Linda McInnis

2283

Prayer, Mister Saavik, the Klingons don’t take prisoners.
Prayer, Mister Saavik.
The Klingons don’t take prisoners.
Don’t take...
...prisoners.

Saavik floated, bewildered, in the lifeboat unit. How had she gotten here? She forced herself to think, recalling with brutal clarity the reason she was here: she had the conn, the decision was hers alone to rescue some insignificant ship in the Neutral Zone. Her pride had let her believe that she could do it, but Klingons had appeared out of nowhere, and now, she and what was left of the Enterprise’s crew drifted in the lifeboats, waiting for death to claim them.

Klingons don’t take prisoners. Prayer. The words haunted her. Was the admiral dead? And what of Spock? She had seen him lying on the bridge, but she had no recollection of getting to the lifeboat area, so he might have made it, too.

As she thought, she became aware that her small ship was not drifting aimlessly any longer. There was motion, direction to the movement. Something had her! (...don’t take prisoners...please!) Slowly, inexorably, her little boat went forward. Saavik tried to see out the viewport, but it was too small to offer more than tunnel vision of the space outside. In vain, she tried her controls. Nothing worked. She looked out of the port again and saw the view of the stars blocked out by the gray metal hulk of a ship. As the pod moved onward, Klingon glyphs and symbols told her that she had indeed been caught by an enemy ship.

Saavik saw the light change outside the port and knew she had been drawn inside. Soon they would open up the little lifeboat and haul her out. She made a quick resolve not to give in to her fear. Spock had taught her control. She would use it. She would give them nothing.

As the space around her craft re-pressurized, she felt gravity return. She heard footsteps approaching and muffled voices. If they wanted her then they would have to come in and take her out. Which is what they proceeded to do. She heard the sound of a disruptor, or disruptor-tool, and soon the door began to glow red. The heat built up inside the small space, until Saavik thought she would pass out. Suddenly, there was a loud "pop" and the door fell out onto the deck of the Klingon ship. It was moved away, and before she had time to react, an armor-clad arm thrust in and pulled her awkwardly from her haven. She squinted in the bright lights, trying to take in her surroundings at the same time. She was ringed by Klingons. When they saw she was a female, a murmur went through them like an ominous wind. Fear began to gnaw at her innards.

"Well, well, what have we here?" A rough voice speaking Federation standard came from behind the circle of Klingons, and several of them stood aside to let the speaker pass.

He, too, was Klingon, smaller than most of the others and not in armor, but Saavik at once sensed a...presence about him that identified him as the leader. He looked her up and down appraisingly; she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"I had no idea that Starfleet was employing such gems these days. Had I known, we would have come into the Neutral Zone much sooner, eh, men?" There was an appreciative chuckle. The Klingon leader grasped Saavik’s face in a grip that was firm but not painful. He turned her head this way and that; whenever he turned her to face him, she refused to meet his eyes. He released her. "I know you understand me. I took great pains to learn this mush you call a language for just such an occasion. You believe I will rape you and then turn you over to my men, don’t you?"

Saavik’s eyes flew to his then, her very reaction betraying that that was, indeed, exactly what she thought.

The Klingon chuckled. He circled her, studying her with his eyes, sometimes coming so close she could feel his breath against the back of her neck. Against her will, she felt her nipples harden and saw a pair of Klingon brows rise in response. He moved even closer to her, so that the sensitive tips of her hardened breasts brushed against the cloth of his shirt. His fingers traced light paths from her temples to the base of her neck. Her skin jumped and quivered, as though it had its own separate life. He smiled faintly, showing just the points of his canine teeth. "I will have you," he whispered into her hear. "And when I do, it will be at your request. We Klingons are not all brutes, despite what the Federation teaches you."

Stepping back, he motioned to two of his men. "Make her secure. And see no harm comes to her in any way. I will visit her later."

The two Klingons led her silently out of the hangar deck and down a number of narrow corridors that were faintly lit. Saavik tried to remember each change of direction and commit it to memory in case an opportunity to escape arose, but her mind refused to function. At last, her escort stopped in front of a cabin. Palming the door open, one of the officers motioned for her to go in. She did, and the door slid shut behind her, immediately lighting up with an energy field. They were taking no chances.

Saavik examined her cell. The walls were stark and bare. There was a hard slab against one wall, that she took to be a bunk, and nothing else. She moved along each wall, looking for any weakness that might give her an advantage. There was none. She glanced towards the ceiling and saw that beside the light fixture was a camera eye. Somehow, she knew the Klingon captain was watching her. Summoning all her Vulcan control, she sat on the bunk and composed herself for meditation. He could not take what she would not give. So thinking, she awaited whatever he might have in store for her.

