WHERE NO WOMAN HAS COME BEFORE

Deanna awoke slowly to the feeling that she might not actually be awake, but simply awakening to another dream. She sat up and looked around the strangely open room, not remembering how she got there. There seemed to be ambient light coming from no particular source; the floor disappeared into the shadowy distance, but there were no walls or even a ceiling to be seen.

She swung her legs over the edge of the "bed," a raised platform with a rather cheap looking vinyl pad across the top. Standing up, she wandered toward the only other object in sight - a table several meters away with an odd assortment of mechanical contraptions on it. Deanna picked up a phallic-looking object and examined it with a bit of amusement.

She heard someone (something?) take a deep breath and moan softly. Turning, she could now see another bed at the edge of the light - several more in fact, all with figures laying on them, one of which seemed to be waking up. Deanna approached her; she was obviously female - in fact, of the four beds now in view, they all seemed to hold females, all human, or humanoid at least, of various sizes and shapes. She focused on the one who was now waking up. She was clearly Vulcan, not wearing a Starfleet uniform, but a form-fitting bodysuit that passed for fatigues in their domestic space program.

"How are you feeling," Deanna asked. She couldn't think of anything else to say - nothing seemed appropriate.

The Vulcan turned toward Deanna and sternly looked her up and down. Standing there, also in a form-fitting bodysuit (also not standard Starfleet, with low neckline and lavender color), Deanna nervously put her hands together in front of her crotch and shifted her weight unconsciously from one foot to the other. Her inspection over, the Vulcan replied, "I'm fine. What is this place?"

"I don't know. I just woke up myself a little while ago." The Vulcan stood up and stretched - lacing her fingers together and arching her back, she stretched her arms as far above her head as she could. Deanna noticed with satisfaction how well she filled out her suit - the sexy curve of her breasts, her narrow waistline, and especially the near-perfect (why quibble - perfect!) twin globes of her ass, separated by a canyon any conquistador would give his left nut to explore. Something concerned Deanna though: She'd suddenly woken up in an alien environment and may at this moment be in deadly danger, but her mind could only focus on how hot this sweet Vulcan piece of ass was! Something funny was going on with her mind.

Their conversation, however brief, was enough to rouse the other figures. In various stages of the same foggy-headedness, they congregated around the two of them. The Vulcan, it turned out, was named T'Pol and claimed to be a science officer on the Enterprise - NX-01! That was before even Captain Pike!

There was a young Trill, wearing a contemporary Starfleet uniform, whose name was Ezri Dax.

There was another Starfleet female - another Enterprise crewmember in fact, this time from NCC-1701. Her name was Yeoman Janice Rand. At any other time or place, Deanna would have been amused by her anachronistic uniform, but now she was nothing but aroused by the calf-high black leather boots and miniskirt barely covering her sultry curves.

The final figure was also the most imposing - a tall, willowy blonde in a silver bodysuit whose body Deanna could find nothing wrong with: a set of knockers to drool over, ass cheeks that could crack walnuts, and a pussy so tight it could turn a charcoal briquette into a diamond - or so Deanna enjoyed imagining. Her cryptic name was Seven of Nine.

While it was apparent that T'Pol and Seven were the logical minds in this group, it was actually Deanna who first seemed to figure out what was going on. "Apparently we were all pulled from various timelines and locations having something to do with the Enterprise, or at least Starfleet in general. I would hazard a guess that where we are now is no specific time or place, not as we know it." Deanna paused and looked at the faces looking at her. No one was willing to contradict her. She was unsure how to proceed. "Have any of you been feeling… that is, I've been having these… I'm horny as hell!" There, she'd said it. The assembled crew looked nervously at one another. Were they confused by what she said? Or were they perhaps feeling the same thing?

She continued. "I mean, I'm not afraid to be a sensual person, but I can usually keep it under control when I want to. We were all pulled from periods of the Starfleet timeline that have been extensively documented, but of all the people to be kidnapped, it turned out to be, may I say, five very hot chicks."

"What do you think is going on?" asked T'Pol.

