thering.gif (2110 bytes)

Ann Zewen

August 12th 2274

A muted but persistent soft beeping gradually penetrating his consciousness, Jim Kirk finally forced one eye open, then groaned and quickly closed it again, willing the damned comm unit to shut up. When it refused to obey his silent command, he finally gave up, stretched stiff muscles, and forced himself to move, tossing the covers back and swinging his legs around so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

The movement brought a sensation he had never experienced before: not pain exactly, but a peculiar pulling discomfort that was annoying as hell. Glancing down at his naked body, he jumped suddenly to his feet, a look of absolute horror spreading over his face--for there, dangling enticingly from beneath his penis was a golden ring. Kirk stood absolutely motionless for a moment, then reached down to lift the offended organ and examine the trinket decorating it. Steeling himself for the pain he anticipated, he gingerly touched the spot where the shiny metal disappeared into the tender skin, wincing slightly at the mild soreness the movement brought. He ignored that soreness and continued his scrutiny, searching for a way to remove the ring, but the bauble appeared to be completely smooth with no opening he could find.

"God damn it!" he shouted to the empty room. "How in the hell?" There had to be some means of separating it. After all, it had been inserted in some manner. Staring at the ring as though willing it to disappear, he finally took it between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and very gently tried to slide it around and see if the clasp might be hidden within his flesh.

"Shit!" he muttered at the twinge of pain that resulted. That certainly wasn't going to work, but how was he going to get the damned thing off, and how the hell did it get there in the first place?

The sound of the comm unit still beeping interrupted his thoughts, and he stalked from the sleeping alcove into his office, leaning over the desk and slamming his hand down onto the controls to activate the audio-only mode of the unit. "What is it?" he barked.

There was a brief pause before he heard the precise tones of his first officer. "We have received orders from Commodore Probert that diverts the Enterprise from our diplomatic mission to Serenidad to the planet Neural. There has been no communication with the Starfleet observation team there for three weeks."

"Yes, yes." Kirk interrupted, pushing the stray lock of hair back from his creased forehead. "Acknowledge the orders immediately. Set course for Neural."

"Of course, Captain," the calm voice answered. "However, the diversion will delay our arrival on Serenidad by four point seven three days, and the ambassador will be most displeased by the--"

"I don't give a flying--" Kirk stopped and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he continued in a more controlled tone. "Send a message to the Federation liaison explaining the nature of our delay. Tell him..." His control slipped. "Oh, hell, Spock, tell him whatever you think is best, just... handle it. Kirk out!"

Kirk slapped the unit off and straightened up, glancing about in confusion. Swallowing in an attempt to settle his queasy stomach, he lifted trembling hands to massage his throbbing temples, thinking he needed to see McCoy for one of the doctor's famous hangover remedies--and soon.

As for his other problem, he pointedly ignored it, unwilling to even think about it until he had managed to get his head and stomach back to some semblance of normalcy.


"Mornin', Jim." McCoy's greeting was entirely too cheerful for his captain, who flinched and briefly closed his eyes, offering up a silent prayer to whatever deity looked over errant starship captains that he'd get through this without McCoy becoming too suspicious. Seeing the wince, the doctor toned his smile down a notch or two and dropped his voice an equivalent number of decibels before asking blandly, "Bad headache?"

"Yeah, stomach, too," Kirk admitted. "Can you give me something to help?"

"Sure. I already have a batch mixed up for you. Figured you'd need it after last night." He handed a glass of the vile-looking liquid to Kirk and waited for him to swallow it, grinning all the time. The concoction tasted as bad as it looked. Then he asked innocently, "Some shore leave, huh?"

"Yeah, some shore leave," Kirk responded distractedly as he turned for the sickbay door. "See you later, Bones."

"Sure. Later." There was a thoughtful expression on the physician's face as he watched Kirk exit the room.


"Report, Spock," Kirk demanded as he gingerly eased himself into his command chair. Both head and stomach were rapidly recovering from the previous night's overindulgence, but every wrong move tended to draw his attention to that part of his anatomy he most wanted to ignore. And every effort to ignore it only made the goal that much more unattainable. What really bothered him was the possibility that such preoccupation might place him in a rather embarrassing condition. So far, he was controlling his reactions, but despite the slight soreness, he was finding it increasingly difficult to prevent himself from developing an all-too-obvious erection.

Kirk attempted to push such thoughts out of his mind and listen to Spock's report.

"We are proceeding to Neural at Warp Three and should arrive there in two point five nine days..." The Vulcan was following his order to the letter, providing the captain with much more detailed information than was needed or even wanted. But interrupting him took more energy than Kirk had at the moment, so he allowed Spock to drone on while his mind began to wander along its own paths.

Somehow, he thought, there just has to be a way to get the damned thing off. It was put on, or in, whatever, it has to come off or out. Shit, how the hell was it put in anyway? And by who? And why?

" difficulties, Captain," the first officer concluded his report, his voice still calm even although one eyebrow was elevated slightly as he watched Kirk squirming slightly in his command chair.

Kirk's wandering mind returned reluctantly to the bridge when he heard the word "captain."

"Thank you, Mister Spock. It appears you have everything under control." The captain shifted in his chair yet again and felt the cool metal press against his skin in a much too intimate manner. His cock twitched in reaction, and he fought silently to master both that response and the equally embarrassing warmth he felt flood his face. Finally, he stood up and walked very carefully toward the turbolift. His face turned even redder as he passed the communications station and his gaze connected with a pair of curious and concerned brown eyes.