The cessation of the energy field’s hum and the whoosh of the door opening brought Saavik back to her surroundings. She had been so lost in meditation that she did not know how long she had been in the cell. The Klingon captain strode into the room, and Saavik sat even straighter. She would not give in.

He glanced at her briefly and then motioned to one of his men outside the door. Two of his officers carried in a large, plush chair and placed it opposite of where Saavik sat. The captain waved them away, but gave a short command in Klingon, and they reactivated the force field, this time with door open. The Klingon sat in the chair, leaned back, and studied her.

"My name is Razak. What is yours?"

Saavik focused her eyes above the door.

Razak smiled his thin smile and leaned further back in the chair. "I have never encountered a Vulcan female before. I have heard that they are as sexless as their men. That may be true of some of them, but not of you, I think."

Saavik continued to watch the door jamb, but she could feel the tips of her ears flush with warmth. She willed the blood away. Her physiological reaction was not missed by Razak.

"You see, I’m right." He pulled his chair towards Saavik until their knees touched. "I asked you your name," he said again. There was no harshness in his tone, but Saavik, so close to him, sensed that his politeness only went so far. She was not frightened enough to be stupid.

"Saavik." Their eyes met briefly, and she knew he was surprised that she had given in so easily.

"Saavik," he repeated, drawing out the syllables. "It fits you. Saavik. Savage. Believe me, I do not underestimate Vulcans." Leaning slightly forward, Razak ran his hands under Saavik’s legs, from the backs of her knees until they were stopped by the bunk she sat on. In spite of herself, Saavik jumped. Razak’s smile widened. He moved his hands to the tops of Saavik’s thighs and slid them down over her knees and towards her boots. Grasping one leg he unfastened the boot and took it off, then the other one.

Saavik felt as though her face was made of stone, so hard did she try not to show any reaction. Her heart raced, and the fear that lanced through her was laced with something else, something that made her legs quiver and feel weak.

"Just in case you still feel like running," Razak said by way of explanation.

He was leaning back in his chair again, studying her, his eyes playing over her face, her breasts and belly, and finally trailing down to linger between her legs. Again he moved forward, this time unfastening her hair. Loose, it cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. Razak nodded in approval. "That is the way you should look. Wild. Untamed."

Saavik felt anger rising in her. She was no passive victim. But fighting senselessly against a much stronger enemy was not logical. If she could get through this ordeal, then perhaps she might make an escape. She looked up to see Razak smiling at her again.

"You will not escape. You will not want to." He moved out of his chair and sat on the bunk beside her. Grasping her by the waist, he turned her to face him. He might be smaller than the other Klingons on his ship, but he was still two inches taller than she, and she felt his strength through his hands. No, fighting him physically would accomplish only her death.

Those same hands were now stroking her again. She longed to shrink away from his touch, but would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her shaken. But her body betrayed her, for once again, as his hands moved lightly over her legs and arms, her nipples peaked, hardening so quickly that she was hard pressed to keep from gasping aloud.

Razak nodded. "You see? Your Human companions cannot know you, and your Vulcan brothers deny they know you. I saw the need in you as soon as you stood on my deck. Soon, you will beg me." Quickly, before Saavik could prepare, he tweaked both her nipples through her shirt. Darts of liquid fire raced through her body, and she could not hold back a gasp. She did not even know if it was fear or pleasure.

"Good, very good," murmured Razak, still stroking her like a frightened animal. His hands were large and rough, with thick black hair on their backs. The hair was matched on his head, where beaded, flowing braids fell down his back. His swarthy face and crinkled forehead showed concentration and an awareness of her that she had not experienced before. Her body was urging her to accept his demands, feelings that she had never known racing through her. Duty and her oath to Vulcan sent loathing through her veins; how could she let this happen, this reaction, this illogical desire?

Razak’s hands had unfastened her uniform in their quick movements, but he made no effort to remove it. Now he was rubbing her feet, lightly but firmly enough not to tickle. At last he stopped. He moved slightly away from her and watched her intently.

Her breathing was as rapid as if she had been running a desert race on Vulcan. Small shudders ran through her body, and she did her best to control them. She turned to look Razak directly in the eyes. Perhaps if she could show that she did not fear him, he would leave her alone. For long moments, they studied each other, and then he reached out again and slid her uniform jacket down her shoulders and off onto the floor. The trousers followed shortly, and she was sitting naked and exposed before him. He cupped a breast, thumbing the bare nipple, and Saavik felt liquid heat rush between her legs. She bit her lip.

