Date: Sun, 28 Mar 1999 23:24:33 PST
From: "J.O. Dickingson" <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Destiny" (t/t, m/t, Celeb)
Author's note. This is the second part of a new three-part sequel by
Aardon Beta in the ongoing saga of Jake Sisko of Deep Space Nine. Star
Trek, The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine and all characters from the
series are trademarks of and copyright by Paramount Pictures Corporation.
Special thanks to Nathan Foster for the details regarding the physiology
and functioning of Cardassian genitalia. (You can find more in his Jake
and Gul Dukat trilogy.) Gowran and Nolar are characters created by this
author. Trek fans, Cardassians, Maquis and gay men and boys of all ages
can write to the author, Aardon Beta, c/o authorsix@hotmail.com where he
has a subspace temporal portal link for communicating with the past when he
is in transmission range with Earth.
Of Chance, Destiny and Choice
Part Two: Destiny
"Captain's Personal Log. Stardate 50275.9. Jake and I have had a
long talk, again. Ever since Nolar was whisked back to Bajor by his
family, and we received word that General K'Dragh's ship was lost in battle
near Dorvan V, I have never seen Jake so depressed. I had hoped that the
return of Nog for his Starfleet Practicum aboard DS9 would help lift Jake's
spirits. I even gave their idea of sharing an apartment together all my
blessing and hopes, but if anything, the return of Nog has accented Jake's
depression. Nog has become quite the soldier, and quite the nationalist.
He carries the passion and fervidness of youth to the extreme, as usual.
Needless to say Jake is placing little value in the military after what has
happened to Gowran, and even still today after all these years the death of
his mother. And if nationalism means a mindless faith to principles like
Nolar's father's faith in the prophets and the mores of Bajoran society, or
the political influence that Kai Winn wields with an almost blind
conviction, Jake will have none of it.
Tonight Jake asked to accompany the next troop ship to head into the
conflict zone. He wants desperately to be part of the battle, to be doing
something of value in this war. I understand his feelings. I also
understand his fears, and I must wonder if his request is really a suicide
mission. Things have been bad for him, and this is not the first time I
have worried if he might consider ending his life. I can only have faith
that I have raised him to be stronger than that, that and a few strings
I've pulled as Captain to ensure that Jake is never alone on this station.
As for his request, I have told him I will think on it. I have, and I do
not have an answer."
"Captain's Personal Log. Stardate 50278.9. I have given permission
to Jake to leave on the USS Helinski to deliver troops to the borderlands.
It is against my better judgement, and as a father, I fear for him, but as
a soldier and an officer of Starfleet, I know this is the best thing for
him. There is an old saying that the best thing for one to do if one falls
off a horse, is to get back on it. So it is for Jake. If he is to face
his fears, then this is what he must do. Besides, he is eighteen now, no
longer a child."
"Captain's Log. Stardate 50360.6. . . .I have ordered the Helinski
to travel at greatest speed to Korvar ll. Surveillance reports a build up
of Cardassian military there and we need every available man to protect the
Ferengi trade route."
"Captain's Personal Log. Stardate 50363.6. Every decision I make I
swear I am sure has to be the hardest, but the one immediately afterwards
proves to be even harder. However, I say with certainty, that the decision
I had to make today will be the hardest one I will ever have to make in my
life. The Helinski reported they had ground troops doing reconnaissance on
the surface of Dorvan V when they received my order and have been unable to
contact three squads. I have had to order them to leave orbit and leave
the troops behind until the next troop ship can be deployed to Dorvan V.
Jake is with one of the squads. I can only pray he and the others are
safe."
Jake's hands were clammy as he gripped the phaser rifle and slowly
peered around the boulder he was crouched behind, but he was in control. A
sudden flash and splintering rock centimetres from his head resulted in a
speedy withdrawal and several fresh cuts to his forehead. Sweat trickled
down from his curly black hair and into the cuts, making them burn even
worse. Jake glanced around at the rest of the squad scattered about him.
There were only four left, four out of a dozen.
They had located the Cardassian command centre and had been in the
process of withdrawing so they could inform the Helinski when they had been
attacked. Some kind of field had been generated, blocking any
communication with the ship, and evidently, preventing the ship from
locating and beaming them out of there. Then the firing had begun. That
had been three days ago. Lieutenant Forbes had withdrawn them to a strong
defensive position, but one by one they were being picked off. That was
only to be expected with ten to one odds. At least for every one of their
team that had been killed, ten of the cunt-sniffing Cardassians had met
their death.
Eighty-eight dead. The stench from their rotting bodies filled the
humid, tropical air and filled Jake's lungs with every breath he took. The
sight of men being blown to pieces, of men choking to death on their own
blood, and of men trying to hold in their guts would forever be etched on
young Jake's mind. This time he had not run though, not like on Ajalon
Prime. This time he returned the fire. Every cunt-sniffing Cardassian he
killed was for Gowran.
Jake had been allowed to go down on the surface mission as a field
reporter so he could tell the people, and especially the governments who
were funding this war, first hand what was happening here on Dorvan V. He
was also sporting the intergalactic symbol of the field medic, a large
white circle and red cross, on his helmet and on his back. The others had
laughed that really it was to give the enemy an easier target to aim at.
Some of them would laugh no longer, Jake thought grimly.
