Star Sex Txg Captains Punishment

Disclaimer: The details of warp operation were totally made up. Hell, ALL of it was made up. Any of you Trekkies out there that find inconsistencies with any of this shit have way too much free time on your hands. Don’t email me saying “According to the Star Trek Technical Manual by Michael Okuda it doesn’t work that way….” (I have BOTH of the tech manuals. The original is autographed by James Doohan himself! NO, IT‘S NOT FOR SALE!) I am a Trekkie. And don’t email about the differences between a Trekker and Trekkie. I don’t give a shit. I have a life. You should get one, too. Just enjoy the damn story.

Star Sex-The XXX Generation: Captain’s Punishment

Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the USS Enterprise, flagship of StarFleet, stared into space outside the huge window of his ready room; hands clasped firmly behind his back.

“What am I going to do?” he asked the stationary stars outside.

A beep sounded on his communicator and Lieutenant-Commander Worf’s voice issued from it. “Captain Picard, Admiral Janssen is on the secure channel.”

“Shit,“ Picard visibly cringed and mumbled to himself. Clarisse “Phaser“ Janssen was known throughout StarFleet as the most severe officer that had ever graced a starship. And she had just been promoted to Vice-Commandant of StarFleet. “Very well, Mr. Worf,” Picard replied, “patch it through.”

Moving to his desk he seated himself in front of the comm. screen, took a deep breath and punched the “open channel” button. Admiral Janssen’s face appeared. The sixty-plus year-old woman’s face reminded Picard of a Klingon Targ.. God, but she was ugly…if her frown were any deeper, the cadets at the Academy could practice skiing on it; the crags in her face could be used for mountaineering practice.

“CAPTAIN PICARD!” she bellowed. “Just what in the name of the Four Suns of Samarji happened out there?”

Picard kept his voice level and officious. “Admiral, I have several people working on that problem as we speak. There are currently one dreadnought, two destroyers, and two space-tugs en route to our position. The first destroyer, I believe it’s the Monitor, will arrive in just under an hour. We have a full complement of photon torpedoes until then. I assure you, Admiral, that as soon as I know the answer, you will know the answer.”

Her frown decreased slightly. “Jean-Luc, your crew has done some stupid SHIT in the past, and you’ve always backed them one-hundred percent. Your career is hanging by the merest of threads this time. You are ultimately responsible for what happened. If you don’t have full and complete answers in twenty-four hours, you will be relieved of command. Janssen, out.”

When the screen blanked, Picard, head in hands, heaved a mighty sigh. The door chime sounded. “WHAT NOW?” thought Picard, raising his head.

“Come in,” he stated.

The door slid aside and there stood a young female ensign flanked by Commander Riker and Lieutenant-Commander Worf. The girl looked absolutely miserable. They entered, the girl sat unbidden in the seat in front of Picard’s desk. Worf stalked in to stand directly behind her. Riker strode purposefully to stand at Worf’s right hand. Picard first gazed at the ensign then shifted his questioning eyes to Commander William T. Riker, second in command of the U.S.S. Enterprise.

“Captain,” said Riker, purposefully striding two steps closer to the desk, “this is Engineer Ensign Emily Trask, the cause of our current situation.” Emily sank lower in her seat.

“Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all,” stated Picard flatly. He addressed the girl before him, “Sit up straight, Ensign.” he ordered. She did as she was told.

Picard folded his hands, staring at the girl who looked everywhere in the room except at the captain. Riker turned and strode purposefully from the room while Worf stalked out.

Picard looked the girl over. Her chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders stopping at the swell of her ample breasts. Her green eyes sparkled as a single tear ran down her beautiful, flawless face. Her slightly upturned nose gave a small sniff. One delicate, perfect ear showed through the mass of hair. Her shoulders were broad but well-proportioned for a woman of her stature. Picard could see where her chest narrowed to her waist. Her hips and legs were hidden by the desk. He pulled a box of tissues from a desk drawer and pushed it across to her. Wordlessly, she took one and dabbed her eyes.

“Ensign, this is a very serious matter. We are over fifteen light years from the nearest starbase. Our only means of propulsion are our impulse engines. At maximum speed it will take six months to reach a safe port. Fortunately, two space-tugs are coming this way and our journey will take only five weeks. As an engineer, you understand that our phasers are…were powered by the warp core.” Picard banged his fist on the desk causing the girl to jump and emphasized each word, “We…are…dead…in…space… Now, tell me EXACTLY what happened.”