Razak smiled his small, maddening smile again. "No," he said. "I see you are not ready." He scooped up her uniform, took it with him out of the room. She heard him ordering in Klingon, and the two officers from before came in to take the chair. One of them had a length of cloth over his arm. He dropped it at her feet with a leer. They picked up the chair and were gone, closing the door behind them.

Saavik, throbbing and humiliated, was left with her thoughts.

Throughout the "night," Saavik remained in the cell, huddled in the corner, just barely covered with the cloth Razak had left her. She moved from meditation to trance to sleep and back.

Her mind raged at her body’s responses. She should fight! Tear his face, bite him, do anything to show the Klingon that there was at least some threat in trying to subdue her. She should not be having these hot, icy shivers whenever she remembered his hands on her. She should not be wondering how he would look naked.

Again, the absence of the forcefield’s hum brought her sitting to attention. Razak entered, followed by two of him men who stood just inside the door. "Cover yourself," he ordered. "I have something to show you."

She wrapped herself in the cloth and, flanked by the two guards, followed the Klingon captain down yet more narrow corridors. Their trip ended in another cell, this one much larger than the first. Where hers had obviously been for a single occupant, this one was clearly designed to hold many prisoners. The built-in bunk unit lined the three walls inside the door, and there were several more camera eyes placed strategically in the walls and ceiling. Though larger, it was just as bleak as the room she had just left.

The guards marched her to the bunk and sat her down.

Razak stood in front of her, giving her another look of appraisal. "Since you didn’t appreciate my previous efforts of hospitality, perhaps my other visitor will help to change your mind."

Barking a command to someone else outside the door, Razak stepped aside to let Saavik see another prisoner brought in. It was Spock! Saavik felt unchecked emotions flood through her—hope, fear, relief. She fought to keep her voice even.

"Captain." She did it.

Spock, dressed in what seemed to be the Klingon off-duty uniform of black tabard and pants, registered his surprise at seeing her in his usual way, one eyebrow creeping up towards his hairline. His face was swollen along one side, and there were darkening bruises along his ribs and neck. Obviously Razak’s "hospitality" did not extend to Spock. Still, when he spoke, they might have been on board the Enterprise.

"Lieutenant."

"What a touching reunion between crew members!" Razak interjected. He motioned the guards to bring Spock over to where he and Saavik stood. They did and then stepped back against the wall. Once again the hum of a forcefield filled the room.

"I believe a warmer greeting is in order," Razak said. "Kiss her. Educate me as to how Vulcans do it."

Spock’s eyes flashed briefly, then returned to their calm gaze. "And if I refuse?" he asked, his voice even.

The Klingon’s open hand lashed out and caught Spock alongside his swollen jaw. The Vulcan staggered with the force of the blow, then regained his footing.

"More of the same. Welcome your crew member. She is lonely."

"Pain is a thing of the mind," answered Spock, not moving.

Before either of them could react, Razak had snatched a dagger from one of his men. Yanking the cloth from Saavik’s clutching fingers, he pressed the tip of the blade against her right side, just under her ribs.

"Death is a thing of the body. I know where the Vulcan heart is. Kiss her lips, or you will taste her blood."

Saavik saw capitulation in Spock’s eyes. As he moved closer to her, Razak slid his other arm around her waist, pulling her against him, the dagger still in its place. When her lips met Spock’s, Saavik felt the comforting presence of his mind, but sensed underneath his rage at her humiliation. Saavik tried to block out their surroundings. This was Spock, the only teacher/father/mentor she had ever known. She had harbored this vision in her mind for so long, she could do nothing but welcome his kiss, regardless of how it came.

Spock objected. "This is not the Vulcan way...we ‘kiss’ with two fingers."

Razak pressed the knife harder. Saavik gasped. "Tongue!" he barked.

Spock’s tongue slid inside her welcoming mouth, and she met it with her own. She felt his surprise, felt his consciousness pull back slightly, and even as she sought to call him back with her mind, Razak’s had slid up her ribs to grasp a nipple and pinch it. She was drowned in the fiery sensation.

She heard Spock’s gasp as he felt her arousal, and now the Klingon’s hand traveled between her thighs, touching her dark curls, probing, probing, just enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy. Spock was drawn back to her, covering her lips with his as he sucked her tongue. She tried to reach and cup his face, but Razak pulled her hand away and put it between Spock’s legs. He was stiffening, and as Saavik stroked him, with Razak guiding her hand, she felt him get harder with great jerks. There was a sound of ripping cloth and Spock’s trousers slid down his legs to lie in a heap on the floor. Razak had found another use for his knife.