Desperately controlling the urge to look down and see if his condition was apparent, he continued to the 'lift, pausing at the open doors with his back safely to the bridge. "I'll be in my quarters," he said, then added "...taking care of some paperwork," as his original comment was greeted with a silence that held the feel of an uplifted eyebrow. "You have the conn," he told Spock as he hurriedly escaped into the 'lift, leaned thankfully against the wall as soon as the doors closed behind him, then ordered, "Level Five." He had some serious thinking to do.

Kirk stood just inside the entrance to his quarters and stared at his desk a moment, considered whether he should indeed do some of the paperwork he had used as an excuse to flee the bridge. Then he shrugged. There was nothing that couldn't wait, and this other matter needed immediate attention. He turned for the sleeping area, then stopped as the intercom sounded. Mentally counting to ten to control his fraying temper, he punched the button and responded to the summons, "Kirk here."

"Jim, can you come down to Sickbay? You're, er, due for a physical."

"Not now, Bones. I'm busy," he answered, glancing down self-consciously at the bulge in his pants. "I'll work you in as soon as I can."

"But, Jim--"

"I said, not now." He enunciated each word clearly, then added abruptly, "Kirk out!" before releasing the intercom button and continuing into the sleeping alcove.

He stopped at the clothing disposal and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it down the chute. Next, he reached for the fastening of his pants, flinched slightly, then carefully continued to disrobe, tossing the rest of his clothing after his shirt and heading to the shower to freshen up. Maybe it would succeed in clearing his head--not to mention helping him cope with that other little matter.

Moments later, refreshed by the sonics, he returned to the room and stretched out naked on the bed, clasping his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling, trying desperately to remember exactly what had happened the previous night. He remembered beaming down to the planet with McCoy and going to a well-known club famous for its exotic entertainment--of both the liquid and female varieties. Obviously, he had fully enjoyed the liquid. His head and stomach had told him that much. But what of the female? There must have been someone really special. He couldn't imagine ending up with this stupid souvenir for anything less than the very best. But who? He narrowed his eyes and searched an unusually fuzzy memory for the missing hours of his leave.

He could remember sitting at a table in the club, drinking a delicious fruity concoction that was more potent than it tasted and watching a beautiful long-legged redhead move sensuously on the stage. As she had danced across the stage, displaying her magnificent nude body to the delight of the club's clientele, she had winked at him in open invitation... A slow smile spread across his face at the memory of that wink and the thought of what might have followed it a little while later.

The redhead ran long fingers through his tousled hair as she slid her naked body against his in movements that echoed her earlier ones on the stage. His stretching sex was pressed against the curly hair of her mound, twitching as though it were attempting to find its own way into the slick opening to her body.

"Come on, lover," she whispered in his ear as she nibbled on the lobe. "I want to feel this gorgeous cock deep inside of me." Her hand closed tightly around the throbbing erection, and she began to lead him as though by a leash--or a ring--across the impersonal hotel room to the waiting bed. Incredibly aroused by her unaccustomed aggressiveness, he followed meekly, willing to play along with her game--at least for the moment.

"Now," she ordered, "you're going to please me, and if you do a good enough job, I might let you enjoy yourself a little later on."

His organ twitched again, but he forced his desire back down to a manageable level and turned his attention to satisfying the woman who settled back against the pillows, waiting for him to begin. She looked so delicious there, good enough to eat. He grinned at her, then sat at the foot of the bed and took one long, slender foot in his hand, caressing the instep and lifting it, pushing her leg back to bend at the knee until he could bring the shapely object to his mouth. Then he proceeded to draw the toes, one at a time, into his mouth, licking and sucking on them, all the while keeping his gaze on her face, watching for the signs of her arousal.

She was trying to hold back, to restrain her response, pretending a nonchalance he didn't believe for a minute. But when he abandoned her foot to lick his way up the inside of her leg, she finally gave up the effort and moaned softly. He paused a moment to nibble at the back of her knee, then continued to move upward to the ultimate target. She moaned again as his tongue found its prey and began the delicious punishment that soon had her on the very edge of release.

The pressure of his own arousal began to build in his aching balls, and he squirmed around to present himself in mute entreaty for her to return the favor. Taking pity on his obviously needy condition, she reached for the swollen cock and--

"Oh, shit!" The fantasy dissolved, and Kirk cried out as the pain lanced through him, forcing him to drop the rapidly deflating organ. Damned ring. A man couldn't even enjoy masturbating with it. How was he ever going... "Oh, shit," he repeated in a softer voice and then turned onto his side, pointedly ignoring the throbbing soreness as he curled into a tight ball and forced himself to go to sleep.


The BellComm unit woke him yet again almost two hours later, and Kirk sat up in bed, fighting off the grogginess that came from going back to sleep only a few hours after he had risen for the day.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"It's me, Captain, your friendly country doctor. About that physical--"

"I said I'd get to it when I have time, Bones." His voice was quiet, but there was the feel of a roar there all the same.

"C'mon, Jim. Since when were you so all fired eager to do paperwork? It'll be a nice break."

"I said, NO!" This time it really was a roar, and when the connection broke, McCoy decided that, discretion being the better part of valor, he'd wait until the next day to try again.