He refused to dwell on that. This was war. Men died. He had a job
to do, the job that Gowran had given his life for, and that Nog would give
his six bars of gold pressed latinum for. He thought of Nog. Despite
their differences, which seemed to grow with age instead of lessening, Nog
was still his best friend. He had a lot of beliefs and habits Jake did not
agree with, but they were easy to overlook when you are talking about the
one who introduced you to boy- boy sex. Jake smiled as he thought back to
those happy, and horny, times. If no, when he got out of this, he was
going to seek out one of those pleasure planets the soldiers talked about,
planets where a man could get any type of sex he wanted, with any type of
being he wanted. Klingon, Ferengi, Bajoran, hell, he'd have one of each
and a few human guys besides. He would deserve having a few hot boys to
fuck after what he'd been through.
Jed'ia's scream interrupted his thoughts. Now there were three of
them. The fog horn blared out of the jungle, a very convincing voice
telling them to give up, telling them to continue fighting was futile.
They were outnumbered, so why should doomed men continue to fight?
Surrender, and they would be treated fairly as prisoners of war according
to the Marquart Conventions of War.
Yeah, right, thought Jake. He stepped out from behind the boulder and
shot off a round. Several bodies fell. "That was for Jed'ia," he screamed
before ducking back behind pocked, blasted rock. Another wave of
Cardassians emerged from the jungle and advanced. This was useless he had
to agree, and in one of those waves he too would die. Well, as the
Klingons say, today is a good day to die. Jake stepped out from where he
was hiding and there was a brilliant flash and everything went black.
When he awoke, Jake found himself in a room about thirty-foot square.
The floor appeared to be concrete and the walls metal. Floor, walls and
ceiling were all painted gray. His wrists were chained to a beam above his
head, and his legs were spread apart and his ankles chained to rings in the
floor. There were four others in the room, the Bajoran Jer'a Ren from his
squad, and three others he did not know, two humans and a Klingon. The
door opened and a Cardassian of evidently some rank and a dozen others
filed into the room.
"Now then," said the Cardassian, standing before the bound prisoners.
"My name is Gul Duqart. You are prisoners of war. There is one simple
rule here. Do not cause us any trouble, and you will be treated fairly.
Refuse to cooperate, and you will die. Are there any questions?" He
looked at the five prisoners smugly. "I thought not. So let us begin with
something simple. What are your names?"
"Lieutenant Bolin, Starfleet 177769," said the older of the humans, a
man of about forty with a bad head wound. "And I will tell you nothing
more."
"Ensign Swift, Starfleet 288999," said the other human, a boy not much
older than Jake.
"D'garov," announced the Klingon gruffly. "Of the house of Gaugh."
"Jake Sisko, Civilian Medical Corp."
"Jer'a. Ren."
"See how pleasant cooperation is?" Gul Duqart said with an oily smile.
"Now, how many squads were sent down to the planet's surface?"
None of them answered. "Strip off their shirts."
Jake's mind flashed back to the bonding ceremony he had engaged in
with Gowran, the nga'chuq R'uustai. In the second of the three trials he
and Gowran had to endure, the Trial of Loyalty, a squad of Cardassians had
strung him up to a tree branch and tortured him, demanding to know where
his friend Gowran had gone. It had just been a hologram, but the safety
controls had been turned off and the sting of the whip and the burning of
hot candle wax were very real. He had not given in then, and he would not
give in now. Their shirts were ripped off them and tossed aside.
"Commander," said one of the Cardassians respectfully as he stepped
forward and offered him a whip.
"No, I will give you the honour, Aamik," the commander said with a
slight smile. "I want to watch their faces. But first, let us show them
your skill."
Ordering one of the men to hold up a sack of grain, the commander
nodded for the other to begin the demonstration. As Aamik cracked the whip
on the cement floor, the commander watched his captives' eyes, watching for
the first sign of fear, the first sign of weakness. He was not to be so
rewarded. The five had not even flinched with the crack of the whip. The
man drew back and cracked the whip at the sack. The man holding it tensed
but stood firm. The tip of the whip struck the sack, creating a small
hole. Grain began to trickle out. Over and over he struck, creating a
pattern of tiny holes. Done, he stood there, his eyes gleaming with pride
and confidence, but his lips neither smiling nor frowning. He had a long,
narrow face, but with an exceptionally bulging forehead and pronounced eye
ridges.
"You see, Aamik can create the most beautiful patterns and designs
with the bora tail," he said with a grin. "Perhaps I will have him create
a different one on each of your backs, and then we can peal off the skin
and hang it in one of our museums." From the smile on his face and the
twinkle in his eyes, it was difficult to tell if he was joking or serious.
Jake suspected the latter, and he was not alone in that opinion. The
Commander nodded to Aamik, who motioned for the soldier to hold up another
sack.
The whip cracked harder, leaving a razor thin slice across the top of
the fresh sack. Six lashes, each one slightly deeper than the other
followed, the last slash cutting the sac wide open.
"Now, for the last time, question two, how many squads were sent to
the surface of the planet?"
The five men stared at him blankly. He nodded to Aamik, who made no
effort to conceal his pleasure as he slowly walked across the front of the
room. He paused at each man to study him as if estimating his height and
weight so as to determine the amount of force he would have to use for the
whip to cut into his skin, but not cut off a limb. The man walked behind
the five prisoners and suddenly cracked his whip on the cement floor. All
five jumped, much to the amusement of those watching.
He began with the lieutenant, cracking his whip once and leaving a
pinpoint of pain, and made his way along the row one by one until he
reached the Bajoran. Then he reversed and made his way back to the
lieutenant. Each time the whip cracked against his skin, Jake could not
resist jerking with the prick of sharp pain, but he said nothing. Over and
over the whip cracked. Jake found himself counting silently as Aamik
stepped from person to person, 'one, two, me! one, two, three, four, five,
six, me! one, two, me!...' He imagined his back looked like a sieve.