"I think we've all been brought here by the power of some narrator who has written us into a story of his. As such, he can give us any kind of emotion or feeling he wishes. Since, as I've said, we're all sexy women thinking sexy thoughts, I'd have to guess this Narrator is some excessively horny, probably human, adolescent male."

Ezri spoke up. "So what does all this mean? What do we have to do to get out of here?"

"If all this is just a story," answered T'Pol, "the most logical solution would simply be to act it out to its conclusion. When the story is finished, there would be no reason to keep us here any longer."

Yeoman Rand: "So what is the conclusion of this story?"

T'Pol: "Logically it would be orgasm and ejaculation. Human males often lose interest after this."

"If causing an adolescent to have an orgasm is all that is required," answered Seven, "then all I should have to do is expose one breast."

"In any real situation," said Deanna, "that would be true. But this is fantasy. And there's nothing hornier than a male, adolescent, lesbian sex-fantasy."

Ezri: "What does that mean?"

A mischievous smile crept across Deanna's face. "Ladies, it's going to get kinky… very, very kinky."

Ezri: "Well, no one's going to turn me into some lesbian sex slave."

T'Pol: "If Troi is correct, I don't think you'll have a choice. Although we all seem to have retained our basic personalities, our specific actions in the near future may very well be dictated by someone else."

Janice stepped forward. "In other words, you slinky little minx, you may as well shut up and enjoy it."

"Easy for you to say. You call that a uniform? It looks to me like you've already been dishin' it out to every plasma-tube scrubber in the fleet."

"So you don't like my uniform? Well what the fuck is it with you and that silly turtleneck? Aren't there any tits under there?" With that, Janice grabbed two fistfuls of cloth just below Ezri's neck and, with one swift motion, tore it to shreds, leaving Ezri completely naked and blinking in shock.

Janice ran the fingertips of one hand up Ezri's arm, across the nape of her neck, and up to her temple. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No, I suppose not," she replied, starting to soften under Rand's touch.

Janice laid her fingers on Ezri's giraffe-like markings. "This is lovely. What are you called again?"

Ezri smiled in reaction to the sudden complement. "I'm a Trill."

"Yes, that's very lovely." Rand traced her fingers back down Ezri's neck, following the markings down her back, where they formed an elegant V, coming to a point at the base of her spine, just above her ass, the very tip of the V disappearing into her crack. Janice ran her fingers all the way down, paused at the bottom, then slowly slid her fingers into the crack, coming to rest with her fingertip on Ezri's anus.

"Mmmmm." Ezri leaned forward and parted her legs slightly.

"Oh, yeah baby, you like that." Janice pushed her finger against the sphincter and traced small circles around it, without actually pushing inside it. She pulled her finger away and brought it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. "Mmmmm."

"Eww." Ezri wrinkled her nose in playful disgust.

"Here, smell it." Janice held her finger up under Ezri's nose. Ezri hesitated, then leaned forward and sniffed, wrinkling her nose again. "Yeah, that's all you baby."

Ezri stepped forward and put her hand under Janice's miniskirt, resting her palm on her pussy. "I prefer to start from the other side." With that, she pushed Janice down onto the nearest bed and climbed on top of her.

Seven turned to Deanna, who was intently following the action. "Counselor, are you all right? Your respiration rate has increased significantly."

"Jeez, Seven, it looks to me like you're still more human than Borg. Don't you find any of this exciting?" Having shifted her focus from Ezri and Janice to Seven, Deanna now circled the statuesque bombshell like a hungry shark. Seven was forced to turn her head from side to side in an attempt to follow her. Deanna stopped directly behind her and wrapped her arms around her, pushing her breasts into Seven's back and grinding her pussy into her buttocks. She whispered hotly into her ear. "What do you say we show these wannabe's what it's all about?"

