Title: Catharsis

Author: Whoa Nellie

Contact: [email protected]

Series: TNG

Rating: NC-17

Codes: P/V

Summary:  PWP  Sometimes a girl just needs a really firm . . . hand.  WARNING: consensual spanking, light BDSM play.

 

Author's notes:  This occurs in the Reasons of the Heart timeline which launched an expedition toward the Delta Quadrant in a previous story, History's Legacy and follows the events of Welcome to the Delta Quadrant. The Club belongs to Anne Rice and Nova D brought The Club into the 24th century Star Trek universe.  This story was originally posted to ASC on December 9, 2010.  Feel free to archive to any pertinent site. 

 

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.

Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.

 

Whoa Nellie's Romance Star Trek Fan Fiction Stories

http://whoanellie.fortunecity.com

 

CATHARSIS

 

                With an exasperated grumble, Vash rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.  Another restless night and it was starting to grate on her nerves.  She could have understood one or two nights of troubled sleep after the encounter with the Vaadwaur.  It was almost a week ago that the expedition had come under attack and the Pasteur stolen while she'd been onboard.  What was really bothering her about the situation was being taken prisoner by the Vaadwaur who had boarded the ship to take control of it.  She'd been helpless and scared; she did not do either of those states willingly or well.  Now, a week later, she was still having trouble settling back into her normal routine.  She hadn't even been hurt; others had been seriously wounded and three people were dead which made her feel silly for her own reaction.

 

                Picard stirred when she got up.  Her not sleeping well meant he hadn't slept well either.  The panic and anxiety that he'd felt when the Pasteur disappeared with Vash onboard during an alien attack had been replaced with overwhelming relief when he got her back safe and sound.  Instead of a peaceful night's sleep and a return to normalcy, Vash had been restless and anxious for no apparent reason.  He wanted to do or say something to fix it, he just didn't know what.  "Have you talked to Deanna?"

 

                "Yes, Jean-Luc," she sighed irritably.  It wasn't him or his question, she just felt on edge all of the time anymore.  She took a deep breath in an effort to settle herself.  "I'm sorry, I know you're worried.  Deanna and I have talked, but there's not much she can do.  There are no magic words she can say that will make this all better any more than magic healing sex with you will fix it--not that I don't appreciate your efforts in that regard this past week.  Feel free to continue giving it the old college try."

 

                He chuckled, watching her brush her silky, brown hair.  Those occasional flashes of her sense of humor were reassuring.  She was still the irrepressible imp whom he had fallen in love with on Risa so long ago.  Recent events may have shaken her up, but she was too spirited to let something like this get to her for long.  Getting out of bed, he padded over to where she stood in front of her dresser and put his arms around her trim waist.  From behind, he nudged her hair aside and began laying kisses along the soft, creamy skin of her bare shoulder.  "As you wish," he murmured softly.

 

                Vash leaned back against his solid, comforting form.  For a moment, she just basked in his warmth and his love while drawing strength from the muscular arms surrounding her.  Feeling the hardness of his body pressing against her, she rubbed her hips sinuously against him.  A low throb of anticipation began to spread through her body.  Her nipples began tingling and quickly stiffened under the passion building.  The gentle caress of his hands on her body was tantalizing.  As he continued to hold and touch her with tenderness, it became frustrating.  She moaned, reaching for his hands and dragged them roughly across her skin.  She urged one of his hands up to her breasts and the other hand down to the pulsing junction of her thighs.  He needed no more coaxing than that, she could feel his fingers taking over and stimulating her arousal even further.  Suddenly she realized what she needed--had needed all week.  "Are you free today?"

 

                Preparing to sweep her into his arms and take her back to bed to slake the desire that both of their bodies were feeling, he was caught off-guard when she abruptly turned to face him.  "I can be."

 

                "I need your help with something," she said as she grabbed clothes from the dresser and began throwing them on.  "Grab some breakfast and meet me in an hour."

 

                Picard watched her practically fly out of their quarters.  It was nice to see that spark of her usual self, but his body was bemoaning her timing.  "I could help you with something right now," he offered to the now-empty room.

 

......................................................................