Finally the commander stopped the whipping.
"Well, it looks like we are going to have to get serious," he said.
"I do not have the patience that you seem to think I have." He slowly
paced back and forth before the five men. "Cut down the ensign. And bring
him to the front."
As the two Cardassians half carried and half dragged the man to the
commander, Jake noticed the mass of tiny pricks of blood on his back. It
did look like a sieve.
"Now, Lieutenant, I believe this man is in your command. Answer my
simple question, and I will spare his life. Refuse, and, well, his death
will be your responsibility. How many squads were sent to the surface of
Dorvan V?"
The lieutenant and the ensign both looked up from the floor and into
each other's eyes. The lieutenant looked at the boy apologetically, his
eyes pleading for understanding. The ensign returned the look proudly,
ready to die. He would have been offended if the lieutenant had done
otherwise. The commander ordered his two men to back away as he raised the
phaser. Jake opened his mouth. For such a simple question, surely there
was no harm in telling them. However, he also knew it was only the second
question. The first person to weaken would be asked the next. He closed
his mouth. A second later the phaser fired and a wave of guilt passed over
Jake. He could not look at the lieutenant. If he was racked with guilt,
the officer had to feel a hundred times worse.
"Take them to the interrogation cells," the commander ordered, "except
the lieutenant."
The three of them were taken from the room and lead down the hall.
The solid crack of the whip behind them told them that Aamik was practising
the second skill he'd demonstrated for them, and he was not using a sack.
Arriving at the first of the interrogation cells, Jake was lead inside
while the others were lead on down the hall.
Metal clamps were fastened about his wrists and he was once again
chained to a beam from the ceiling. The two who had brought him in were
soon joined by two others. One was evidently an officer from the studs on
his uniform. He looked to be an older fellow, possibly in his forties.
The other, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, was wearing a uniform of
studded black leather. Evidently he was the one who was going to deliver
the punishment.
"Now then, we can make this easy, or we can make this difficult. It
depends on you," said the Cardassian officer almost in a tired voice.
Jake said nothing. The officer stepped up and looked at him closely.
"I have never seen a human such as you," he said, running a dry hand
along Jake's cheek. The man's dry touch caused Jake's skin to form
gooseflesh. "I have heard that humans come in many colours, but the only
ones I have seen have been a sickly white, or these filthy brown skinned
colonists on Dorvan V." His fingertips ran down along the centre of Jake's
chest. At eighteen he was tall and lanky, and his muscles were still in
the process of taking on the definition that comes with maturity, so they
had neither the softness of boyhood nor the hardness of a man. Other than
a tuft of dark hair at the V of his collarbone, Jake's chest was hairless.
The man's hands continued down to his belt. "Is your entire body the
same colour?" he asked as he unbuckled the belt and unsnapped the clasp.
His face was only centimetres from Jake's face and Jake could smell his
foul breath. Jake wondered if it was from whatever the man had just eaten
or if it was his normal odour. He suspected it was the latter. He found
all Cardassians had a reptilian stink, and some worse than others.
Pulling down Jake's fly, the Cardassian drew down the black teenager's
pants. As he bent down to remove Jake's boots, Jake kicked out at him but
the Cardassian was quick. He laughed as he grabbed Jake's right foot and
lifted it off the ground, drawing up the other tangled in Jake's trousers
at the same time. As the boy swung from the ceiling by his arms, the metal
clamps cut into the flesh of his wrists. The Cardassian quickly removed
his boots and socks and pulled off his trousers, allowing Jake to swing
back to touch the floor. Stepping back up to Jake, the Cardassian slowly
ran his fingers up along the boy's smooth, hairless calf and thigh. The
three watching smirked and Jake noticed the leather-clad one who had
accompanied the officer was developing a very definite bulge in his
uniform. Jake raised his right leg, kneeing the officer.
The man doubled over in pain and quickly backed away. He had not
expected this one to have such courage. The other three soldiers quickly
stepped forward. Waving them away, he slowly stood upright, trying
desperately not to show the pain he was in. "You will pay for that, boy.
You will pay dearly for that. Raise him so his feet are off the floor."
Two men hastened to obey and Jake quickly found his body being raised.
The metal wrist cuffs cut into his skin mercilessly as his feet left the
floor and his wrists bore his entire weight of a hundred-and-thirty-eight
pounds. As the officer approached, Jake tried to knee him again but that
is impossible when your feet are not touching the floor. Grabbing his
boxers, the man yanked them down. Every man's attention was on his
manhood, and although he was embarrassed and felt defiled being exposed to
them like this, Jake had to smile at the look of disappointment in their
faces. If they had expected to lord it over him about Cardassians being
bigger, they were sorely disappointed. His limp, six inch tube was
impressive. Even the best hung of men had to admit that, and Jake could
see from the look in their eyes that they granted him that even if he was a
human. He also noticed there was a different look on the face of the
torturer. The look of admiration was there, but also the look of desire.
You did not have to be gay to notice that.
"Now, how many squads were sent to the surface of Dorvan V?" the
officer asked, running his pale beige hand up along Jake's thigh and
stroking his loose, hairy balls. The touch of his dry fingers again gave
Jake gooseflesh on his arms and legs. He said nothing as the man's fingers
wrapped about his testicles. "I could hurt you, very much," the man warned
as his grasp tightened just enough to cause Jake to tense with the
anticipation. "How many troops?" When Jake refused to answer the man
squeezed hard and quickly, causing Jake to jerk and clench his eyes with
the pain shooting through those sensitive orbs. "I can pop these with my
hand, and you will never have children," the man said with a confident
sneer and a twinkle in his eyes. "Do you have any now?"
