Title: The Temptation of Jean-Luc Picard
Author: Whoa Nellie ([email protected])
Series: TNG
Rating: NC-17
Codes: P/V
Summary: Naughty Vash In A Tavern Wanting A Spanking. (We're not kidding about that last part. WARNING for mild, consensual BDSM.) This story was originally posted to ASC May 21, 2007 and occurs in the Whoa Nellie universe "Reasons of the Heart" timeline, accepting all TNG canon through the movie "Insurrection" while adding Vash (from the TNG episodes 'Captain's Holiday' and 'Qpid') onboard as the ship's chief archaeologist and a post Endgame Chakotay onboard the Enterprise as ship's anthropologist.
Author's notes: This is a response to the NVIATWAS challenge. Feel free to archive to any pertinent site. *Special note: The Whoa part of our pen name was not only harmed during the writing of this story, the Whoa is dead, there is no more Whoa'ing going on between the two halves of Nellie. ;-D To Nova D and all the other wonderfully talented BDSM writers out there, we sincerely apologize for what you are about to read and Stephen, we would love to see a picture that goes with this.
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
THE TEMPTATION OF JEAN-LUC PICARD
Captain Jean-Luc Picard followed the scantily-clad dabo girl through Quark's bar to the holosuites. He had just finished debriefing Admiral Brackett on his two week-long diplomatic mission to Angosia III when an ensign handed him an envelope. Inside he found a note reading 'Come and get it, big boy' written in Vash's handwriting with a holosuite number. He immediately realized two things; first that the Enterprise had arrived ahead of schedule to pick him up from DS9. Second--and somewhat disconcerting-- his wife felt she needed one of Quark's holosuites instead of one of the Enterprise's holodecks for whatever she had planned for their reunion.
As he entered the holosuite, the door slid shut behind him and a control panel blinked to indicate that a privacy lock had engaged. The archway then disappeared into the dimly-lit holo-environment. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he began looking around for clues to what his minx of a wife was up to. His first thought was that he was in a nineteenth century tavern but he quickly realized that the room looked more as though it belonged in The Club on Earth. There was an old-style bar along one wall with a mirror running the length of the wall and extending up to the ceiling and out far enough to reflect the top of the bar. At intervals along the top of the bar were iron rings and he checked the bottom of the bar to note the corresponding rings there. A few tables were scattered throughout the room along with other items that he couldn't clearly make out. He took a seat at a nearby table to await Madame Picard's grand appearance.
"Lights, music," Vash's soft voice echoed in the darkness.
Holographic torches flared to life along the walls and an ornate, crystal chandelier ignited into a thousand points of light just as an exotic, seductive piece of music began to play. Picard blinked in utter astonishment when he saw Vash standing across the room. Inky black curls cascaded halfway down her back gleaming in stark contrast to her smooth, now-green skin. Her attire was created by strips of glittering bronze material strategically placed to draw attention to each and every one of her delightful attributes. His eyes caressed the full curves of her breasts and down across her tiny waist to the luscious flare of her hips, all more highlighted than concealed by her outfit. The dabo girl's slinky evening gown suddenly seemed downright modest by comparison. He was so entranced by her outfit that it took him a moment to realize that she was apparently shackled in place. Her arms were raised over her head and her wrists were encased by large, dark manacles suspended by heavy chains from the ceiling. Just then she started to dance, her lithe, delicate frame moving with effortless grace while her flat stomach undulated to the alluring strains of the ethereal music. 'Where in the hell would she have learned a traditional Orion slave woman's dance?' he wondered, his hungry stare traveling over the vision of unbridled feminine sexuality in front of him. His eyes met hers, her dramatic eye makeup enhancing the sultry enigmatic expression on her face causing his breath to catch in his throat.