Emily‘s breath hitched in her throat, her large well-rounded tits heaving and straining against the fabric of her uniform, an effect which increased the flow of blood to Picard‘s groin.

“I reported to the engineering department for my shift and was informed that we would be performing a warp core breach drill. Commander LaForge sat at the instructor’s console to monitor our actions and run the simulation. Lieutenant Chanoga was the practice Chief Engineer. We started the practice run with all readouts in the green. A phase fluctuation of thirteen percent above normal suddenly appeared on my readout. I reported it to Lt Chanoga who ordered that the phase transducers be shut down immediately. Ensign Caballo stated that he could align the transducers by hand. We had approximately seventeen seconds until total warp core implosion. The lieutenant ordered me to initiate jettison procedures and again ordered that the transducers be shut down. Ensign Caballo yelled something at Lieutenant Chanoga while I entered the code to initiate the jettison. The code was entered and my finger was poised over the jettison button. Ensign Caballo must have shoved the lieutenant. The lieutenant was forced into me and the button was pushed. Warning horns sounded, a force field was activated around the warp core container and ‘WHOOSH!’ it was gone! Can‘t they just find it and tractor it back to the ship? I‘m sure Commander LaForge could…” She trailed off under her captain’s stare.

Picard stared at the girl for a full minute. She squirmed and wriggled in her seat, becoming more and more uncomfortable. Picard liked the effect he was having on the girl.

“Ensign, do you know what happens to a warp core when it is ejected?” he demanded harshly.

“No, Captain,” she replied meekly.

“When a warp core is ejected into space it is done so with the sole purpose of getting it as far away from it’s parent ship as possible before it either implodes or explodes. Two point five milliseconds after it clears the ship’s hull, a low power warp engine sends it off into the depths of space. The whole process is very complicated and I’m sure Mr. LaForge would be happy to fill you in on the details. Suffice it to say that the core is now somewhere within an area roughly the size of the Delta Quadrant!”

Picard admired the figure before him. Although seated, she exuded sexuality.

“Ensign, you are responsible for placing us in this position. We are less than 4 hours from the Neutral Zone. If the Romulans detect us, they will probably launch an immediate attack. Our only defenses are photon torpedoes. If enough Romulan warships attack us, StarFleet will find only little bits of paste resembling chunky salsa along with enough scrap metal to build another starship. I hope this puts our predicament in its proper perspective.”

Picard’s gaze never wavered from the girl the entire time he was speaking. The comm. on his desk beeped and Worf’s voice announced, “Captain Picard, the destroyers Monitor and Merrimac are on station, protecting the ship. The dreadnought Mastodon will arrive in the next two hours. The tugs Gordon and Venable will arrive in twelve hours.”

Picard turned to the comm. console and said, “Thank you, Mr. Worf.” He paused and spoke to the comm., “Picard to Mr. LaForge, Ensign Trask is relieved of duty until further notice.”

LaForge’s voice issued from the unit, “Acknowledged, Captain.” His reply left no doubt that he understood the ensign to be in deep shit.

Picard turned back to the young ensign. “Ensign Trask, report to my quarters in one hour. Dismissed.”

Emily rose from her seat, stepped sideways to clear the chair, did a smart about-face and exited the room. What was going on? Why didn’t the Captain have her escorted to the brig? He hadn’t even confined her to her quarters.

The door swished aside. The bridge fell silent as every eye watched her walk to the turbolift. The two-second wait seemed an eternity to her; she could feel every eye boring into her back. Since she hadn’t been confined to quarters, she decided to have a drink in Ten Forward before reporting to the Captain’s quarters. As she moped along the corridor toward Ten Forward, it seemed that everyone stared at her as she passed. News traveled fast on a starship.

Conversation tapered off and the room fell silent as she entered the ship’s bar. She ordered a Tarkasian Landbrew from Guinan, who gave her a sympathetic look, and made her way to a far corner of the lounge to find a seat next to a window.

As the girl turned to leave his ready room, Picard caught a brief profile and saw that her tits were much larger than Counselor Troi’s. When she walked towards the door her hourglass figure was very pronounced. “Damn!” thought Picard, “I love these uniforms!”