Kirk stared at the comm unit as though it were to blame for all his problems, then wearily turned to don a fresh uniform. As he started to put one leg into his pants, he glanced down and noticed the damned ring still dangling. He sat down on the side of the bed and contemplated the situation again, once more examining the ring in an effort to figure out how to remove it. Again, he was forced to give up when his efforts resulted only in an increased soreness and frustrated failure, combined with an embarrassing response that he forcibly brought under control. Finally, he resumed dressing, slowly easing the pants on, then hurriedly getting into the rest of his clothes.

He glanced one last time at his desk, wondering if he really should do some of that blasted paperwork, then decided it could wait a while longer and exited his quarters, heading for the bridge to finish out the shift that had too damned much time left in it to suit him.


The afternoon passed far too slowly for Kirk, as the Enterprise proceeded steadily on its way, peacefully and routinely. The captain felt as though he'd almost welcome an encounter with the Klingons--anything to distract him from his thoughts, fragmented memories, and the metal trinket that continuously demanded his attention. Unable to banish the memories, he attempted to organize them and remember who, other than the redhead, might have been responsible for his current dilemma.

There had been the cute brunette waitress who had flirted shamelessly. He smiled a little as he remembered the second drink she had served him--or had it been the third? No matter; she had spilled a little in his lap and then grabbed a napkin and attempted to mop it up, managing a quite thorough grope in the process. Torn between arousal and embarrassment, he had glanced around the room to see if anyone had noticed what was happening, but he had made no attempt to stop her. There had been some giggling from the next table, and he had barely restrained himself from looking in that direction. Then someone had called for the waitress, and she had left him--alone and very definitely frustrated in a manner somewhat foreign to the usually successful captain. Could she have returned later to finish what she had started? If the rest of her was as talented as her right hand, she just might have talked him into...most anything. But this--

"Captain?" Something in the Vulcan's tone told Kirk it wasn't the first time Spock had tried to gain his attention. He decided to ignore that possibility.

"Yes, Spock?" he responded as coolly as possible.

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura was trying to tell you the Federation liaison on Serenidad is sending you a message."

Kirk swiveled his chair around to face the communications officer, smiling his apology, once again ignoring that look of concerned curiosity in her eyes.  "Is he transmitting directly, or is it a taped message?" he asked her.

"It's taped, sir."

Grabbing the excuse to exit the bridge yet again, Kirk ordered her to transfer the message to the terminal in his quarters. Turning command back over to Spock, he left as quickly as decorously possible--at least he hoped it was a decorous exit.

It was almost end of shift, and the message and the necessity to formulate and then transmit an appropriate reply would give him an excuse to remain in his quarters until he was off duty and able to avoid most crew contact until the next morning. He could use the paperwork as an excuse for eating in his quarters that night. Spock or McCoy might be a problem, but he'd just tell them he wasn't in the mood to be sociable.

First night after a wild shore leave, they might just believe it. Spock would find it illogical, but he wouldn't argue, and McCoy would understand completely--or at least think he did. Now, if he could just get a good night's sleep, maybe tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe he'd wake up and find that all this had been just a bad dream and he didn't really have a golden ring through his cock. Yeah, and as McCoy would say, maybe pigs can fly.


"Mornin', Jim, Spock." McCoy dropped his heavily laden breakfast tray on the table and sat next to Kirk, grinning across at Spock. "Mind if I join you?" he asked belatedly.

"Not at all, Doctor. Please sit down," Spock answered almost absently, continuing to consume his fruit-and-grain breakfast as though there had been no interruption.

McCoy stared at him a moment, open-mouthed, then shrugged. Nah, Vulcans don't joke. He turned to Kirk. "Have a good night?"

Kirk glared back at him with puffy eyes a moment, then mumbled something about sleeping just fine, thank you, before returning his attention to his almost untouched meal.

"Good, good. If you're rested, then we can take care of that, er, physical right after breakfast."

"Not today, Bones," Kirk hurried to respond. "I have to, uh, check on something down in Engineering." He stood abruptly and took his still-untouched tray to the nearby disposal. "I'll see you both later." Hurriedly, before anyone could stop him, he left the room, two pairs of eyes following his exit, eyebrows lifting in unison.

"I believe something is disturbing the captain," Spock suggested.

"No kiddin'."

Spock eyed his companion suspiciously. "Do you have any speculations as to the cause?"

"Huh? Who me?" McCoy fought back an urge to blush, jumped up and disposed of his own still-full tray, leaving as quickly as Kirk.

Spock looked at the closed doors a moment, then calmly resumed eating his morning meal, deciding once again that there was no way to understand these emotional, illogical Humans.


"Good morning, Captain!" The petite blonde flashed Kirk a brilliant smile. "Wasn't Tallis beautiful?"

Kirk stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the ensign who had paused to greet him. "Yes, it was lovely," he responded, searching her face for some hidden meaning.

"Almost as beautiful as home," Her voice was wistful. "Not quite as nice as our Iowa cornfields, though, was it?"

"No, it wasn't," he answered, smiling as he remembered that Ellen Carson, like himself, was a native of that region of Earth that was known as the American Midwest. "Nothing's quite like Iowa," he added. Carson was a mission specialist, temporarily assigned to the Enterprise as a stellar cartographer as the starship was scheduled in a few weeks' time to survey both the star systems on the galactic rim and those of the forthcoming probe of the Ceti Void. After the surveys, she was to be transferred to Starbase 14.