Vash relished the open look of lust on Jean-Luc's handsome features; the heat in his penetrating, steely eyes and the determination etched in the strong square line of his jaw. Holding his gaze, she slipped free of the manacles and began moving around the room without losing a beat in the erotic dance. She stepped up onto a small, platform stage and caressed the St. Andrews cross there, her fingers circling the upper restraints before standing in front of it. She assumed a position as if she were being restrained on the cross and writhed against the center plate with a moan of pleasure. Dancing away from the cross, she lowered herself to the floor of the stage to crawl down the stairs and over to a small sitting area with leather chairs and ottomans. The music and the eroticism of their surroundings were making her dizzy with need. She laid across each piece, caressing the restraints on them to bring attention to their locations. Grabbing onto a trapeze suspended from the ceiling, she arched herself sinuously, her hips moving in time to the music. Her seductive tour of their private dungeon continued when she moved closer to him and stopped at a pair of leather padded sawhorses. One long, shapely leg came up, her knee almost touching her nose before it came down on the other side of one of the sawhorses so that she was straddling it. She began rocking in time to the music, rubbing herself against the leather padding. Her hands braced on the horse so she could speed up her gyrations and she whimpered at the pleasure streaking through her body. Jean-Luc hadn't moved from his chair and his eyes were taking in her every move with an expression of primal lust. Her hips jerked against the sawhorse, a spasm of release flooding through her body. She spun over the sawhorse and laid back invitingly along the second one for just a second. Teasing him with every twist and turn, she went over to a display rack of implements and ran her hands over the various paddles, whips and canes. A four foot bullwhip gave her a mischievous thought and she took it out of the display and twirled it overhead, bringing it down with a loud crack. The sound seemed to echo through her body, moisture rushing to the juncture of her thighs in response.
She dropped the whip and danced past a bondage frame of leather webbing to finally close in on the table where he sat. She circled him, pushing the table far enough away to allow her body to move all the way around him. Continuing to dance to the music, she trailed her hands over his body, occasionally moving up to caress his face as she passed in front of him. Her entire body in a highly-charged state of anticipation, her voice came out husky and passion-laced, "there is a long history of Orion slave women entertaining captains of the Enterprise; Archer, Pike, Kirk."
It was taking considerable effort for Picard to keep his seat. Even at her most innocuous, Vash was 'sex on legs' to quote the old adage. Now, she was utilizing the libidinously feral image of an Orion slave woman combined with the illicit eroticism of their surroundings to create a devastating effect. Bracing her small hands on his shoulders, she threw one of her long legs over his to straddle him. His nostrils flared slightly and his fingers tightly gripped the armrest of his chair while she sinuously writhed against him. "New perfume?"
Had she not been so worked up herself, Vash might have laughed out loud. Here she was giving Jean-Luc a lascivious lap dance in the guise of an Orion slave woman and he asks about her perfume. You had to give credit where credit was due, though, there was a reason that this man's self-control was legendary. Beneath his uniform, she could feel the muscles of his the sleek powerful frame tautly coiled like a jungle cat waiting to pounce. She leaned in and trailed her tongue over the strong line of his jaw, taking immense gratification in the shudder he couldn't quite suppress. She traced his ear with her tongue and purred, "I layered it with a Risan body spray which intensifies the wearer's pheromones."
"Of course, Orion slave women use the excessive amount of pheromones they release to control their male 'masters.'" With his pulse pounding in his ears, he briefly pondered death by jamaharon and wondered if his lovely wife was trying to kill him.
"Give yourself over to absolute pleasure. Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh," she coaxed wantonly. Continuing to move to the music, she rubbed her breasts against the wall of his chest; as she did, her hardened nipples grazed the rough wool of his uniform through the flimsy fabric of her costume and sent streaks of desire through her.
"Vash," he groaned, her gyrating hips making contact with his own painfully-tight trousers.
"I see you shiver with antici . . ." she broke off her heated whisper. Her hips rocked harder against his in time with the driving beat of the music responding to the erotic pressure of his hard length pushing against her through the fabric of his trousers. She allowed the coil of pleasure to build once again, well aware that the most effective way to torment him was with her own desperate need. She sensuously brushed her thumb over his lower lip. ". . . pation."
He knew her body, its every response, and those familiar signals of her passion told him she was nearing that sweet precipice. She was never more radiant than when she was at the peak of ecstasy. Her uninhibited performance had left him with an urgency that was agonizing in its intensity. His voice thick with lust he ground out, "dammit, Vash!"