 

                Holosuite Six was ultimately where she'd commed him to meet her.  There was a personal program running when he checked the display controls.  PicardC3 was the name of the program so he entered, engaging the privacy lock before trying to determine what Vash had in mind for playtime.  The setting was one of the private dungeons at The Club.  The walls and ceiling were mirrored, giving reflections of the room from every angle and vantage point.  The floor was matted, easy to walk on but also comfortable for other activities.  Throughout the room was an array of BDSM equipment from padded sawhorses, a bondage frame and a St. Andrews cross to simple hanging chains.  He saw her on the other side of the room nervously fidgeting with the assortment of toys strewn across a table.

 

                Vash flinched when she heard the door open.  She knew it was Jean-Luc, she'd been anxiously waiting for him since she'd called to let him know where to meet her.  The frustration and anxiety that she had been struggling with over the past week was sending her sense of anticipation spiraling out of control.  Her entire body was thrumming with more needs than she could name.  She gave him a minute to take in their surroundings.  Turning to face him, her eyes never left his as she made her way through the kinky playground toward him.

 

                "Vash," he began.  This was not what he'd had in mind.  He could still remember the hard knot in the pit of his stomach and overwhelming panic when she'd disappeared along with the Pasteur.  The past week since she'd returned had been spent cherishing every millimeter of her delectable body.  She was the most precious part of his life and he needed to know that she felt that every minute of every day.  The last thing he was in the mood for right now was this.

 

                Covering his mouth with her fingertips to forestall his response, she slid her hand around to pull his lips to hers.  She forced his mouth down hard against her and shoved her tongue between his lips.  Not sure she could put it into words, she used her mouth and body to try and make him understand.  When he broke off the kiss and pulled back to hold her at arm's length, she whimpered.  "Please, Jean-Luc."

 

                He could feel her entire body shaking, but what finally got to him were the tears in her beautiful, blue eyes.  He could face down a fleet of Borg cubes or Romulan warbirds, yet the sight of her crying ripped his heart out.  Then he realized that she was quiet; those simple words were the first she'd spoken since he walked in.  Normally when she was in the mood for a spanking, she'd goad him with playful taunts.  There was no trace of impishness and no French being bandied about.  In that instant he understood that this wasn't about play; it was about need.  He'd never known her to beg--really beg.  In fact, he would have bet good latinum that she didn't know how.  He would have paid any amount of latinum to never witness it.  She had often commented on how cathartic a good spanking could be and now she was begging him to give her the most intense experience he possibly could.  Knowing how exciting she found his commanding presence, he steeled himself to give her the strong, dominating persona she needed.  A single tap against those lush lips commanded her to silence.  One button at a time, he opened her blouse allowing his fingers to graze across the soft skin he bared.  She was shivering more now, but it wasn't from a chill.  She was biting her lip and breathless with anticipation.  Her eyes were almost luminescent, so big and bluer than he'd ever seen them.  Without a word he methodically removed every piece of her clothing and as he stripped her, he plotted out just how to give her what she was asking him for.

 

                Vash almost sobbed with relief when Jean-Luc relented and took control.  Onboard the Pasteur had been the first time since that Robin Hood adventure staged by Q where she didn't know if Jean-Luc would be there to save her.  She needed to feel safe, to feel his strength.  More than anything right now she just needed to feel.  It took forever for him to bare her, by that point her nipples were rock-hard and she could feel the evidence of her arousal slowing spreading down the inside of her thighs.  Every beat of her heart was echoed by a powerful pulsing deep in her body.  She remained perfectly still and silent.  Allowing him to lead her over to where manacles hung from the ceiling, she felt him close the heavy steel around first one wrist then the other.  Her hands gripped the heavy chains for support, the pulsing at the junction of her thighs becoming a pounding ache.  She whimpered aloud when his fingers brushed through the wetness on her thighs before securing her ankles in shackles attached to the floor.  He left her there, spread-eagle in the middle of the room without a word.  She saw herself in the mirrored walls and she could see him over at the table of equipment she'd provided for him to choose from.  The way he picked up different paddles and whips, caressing them and testing their weight was a torment.  He was deliberately displaying them in a way where she could see everything he was doing.  He had been building the intensity slowly ever since that light tap against her lips and it was reaching fever pitch even though he hadn't even started yet.  When he went to the computer access to request something that wasn't on the table, she wasn't sure if she should feel excited or apprehensive. 

