to all of the soldiers, not to mention that ass she'd hinted at with her uniform.
 
The journey to the Klingon ship was quiet at least, but the docking was unpleasant. Everyone else was strapped in while Jess was left to tumble; arms still bound, she had little control and earned herself some fresh bruises. It meant nothing to the Klingons, if anything she was impressed none of them had laughed. They were warriors alright -- they needed the big one's permission to be amused.

Jessica squealed when she was grabbed. She expected to be carried, but not by the ankles and spread so wide! It was tough to control her breathing while she was hauled off, so cruelly exposed... And the ship felt a few degrees colder than Federation standard, too. Every step felt like her hips would be pulled from their sockets! The movement hurt, the position galled her knowing that every soldier they passed had suck a lovely view of her! Jess saw the big one beside her out of the corner of her... She tried to remain quiet, but every so often came an unbidden whimper or shriek.

She didn't know where they were going, or what she was about to face -- but Jessica Nellis was afraid.
 
The haughtiness in her eyes from when he'd first seen her on the recordings, and the remnants of that even as she was detained and traded by her crew, showed its last embers during the docking of the lander. It was gone, however temporary, when they carried her off. This was a way of hauling off a certain large variation of prey on their home planet, but it was interesting to Meymat that his soldiers had known to do it that way now. They'd learned their leader's preferences after so many missions with him, he supposed. He walked beside her and listened to her complaints. They pleased him. Her voice was pleasant when it was like this.

Eventually they arrived at the persuasion chamber. Its storied use had been cleaned off. There was a metal floor lined with grids for the fluids, and three doors for access. On each wall there was a panel that worked both as a screen and a two way mirror from the outside. Today there was a metal pole sticking up in the middle of the dark floor, and atop it was a metal ball about the shape of Jessica's fist. The soldiers easily sat the pantless woman ontop of it, the orb wedge between her cheeks, pressing on her sphincter. Her feet were cuffed to the ground and a chain was locked around her waist from behind to keep her seated while her asshole strained on the orb.

She was left alone in the room with Meymat, who stood in front of her, and looked down at her. Sitting, she was hopelessly dwarfed by the Sabal Klingon. He had shed his armor, and the grab he wore under reminded of tactical undergarments, in that it hugged his form efficiently, and told of his anatomy. If she was interested, or because she had to look eventually, she'd see a rather discouraging, hulking mass outlined between his legs.

"You deal in information. To sacrifice you upon the altar of vengeance, I must take that which you hold valuable, too. Tell me what you learned." he said. They were using Klingon now. He knew she was familiar. She would also be familiar with the Pinastik he was holding.
 
Jessica had heard about rooms like the one she was ultimately brought to, but had never seen one in person. Cruel metal walls, grates on the floor for easy cleanup -- and a metal post in the middle. Just the right height, with a ball at the end... Her eyes wet wide and she trembled the moment she saw it; when the moment passed, Jess renewed her struggles. She couldn't put up much resistance, but she made herself as wiry and uncooperative as she could for the two guards as they set her atop the thing and chained her to the 'seat'. With her ankles and waist immobile, and the orb stretching her anus, Jess had to steady herself carefully...

Left alone with the large one, there was little she could do but wait. Jessica stared up at his big fat head... And glanced down toward his big fat...Painstik. They had trained with those at Section 31 before she was allowed to work on Klingon-related missions. She had been warned the real ones would have higher settings than the training stiks...

With his question, the Klingon told Jessica everything she needed to know -- her intended fate, and how to avoid it. Answering back was a little more complicated and the damn brute knew it. "Hrrmph!" She cursed through her gag, and tried to work the panties out on her own. To her credit she had already been working the gag forward; within a minute the panties fell to the grated floor. A gossamer thread of saliva trailed from her pale lip.

He wanted her secrets. Her lip quirked.

"Lieutenant Commander Jessica Nellis; s.n. one-one-three-eight." She said with a measure of self satisfaction. Name, rank, and serial number -- the longer she held out, the longer she lived.
 