"How forceful you are, Jean-Luc; such a perfect specimen of manhood. So... dominant," she teased breathlessly. His arousal was feeding hers, their surroundings and her performance around the various pieces of equipment had her ready to explode. She thrashed against him, one quick release to take the edge off for the fun to follow. She was close, so close.
"Oh no, ma petite, you're not getting off," he grabbed her hips stopping her movements delighting in the whimper of frustration that escaped her lips. It was high time he gave his wife the outcome she obviously wanted and so richly deserved, "the hook that easily."
On the very edge of a release, she struggled futilely against the formidable strength of his grip. Her breathing ragged, her lungs struggled to inhale but with every breath, his masculine scent tantalized her. His lips suddenly seized hers in a ravenous kiss, the coarse rasp of his tongue along the sensitive depths whetting the already-fierce demands of her body. She met his intensity, forcing her tongue past his in her own erotic exploration of his mouth. He finally broke the kiss and leaned back in the chair while still holding her completely immobile. She tightly clutched his shoulders and panted, "I need . . ."
"Me," Picard noted with satisfaction, drinking in the sight of Vash astride him, wild and wanton, raw carnal hunger written plainly on her lovely features. Even through his uniform, her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders. "You need me."
He was right. There was no denying she needed him. She needed him to take control allowing her to abandon herself to the strength and masculine virility of his commanding presence. "Je suis a toi, Mon Capitaine. Prends moi."
Picard quickly scanned the room; filled with so many choices. Vash had always been very adept at pushing his buttons. Now, the little nymph was pushing buttons that until this moment he wasn't even aware he had. His attention was drawn to the pair of padded sawhorses. Standing up, he effortlessly lifted her slender frame carrying her over to where they stood and set her on her feet next to them. He repositioned them so that, stretched cross-wise over them, she would be watching his every action in the mirror on the wall over the bar. "Computer add wrist restraints on the first sawhorse and ankle restraints on the second one," he instructed as he eyed her, giving her a chance to back out.
"The safety protocols have all been set," Vash rasped, reassuring him that she could stop the scene with a single word. The mere notion of being bound while submitting to her husband in this way had her dripping wet with need. Knowing her slightly uptight husband as she did; however, she knew that she was going to have to push him just a little further if she was going to get him to act out this torrid fantasy of hers. She brazenly met his gaze and taunted in an almost feral purr, "no guts, no glory, flyboy; or is the legendary captain of the Federation's flagship backing down."
"That'll be the day," he growled. There was nothing submissive about her demeanor, quite the contrary. She was deliberately provoking him, daring him. Her challenges always affected him like a powerful aphrodisiac wreaking havoc with his senses and this challenge carried an erotic twist like never before. He powerfully crushed her lips beneath his own, plunging his tongue in to taste the recesses of her mouth while he gripped the flimsy fabric of her costume and ripped it away from her body. His hands slid up to cup her breasts manipulating each hard, straining nipple with his thumbs. Drawn by the irresistible lure of those firm mounds, his mouth slid from hers to blaze a heated trail of searing kisses down the silken expanse of her skin toward the full curves in his hands. He traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue before placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her cleavage. His lips imprisoned the nipple of one of her breasts and he swirled his tongue over the taut peak before suckling strongly.
Vash arched toward Jean-Luc, the moist heat of his tongue bathing the aching crest only added to the sensations he evoked every time he sucked on it. Just when she thought she could stand no more, he pulled back. Leading her to the sawhorses, he bent her over one and stretched her over both of them. He secured her ankles first, spreading her legs wide to chain each one to a leg of the sawhorse. He allowed his fingers to trail up the graceful curve of her spine and combed his fingers through the heavy, silken mass of inky curls as he moved up to fasten her wrists to the restraints on the either end of the front sawhorse.
"Now, who's shivering with anticipation," he teased, his voice taking on a smooth, honeyed baritone timbre. In closing the restraints, he noticed that her toenails and fingernails had been painted the same dark, dramatic color as her lush lips. He circled her several times, caressing her in various places just building up the tension. Stopping behind her, he slowly slid his hand up the inside of one thigh, feeling her tense muscles quiver beneath his touch. He was well aware that she was highly aroused after having been taunted by the provocative sight of her reaching one release before he had stopped her just short of a second. Still the copious amount of nectar coating the slick, smooth green skin toward the apex of her splayed open thighs was a surprise. The astonishing discovery actually helped steel his resolve and push his own ravenous appetite aside. "You're soaking wet, ma petite."