Spock would have moved closer, but Razak’s arm between them kept him back. Saavik stroked Spock as he continued to explore her mouth, even as Razak’s fingers pushed forward into her.

Saavik broke the kiss then, her head falling back, unable to control her reaction to the fingers working their way inside her. Razak rubbed her between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned then, low in her throat, and Spock, still caught in her feelings, echoed it.

Suddenly, Spock was gone, and the air was cool on her flesh. She opened her eyes to see Razak standing in front of her and Spock, still erect, being held off to one side by three Klingons.

Razak pulled her head back to him. Watching her face, he softly rubbed her breasts, working inward until he was concentrating on both nipples. Two of his men came forward and removed his clothes, and he stood naked before her. His heavy muscles bunched and rolled under a thick mat of dark hair every time he moved, but Saavik could not keep her eyes from the long, thick member that rose from the thatch between his legs. It quivered as he stroked her aching breasts.

She brought her attention back to Razak’s fingers as they traveled down her body. Transfixed, she watched as they were lost inside her. She felt the liquid warmth of her juices as they flowed down her legs and again a moan was torn from her. Dimly, she heard Spock growl from the corner.

The Klingon turned and sat on the bunk, his legs splayed, his manhood waving in the air. He pulled her to him and sucked one nipple into his mouth, using his sharp canines on it while he pinched the other one. Saavik’s belly arched up, seeking fulfillment and release. Razak toyed with her, only adding to her frenzy.

"Now?" he whispered to her.

She could not look at him.

"Now? Will you have pleasure instead of torture?"

She nodded, whimpering.

"Say it," he hissed into her ear.

She shook her head.

"Say it!" he urged, rolling her clit, teasing her sensitive inner lips.

"Yes! Yes! Give me pleasure!" Her teeth clenched, Saavik wished she could bite back the words.

Razak pushed her away and nodded to his two officers. They came to either side of her and lifted her into a sitting position, holding her legs spread wide. Razak motioned them forward, directing them until they positioned her directly in front of his face. She could feel his hot breath on her inner thighs, feel the strong unshaking Klingon hands that held her. Razak’s hands cupped her buttocks, pulling her even closer to his mouth.

"Yes. I was right. This is what you want." So saying, he began to move his tongue in slow circles around, barely touching her. She arched, almost breaking the Klingons’ grip, but Razak pulled her down and buried his face between her legs. He was licking, sucking, invading her with his tongue, and suddenly she felt an incredibly hot, liquid sensation in her middle. Just when she could bear no more teasing, he gave it long, hard strokes of his tongue, and she came, flooding his face with fluids. He released her, and the two Klingons holding her stepped back and repositioned her with her still swollen womanhood just over Razak. He moved his hips slightly, sliding himself back and forth. Her fists clenched, and she strove not to scream. Razak took her by the waist, and the guards withdrew.

He held her suspended over his member for a split second longer, then using her own weight, shoved her down on him and pushed his hips up to meet her. Still holding her, he pulled her halfway off, then pushed back in. The sensations she felt tore her. He was ripping her with pleasure, and she wrapped her legs around his muscular back so he couldn’t take her completely off him. He laughed in his throat, still pumping deep within her.

Lying back on the bunk, Razak pulled Saavik forward onto his chest. She rode him up and down, the pulling and rubbing becoming unbearable. Her inner muscles heaved, and she bucked, moans and gasps escaping her. Razak let her work, continuing to move his rod as far inside her as he could. He showed no signs of slowing. As Saavik came to the end of her orgasm, he pulled her down to his face. Saavik felt the hot warmth spurt out of him. He continued to pump her a few minutes more after he had finished.

Razak lifted Saavik off him as though she weighed nothing and placed her on the bunk. She was weak with pleasure, nearly unconscious. Wiping himself off with the cloth she had used to cover up with, Razak went over to where Spock was still struggling against the three Kinglons. He smiled at the naked, bound Vulcan. "Don’t be so impatient. I will let you have your turn."

Spock lunged at him, all thoughts of control forgotten.

The Klingon captain hit him again, harder than before, and Spock fell back dazed into the arms of his guards. Razak looked his naked body up and down. He looked at the Vulcan’s genitals, shaking his head. "She’ll get no pleasure from those. Still, it’s only fair that you have a chance. I am a proper host."