 

                He retrieved a small, leather slapper from the table on his way back over to her.  Knowing her as well as he did, this wasn't about dominance and submission.  Vash simply wasn't the submissive type and he wouldn't want her to be.  She was a hedonist.  In fact, to him she was the embodiment of the Carvaka school of hedonism with their philosophy of pursuing sensual indulgence.  Even the origin of the word Carvaka meaning a person clever in speech and extremely fond of wrangling fit her perfectly.  She didn't want or need to be dominated; this was about experiencing intense physical stimulation, pain serving to magnify pleasure exponentially.  He trailed the slapper over her smooth, creamy skin, already imagining it turning red under his ministrations.  Smiling when she pushed her body toward the leather, he pulled it away from her.  She was in a hurry to get this over with, but instant gratification was the last thing she needed right now.  He pushed the handle of the slapper into her mouth, forcing her to hold it.  Running his fingers down the graceful lines of her throat, he allowed her to arch into his caress.  She tried to look down at what he was doing with his hands but he swiftly grabbed her chin and nudged her head back up to stare straight ahead.  His body was blocking her view in the mirror, using her natural curiosity to build her excitement.  Reaching for her nipples, he found them already stiff.

 

                Her head was swimming.  Jean-Luc always seemed to know what she needed and this was no exception.  With the skill of a master, he was fulfilling her desires.  She knew it would have to be the most intense session ever to achieve the release she needed and that was what she wanted.  She also wanted it to be over already.  A sharp pinch of one nipple almost made her drop the slapper.  He had expected her reaction, his hand on her jaw keeping her from looking down and preventing her mouth from releasing its burden.  There was a jingling sound followed by another sharp pinch this time on the other nipple.  Pain and pressure radiated from her breasts through her entire body and sharpening the ache low in her hips.  After a moment he took the slapper and stepped out of her line of sight.  In the mirror she could see large gold bells at least seven centimeters in height hanging from nipple clamps attached to her breasts.  They were solid and heavy, every breath she shook made them jingle which sent sharp twinges streaking through her.  The sensation heightened her arousal which only served to make her breathe harder and created a vicious cycle of pleasure and pain.  Any movement only exacerbated the pain, adding to the pleasure.

 

                He watched her panting and writhing in her chains.  The ringing of the bells echoed through the room in concert with her movements creating the most erotic dance he'd ever seen.  She was never more beautiful than when she was completely lost in pleasure.  He gave her a few moments to adjust to the nipple clamps and then ran the slapper down her back, stopping with it resting against the roundness of her derriere.  In the mirror he could see her holding her breath in anticipation.  Waiting until she had to exhale, he brought the slapper down solidly, the leather striking her supple flesh with a loud smack.  Before the pale skin had even started to turn pink, he delivered three more blows each harder than the last.  Finding a steady, methodical rhythm, he slowly colored every millimeter of her butt a bright red.  Once her backside was suitably warmed up, he turned his attention to the back of her thighs, striking first one then the other.  He alternated his blows, occasionally returning to her buttocks to deepen the red shade there and even reaching between her spread legs to redden the inside of her now-quivering thighs.  Her gasps were being drowned out by the ringing of the bells, each blow triggering a fresh wave of clanging that grew louder and louder as her movements became more frantic.  He reached out to rub the redness of her derriere from time to time, feeling the heat of the tormented flesh beneath his palm.  When he was satisfied with the color and temperature of her backside, he moved around to begin applying the slapper to the front of her thighs.  The muscles of her legs were twitching, straining to close against the pain but held open by her shackles.  Her cries reached fever pitch when he struck at the apex of her thighs.  

 

                It was almost a relief when the spanking finally began in earnest.  The sting of the leather was followed by the bells tugging painfully on her nipples and it all met deep in her abdomen in an explosion of erotic fire.  The pain began building, her butt and thighs burning under the steady, merciless blows.  She closed her eyes to give herself over to the rush of sensation bombarding her from every direction.  Her arousal was a driving need, her body wet and throbbing.  Every new rush of pain through her took her further away from everything except the exquisite sensations claiming her body.  The first slap of leather against the glistening center of her desire took her breath away.  The next several blows and the realization of what he was doing set off a violent jangling of the nipple bells as she screamed and struggled against the chains.  He gave no quarter, nor would she have expected him to.  He was striking her as hard as she needed him to.  If she really wanted this to stop, she could terminate the program with a single word.  The blows were coming faster, the pain only serving to intensify her passions.  Every time she drew close to a release, the slapper moved away to torment her thighs even returning to strike at her buttocks and the back of her thighs further from the center of her desire.  She was crying as much in frustration as she was from the burgeoning pain.  Her entire body felt like it was on fire but she couldn't tell what was from pain and what was from desire at that point. 