Seven turned in her arms to face her. "I believe they began this way." She took hold of Deanna's uniform between her boobs and ripped it open sideways. Since the collar of Deanna's uniform held fast, the wide-open garment did not shred and fall away the way Ezri's did. Nevertheless, her ample breasts now swung free, and Seven availed herself of them. She rather roughly took hold of them, squeezing and twisting with reckless abandon. Bringing one of the breasts up to her mouth, Seven made a cursory attempt at teasing the nipple with her tongue before taking it into her mouth to suck, nibble… and bite!

"Oww! Hey lady, those aren't deuterium implants down there!"

Seven looked up. "I apologize."

Deanna laid her hands on either side of Seven's face and pulled her up so they were looking eye to eye. "Well don't. It makes you look weak." With that, Deanna kissed her squarely on the lips - a deep, soul-searching kiss, as if actually trying to determine if this Borg-dyke still had a soul after all the hell she'd been through.

Deanna pulled back suddenly, as she felt a hand between her legs. T'Pol had come up behind her. "Can I play, too?" Reaching between Deanna's legs, she took hold of the edge of her torn uniform and yanked it farther back, fully exposing her crotch, from her trimmed yet substantial bush to the top of her ass. Kneeling behind her, T'Pol pushed Deanna's butt cheeks up and apart. Pushing her nose between them, she set to work with typical Vulcan focus licking Deanna's pussy, exploring its every nook and crevice.

"Oh, God." Deanna was positively weak-kneed at this point. Possessing all of her Betazoid sensitivity and none of T'Pol's Vulcan focus, she was finding it quite difficult to finish the task of disrobing Seven. Finally accomplishing it, though, she began trying to move toward one of the tables which the Narrator had thoughtfully supplied with enough dildos and nipple clamps to keep them all busy for eons.

It must have been a humorous site: Deanna could only manage a series of baby steps, while Seven continued to maul her breasts (they were positively red now, and starting to ache) and T'Pol continued to suck her pussy, following behind her on all fours like a puppy following a supper dish on a string. Finally, her prize was within reach.

Deanna reached over and picked up a particularly severe-looking, even Borg-like, device. It was primarily blue, but with silver-metallic highlights and full of knobby attachments. In fact, just about the only thing that identified it as a dildo was that it was slightly taller than it was wide. While Deanna fingered Seven's blonde gash to ensure her hole was thoroughly slick, she handed the dildo to Seven and said, "Here, lick this."

Taking the device from Deanna, Seven first licked it like a popsickle (Had she ever seen a popsickle? Deanna wondered), then stuck the tip into her mouth and deep-throated as much as she could, although that was hardly more than a few inches, the monstrosity was so wide. When its surface was thoroughly slick, she held it up before Deanna.

"That's pretty good, but let's make sure there's plenty of lube on there." She then spit a large blob of saliva onto the device as Seven held it, intentionally letting the over-spray hit Seven in the face.

Deanna then took the dildo in one hand and briefly jacked it up and down with the other before placing the tip just inside the folds of Seven's pussy. Looking at it, she asked mockingly, "Should I say something special? 'Prepare to be assimilated?' 'Resistance is futile?'"

"Shut up and fuck me!" Seven screamed in frustration. Satisfied with the response to her teasing, Deanna drove the cock home with one strong thrust. "Uhhuhh!" Seven could say nothing more as her eyes rolled back into her head and her entire body and being was overcome by the ecstasy of orgasm.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Deanna too was overcome by the unstoppable force of orgasm. So intent had she been in servicing Seven, that she had forgotten about T'Pol, down between her legs. But the Vulcan's tongue had continued its work and had accomplished its task.

Deanna now turned her mischievous attention to the pointed-eared nymph crawling out from between her legs. "Girls!" she called out. "Our work isn't done. One of us hasn't come yet. She isn't even naked yet." Janice and Ezri playfully came running toward them - a collection of jiggling flesh and giggling voices. Were they forces of interstellar exploration, or kinky girl scouts? Whatever they were, Deanna had become their leader - the conductor of this orchestra of orgasms. Time for the climax.

Her minions had quickly gotten hold of T'Pol, disrobed her, and now held her down on a nearby bed. Seven had both her hands above her head, and Janice and Ezri each had her by an ankle, holding her legs wide in a vulgar spread-eagle. Deanna picked up a device which she now recognized as a speculum from the table and approached.