Individuals were always distressed to see the room, but Jessica's displeasure of the sight started earlier then most. She was in the know, and this time it wouldn't help her. Meymat enjoyed while they set her in place, and her futile struggle. During the 'fight' her asscheeks clenched and her thighs moved in a pleasant way. He'd had enough human prey to have learned to appreciate what made them delicious toys. Contrary to Klingon culture, he did enjoy weakness in a perverse way. Not only because it underlined his own strength, but for its intricacies. Human women were particularly feminine among the races.

He waited for her to chew on her own panties and had rolled the handle of the painstik in his hand when she saw it. If she knew the room, she knew the tool. He was rather proud of his size as well, and let her dread that as she birthed her underwear out of her lips. What a mess her face was. Those slightly swollen human slips smiled, like she could afford it. He stayed quiet for her identification and then tsked.

He lifted the stik and placed it on her scalp. It only rested there for now. "Impressive." she may wonder whether he meant her title or her resolve to mock him. "But I'll need more. You're due for some cooperation, Lieutenant commander." he warned as he gripped the stik harder and turned his wrist to apply more pressure on her head and thereby her asshole. "I will even share some information of my own." he offered. "That ball is made of an alloy with a high oil content. It will heat up from your poorly isolated human dermic thermal leakage, and produce a slick membrane." Of course making it harder for its surface to catch on the skin around her anus. "But you may also know through your precious 31 that far more humans have been captured by Klingons than is on record, and that they break at an embarrassing rate." he didn't know if they kept this from their agents to keep their spirits up. "Of course, we kill the ones who don't break, so either way, the world is rid of one more human, so it's a win win." The stik would be getting heavier. Klingon wrists were other beasts than humans.

"Awe with your compliance, or your poor composition will fail you."
 
Jessica squirmed as pressure was applied from above. She tried to writhe and shift her weight for some relief, but her anus pressed harder against her seat no matter what she tried. Eve if the Klingon exaggerated for effect, the metal felt a little warmer... He was strong. Far stronger than she had been trained to withstand -- but she had been trained to withstand torture. Hours of it. Jess wouldn't crack so easily, but his words offered surprises.

"You know about 31..?" she asked, straining against his wrist. "I'm...impressed... We're trained to... die... before we talk. That's free. 'Cause you already know that, don't you?" Once more, Jessica smirked. Her face had flushed, her eyes were drawn, spittle clung to her soft lips. She may have feigned a sense of smugness, but she knew pain was coming and she braced for it.
 
He listened to her. For his own part, his expression was light while she showed him very pleasant faces at what he was doing. This wasn't about the information, not really. He may tell her soon enough - it was about torturing her, about turning her on herself. It would be useful to know more, it always was, as her fraction understood, but his part in it was firstly to inflict pain, and offer it up on the altar of vengeance. Maybe, when she hoped there was any other reason to this, she'd see it his way, and be plunged into despair. Until then he had a job to do.

And he didn't give her anything, Klingon stoic. All he did was apply more pressure. From here, with her legs parted, he would see when the ball started to intrude on her ass by how her pussy would bulge on the other side. With more of her pressed against it, more of the oils would come out. It was in his control, really, so he was just waiting for the power applied to the top of her head to sink her enough that her wrinkled asshole would start taking the intrusion. Steadily he threaded the human female onto the orb. Once she was pushed over the thickest part of its meridian, it wouldn't even be offering any support other than what friction her insides could provide in gripping it.

"I'll give you some information then." he'd say once that happened. "We are trained to win. But not all of us win. If you're trained to die before you talk, I suppose you'll be proven a failure, and that's all. I am here to show to you that you are less than what you think." Once her sphincter had been made to swallow the orb, he lifted the painstik and swung it slowly to connect to the stem of the pole that held the orb up. "Here's more information. What you're sitting on is a painstik in itself."

And then he activated it, pain exploding out from the orb into her body.
 