Whether the girl knew it or not, her well-rounded ass swayed provocatively when she walked. Picard again felt stirrings in his groin. He punched the comm., “Mr. Worf, have my senior staff assemble immediately in the conference room.” Without waiting for a reply, he signed off and leaned back in his chair, smiling..

Emily finished her drink and slowly made her way to Picard’s quarters. She tentatively reached for the door-chime to announce her presence. She heard Picard’s voice order her in. The door hissed aside and she entered; the door hissing shut behind her.

Picard stated in a clear voice, “Lock!”

Emily spun to look at the door and heard the slight snick of the lock engaging.

“Now, Ensign,” Picard said lightly, “I have spoken with the senior members of the crew and they agree that your punishment shall be handed out by us all.” He pointed toward the bathroom. “Part of your punishment is in there. Go into the bathroom and dress in the uniform provided. Do not emerge from there until you have completely changed into it.”

Turning toward the bathroom, Emily held her head up as she moved across the floor; her hair shone as she passed the light fixtures. The bathroom, being the captain’s, was the largest on the ship. An early-20th century Earth shower stall stood next to a bathtub that could probably hold six people with ease. An ornate 12th century Vulcan toilet with silver-press latinum inlay sat beside a 14th century Gorn sink, the bowl large enough for her to sit in. A full-length mirror took up most of one wall. Beside the mirror was a hand-carved 8 foot tall clothes closet that appeared to be from the Ho’ngo Dynasty on Bajor. The door of the closet was ajar and she peeked inside. What she saw froze her in her tracks. A black and white French maid’s uniform was hanging from the crosspiece. Directly underneath were a pair of black high-heeled, open-toed leather sandals with silver buckles which were so shiny she could see her reflection in them. Emily turned away and went back to the door. Poking her head around the corner, she said in a small voice, “Um, Captain Picard? The only thing I see in the way of a uniform is for a French maid.”

Picard looked her in the eye and replied, “You are quite correct my dear. Change into it before your punishment worsens.”

Emily walked over to the closet once more, let out a heavy sigh, and slowly began changing clothes. Kicking off her shoes and unzipping her jumpsuit, she stepped onto the cool Ferengi marble floor and reached behind her to unfasten her bra. Letting the brassiere fall to the floor she reached up and took the white cotton bustier from its hanger. Her face flushed as she put on the bustier, lacing it down the front, and noticed that it was two sizes too small. Her breasts pushed up and threatened to fall over the top. She was about to pull off her panties when she noticed that no others were available. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, she understood what was to happen and began to moisten between her legs. Quickly she wrapped the short black cotton skirt around herself and donned the small, short-sleeved black cotton jacket. A small bowtie attached to a black silk choker went around her neck and a small white headpiece completed the look. She had purposely left her panties on, just in case this wasn’t what she suspected. If it was, this was going to be fun.

Taking a small step to the side, Emily admired herself in the mirror; turning this way and that to make sure her appearance was acceptable. The skirt barely covered her pussy and ass. Adjusting her tits so that her areolas were barely covered and drawing a deep breath, she walked back into Picard’s quarters and stood at attention. From the corner of her eye she noticed that Picard was no longer the only one in the room. The lithe, willowy form and fiery red hair announced the presence of Dr. Beverly Crusher. Without a word, Crusher walked over and ran a medical tricorder around and over the young ensign, lingering at the girl‘s crotch.

Crusher turned and spoke to Picard, “Blood pressure’s a little elevated, that’s to be expected, so is her elevated heart-rate and respiration. Other than that, she’s the picture of health.” Beverly walked over to Jean-Luc and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and walked over to stand directly in front of the girl.

“Now, then. I will begin by saying that you have been permanently reassigned to be my personal housekeeper and aide-de-camp. This way, I can keep a constant eye on you. If you do a pleasing job, you will be rewarded. If you don’t, you will receive further punishment. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, Captain Picard,” she said, her loins beginning to tingle.

“Fine. The first thing we will discuss will be how you address me and the other members of my staff. Outside of this room, you will address us by our proper ranks, however, our names will never be spoken by you. Captain, Lieutenant-Commander, et cetera, ONLY. You shall never address me as Captain Picard again. Clear?”

Yes, Captain Pic…sir, what about inside this room?”

Picard looked over appreciatively at Beverly. “This girl learns rather quickly, doesn’t she?” Beverly just smiled.