 

                The skin of her thighs and backside were a bright crimson contrast to the rest of her body.  She was flushed from exertion and covered in a sheen of sweat but still much paler than the areas he had focused on.  He paused to lightly trace up the inside of her thigh with the edge of the slapper and saw her push her hips toward it.  That slight motion fit so perfectly with Carvakan philosophy, in the words of  Madhava Acharya, that the pleasure arising to man from contact with sensible objects is to be relinquished because accompanied by pain--such is the reasoning of fools.  Cupping one buttock, kneading it somewhat roughly, he gave her a moment to catch her breath.  The sight of her helpless to him and the sensations he was inflicting on her was a heady mixture; he was fighting his body's reaction to having her willingly at his mercy.  They were still a long way from the release that she needed, so putting his own needs aside, he began applying the slapper to her again.  He re-built the pain slowly, watching her face for the tell-tale signs of how close she was.  Eventually he focused in on the junction of her thighs, speeding the blows up until the echo of one slap was drowned out of the smack of the next.  The bells were jingling violently amid her cries and breathless pleas, but her hips were straining toward each blow.

 

                Just when she didn't think she could take any more, the pain and pleasure exploded in a strong orgasm.  Exhausted but enjoying the tremors rippling through her body chasing the twinges of pain.  She exhaled loudly, a long drawn-out sigh.

 

                He traced his finger up the hot, reddened skin of her inner thigh and felt her shudder in response.  "That was what you wanted, but I think you still need more.  If I'm right, I want to hear those bells ring until I say to stop.  If I'm wrong, use your safe word to end the program."

 

                The softly-spoken words murmured in his low bedroom baritone broke her control.   She couldn't take any more, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach at the thought.  Memories of being bound and gagged in the cramped confines of the Jeffries tube flooded through her.  Helpless, she'd wanted more than anything for it to be over.  Here with Jean-Luc, she was bound and she really wanted it to be over but she wasn't helpless.  She was safe under the protection of his control and she could stop it with a single word.  Sobbing, she began twisting and writing in her restraints.  He was right, she needed to be pushed beyond where she wanted to stop in order to get to where she needed to be.  All of the tears and fears that she'd felt silly for were flowing freely.  Her entire body was aching, the bells tugging painfully on her sore nipples with each ding of the clapper.  Her thighs, butt and the tender folds of skin at her core were throbbing painfully.  The cool air in the room only accentuated the heated, tortured flesh of her body, raising goosebumps in the sheen of sweat on her skin.  She couldn't see through the tears but she knew that he was watching her.  Nothing mattered except the ringing of the bells, she had to keep them ringing.  Time must have passed, it felt like an hour but was probably only minutes later that she felt his hands rubbing oil into the tenderized areas.  The pressure of his touch inflamed the pain yet the oil was cool and soothing.       

 

                "Stop," he said as he began massaging body oil into her skin.  Keeping her off balance, varying the stimuli between pleasure and pain was a challenge.  His own body was being tortured by the sight and sound of her yielding to him so completely.  He ached to bury himself inside her and that was precisely what he planned to do; just not quite yet.  She was still quiet and compliant so he knew there was more work to do.  He gave an experimental flick against the swollen bud between her legs and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure.  In his other hand was a small, studded, wooden paddle.  It would provide a harder thud against her flesh as opposed to the more stinging slap of the leather.  She would feel these blows more deeply.  He caressed her with the paddle, letting her feel the studs before showing it to her.

 

                She was too tired to struggle against the chains.  Trusting Jean-Luc, she just opened herself to everything he was demanding that she take.  He knew her better than anyone.  He knew her body and her mind, which meant he also knew her limits and right now he was pushing at them.  She felt his hand splay across her abdomen, holding her steady.  The first swat with the paddle brought a fresh round of tears to her eyes.  Four more blows and she was begging him to stop.  She couldn't bring herself to use the one word--the only word--that would actually make him stop.  This pain was more intense, instead of the burning sting of leather, these blows were deep, jarring impacts against skin already sore.  The paddling continued but his other hand moved down between her legs to pinch and fondle her intimately.  The weight of the bells pulled on nipples that were now screaming with agony.  Her entire body, every nerve ending was being fired up, some with pleasure and others with pain, all of those signals consuming her awareness.  Her hips jerked into the pressure of his hand.  He was still holding her steady for the paddle, but his fingers were igniting arousal.  Her lungs were clamoring for air as she struggled to catch her breath.  There was no toying this time, he didn't push her to the precipice only to pull back.  This time was a slow, steady forced march, the intensity and passion building with each impact of the paddle, flick of his fingers and clang of the bells.  The pressure reached critical and every muscle in her body convulsed in a mind-blowing orgasm.  Her scream of pleasure echoed around the room.