Jessica fought. She twisted and turned beneath the vile Klingon's strength, squirming atop her 'seat' as it grew warm and slick. To him, she might as well have been a bug... She loosed small gasps and sharp cries of discomfort as her flesh slowly stretched beneath her. Jess felt ill as the inevitable finally came. She cringed, and sank the last few inches -- fully impaled by the wretched pole. She fell silent, her voice caught in her throat. A stray tear ran down her cheek.

Everything about her new situation was terrible. The way her weight balanced, the way the sphere pressed against her cunt... Jessica tried to shift some weight back to her feet, but it wasn't helping. And the Klingon was taunting her again. More tit-for-tat insults, but he wasn't wrong. She felt less than herself already, and it was only their first session. Jess would need to wear a brave face for far longer, now.

The next revelation was a different beast entirely.

Jessica's eyes went wide as it hit her. "Don't you...dare..!" She spat, subconsciously shaking her head. But she felt the entire pole resonate the moment the Klingon activated it. Jess remembered the feel of a Painstik from her training; but they had been low-yield, and never applied like this. All of her anti-torture training was lost in the moment, Jessica screamed. Unbidden, and lasting until her lungs were empty. Even then she struggled through an episode of ragged breaths and pained cries; riding the intense agony that held her body rapt.

In that time she thrashed in her bonds. Her lower body was restrained; but from the waist up she flailed. She fought hard to free her arms, still wrapped with cords from the Vancouver, desperate to grab something to pull herself free...
 
He was merciless when he watched her shrink. The human anatomy was complicated but just as simple as any other. With enough force, it would yield. This pole had an effective design. Would she be proud or disgusted to know what creatures had broken on it before? At least he'd allowed for a size remotely fitting to her orifice. He like the tear. It was not of anger. He huffed with satisfaction over that plugging one hole had shut the other up. They all fell short of their bravado, in this room. He waited for her to try everything within her power, which wasn't much. They would not have allowed a favorable angle of her legs if that would mean she could simply support herself off the orb. What lesson would she learn, then?

But her discomfort and air of annoyance among her spite shifted when she finally ingested the information, and what was inside her, exactly. He didn't know what he expected, but she gave him more. Jessica Nellis was not as formidable as some humans. It made him laugh, and so did her indignant motions. She tried to run from it, but it was inside her. Her voice was lovely when it spewed out of her until there was nothing left.

He bent lower to look closer at her while she found herself in this unforgiving agony, pulsating out in a never ending stream from her intestines and asshole. But, after she'd enjoyed what some thought was worse than death for another few moments, a switch on the stik he was holding turned the orb in her ass off. He let her recover a bit. After her sense came back, she would notice that the stik in his hand had now nuzzled its way to her pussy, where his sword had been on their first meeting.

"Don't you interrupt this by telling me anything yet, Jessica." he said and looked into her eyes. His other hand swung swiftly upward, and cut the torso of her uniform in half, ready to spill her breasts free. He wanted to see if she'd give them better motion now that they were unbound. The head of the stick mashed up against her womanhood as though to seek out its relative on the other side of her.

If she did try to say something, whether it be an insult or actual information, he'd interrupt her. The two painstiks would turn on at the same time, and ravage her body with pain. And while alone, the held stik would be milder, together with the orb, and communicating through her, where she had so many nerve endings, it would contribute to something far worse.
 
When the pain ceased, Jessica shrank. The fight left her; she settled, painfully, on her 'seat', and bent forward at the waist. Her breaths were heavy and her eyes glazed. It was not her best moment, she knew...and it was sure to be fleeting. Jess felt the painstik violate her cunt, and turned her eyes upward to her Klingon captor. She tried to hold a stern, brave face -- but her eyes belied her fear, even before he spoke. His words caught her off guard -- he didn't want information? The swiftness of his movements almost broke her, but Jess only winced as her uniform was cut open, and her pale, freckled breasts allowed to spill out with a delicate bounce.