"It's been running down my thigh for the past ten minutes, Oh Observant One." She had meant the response to sound like a sassy retort but the effect was ruined when his hand brushed the very center of her desire, eliciting a broken moan from her and a soft chuckle from him. She barely suppressed another moan, shuddering when she looked forward and realized that she was staring at the reflection of herself bent over and completely immobilized. She would be able to watch everything he did and she recalled him adjusting the position of the sawhorses before he put her over them. At the time she thought he was stalling, now it occurred to her that he'd deliberately staged the scene this way; it also occurred to her that Jean-Luc was still fully dressed. "Your uniform?"
"The uniform stays, for now. You've made no secret about your--shall we call it--unique fascination with the commanding presence along with the power and authority wielded by the captain of the Enterprise. How has the captain wanted to paddle thee? Let him count the ways." He gently massaged the flesh of her perfect derriere, preparing it for maximum effect. He gave the supple curve a light pat, enjoying the gentle bounce of the plaint flesh against his palm; somewhat surprised at the whimper of frustration it produced. With each item on Vash's litany of sins, he delivered a swat to her backend just hard enough to sting. "Shall we start with this isn't a starship, Jean-Luc. I don't follow orders. You, dragging me off to search for a dangerous weapon, digging in that cave for hours for something that you had already found. Had it not been for that ruse, I could have bedded you for the first time in a nice resort suite instead of on a cave floor. You used the idea of you going off to Sarthong V to intentionally alarm me. You actually went to Sarthong V. You broke into my quarters on the Enterprise D. I never did have the heart to tell Worf that it took you all of two minutes to get past his security systems."
Vash inhaled sharply, every blow was a lighting strike sending bolts of intense sensations coursing through her. Even in her currently compromising position, she felt the need to interrupt and set the record straight on the last charge; after all, this was a matter of pride. She panted, "ninety seconds . . . it took me only ninety seconds . . . a personal best."
As her backside began to darken in color, the blows came faster and more forcefully. "You perched yourself in my command chair and stroked the armrest precisely the same way you . . ." his voice trailed off, distracted by the lovely sienna tint that the perfectly proportioned roundness of her backside was beginning to take on. Shaking himself, he continued on with the litany, punctuating each transgression with a resounding thwack, "my sword, you took my sword during your rescue from the tower. You repeatedly bring up my duel with Sir Guy. You were a merciless cock-tease right before I took an eight-hour shuttle ride with Admiral Haden to the Command conference on Yegara. You unexpectedly appeared, dressed to thrill, at the bar on Starbase 153 to 'pick me up' in front of an admiral and four fellow starship captains. You blatantly seduced me in the middle of an official Starfleet function."
"Which time?" she gasped, a familiar, carnal ache deep inside her built steadily with every swift stroke of his palm against her posterior. The stinging heat radiating through her stoked and inflamed a throbbing need that threatened to overwhelm her. The first blows had been almost tentative, but they were starting to build in power and with the cumulative effect of all the blows she was starting to feel somewhat light-headed. She was tempted to suggest one of the paddles so he wouldn't hurt his hand before she was done, but thought that might be too advanced for his first time out; the studded paddle would just have to wait for another time.
"All of them, but I was specifically referring to the concluding reception for the Interstellar Conference on Pacifica," he clarified. He noticed that the color of her shapely derriere had deepened to a breathtaking burnt umber. Pausing in the spanking, he rubbed the flushed, hot skin and visualized how red her creamy-white skin would be by now.
"When you took me hard and fast up against the open doorway of the balcony, oh captain, mon capitaine," she moaned. The mention one of her most erotically exciting memories combined with the illicit thrill of being helpless with Jean-Luc in uniform, every inch the consummate starship captain, spanking her. She watched in the mirror as he caressed her throbbing ass. When she made her retort, he shifted position to straddle the sawhorse she was bent over, changing the angle of his blows and began delivering a volley of hard, stinging blows. 'Oh God, I'm going to . . .' she didn't even have time to finish the thought when his hand came down particularly sharply and an explosion of pleasure radiated through her body.