As Carson smiled again, nodded at him, and then continued on her way down the corridor. Kirk turned to follow her progress, appreciative hazel eyes admiring the way her shapely bottom swayed as she moved. As the twisting movement made him once again aware of the ring hidden within his pants, he searched his memory, trying to remember seeing the ensign on Tallis. It hadn't been at the beamdown, he was sure of that. And he couldn't remember seeing her in the club, so it must have been later. But how much later? And where?

He tried again to remember the details of the previous evening, attempting to determine just where he might have seen her. He could remember a couple of women at the table next to his. One had been a blonde; he was sure of it. Could that have been... No. He remembered something else about those women. He had tried to smile at them in invitation; they had both been suitably attractive and might have made satisfying companions for the Enterprise officers that night. But the blonde had only giggled--the same giggle he had heard when the waitress...

--and then turned away from him to face her friend. The other woman had gently caressed her cheek and then, tossing a taunting look in Kirk's direction, lifted her hand to place an openly passionate kiss in the palm.

As he replayed the memory, Kirk was certain that blonde hadn't been Ellen Carson. Carson was an appealing young woman, not quite beautiful perhaps, but lovely in a clean-scrubbed, "Midwestern" kind of way. She had mentioned corn fields, and now he wondered if she also were farm-bred. Farm girls learned the facts of life early and were well versed on what to do with what they learned. He wondered briefly if her taste ran to exotic jewelry, then dismissed the idea as unlikely, although alluring. In his not inconsiderable experience, Iowa girls tended to be more traditional and straight-forward in their tastes than that. He remembered a long-ago, lazy summer day. He had been, what? All of fifteen. He smiled.

"Easy, Jimmy. Don't be in such a big hurry.”  The laughing blue eyes twinkled up at him, and the nervous youth blushed, then forced himself to slow his frantic movements. But it was hard, real hard--and getting even harder by the moment. Lisa was so... He thought a moment, trying to come up with an adjective adequate to describe the young woman lying beneath him, but he couldn't think of a single one. Besides, the effort was distracting, and he wanted to savor the present experience to the fullest.

Lisa was a few years older than Jimmy, actually a friend of his older brother. At home on break from college, she had dropped in at the Kirk farm hoping to see Sam. No, she called him George. Everybody did except Jimmy--Jim. He had to remember his recent decision to be known as Jim from then on, but right then it was hard to remember anything, except Lisa's presence.

When Lisa had learned that her former boyfriend had stayed in school that summer, doing some kind of special research project, she had simply given his younger brother a careful appraisal, shrugged slender shoulders, and apparently decided that one Kirk was as good as another, proceeding to invite him for a walk.

Their walk had lasted as far as the barn--the hayloft, to be specific--and now they were lying in a pile of the fragrant but scratchy straw while Lisa slowly, carefully indoctrinated the inexperienced youth in the joys of the flesh.

He might be inexperienced, but he was learning fast. Jim Kirk always learned fast when he liked the class, and he decided he liked this one best of all. "Oh, Lisa," he groaned against her long neck, rapidly losing the battle to control his body's response to her stimulus. "I don't think I can wait a minute longer."

"That's okay, Jimmy," she reassured him. "I'm ready now. Come on, put it in. No, not like that, here, let me help." She reached down between their bodies and took him in hand, guiding the aching shaft to her greedy hole that quickly gobbled him up when he began to press into her. His eyes widened in delighted surprise as he savored the first wonderful sensations and then began to ease in and out of her, slowly at first, then faster as the need coursed through his young body.

"Oh, yes, Jimmy, that's right, that's exactly right. Fuck me hard. I like it hard and, deep." Lisa was encouraging him, making him feel as though he were the greatest lover in the entire universe. His chest swelled with pride in his magnificent performance, and her sexy words spurred him on to faster and faster thrusts until he heard her cry out and felt the muscles inside her grab him and spasm around his pulsating pole. It was too much. He was going to come any second.

"Captain? Are you all right?"

"Huh?" Kirk straightened up from the wall he was leaning against and blushed furiously as his eyes met those of a fresh-faced lieutenant. "Uh, yes, Mister Ramirez, I'm quite all right." He forced the flush from his face by will-power alone, then reddened again as he realized the condition that would be easily noticeable if Ramirez happened to glance downward--if he hadn't already. Turning to hide his crotch from the lieutenant's view, he quickly made his way down the corridor, ducked into the turbolift, and ordered it to Level Five, where he escaped into his quarters and leaned against the doors behind him as soon as they closed.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" he muttered under his breath. To have been caught like that, daydreaming in the corridor--and what a daydream! He hadn't thought of Lisa in years. Those summer weeks with her had been really special, until Sam had finally come home from school, and she had abandoned the eager younger brother in favor of the more experienced elder. That had hurt, and had brought the first real estrangement between the Kirk boys. As the late summer days rushed toward autumn, however, Jim had forgiven Sam his unrealized betrayal when he discovered that Lisa wasn't the only girl willing to expand his education. A whole new universe had opened up to the future starship captain that summer, and he wasn't through exploring it yet. But first he had to figure out what to do about the blasted ring.