Jake wanted to tell him he would never have any children anyway, but
he knew revealing that he was gay was definitely not the thing to do at
that moment. He just glared at the man instead. The Cardassian continued
his oily smiling as he gave Jake's balls another sharp, tight squeeze,
causing Jake to once more jerk his body with the pain. Stepping back, he
nodded to the torturer.
The young, muscular man stepped forward eagerly. Instead of the usual
uniform, he was wearing a black leather vest which was open at the moment,
revealing his broad, scaly chest and pale brown skin. He was wearing
leather arm bands with metal studs, and tight leather chaps with a studded,
and Jake assumed, padded jock. He held a long, slender white rod, which
Jake assumed was a swagger stick like army officers carried with them back
in the twentieth century on Earth. The man reached out and ran the rod
along Jake's thigh and under his cock. He raised the fleshy tube with the
rod and allowed it to slide off and then raised it again, toying with it,
as if Jake's black cock and his white rod were duelling. The Cardassian
ran the rod up along the centre of his chest.
"How many troops were brought to the surface?" the officer asked.
Jake said nothing. The torturer placed the rod on his right teat and
pressed one of the buttons near the tip. An electric shock jolted Jake's
body and caused his teat to sear with pain. The question was repeated, and
so was the shock. Jake's nipple burned and grew hard. The officer reached
down and began to stroke himself as the question was repeated over and over
along with the shock. Soon the mere touch of the rod on his irritated
nipple cause pangs of pain to course through his right chest without the
need for an electric shock.
"Your ship has left, you know. There is nobody to come and save you,
so you might just as well cooperate."
Jake thought about Gowran and what he would do. He pictured the two
of them making love after they had completed the bonding ritual. "Wounds
from a friend can be trusted," he remembered the old man who had guided
them through the ritual saying. Well, he would endure any wounds they
inflicted on him for his fellow prisoners of war, and for any troops that
might still be out there fighting, although he was quite sure they had all
been captured and the four of them were all that remained. The torturer
took his cock in his rough hand and slowly slid his fist up and down its
length. Jake's cockhead sent ripples of pleasant stimulation through his
limp, black flesh, countering the pain in his chest.
Holding Jake's flaccid cock firmly in his hand, the torturer jolted
Jake's ass with another shock, causing him to jerk and thrust his hips
forward, which of course in turn caused his cock to slide through the man's
fist. Suspended in the air as he was, his body swung back to its normal
position, causing his cock to also slide back and his foreskin to slip over
his knob. The Cardassian repeated shocking his ass over and over, forcing
Jake to literally fuck the Cardassian's hand. Despite the pain and the
humiliation, the stimulation of his cockhead eventually got Jake hard. The
Cardassian torturer smiled at him and squeezed and stroked his stiff, thick
eight inches as a horny man might play with a boy prostitute.
Someone came in and whispered to the officer. He smiled and dismissed
him. "Well," he said, "we now know how many troops were sent to the
surface. One of your people is not as stubborn as you. So, now tell me,
what was the directive you were given?" Jake wondered which of them had
revealed the number of squads beamed down as the torturer stepped behind
him and placed the rod against his butthole. "Well?"
"Fuck off."
The electric shock that snapped up his anus was even more painful than
the shocks to his teats and to his backside had been. It sent a shock of
pain not just up the tender lining of his asshole, but also along the chord
to his balls. The question was repeated, and the shock. The officer
unbuttoned his pants and took his pale beige cock out of his uniform. Jake
noticed that not only was it much smaller than the cock of the hologram
Cardassian during his bonding ceremony, but it was ribbed similar to the
bone-like exoskeleton around a Cardassian's neck. A different race, or a
feature the hologram programmer had not been aware of? The officer began
to stroke himself slowly, enjoying the torture of the trim black youth. He
grinned as he watched the torturer pull apart Jake's ass cheeks and press
the tip of the rod against his anus. It was only an inch in diameter and
easily slipped into his body. The torturer slipped it several inches up
his rectum and paused. Jake braced himself for the question, and the
shock.
This time he could not hold back the scream as the jolt ripped though
his rectum like a slice from a razor blade. The torturer fondled his cock,
waiting for the pain up his asshole to subside, and then he eased the rod
in another inch and the question was asked once more. Inch by inch,
question by question, it entered him until eight inches were buried deep
into his body. His entire asshole was burning, and so was his cock, all
eight inches being stroked by his captor's filthy hand.
The man was skilled at what he was doing. Drawing the rod out, he
clamped two metal cock rings about Jake's stiff manhood, one at the base to
keep him erect, and one below the knob to stop him from cuming. The
torturer raised the rod and ran the now shit smeared tube under Jake's
nose, leaving a smear of brown along his upper lip. He could smell the
fetid odour of his own feces.
"How would you like to taste your own shit boy?" the officer asked as
he motioned one of the other men to step forward. Jake said nothing as he
wondered if the Cardassian's comment had to do with his age, or if the
officer knew about racial epithets used in Earth's history.
"What were your directives?"
The man yanked open Jake's mouth and the torturer slipped the foul rod
inside. The acrid, acidic taste made Jake want to puke but he forced back
the impulse. He would cause these men as little pleasure in his
humiliation and torture as he could help. The man stroked his tongue and
the sides of his mouth with the rod, causing his saliva to flow. As he
swallowed, he gagged but managed to fight the temptation to vomit. The
question was repeated. Jake's head jerked impulsively as the shock ripped
through his tongue and jarred his teeth. By now blood was trickling down
his arms from the cuts made by his wrist clamps.