He felt her body convulse in a powerful release, the spasms confined by the restraints holding her in place. Moving his hand, he began smacking at the more sensitive flesh of her inner thighs being held helplessly open to him and watched as they began to darken. "While traveling with Q you had the audacity to impersonate a goddess, a sex goddess no less, and I only found out when I ran across a portrait of you as the goddess while on a diplomatic mission to that planet. You played quite the provocative seductress at the abandoned ancient Verathan outpost on Tauree oblivious to the dangers presented by the environmental conditions that over-stimulated all of our basic biological drives, resulting in primitive, instinctual behavior. You engaged in a game of strip dom-jot with a group of drunken admirers in a seedy dive on Beltane IX and the fact that you won isn't the point."
"Oh . . . God . . . Jean-Luc . . . please," she begged, her backside and thighs throbbing and her body aching for him. "I yield, you win, I give," her pleas were punctuated by yelps as the spanking went from fun to intense. He acted as though he hadn't heard her, continuing the spanking and occasionally reaching between her legs to smack the sensitized juncture of her thighs. She struggled with the chains holding her in place and screamed as the pressure increased. His hand suddenly reached up, flicking against the center of her desire and another mind-blowing orgasm tore through her body.
Picard moved to stand behind her and stripped his uniform off one piece at a time. "That's better."
Tears blurred her vision, her body quivering with pleasure and exhaustion but she blinked several times and forced her head up so that she could watch Jean-Luc's reflection in the mirror as he undressed. Broad shoulders shrugged off the jacket and drew her eyes to the well-defined and demonstrably powerful muscles of his chest. She had a new appreciation for the bulging biceps of his upper arms in the heat and throbbing of her backside. She yearned to let her hands roam over those firm, muscular planes. Her gaze continued down, admiring the taut strength of his stomach as he shoved his trousers off to expose the hard length of his arousal. The sight sent an answering rush of liquid heat surging through her and she moaned helplessly, trying to push herself back toward him but held tight by the restraints.
"You are impertinent, madame, and it's high time you learned the proper respect due to a starship captain," he teased splaying his hands across the hot, flushed skin of her buttocks. His hands rubbed her for a moment before sliding up the small of her back, his thumbs following the graceful curve of her spine to her shoulders and down again to torment her heated bottom.
His powerful hands sparked against her skin, every movement he made revealing the tightly leashed strength contained in his sculpted muscles. Sex with Jean-Luc was always incredible, but she had opened a whole new door in their relationship and dragged him through it here. He was not disappointing her. Briefly she wondered if the addition of the Risan body spray to enhance her pheromones had been a bit too much; he was certainly more dominating and forceful than she'd expected him to be for his first time. She moaned with anticipation when he leaned over her, his arousal hot and hard as it pulsated against the tender skin of her inner thigh.
Picard grasped Vash's hips and buried himself into her from behind. It took a great deal of effort since his head was spinning from the eroticism and the musk of sex-charged pheromones in the air, but he stopped and stood completely still. Having his irrepressible wife willingly place herself completely at his mercy was turning out to be the most unbelievable aphrodisiac and he was in no hurry for it to come to an end. "Please me," he muttered, his voice rough but hoarse with desire.
She struggled to push herself against him, but the restraints held her immobile. Yelping with each sharp smack he delivered as he repeated his terse command, it took a minute for her to realize what he wanted. She began clenching and unclenching her body around him rhythmically in an effort to milk him to orgasm. His hands alternately rubbed and paddled her, urging her on and she struggled to increase the pressure and rhythm in spite of her fatigue. Her head arched back at a particularly hard blow and she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, an expression of concentration on his face as he meticulously spanked the darkened skin of her backside even more. Desperately, she re-doubled her efforts. Too breathless to even scream when a wave of ecstasy rolled through her body, she cried with frustration at the realization that he was still hard inside her. Beyond exhaustion, beyond pleasure or pain, she was floating on a cloud of euphoria.