Razak sneered at Spock. "I know of the legendary Vulcan control. Make yourself ready to please your lieutenant." He jerked his head as he spoke, and the two guards pulled the Vulcan over to where Saavik half lay, half sat on the bunk. Now that she could think again, she concentrated on Spock. As she had imagined, his body, now bare of any covering, was long, slim and well-muscled. His sensitive fingers were clenched in fists that he could not use, and she saw that his member was, indeed, hardening again. She knew that once released, his great control could not be regained until his desire was satisfied. She hated Razak for that, even as she craved what was about to happen.

The Klingon captain studied her once again, as if trying to decide how he would orchestrate his prisoners. He twirled his knife lightly between expert fingers. Coming to a decision, he strode over to Saavik. He barked a command into a wall console, and the bunk she lay on rose up until it was at crotch level for him. And for Spock. He climbed up on the bunk and sat behind her, pulling her between his outstretched legs, then pulled her legs wide apart, knees to chest, her buttocks just on the edge of the bunk, her slick, open wetness exposed to everyone in the room. The guards tightened their hold on Spock.

Razak once again positioned his knife against Saavik’s skin and, holding Spock’s eyes, let his rough fingers slip into Saavik, drawing out a mixture of her own juices and his own. He laughed as Spock tried again to get free. "Why fight, Vulcan? You see she is ready for you. The work is done. All that is left is the enjoyment."

Razak’s men brought Spock forward until he touched her. She moaned, pleasure filling her. Razak pinched a nipple with his free hand. She wanted Spock in her, wanted to feel his incredible body heat filling her, wanted to hear him moan. The Klingons made to push him into her, but Razak stopped them.

"He does it himself, or she dies in my arms." He slid the knife along her neck and she felt a tiny trickle of hot blood well up under the blade. Spock did moan, then, and, finally shaking the two guards off, gripped her hips and entered her with one sure stroke.

Unable to control her reaction, she arched to meet him, climaxing almost immediately. Klingons forgotten, knife forgotten, she knew only that Spock was taking her with abandon, and she moved her hips to his frantic rhythm. He slowed, drawing himself out almost completely, then shoving back in with all his strength. Moans became grunts as he approached a quick climax. The situation sent her over the edge of ecstasy yet again, and she felt her insides spasm around Spock as he continued to slide in and out. His thrusts increased, then suddenly stopped. He poised above her motionless, then with a drawn-out sigh, hilted himself against her, and she felt him grow inside her, felt the heat of his fluids, hotter even than his flesh. She came again, so hard that her ears began to ring, the sound growing louder, drowning out everything else, sights, sounds, sensations. Her head ached, and she could not open her eyes...

The insistent buzzing of her comm console brought Saavik awake with a start. She had been sleeping—dreaming! She rarely allowed that, and what a dream... The buzzing was still going on, its relentless sound hurting her ears. She reached over and punched it off.

"Yes, what is it?" she snapped into the speaker.

"Lieutenant? Are you in difficulty? I have been trying to contact you for two point seven minutes."

It was Spock! Remembrance of her dream flooded back to her, and her voice fled momentarily. "I was—in meditation, sir. I apologize."

"Unnecessary. The purpose of my call was to re-confirm your appointment with Admiral Kirk and myself for an in-depth briefing of your performance in the Kobayashi Maru exercise."

"Yes, sir. I look forward to it." She simply couldn’t think of anything else to say.

"Indeed." Even over the BellComm, Spock sounded surprised. "In one hour, then. Spock out."

"Out," echoed Saavik, and turned her comm to "not receiving" mode. She sat on her bed and put her head in her hands.

What had she done? How could she face him ever again? The reality of the dream was still with her in the heavy, unsatisfied ache between her legs. She reached down and found her the inside of her thighs and bed coverings. Almost unconsciously she rubbed herself, remembering Razak, remembering Spock inside her.

No! It was a dream, nothing more. It can never be anything more. Masturbating with urgent fingers, Saavik came to a hard climax.

Choosing water mode instead of sonics, she let the hot water slide over her, washing the last traces of Klingons and naked Vulcans from her waking mind. Her straying thoughts disturbed her. Perhaps her feelings for Spock were becoming more complex than she had expected. She must control.

She had had a dream. It was a thing of the mind, unreal. No one would ever know. Her goal now was to make her debriefing on time and take whatever criticism that the admiral and the captain saw fit to give her. She finished her shower, dressed and donned her uniform in preparation for the dreaded meeting.

As she checked her appearance and made ready to leave, she had one last thought before she relegated her dream to the darkest recesses of her mind. She fervently hoped that she would never meet either a Klingon or an aroused Spock. It would be too much.

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