Jessica squared her jaw and gave her captor a stern glare. Even as she felt the painstik roaming inside her, finding its marks, she recalled her training in anti-torture techniques and meditation. This time she would be prepared for the pain.

When it came, Jess winced. Her teeth clenched, her eyes shut tight. Tears fell, she trembled and shook atop her perch. The pan itself felt concentrated inside her -- a white-hot ball of pure agony that took hold of her clit and resonated... Her ass and her insides got it the worst; the pain in her innards matched by the rising awfulness in her cervix that rode its way to her uterus and ovaries -- a unique pain the Klingon brute would neither know nor understand. Jessica parted her lips and screamed! An agonized wail, as her body was mercilessly ravaged.

She twisted and turned atop the pole, coming dangerously close to dislocating her hip. She cried, screamed, and wailed. Jessica even pleaded and begged. "Please..." and "Stop..!" or "No...n-no more..." and the like graced her cracked lips as she doubled over, and the torture continued. No matter how long it lasted, Jessica would not pass out...
 
He could appreciate human beauty, and the way her tits came out, there was a lot of it there. Better than most Fleet operatives he'd had the pleasure of killing in the same room. Defiant now, when the torture had halted, and indignant, when his stik went at her cunt. She readied herself though, and he watched her do it. There wasn't enough ice comets barreling through the universe to cool her blood as much as it needed for what would come next. But the woman tried. He'd seen this kind of thing before. Her body was too stupid to understand the intricacies of the pain at first. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Particularly in torture. But great pain cures all.

Her insides flexed as the pain went through it, letting him see her anatomy as she waved her body as much as her restraints and being propped up would let her. Soon she was giving the noises he'd come to know human kind for. The miracle of birth had become her downfall as the torture spread and possessed all the things that made her a woman in her race's eyes. It was all she had, and this was no effort to him at all to inflict on her. He snickered during the fireworks of her suffering when she found her modesty, and was finally begging him for it to end.

When he let the stik drop from her cramping pussy, the pain would stop. He shook his head. She would likely have sunk even lower on the orb now. He took a step back to have the egg-shaped bulge on the tip of the held painstik lift one of her exposed breasts. He liked that she still had the uniform on, with the Starfleet emblem to tell of her origin. A quick jolt of pain exploded into her mammary but if she moved the stik would follow, still having the meat raised. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about, to pass the time?" he asked. And whether she answer with pertinent information, or something ill advised and clever, the stik would relent her breast and stab between those lips to quiet her words. He lifted it so it looked straight down into her gullet, and then pushed down, making her eat it, making her throat bulge as she was forced to take it deep into herself while he stared her in the eye.

Another burst came, from the orb in her ass and the sick at level with her esophagus, meeting inside her.
 
Jessica Nellis suffered on her perch. Even as the stik was withdrawn, the strain remained... She had sank a little further, the post invading deeper inside -- threatening serious harm on her insides. Her cunt throbbed left over-sensitized by the exposure, while her entire reproductive system felt ravaged! Jess was in tears and drew heavy breaths as her entire body shook from the trauma. It would have taken time for her to recover, not that she was granted any such reprieve.

Even as the painstik found her breast and delivered its sting, Jess lacked the energy to thrash in her bonds... She shrieked. She cried. Her voice sang in pain and her tears showed her sorrow -- but her exhausted flesh could do little more than take it... Jessica was no longer stoic or defiant; her anti-torture training was all but forgotten. She barely even cared about secrets. She needed to get off that pole, before the damned thing killed her...

When asked to speak, Jess knew she was expected to say something worth a damn. "If... If I ever... escape..." Jessica began, but never got to finish. Her mouth was plugged by the painstik, and she gagged as it was forced down her throat! Her wide eyes met her Klingon captor's, while she strained to breathe through her nose. Jessica knew what was coming; her eyes soft, pleading for mercy...