The torturer reached down and fondled his stiff cock and Jake
concentrated on that pleasure to forget the pain in his jaw and his arms.
The man gradually brought him to the peak of orgasm that his body could not
complete, the cock clamp below his glans sending signals to his brain that
it was not time to release the load that had built up in his balls despite
the fact his glans was aching for his release. Another shock jarred his
teeth and Jake was sure if he'd had fillings they would have been jarred
loose. His balls were drawn so tight under his cock and were aching so
badly they felt like they were about to drop off. The man continued
jacking him off, slowly pumping his fist up and down relentlessly. Over
and over he barked the questions that Jake had no answers for, and that out
of stubbornness he would not have answered now anyway. His cockhead ached
for the release of a load so badly it felt like it was raw.
Again someone came in and Jake was given a few minutes respite while
they talked. Again the messenger was dismissed. The officer came over and
took Jake's hard, hot cock in his hand.
"You are aching to cum, aren't you?" Jake only glared at him. "Oh,
be strong and silent if you will, but you are being foolish, suffering this
pain while your comrades spill their guts." He paused and waited for Jake
to respond.
Jake could not believe any of them would give in, but then, who was he
to say? He did not know any of them. Besides, the pain was unbearable.
Who knows, if he had not endured the nga'chuq R'uustai with Gowran, perhaps
he would not be holding out right now either. Jake considered that. Had
meeting Gowran and engaging in the Klingon bonding ceremony been Destiny
preparing him for this moment, or had it just been Chance? If it had been
Chance, then the consequences if it had not happened were frightening.
Score one for Destiny. He gritted his teeth and stared at the man. The
foul odour of the Cardassian assaulted his mind as the man milked his stiff
cock with one hand and pumped his own with the other.
"Oh, I know you are only from the Medic corps, but I know soldiers
talk, especially when they are dying. I know you know things about this
mission. You need only reveal what you know and this pain and indignity
can end."
When Jake refused to answer the man backed away and the torturer
advanced, this time placing the rod against his balls. Jake's body
convulsed and jerked like a puppet on a string and he screamed with the
pain. The Cardassian leader fondled his own thick, leather-like cock, his
hand totally concealing the four-inch projection, and in a way Jake felt
sorry for him.
"Tell us," the officer said as he stepped forward. As he removed his
hand from his cock, Jake was surprised at the size of his peehole. It was
a wide, gaping hole at least two inches in diameter! The sight of the
alien cock made Jake's own cock twitched with the pain of being unable to
release his own load. "Tell us," the man repeated angrily.
"Fuck yourself with that midget prick of yours," Jake retorted.
As the officer backed away, his eyes blazing fiercely, the torturer
stepped forward and placed the rod under Jake's balls again. Jake screamed
one last time and passed out with the pain.
The sharp, piercing odour of ammonia brought him to his senses. "Ah,
not yet my pretty one," the torturer said, waiting for Jake to recover from
the smelling salts. He stepped back and undid his leather jock, allowing
it to drop to the floor, and Jake discovered it was not padded. Freed from
its confinement, his pale brown, cock curved up at a forty-five-degree
angle from his massive nuts. Like the cock of the officer, this one was
leather-like and had a rib of exoskeleton too. It was also small, under
five inches, but had to be two inches in diameter. The torturer smiled,
and the victim tensed as he approached. Slipping his rough leather-like
cock between Jake's legs, he squeezed Jake's thighs tight and held the
electric probe to his nipple. As Jake jerked with the pain shooting
through his teat, forcing his body along the torturer's stiff, ribbed cock,
the foul breath of the torturer blew into his face and he pressed his lips
against Jake's.
The man worked his hips to and fro, sliding his thick, hard cock
between Jake's tightly pressed thighs and under his balls. Despite the
perversity, Jake found it arousing and his own cock throbbed hotly against
the Cardassian's stomach. Confusion and then revulsion filled his mind.
What sort of pervert was he to be enjoying such sadistic sex? What sort of
man was he to enjoy being raped, and before others? As the man fucked
Jake's thighs, he fondled and pinched his nipples and kissed him hotly on
the mouth. His foul breath shocked Jake back to his former disgust and
effectively damped his arousal. Finally the torturer stepped back and
looked at Jake sadly.
"How I would love to be the one to take your virginity," he sighed,
"but I have been instructed to leave your dainty prune in tact so that your
deflowering may be witnessed by others for their entertainment." With a
final squeeze of his strange ribbed cock, the man put his leather jock back
on. He smiled at Jake as he stepped forward and squeezed Jake's aching
prick. "When your comrades eventually find your body they will know what
we Cardassians do with our prisoners."
Jake was tempted to tell him if he wanted to take his virginity, he
was four years too late, and that it was a Ferengi who beat him to it, but
he decided that might not be a wise revelation under the circumstances.
Removing Jake's cock rings, the torturer quickly gave his genitals a shock
from the rod, causing his cock to become flaccid much to Jake's dismay.
The torturer smiled. The boy would be shooting his load in due course, but
now was not the time.
Jake's captors left the room, leaving him to ponder his fate. If
Nolar was right and there really was such a thing as Destiny, then what was
the purpose of what had just happened? Of what value was his torture to
him or to anyone else? Was it all just to provide a few hours of pleasure
to his captors? It did not make sense. Now if all this had just happened
by Chance, then at least there was some logic to it. He was just in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Now that happened to him a lot! Score one
for Chance.