“Inside this room,” Picard spoke again to the girl, “All of my staff will be addressed as ‘Your Honor’ followed by their first name. I will therefore be ‘Your Honor, Jean-Luc’ and Dr. Crusher shall be ‘Your Honor, Beverly.’ Once you have been acknowledged as having spoken, ‘Sire’ or ‘Madam’ will suffice. Never ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am.’ If you do not know an officer’s first name, you will address me only and inquire. You will be addressed as ’Maid’ or ’Servant.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sire.”

Again, Picard looked at Beverly, a smile on his countenance. “I do believe that we have a good girl here. Would you like to reward her, or shall I?”

“Oh, Jean-Luc, by all means, I think you should be the first to reward her. After all, she IS your maid.” Beverly’s smile broadened.

Picard smiled again and moved to stand behind the girl. He bent slightly and lightly placed his hand on the back of her bare leg, just above her knee. He felt her shudder slightly as he slowly ran his hand up her leg, getting nearer to her round, young ass. He rubbed her ass a couple of times and then stepped back. He frowned at Beverly, then straightened and moved his head directly next to the girl’s ear.

“Perhaps, our little servant-girl does not learn as quickly as we had thought. She is still wearing her panties. Were they provided with the uniform?”

“No, Sire. I just thought that you had overlooked that part. I am sorry, Sire. I await your punishment.” Inside, Emily was ecstatic. She had been right all along. Well, she hadn’t been assigned to the Enterprise right out of StarFleet Academy for being an idiot. Only the top two graduates got their choice of assignments. The fellow that had beat her out had immediately asked for Deep Space 4 instead of the Enterprise. Good for him, but better for her! She was brought back to the present by Jean-Luc’s voice.

“Take them off, servant.”

Emily reached beneath her skirt and hooked her thumbs under the waistband. Pushing down, she let them fall the rest of the way to the floor and stepped clear of them. Picard said nothing. A silence hung about the room. Then Emily remembered to pick them up. Bending at the waist, without bending her knees, she reached down to retrieve the garment.

Picard could see her pussy lips peeking from between her legs and admired her firm, round ass. The skin of her ass was as smooth as the skin of her young, beautiful face. Was she shaved completely or just trimmed? He couldn’t tell from this angle. As she bent over, he launched a stinging backhand against her left butt cheek. She flinched and made a small squeaking sound.

“Remain in that position, servant,” he ordered. Another slap this time to her right cheek. He started using both hands to land slap after slap on her bottom. He noticed a small rivulet of pussy juice trickle down the inside of her leg. What seemed like hours was only a minute or two as his hands landed expert slaps, her cheeks becoming redder with each blow. Tears started to form in the girls eyes. Not from the humiliation, oh no, but from the pain involved. She didn’t know how much longer she could remain in this position. Her legs, hips and back muscles were starting to cramp. Suddenly the blows stopped, as if Picard had sensed the pain of the girl. A cool cloth was pressed against her red-hot bottom and gently dabbed around.

“You may stand up now, servant. Move to the bed and lie on your stomach.”

She did as she was told. Lying facedown on the bed and burying her face in the coverlet she could smell Jean-Luc’s scent intermingled with that of a woman. The cool cloth returned to her ass cheeks. It moved slowly over her globes and was gently moved to the crack of her ass. The hands that moved it were not those of a man, judging from the delicate pressure and sheer gentle touch. Her ass cheeks were spread slightly by masculine hands and her asshole and pussy were thoroughly, yet gently, cleaned by the cool, soft cloth. A squelching noise was heard behind her and then decidedly feminine fingers began massaging her puckered sphincter. A cool gel was spread around and into her asshole. Emily felt a small pressure at her asshole and something was inserted, again gently. She felt a pressure start to build in her abdomen. A warmth flooded into her bowels and she struggled to move forward.

“Hold still, servant,” this from Dr. Crusher. ”In case you haven’t figured it out, I am giving you an enema. You will be required to hold it until I say otherwise.”

Emily couldn’t speak. Instead, she just nodded her head into the bed.

Picard’s voice sounded, “If you happen to lose control, servant, you will be required to clean the floor.”

The pressure built to the point where she didn’t know if she could take any more. The nozzle was removed from her ass and Picard ordered her to stand up. Minutes went by; her sphincter threatening to open up at any moment and spill its contents on Jean-Luc’s carpet. When Crusher told her to go the bathroom, it was all Emily could do not to run to the toilet.