No, he corrected himself. First he had to do something about the blasted erection. He needed relief so badly, it was downright painful. He was lucky he hadn't reached the climactic moment of his daydream and come for real right there in the middle of the ship's corridor, with the young lieutenant watching. That really would have been humiliating. As it was, he could only hope Ramirez hadn't realized that his captain had been more than just leaning against the wall of the corridor. Kirk certainly couldn't ask the lieutenant if he had noticed his raging hard-on. How did you ask such a question anyway? "Pardon me, Lieutenant, but did you happen to notice something a bit, er, outstanding about my anatomy?" There was no delicate way to ask without appearing a complete fool.

Fool or not, he was going to have to do something about his arousal, now, before he dared venture forth from his quarters. Opening his pants, Kirk lifted the swollen organ out and gently touched the place where the ring was attached. The soreness had lessened somewhat in the past twenty-four hours. If he was very careful...

He quickly disrobed and headed for the shower, turning the controls to water and adjusting it to a warm gentle stream. Facing the refreshing spray, he closed his eyes and just stood there a moment. Then he turned around and lifted one foot to rest on the ledge at the back of the shower and carefully closed his right hand around the throbbing shaft, tightening his hold as soon as he realized that there was no pain. On the contrary, it felt good--damned good. Careful not to actually touch the ring, he proceeded to pump his hand back and forth on the organ, gradually increasing the sensations of pleasure that swept through him. As he began the climb toward the release he craved, he slid the open palm of his other hand caressingly over the head and then reached for his balls, rolling and squeezing them lightly together, the pressure adding to his mounting excitement. Sensitized to an incredible level, he had no need for fantasy, and simply gave himself up to the physical response to his own caresses.

Almost without warning, he was there, his body ejecting the creamy substance in spurts that brought an overwhelming relief. As the last drops squeezed out of the bulbous head of his sex, he released his cock and collapsed, weak-kneed against the side of the shower a moment, then quickly finished washing and finally switched the unit to sonics, allowing the waves to dry and invigorate his enervated body. Then, despite the early hour, he headed directly for the bed, collapsing into a deep, exhausted sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.


The captain wandered the corridors of his ship, dropping in at engineering, the botany lab, poking his head in the door to the gymnasium, then quickly ducking out again as soon as he remembered that he would have to disrobe to change into work-out clothes. Now where? he thought. McCoy was still stalking him, determined to give him that physical he had been threatening him with for the past four days. Kirk just didn't think he could face his friend and chief medical officer once his secret was revealed, and there would be no way to avoid it if he submitted to the examination.

Of course, if he could just bring himself to admit the problem to McCoy, the doctor would surely be able to remove the ring quickly, easily, and, most importantly, painlessly. At least it would be physically painless; Kirk had no doubts about that. It was the teasing he couldn't face. McCoy would never let him live this one down, and he would be determined to discover how it had happened, too. And how the hell am I supposed to tell him when I can't even remember myself? Kirk rubbed a weary hand over his face and tried to think of some safe, private place on the ship.

Finally, knowing he'd probably be found eventually, but hoping he'd have at least a few moments respite from the ordeal he was becoming resigned to, he headed for the observation deck.

The turbolift doors opened, and Kirk stepped out into one of his favorite places. Slowly he walked over to the wide viewport and opened the shielding to reveal the sight of the stars flashing past the Enterprise almost too quickly to be seen. This was the way they really looked from a starship in warp drive, and it was a view not seen from anywhere else on the ship. This was reality; the sight on the various viewscreens was computer adjusted to appear as it would if the ship were stationary, or at least moving at sublight speeds. But here, from the huge observation deck, he could see the real thing and marvel at the awe-inspiring wonder of it.

He stared out the huge window for a few minutes, but the beauty and majesty of the stars failed to calm him this time, and he sank onto a bench dejectedly, burying his face in his hands.

A moment later, a gentle hand touched his slumped shoulder tentatively. "Captain?" she asked uncertainly. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Miss Carson?" He looked up into the navigator's face, then patted the hand at his shoulder, forcing his despair back into hiding. "I'm okay," he told her, trying unsuccessfully to smile.

She didn't buy it. Settling at his side, she slid her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck and began kneading the tension from the bunched muscles she found there. Hesitating for just a moment, she decided to risk a familiarity she had never allowed herself before. "Tell me about it, Jim," she urged him gently, then held her breath as she waited uncertainly for his reaction. It didn't take long. He lifted tortured eyes to meet her concerned gaze, then unexpectedly granted her a trust he would give no one else.

"Have you ever done something while you were drunk that you'd never, ever, ever consider doing when you were sober?" he asked so softly she could barely hear him.

Science Specialist Ellen Carson was a little startled by the question, wondering just what the captain might have done, but she managed to keep all trace of surprise and curiosity from her face and voice. "Sure," she answered conversationally. "Haven't we all?"

Kirk searched Carson's blue eyes thoroughly before finally reaching for her hand and standing up, pulling her to her feet at the same time. "Would you come with me?"

She nodded silently and followed him from the room, through the corridors and to his quarters. He palmed the door open, and they walked inside, the door sliding shut again with a soft whoosh. Slapping on the privacy lock, he turned to face her defiantly.

"You won't be shocked?" he asked in a voice that mingled bravado and trepidation.

"Nothing would shock me," she answered solemnly, thinking irreverently that he looked like nothing right then so much as a small boy who had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "You'd be surprised what I've seen...and done."