They returned half an hour later and half-dragged and half-carried him
back to the room where he and the others had been first chained up.
D'garov and Jer'a Ren were hanging in the same places as they had been
before being taken to the interrogation cells. Like Jake, they were naked.
D'garov had several large purple bruises the others did not. The
lieutenant was hanging in front of them, now a lacerated corpse for them to
consider during the proceedings that were to follow. The commander of the
Cardassians sauntered in.
"Bring out the chair."
It was a simple metal chair with arms but no back, and with a
detachable seat so that it could be changed to meet the needs of the
interrogator. The plain seat was detached and one with a ribbed eight inch
leather dildo in the centre was attached. As one of the men greased the
obscene looking imitation organ, Jake could sense the growing excitement in
the room.
"We don't want you to be injured, not until we've had a chance to
sample your buttocks ourselves," the Cardassian said with a grin. He paced
before the three men. "Now, which one shall it be to start our little
entertainment by sitting on our special chair? Perhaps one of you would
like to volunteer to save your comrades the indignity?"
"I will," announced D'garov.
"Oh my, how noble. How courageous. How stupid," he sneered
sarcastically. He paused before D'garov. "How typically Klingon. If you
think your deed will be appreciated by your companions, we will see as they
find out what roles you have relegated them to play by volunteering." He
grinned evilly. "Very well, seat the Klingon."
D'garov showed no emotion as the Cardassians untied him and led him
over to the chair. Turning him around, they placed their hands on his
shoulders and forced him into a squatting position. Ensuring he was
appropriately placed above the dildo, they slowly pushed him down. D'garov
showed no emotion as he was impaled on the rawhide device. He sat there
with a stoical look on his face as if he had sat on a normal chair. His
arms and legs were bound to the arms and legs of the chair.
"Now then," said Gul Duqart as he approached the bound warrior and ran
his hands over his hairy chest and his bearded cheeks. "There are many
things a Klingon is proud of, but I know one of the most significant to any
Klingon is his body. To be a man, a Klingon must have a man's body, broad,
muscular, solid, and hairy." He paused and looked at D'garov. "Especially
hairy. I don't much like hair, myself," he said with a grin. "I think a
Klingon's appearance would be much improved if he was not so hairy." With
the wave of his arm, one of the men immediately stepped forward with a
sharp-looking knife. Gul Duqart approached the Klingon warrior with
evident glee, and suddenly reaching out, he cut off a hank of his coarse
black hair, quickly followed by a hank of his beard. D'garov's growl of
protest only served to amuse Gul Duqart and the others.
Handing the knife to one of the men and motioning for another to join
him, he stood back and watched with amusement as the two first hacked off
the warrior's hair, and then proceeded to shave him with razor-sharp
knives, without the benefit of water or shaving cream. They began with his
head and slowly worked down, scraping the hair from his chest, legs and
butt, and finally shaving his pubic hairs.
"Well," said Gul Duqart with amusement as they stepped back. "I
believe even Klingon babies are born with some hair on their bodies." The
bald, smooth-skinned D'garov glared at him. Even elder Klingons who were
bald on top had thick coarse hair along the sides and back. His smooth,
glistening dome, his hairless chest and his childlike smooth pubes made him
look ridiculous.
Gul Duqart rubbed his bald head. "Mmmm, smooth as a baby's bottom, or
a woman's breast," he said insultingly. He reached down and began to
fondle the smooth genitals, drawing back the skin on the massive organ,
shaking it and caressing it. Despite the circumstances, D'garov began to
swell, much to his embarrassment and confusion. A man should not be
aroused that way. Gul Duqart knew how D'garov was feeling and he took
advantage of it.
"There are some men who enjoy having sex with other men," he said as
he fondled the growing organ. "Some even enjoy being bound and having
others abuse them." He looked at D'garov and smiled innocently. "I don't
imagine Klingons have much regard for such men. I don't know of any
culture that does. Such men are weak and the scum in any society. Fags.
Queens. Shit-packers." With each derogatory epithet he pumped on
D'garov's cock and with each stroke it grew.
Jake grimaced with each word as he thought about his own sexuality.
Those were the feelings of Starfleet about homosexuals. And the feelings
of his father. After all, he was a Starfleet Officer, and a good one.
D'garov fought the suggestion and tried to think of another reason he
was becoming erect. He could not think of any as his thick cock rose to
its full majesty.
"Or maybe you just like Cardassians?" he asked with a grin. D'garov
spat at him, his spittle hitting the smug commander in the face, but it did
not phase him. "Bring the Bajoran over here."
The men quickly untied Ren and dragged him over to the seated Klingon.
"You look tired," Gul Duqart said with mock sympathy as he motioned for the
grease to be brought over to him. "Very tired," he said, dipping his
fingers into the bucket and approaching the youth. Jer'a Ren's captors
bent him over and spread apart his ass cheeks. The Cardassian commander
easily shoved his greasy forefinger up Jer'a Ren's butt. He twisted it
around as the Bajoran cursed him, and then withdrew it only to insert his
forefinger and index finger. He worked his two fingers in and out for a
few moments, enjoying the Bajoran's indignity. "Now I think you should sit
down."
Before either Jer'a Ren or D'garov could react, the Cardassians turned
the boy around and forced him down on D'garov's stiff, ridged cock. The
Bajoran grimaced, but to his credit he did not cry out being impaled on
such a massive organ with such minimal lubrication and preparation. His
captors continued to force him down on the thick, ridged Klingon cock until
his smooth butt was pressed against the Klingon's shaved thighs and the
Klingon's cock was as far up his butt as it could probe. They tied the
Bajoran's arms and legs to the chair also.