Although it was incredibly erotic and he could have kept it up all day long, he took pity on her tortured flesh. Idly hoping that there would be a sequel to this, he gripped her hips tightly and began driving himself into her with long, hard strokes, pulling himself almost completely out before plunging back into her. The slick depths of her body were hot and tight, frantically clenching at him with each thrust. The heat of her buttocks against his skin was a surprisingly pleasant sensation that he decided he would definitely like to enjoy again sometime. He looked in the mirror to find her eyes closed and her face contorted with desperate need. He wanted to see the fire in her eyes when she succumbed to the rapture she was experiencing at his hands. "Open your eyes, Vash."
With effort, her eyes opened and locked on the carnal sight reflected back in the mirror. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of his lean, pale body thrusting against her darkly-flushed, green-tinged hips. Every ridge of his hard length penetrated into the depths of her body, filling her completely with each powerful stroke. His hips slammed against the sore flesh of her backside over and over. Her fingers dug into the restraints and she struggled for air yet she heard herself begging, "more, oh God . . . please Jean-Luc . . more."
He increased the cadence to a furious rhythm of primal hunger, his body taking total possession of hers. The sounds of her passion echoing through the room rose in intensity as she mindlessly twisted in her restraints. Hearing her repeatedly cry out his name in sweet abandon fueled his own unbridled lust. Pressure was mounting, pleasure multiplying incrementally each time he drove himself into her. With a primal scream her body shuddered violently around him yet again and still he didn't stop, driving into her even harder and faster. He could feel her spasming ceaselessly, her body racked by the throes of cataclysmic orgasm. With one, last, powerful thrust, he held himself buried inside her as his own explosive release ripped through him.
Vash welcomed Jean-Luc's weight draped across her back, the physical exertion leaving both of them spent and covered in a thin film of perspiration. His ragged breathing rasped in her ear while tremors continued to course through her quivering body. Still gasping for breath, she commented blithely, "Damn, that was cathartic."
"Merde," he grumbled.
"What the matter, mon capitaine, did I put a little kink in your day," she baited him, still breathless she sounded totally unabashed nonetheless. She was rewarded with another swift swat of his palm against her bottom. With a sharp inhale, she responded playfully, "thank you, sir. May I have another?"
Hearing her incorrigible reply, Picard began laughing. "You are outrageous."
"You're pretty stimulating yourself," she cooed the expected retort. About to call for the computer to delete the restraints, she felt Jean-Luc lift his weight off her. He bent down, opening the restraints on her wrists, pausing to lick the hot skin of her buttocks before he released her ankles.
Helping Vash up from the sawhorses, Picard noticed the muscles in her thighs were still quivering and he steadied her for a moment before letting go. He sat down in a nearby chair watching while she gracefully stretched her overtaxed muscles. "As erotic as the Orion slave woman look is, and it is incredibly erotic . . . "
"The green skin tone will wear off in a few hours and the hair color will wash out," she assured him as she very gingerly settled herself in his lap. "I can have Mr. Mott take the hair extensions out tomorrow."
"No hurry," he said toying with the heavy, silken mass watching the curls wrap around the end of his fingers.
Amused by his typical male fascination with long hair, she quoted, "'I serve him for his pleasure, not his good; And thus I keep him. ' "
"You have that backward, ma chere. It is I who should make every effort to keep you," he professed in deep, resonating whisper. "Je t' aime."
"Je t' aime," Vash echoed softly. She leisurely traced designs with a fingertip through the coarse hair on the damp, muscular expanse of his chest. She pressed her lips to his in a slow, deep kiss savoring the taste as their tongues danced, swirling and stroking each other in a sensual tango.
Breaking the kiss, he observed, "I'm afraid you're going to be quite sore."
"A good kind of sore and it was more than worth it," she sighed contentedly. "Besides, that's why analgesic creams were invented. Know where I might find someone to help me apply it?"
"I think that can be arranged," he chuckled. Even after all this time together, she never failed to amaze him. "I must admit I'm still somewhat mystified."
"I don't know why. As your litany so eloquently illustrated, I've been practically begging for it for quite some time."
***FINIS***