Kirk hesitated a few seconds longer, reached for the fastening on his uniform pants, looked up at her again, then quickly opened his pants and removed his penis before he could change his mind.

Carson's eyes widened once when she saw what he was doing, and then still further when her gaze caught the sight of the golden circlet decorating his organ. Her lips twitched--What a cookie jar!--but she managed to restrain the urge to laugh and instead asked only, "Is that all?"

"All! Shit! Isn't it enough? I have a God damned ring through my cock." His eyes dared her to laugh at him.

Carson couldn't help it; that look was her undoing, and this time she did laugh, but gently, understandingly. She stopped laughing when she saw the hurt look on his face, and instead she reached a hand out to him, then let it drop back to her side. "Captain..." she started, then paused, fighting the urge to laugh again as she thought how utterly ridiculous it was to address him so formally as her superior officer when he was standing there defiantly with his cock hanging out of his pants--and a golden ring dangling from it.

She tried again. "Jim, the way you were acting, I was afraid you had done something...well, shameful. But this..."

"You don't think it's shameful?" He really wanted to know.

"Why should I? My ears are pierced."

"But it's not quite the same thing," he protested.

"No, it's not," she conceded. "People...most people," she amended, "don't see yours." Her eyes twinkled at him.

He ignored the look, responding only to her words. "It doesn't bother you?" he asked.

She shrugged and repeated her earlier response, "Why should it? At least..."

"Yes?" Now he expected the truth to come out.

"It would only bother me when...if, well, if we were..." Her voice trailed off a bit uncertainly, and a slow smile began to spread across his face as he realized what she was saying. He reached out for her, then dropped his hands to his sides dejectedly.

"What is it, Jim?" she asked, disappointed at his failure to take up her obvious invitation.

"It's just... You said... Oh, damn, Ellen, I don't know how to take the blasted thing off?" he finally blurted out.

She laughed out loud at that. "Is that all?" she whispered when she could speak, smiling encouragingly as she dropped to her knees in front of him and took his organ in gentle hands.

She stroked the penis with long fingers a moment, distracting him from any feelings of humiliation he might have. Then she carefully examined the ring, turning it a little and finally taking it between thumbs and forefingers and pulling gently. The trinket separated immediately and easily slid free of his flesh.

Carson glanced to one side and tossed the golden circlet onto a nearby table, then turned her attention back to the man in front of her, leaning forward to place a gentle, healing kiss on the tender skin that was slightly reddened where it had been in contact with the metal of the ring.

His cock twitched, swelling and stiffening in response to her touch. She smiled up at him seductively, then stuck her tongue out to swirl it around the head before closing her mouth around it and swallowing, breathing deeply to avoid gagging on the bulk as it slid easily down her throat.

His knees threatened to buckle as the waves of pleasure swept through him. He threaded trembling fingers through her dark curls and braced his feet against the floor, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to savor the feel of her incredible mouth. Nothing in his fantasies of the past few days could match the reality of this.

Continuing to suck rhythmically on his now rock-hard organ, Carson took his heavy balls in her hands and gently massaged them, intensifying his pleasure until he began to push her away. She looked up at him in disappointment when his penis popped free of her greedy mouth.

"No," he whispered raggedly, lifting her to her feet. "Not there... I want..." His voice husky with desire, he was unable to finish his sentence, but it wasn't necessary. Carson caressed his arm, then took his hand in hers and led him around the partition into the sleeping area, headed straight for the bed.

"Fine with me," she told him with a gently teasing grin. "I have a much better place to put it."

When they reached the bed, he drew her into his arms for a long, deep kiss, his hands stroking her voluptuous body first through her clothing and then on bare skin as he deftly removed the flowing, brightly colored garment that was her favorite off-duty attire. 

Carson broke the kiss to stare at him with smoldering eyes, then proceeded to help him remove his own clothes. Together they lay on the bed, and he leaned over to resume his kisses and caresses. She spread her thighs and tried to pull him on top, but he held back.

"No, sweetheart," he whispered. "Not yet."

"But aren't you ready?" Carson asked, sliding her hand teasingly across his smooth, muscular chest. "You felt like you were about to explode in my mouth."

He gave her his slightly crooked smile and cupped one breast with his hand, thumb grazing across the sensitive nipple that immediately puckered in reaction. "I was," he answered as he bent his head to nuzzle her other breast, “but I'm in control now--for a while anyway. First, though, I want to be sure you're as ready as I am."

"I'm ready now," she protested, then gasped as he sucked the nipple into his mouth and gently bit it.

"Not as ready as you're going to be." It was both a promise and a threat, and his right hand left her breast to slide slowly down her body to the moist heat between her thighs, his caress increasing the tempo of her heartbeat.

As her breathing became more and more ragged, he ceased sucking on her nipple and kissed his way down her body to settle between her legs. He looked up across her body and into her eyes and then allowed his gaze to follow the same path his mouth had taken across her glistening skin until it reached the dark hair that curled protectively around his target.

Placing thumbs on the folds of skin, he parted them to reveal the tiny shaft that throbbed in anticipation of his touch. He leaned forward and touched it with just the very tip of his tongue, and she jerked in reaction. Looking back up to meet her smoldering gaze a moment, he grinned mischievously and then bent again to tease her with soft kisses. She gave a low moan, and he stopped his teasing, parting his lips and drawing the tender clit inside his mouth to suck on it gently, flicking his tongue rapidly back and forth against the sensitive tip.