"Now bring the human," ordered Gul Duqart.
Ren was not that bad looking, and as they untied Jake he figured he
would probably have bent over for him had they met under other
circumstances, and if Ren was of that preference. Even now he did not find
the idea of being forced to sit on his erection as Ren had been forced to
sit on D'garov's that unpleasant. Sure, doing it in front of the others
and against his will and Ren's was humiliating, but Jake was discovering
that when you are gay you have to suffer a lot of humiliation. Maybe that
was his special Destiny. Maybe all of this was to prepare him for the
trials and sorrows of being gay. If that was the case, then what did
Destiny have in mind for D'garov and Ren?
Dragging Jake over to the two seated prisoners, the Cardassians forced
Jake to his knees before Ren. He looked at the boy's limp, foreskinless
cock. Ren was not cut. Bajorans simply did not have a foreskin, and their
slightly bulging cockheads formed a more natural curve with the shaft than
the more typical mushroom cap shape of the human glans. Jake thought of
Nolar and the good times they'd had together, times that Bajoran society
said were not good.
"Now, slip your lips around the pecker head of your comrade."
Although part of him wanted to readily obey the Cardassian and go down
on the handsome young Bajoran, another part objected to doing it in front
of dozens of other men. Jake followed the latter's advice, not because he
was afraid of revealing his gayness, but because being forced to do this
was wrong. Gul Duqart snapped him on the back of the head with his quirt.
"Do as I say, or we'll cut off your black balls."
Jake had no doubt they would, and he knew that afterward they would
still force him to take the Bajoran in his mouth. He lowered his head and
slipped his mouth over the boy's cock. An act that normally should be
enjoyable was in actuality degrading and humiliating. As he heard the
sniggers of the men watching, he felt filthy and weak. This was not how
sex should be, not in his mind.
Their captors ordered Ren to begin working his hips up and down, to
draw his body up so his ass slid up the Klingon's cock and forced his own
cock into the human's mouth, and then to ease down so the Klingon's cock
sunk back up his ass while he drew his out of the human. When Ren refused,
one of the men stepped forward with a small whip and cracked it across
Jake's back a couple times.
Ren refused only that once. He slowly and awkwardly bounced on
D'garov's lap, working his hot, tight hole up and down the Klingon's thick,
ridged cock. This was sick. There were a few Bajoran legends about men
having sex with other men, men who were evil and weak. In each case they
were punished by the Prophets for their deeds and the land laid waste
because of their wickedness. His faith condemned men having sex with other
men. Such a thing was a waste of the precious seed the Prophets bestowed
upon men. It was a man's destiny to procreate, not to fornicate with other
men.
Ren's flesh crawled and he felt filthy. The presence of D'garov's cock
up his rectum was perverted, and equally perverted was the fact he was
working his own sex organ in and out of the human's mouth. He knew what
the stimulation was going to eventually result in, and he fought that with
all his strength. He prayed to the Prophets to forgive him for his
weakness. He had no idea why they had arranged this trial for him, but he
knew whatever their reason was, it was valid. The Prophets did not do
things without having a reason, and those reasons were not always for the
mortal Bajoran to know, or understand.
D'garov was fairing just as badly. Men had sex with women. That was
the natural way of things. They did so to prove their masculinity, besides
to procreate. The greater a man's prowess at sex and the greater the
number of children he had, the greater the man he was. There was of course
one exception to that, the very special ceremony of bonded lovers, the
nga'chuq R'uustai. That was a very glorious and sacred occurrence, full of
honour and pride. It was a ceremony men chose to engage in, men who were
closer to each other than blood brothers, and the sexual acts they
performed were acts they chose to perform out of trust, loyalty and love,
not something they were forced to do.
That he was being forced to engage in this filthy act grated even more
on D'garov's pride than the act itself. The pain and the indignity of the
greased dildo up his asshole he could bear and in time forget. The
perversion of having his manhood buried up another man's shit chute was
going to be much more difficult to put aside. To have something so
venerable defiled in such an obscene way was a wound that would take a long
time to heal. Every time he took out his penis he would remember the filth
it had been forced to probe, and no amount of soap would ever make it feel
clean again. Both, however, were minor insults and he would overcome them.
The shame that he had succumbed to his captors and had allowed them to
perform these indignities upon him was far more severe, and something he
would have revenge for if the Fates permitted.
Jake was the only one of the three who'd had sex with men prior to
this, and who found sex with men not only enjoyable, but preferable. What
they were doing at the moment was neither. To him this was twisting
something that should be tender and sweet into something perverted and
distasteful. Men should not be forced into doing such things, unless that
was their nature, unless that was how they enjoyed sex. He was not of that
type. He wondered what it was about people, human and otherwise, that had
to take things that were so beautiful and twist them into perversions. He
understood now why society decried rape so.
Despite the feelings the boys were experiencing, Ren and D'garov were
gradually approaching a climax. Their bodies had no choice but to respond
to the physical stimulation eventually. Even though he found being forced
to have sex with Ren perverted, Jake could not help but become erect
himself as he sucked on the boy's cock and anticipated the release of his
cum. The men around them were becoming agitated also, and many were
stroking their crotches as they joked and made derogatory comments about
the captives. Jake realized what was happening and decided to put his
shame and humiliation aside and to enjoy what was about to happen. They
wanted him to be ashamed of sucking Ren's cock. Well, he was not, and he
would not give them the satisfaction of ruining what could have been an
enjoyable experience.