The burst came, and it wracked her. Rapt in agony, Jess could only writhe and twist beneath the Klingon's hold while she made grotesque sounds... During her struggle, the cords that her arms finally fell free. Her arms flailed, but soon found their way to the Klingon's arm. Her smaller hands fought to pry his digits from the painstik, a vain attempt to wrest it from his control. She switch tact, grabbing his arm and holding tight, trying to pull herself up -- or at least prevent herself from slipping any further down the pole.
 
Directly after he'd turned it off by her cunt and in her ass, she slumped. It was good to see, like one of her lives left her. When he tried to put life in her by playing with her breast, she gave noises, but not much motion. It was amusing that she thought this was all there was, that there wouldn't be another inventing of strength inside her just so that she could suffer more pain. Once, he'd heard a human describe love that way, ever renewing.

She took the bait. How could she not? Her hair was red and so was her blood. She was a reactive, proud creature. He was not impressed, but he was grateful. They both knew what was coming when the stik stretched her and her saliva helped it, despite her own wishes. Her neck straightened, her chin raised, because they had to. His cold eyes were engaged, eager to see how the woman would take this new suffering. She didn't do well. She look as though she may shake and vibrate up into her atoms. Wouldn't that be a shame? But her ugliest moment was beautiful to him, because she became the expression of his performance.

He didn't register her hands as threats when they came for him, but he looked with some gentle expression when he realized she clawed up his arm. If feeble women from a weaker race could thrwart him at her weakest, then what was the Klingon race worth? She should have seen there was something tilted with the slight smile on his lips when he let her hold on to him. It was an easy feat to pull her up. It was unthinkable that he'd stop the pain coursing through her from either side because she wanted it, but that's what happened. Though the baton stayed inside her, she would get lifted.

Slowly he'd let her up, until the orb inside her bulged her asshole, the thickest part of the metal ball straining that ring muscles again. And then, he pushed down, arm and baton and all, to lodge the ball even deeper in her guts. If she was stupid or afflicted enough to hold on still, as desperate, drowning creatures do, he'd assfuck her for as long as she did.
 
Jessica felt herself rise and held on tight! She had not expected the pain to stop, but wasn't about to question the reprieve -- not as her captor hauled her upward. She scrabbled for a better grip on his arm, and didn't let go... It was almost a blissful relief as she felt the sphere mover through her; she rose from the warm, slick metal until it kissed her anus again. Jess wanted so badly to be pulled free -- it would hurt, yes, but not as bad as the the first passing through her hole. Yet instead of removing her, the Klingon reversed direction. Jessica sank lower, again.

Her eyes flung open and stared at him with betrayal. He was smiling! Jess held on as he pushed her down, trying to brace with her legs; she lacked the leverage, let alone the raw strength, to ever stand a chance. She felt every inch of the orb invade her; growing hot and agonizing. Then it was up again. Jess gagged as she tried to scream, but the stik occupied her throat. She kept hold of him as he fucked her with the pole, but not for long.

When Jessica let go of his arm, she balled her fists and began pounding. She couldn't reach much further than his elbow, but she peppered his wrist and forearm with her fists.
 
He knew she was more clever than this. That look of hope, like he'd given her a great gift simply by contracting his arm and letting her ride the pole in another direction. It was the same with most who endured torture, at least at first. They were quick to believe it may be over, if he gave them half a chance to. It made her look as though she was enjoying the journey of the orb through her ass. When she caught on, her expression around the baton was precious. But she was confounded enough by what to do that she didn't let him go at first. He took the opportunity to fuck her deeper and faster on the object.

He looked a bit skeptic when she started pummeling him. He thought it was amusing enough that he continued to downward motion to his hand, and thereby the rod into her throat. Eventually she'd have to be almost all the way through, even if it was impossible with how her tracts winded. He would be pinching her in place, between the orb and the baton. "No fighting." he stipulated and then used his free arm to teach her what a punch really was. His fist balled and sunk into the place in her stomach where the baton and orb almost met. It was a Klingon's punch to a human woman's guts. It was a completely other beast. Men of her genetics could die from it.

And once she'd suffered the introduction to Klingon fisticuffs, he'd start both up the objects again.
 
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