"I've never seen a Vulcan cunt up close." She breathed on the metal tool and held it against her cheek, as if checking its temperature. She ran her fingers over T'Pol's pussy and then rubbed her fingertips together, like an inspector conducting a white-glove test. "You're plenty wet. No lube for you." Deanna knelt close and easily slid the duckbill-like device inside. As she turned its handle, its two halves separated, opening up the moist cavern for all to see.

Despite herself, T'Pol let a sultry moan escape her lips. "I knew you'd like it," Deanna smiled. Leaving the tool in place, she picked up a second speculum, saying ominously, "I wonder what the inside of your ass looks like."

T'Pol's eyes widened at the suggestion. "I don't think that was meant to be used anally."

"Neither were gerbils, but that didn't keep some people from trying. Think of it this way: Maybe you'll get a new sexual technique named after you. From now on, getting a speculum up your ass will be known as 'getting T'Polled.' Here, I'll even lube it for you this time."

Deanna motioned with her hand, and while T'Pol struggled, Janice and Ezri, holding firm to her ankles, switched sides. Ezri ducked under Janice's upraised arms, and T'Pol had to roll over or risk having her legs pulled out at the sockets. Her captors then took a couple steps toward her head, and she had to pull her knees under her belly to avoid further injury. Of course, her ass was now at Deanna's mercy.

As she felt the tip of the device placed against her anus, T'Pol suddenly found herself in the same predicament as a medieval French revolutionary laying under the blade of a guillotine: Unable to escape her fate, she could only hope that the device worked properly so as to spare her as much pain as possible.

Deanna slid the device in and cranked it open. T'Pol cried out in pain as she was opened for a second time from the opposite side. "Hmm, it's still a little dark in there," Deanna commented. "How wide will this thing go?" She cranked it to its limit, and the shriek from T'Pol was so high it was nearly imperceptible. Deanna inspected her work, then leaned close to T'Pol's ear, whispering, "Your ass is so pretty, I want to crawl inside it."

T"Pol kept her eyes closed, her mouth opening and closing silently while her head buzzed in a netherworld of pleasurepain.

Another moan escaped T'Pol as Seven removed the first device from her pussy and Deanna pulled the second one from her ass. Despite the tool being removed, T'Pol's asshole was left gaping open. "Look," Deanna said. "Three fingers fit easy!" Greasing up the rest of her hand, she pushed in four fingers… and kept pushing. A continuous stream of moans was now spilling from the Vulcan's mouth. No one was holding her anymore - she could have easily gotten away. But for all her squirming and crying, she only tried to spread her legs wider.

"Seven, do her pussy!" The Norwegian-esque Borg lubed her hand and inserted a finger. She progressed quickly to two, three, four fingers, finally forcing her entire hand passed the tight opening. "Can you make a fist? Make a fist!" Deanna slowly closed her fingers on one side while Seven did the same on the other, stretching the Vulcan to her absolute limits. She was impaled like a pig on a spit, with two fists inside her groin.

Deanna turned to Seven. "Sevah, take your hafg ahgy fh jdhry."

"What? I can't undskhu hjyue fhg."

"It's the Narrator! He's almost done! He can't type with one hand and his eyes shut! Now's our chance to finish him off! Ezri, Janice, get over here!"

Janice came running over and fairly dived between Seven's legs. Ezri randomly grabbed two dildos off the table and, without any pretence of lubing them or preparing Deanna, shoved them into Deanna's pussy and ass, pistoning them back and forth and completing the fifth link in the lesbian sex-chain.

"Do you ektuhn sfg wkjyuh…"

"Yeah, whatever."

Looking around, Deanna noticed her vision turning to black-and-white and becoming grainy. "That's it! We're almost out of here! Keep fucking! Keep fucking!"

Yes, she thought, never stop fucking. Not if you don't have to.

Despite having been brought there against her will, as the scene dissolved around her, Deanna truly regretted having to leave.