Carson moaned again and began to squirm on the bed, hands digging into the covers as her whole existence became focused on the sensations he was creating. She bit her lip in an attempt to hold back the orgasm that was rapidly building through her entire body, then gave up and crashed over the edge, crying out softly once as the spasms rocked through her.

Kirk continued to lick and suck her until the waves of pleasure began to recede a bit. As he felt her relax a little, he released her clit, but instead of moving back up to her side as she expected, he spread the slick folds even wider apart and moved further down, placing a gentle kiss at the opening to her womanhood, then sliding his tongue inside the velvety channel to coax yet another orgasm from her.

Before the spasms ended, he quickly removed his mouth from her and moved into position, thrusting his surging cock into her. A few quick strokes, and he found that the combination of her earlier attentions and the feel of her wet heat surrounding him was too much to resist. He came, spraying a hot stream of semen into her depths and amazingly sending her still thrashing body into yet another paroxysm of pleasure.

Finally, spent, he collapsed on top of her, then rolled to one side, drawing her exhausted body close to cradle her in his arms.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he didn't give a damn who talked him into getting that stupid ring. But if he ever found out, he was going to have to give her a big kiss of gratitude. If it hadn't been for the ring...


Kirk was whistling tunelessly under his breath as he dressed to report for duty the next morning when the buzzer sounded at the door. Fastening his pants, he called cheerfully over his shoulder, "Come," and the door slid open.

"All right, Jim. You've put me off long enough," McCoy demanded. "You're going to get that physical today, and it's going to be right now, and that's a medical order."

"Sure, Bones, no problem." Somehow his embarrassment had disappeared.

The agreeable response rocked the doctor back on his heels, and he glanced around the room as if searching for some clue to this sudden, complete change in attitude. As his gaze slid across a table near the door, he stopped and stared.

"How the holy hell did you get the damned thing out?"


"The ring, damn it. How'd you ever get it out? I've been trying to figure it out for the past four days. How'd you manage?"

"You?!" Kirk's eyes widened in disbelief, then he collapsed on the side of his bed in helpless laughter. "You have one, too?"

"Yeah, sure, don't you remem..." The blue eyes widened. "You don't. You really don't remember what happened, do you?"

Kirk's laughter subsided a bit, but although still puzzled, he no longer felt despair at his faulty memory. "No, I don't," he answered McCoy's question with total unabashed candor. "The last thing I remember is sitting at the table, drinking and watching that redhead dance. After that, it's a complete blank."

McCoy grinned delightedly. "Well, now, isn't that interestin'?" he asked of no one in particular.

"Okay, Bones. Just what did happen?" It might not bother him anymore, exactly, but he was still curious.

"You tell me how to get it out, and I'll tell you how it was put in," the doctor bargained.

"You first," the captain demanded.

McCoy shrugged, then decided to comply. "I'm not sure exactly what possessed us; I think it had something to do with the drinks. They were really potent. Anyway, this man came in, selling what he called intimate jewelry, said it was the ultimate souvenir."

"And we bought it? Just like that?" Kirk was incredulous.

McCoy shrugged again. "Well, we hadn't had any luck all night, and you said if you couldn't use it, you might as well decorate it. Your exact words!" he protested in reaction to the look on Kirk's face.

"And the redhead?"

"The last time I saw her, she was leaving with Sulu."

Kirk sighed. "Oh. What about the waitress?"

"She left with the women from the next table."

Kirk decided he didn't want to know any more about any of the women in that place. Instead, he changed the subject. "But how?" he demanded in a deliberately level voice, then added in response to McCoy's questioning look, "How were they put in?"

"No big deal. The 'jeweler' was a doctor, or had been once anyway before he was barred from practice for performing illegal surgery." McCoy's words caused Kirk to recoil slightly at the thought of just what 'illegal surgery' might be. "Anyway, he had a laser and knew how to use it without causing any pain, not then anyway. Of course, it was a bit sore afterwards, but that was mainly from having somethin' there that wasn't meant to be. My soreness has worn off now, at least..." The doctor grinned sheepishly. " long as I don't do anything to cause too much friction or pull on it."

"Yeah, I found that out."

"Speakin' of finding out, when am I goin' to find out how to get it off?"

"Just as soon as I do."

"What? But you've already taken yours off."

"I didn't take it off."

"Oh." McCoy thought a minute, then suggested tentatively. "You don't think whoever took yours off would... no, I didn't think so," he answered his own question as he watched Kirk shake his head slowly while a gentle smile played across his lips.

"But I will ask her how she did it." Kirk took pity on his friend. "And I'll let you know as soon as I can."


"I promise."

"Okay. I'll be waitin' to hear from you."

"Just don't be too impatient," Kirk warned his friend, the gentle smile widening into a full grin. "It'll probably be tomorrow before I can get back to you."

McCoy grinned in response and left the room, mentally listing the women on board the Enterprise and wondering just who it might be who had performed such a delicate service for the captain--and who he might get to do the same for him.