 

                Picard dropped the paddle and unfastened his uniform trousers the instant that she climaxed.  Wasting no time, he gripped her hips and drove his body deep into hers hard and fast.  Her body was still quivering from her release, he could feel the spasms along his length.  His hands held her firmly as he began thrusting into her, his pace one of driving intensity.  The bells still attached to her nipples were digging into his chest, rubbing against his nipples and sending delicious streaks of pleasure to his hips.  Her skin was hot where he'd spanked and paddled her yet her throat was cool in comparison when he sucked on the delicate skin there.  He slammed her hips down onto him roughly, over and over.  She was floating on wave after wave of euphoria and he wanted to keep her there.  He could feel her body twisting in his grasp, her arms and legs still chained spread-eagle but she was desperately trying to push herself toward the pleasure he was giving her.

 

                She couldn't feel anything and yet she seemed to be feeling everything.  Lost in a sea of sensation, she just floated.  His body finally filling her was bliss, his hard length penetrating her was her only anchor to her surroundings.  When he pulled out, she tried to hold him and when he thrust back in, she welcomed him eagerly.  Her pleasure crested again, a gentle rolling climax that sent her drifting even higher.  Dimly she realized that the chains were gone, somehow Jean-Luc had lowered them both to the floor and was positioning himself between her legs.  Beyond exhaustion, her senses were overloading but when she weakly tried to protest, only moans came out.

 

                "Look at me, Vash," Picard commanded firmly.  "Focus on me, my voice.  Feel our bodies together."  Pausing only long enough to shove his trousers and underwear down to his knees, he joined their bodies with a hard, bruising thrust.  His arms encircled her, holding her tightly and ignoring the discomfort of the bells digging into his chest.  He whispered endearments in French and occasionally tugged at her earlobe with his teeth.  He gave his body free rein, letting loose all of the carnal desires that had been building since he had started to strip her.  It was a frantic, punishing pace, pulling almost all of the way out only to drive forcefully back deep inside her.  A primal feeling of triumph filled him, she had already allowed him to push her further than she wanted and even further than she thought she could take.  She was almost to the very edge of sensory experience.  He pushed his body harder, his hands shifting down to grip and dig into the tender flesh of her buttocks to re-inflame the pain.  His lips captured hers in a rough, demanding kiss.  Forcing its way into her mouth, his tongue ravaged every corner.  He could feel her struggling beneath him, panic as she drew closer to the limit of her endurance.  Not letting up, he continued driving into her.  Her body stiffened under him and her mouth tore away from his to utter a cry of intense pleasure.  That sight brought out his own eminently satisfying orgasm.  He dropped to the floor beside her as his breathing and heart rate slowly returned to normal.

 

                Pain radiating through her entire body was the first thing that she became aware of, followed immediately by the pleasant ripples coursing deep inside her in the aftermath of that series of intense orgasms.  The frustration and the general sense of anxiety were finally gone.  She stretched luxuriantly and heard the sound of bells.  Looking down, she saw the nipple clamp bells still attached and began flicking at them to make them ring.  "You know, if I pierced the girls, I'd need a whole new set of jewelry."

 

                Stretched out on the floor beside her, propped up on his elbow he just chuckled and shook his head.  Leaning over to brush a tender kiss across her passion-swollen lips, he murmured.  "Now I know you're feeling better."

 

                Vash caressed his face lovingly.  "Much, merci beaucoup."

 

                "Computer," Picard ordered.  "Change venue to Risa, a private cove along the beach with a blanket to lay on."

 

                "And chocolate-covered cherries," Vash added.  "Lots of dark chocolate-covered cherries and whipped cream.  You're a little overdressed for the beach there aren't you, Mon Capitaine?"

 

**FINIS** 

 

Unnatural Evolution

 

Reasons of the Heart Index