Carson lay relaxed in Kirk's arms late that night, smiling up at him as they rested after yet another wild session of love-making, quietly enjoying each other's presence and the pleasure they had found together before the inevitable passion began to build once again. He gently traced a single finger across one eyebrow, down her cheek, and along the jawbone to the point of her chin, then back up to outline her full, bruised lips, finally sliding it just inside her mouth where she nibbled and sucked at it a moment. When he removed his finger from her mouth to stroke her damp, tangled hair, she turned her attention to his sweat-glistened chest, leaning forward to place a trail of soft kisses across the broad muscles, tongue darting out to lick the flat nipples. Cradling her head in his trembling hands, Kirk closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her a moment, then pushed her away gently.

Disappointed at the interruption, she looked up at him with a dazed expression, then slid back up the bed to face him, her eyes questioning him silently.

"Tell me, Ellen..." He tried to be nonchalant. "How exactly did you manage to take the ring off, er out--whatever?"

Carson watched him a moment, her eyes meeting his levelly and a smile appearing when his gaze darted away from hers. "What difference does it make?" she answered with a question of her own. "You're not planning on putting it on again--or are you?" Her right eyebrow raised a notch in a quite credible imitation of Spock.

"No, no," he quickly assured her. "I have no intentions of ever wearing that again. It's just..." He paused a second, trying to respect his friend's privacy. "I'm just curious."

"Well, don't worry about it, Jim," she whispered as she slid her arms around his neck and began nibbling on his earlobe, pressing full breasts against his chest. "If you ever decide to put it back in, I'll be glad to take it out again when you're ready." She abandoned the lobe and stuck her tongue out to lick teasingly inside the cavity of his ear, her warm breath tickling slightly and distracting him from the conversation he hoped to complete before proceeding to more pleasurable pursuits. "Besides," she continued finally, abandoning his ear to punctuate her words with tiny kisses across his eyes and down the bridge of his nose, "you'd never get it out on your own anyway."

He took a deep breath, desperately trying to control his surging desire just a moment longer, then asked, "Why not?"

Carson stopped her teasing caresses and leaned back to look into his face, puzzled. "You really want to know?" At his nod, she continued. "It's really quite simple, Jim. You just pull it apart in the right place, and it opens, then you slide it around until it comes out."

"But how do you know where the right place is?"

She shrugged. "You have to look for it. There's a tiny line where it comes together."

"But I couldn't find anything," he protested.

"Jim," she grinned at him, "even my eyesight isn't that good. You can only find it up close."

"Oh." He looked thoughtful a few seconds, then grinned as he thought of McCoy. The chief medical officer was going to have to find an accomplice as willing as this one to get out of his own predicament. Kirk decided he would tell his friend how to remove the trinket, but he would leave it to the doctor to find someone to accomplish the task. He grinned again, then caught his breath, as Carson's wandering hand slid across his stomach and then still lower to capture his already rising organ and stroke it into a fully aroused erection.

His own hands followed her example and slid between her willing thighs, his fingers caressing the outer folds of skin and then sliding inside her to coax the banked fires into full flame. She began to hunch against his hand, seeking a release from the mounting pleasure. Then he removed his fingers and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him and separating the lips of her steaming pussy to make way for his hardened cock as she positioned herself and began to slide down the throbbing shaft.

She paused a moment when she reached the point of fullest penetration and closed her eyes, head thrown back to savor the fullness inside her. Then, without any outward sign of movement, she clenched and released the interior muscles, squeezing him rhythmically. Gradually, she began to involve her entire body in the effort, leaning forward to place her hands on his shoulders so that she could ride up and down on his stiff organ, taking them both ever higher until they climaxed in unison, collapsing together in a tangle of arms and legs.

As their heartbeats and respiration gradually returned to normal, Carson leaned her head against his shoulder and slid a soft hand across his chest. "Jim?"

"Hmmmm." It was all the response he could manage at the moment.

"Would you let me put it back in?"

"What?" She had his full and incredulous attention now.

"The ring," she explained, smiling slightly. "Could I put it back in?"

"Ellen, I..." He wasn't sure what to say. After four days of embarrassment, soreness, and fear that he might be stuck with the blasted thing for the rest of his life, he felt like he never wanted to see the golden trinket again--and yet... "Why?" he asked, finally.

Her smile widened. "It would be so sexy, to have you wear it, with nobody knowing but you and me. Admit it," she teased. "It is arousing, isn't it?"

He reddened slightly, then nodded in agreement. "It's hard not to be aware of my cock all the time when every time I move I feel that ring..."

"Then you'll do it?"

"Well, maybe occasionally, but only..." His voice trailed off as he pulled her head up from his shoulder so his lips could reach hers. "Only," he continued, "if you'll promise to take it out again at night, exactly like you did the first time, and only if you promise that when you leave the Enterprise in a few weeks, you won't leave me to my predicament."

She grinned happily. "It'll be my distinct pleasure, Captain Tomcat."

He grinned back, for once not minding the nickname he had heard whispered surreptitiously on more than one occasion but which no one had ever dared to use to his face--until now. Slitted eyes glinted dangerously as they met her gaze a few seconds in mock anger before they softened, his lids closed, and his mouth claimed hers one more time.

main.gif (14802 bytes)

Free counters provided by Andale.

banner.gif (754 bytes)

Return to the index of ORION ARCHIVES -- 2273-2275 The Second Mission.
Return to the index of ORION ARCHIVES On-Line Fiction.
Click Here to Return to the Orion Press Website