It was not long before Jake felt the boy's cock throb and his mouth
was filled with Bajoran cum, sweet, salty and copious. He allowed it to
collect in his mouth, and then he swallowed the delicious gift and savoured
its taste and texture. He closed his eyes and blocked out the audience and
enjoyed the situation. He had brought another male off, he had brought him
the ultimate of pleasures, and that was a good thing.
Ren did not have the advantage Jake had. There was no pleasure in his
climax. As he ejaculated, he gritted his teeth with his shame and the
knowledge of his weakness, and he hoped the human would forgive him for
what he had done. He prayed to the Prophets to forgive him for wasting his
precious seed this way, and he vowed to make the Cardassians pay for the
sin they had caused him to commit. Ren knew his ass was about to be filled
with grey Klingon cum, and he was already forgiving the Klingon and asking
the Prophets to do so also. What they were doing, and how their bodies had
reacted, they had no control over, and he knew it was what the Fates had
willed, but he still could not help but feel he should have been able to do
something.
He felt D'garov tense and then lunge his hips forward, and although he
could only feel the stretching of his rectum and the heat of the hard cock
up his ass, he knew the Klingon was cuming. He trembled with the thought
of the Klingon's seed being deposited in his asshole.
D'garov growled with his release and fought back the desire to bite
the Bajoran boy's neck as he would normally have done to his lover. To
release one's seed was a glorious and momentous event, an event a man
prayed that he would experience many times, but this event was not
something to celebrate. To waste his seed as he just had was an insult to
his ancestors and to his future children, for it was neither for the
purpose of procreation, nor to prove his manhood. To release it with a
stranger and before others was even more ignoble. As D'garov's breath
began to return to normal, he at least had the satisfaction of knowing he
had endured this indignity, and that they could devise nothing worse than
what they had just forced him to do.
Little did he know of the Cardassian commander's perversity. Having
Jake move away and untying the other two, Gul Duqart had D'garov forced to
his knees behind Ren, and he then ordered him to suck his cum from the
Bajoran's ass. The proud Klingon warrior cursed himself for his foolish
boast that he could endure anything after being forced to deposit his seed
up the Bajoran's shit chute, and for thinking that the Fates could not
devise tortures he had no concept of. D'garov spat at the men holding him
and declared he would die before he would do such a thing.
"Oh, I'm sure you would. But do you feel so strongly you would have
this handsome youth lose an ear because of your obstinance?" he asked as he
withdrew a knife from the sheaf hanging from his belt.
"Don't do it," Ren said defiantly as he tried to break lose from the
two men holding him. "They can carve me into pieces if they wish."
"Very courageous," the Cardassian said with a smile as he brought the
knife to the boy's ear. "Especially when we know that the ear is the most
sacred part of the body according to Bajoran beliefs. But then when you
are unable to offer your ear to your Kai or Vedek, I'm sure they will be
very impressed when you tell them how it is that you came to lose it." He
brought the tip of the knife to the back of his ear. "Bajoran's believe
the pagh, the spirit, is housed in the ear, is that not right?"
"Very well," said D'garov gruffly as he leaned forward.
"No!"
"I cannot be responsible for you having to reveal the perversities you
have been subjected to here, or for you being harmed."
"But if you do this then I am responsible for your degradation!" Ren
wailed.
D'garov ignored his plea as one of the Cardassians spread apart the
Bajoran's cheeks. His anus was an angry, red hole, the skin rubbed raw
from D'garov's thick, ridged cock. It was flecked with lubricant and shit,
and a droplet of grey cum clung to the ravished opening. With his arms and
legs still being held by the Cardassians, D'garov placed his lips against
the boy's asshole with a grimace. He was rewarded with the fatty taste of
lubricant and the bitter taste of his thick cum, the coppery flavour of
blood, and the acrid foulness of the Bajoran's shit.
"Never thought I'd see the day a Klingon would suck ass," one of the
men observed, and the rest all laughed.
"He will be sucking plenty of ass before this day is over," another
observed.
D'garov closed his eyes and wished he could block the sound from his
ears as he blocked the sight from his eyes, but he could not, and his
swarthy skin flushed with shame as the men joked and laughed over his
humiliation. He sucked deeply and loudly, drawing his thick seed out of
the boy's asshole and back into his body. Let them insult him. The faster
he did this the sooner it would be over. Then first opportunity he got he
would grab one of their weapons and kill as many as he could before
committing suicide.
As D'garov continued to suck on Ren's asshole, Jake was brought around
behind D'garov and ordered to kneel behind the Klingon and fuck him. Jake
thought of himself and Gowran and the indignities they had suffered during
the ritual back on DS9, and then the bonding they had engaged in. As he
pressed the tip of his still stiff cock against D'garov's asshole, he
thought about the hot, passionate sex he and Gowran had engaged in because
of their bonding with each other, and he pictured them there in the
holodeck with his cock up the youth's ass. That was what sex should be
like, he thought as he eased his cock into D'garov's already greased
asshole. He eased forward with one long stroke until he had sunk it as far
up his ass as he could. Jake closed his eyes, and as he began to work his
cock in and out of the Klingon's hot, moist hole, he imagined it was he and
Gowran making love. Before long Jake was filling the Klingon's ass with
his cum much to D'garov's humiliation and to the amusement of the others.
As Jake withdrew his long, black cock and looked at the pendant of cum
hanging from the tip, he felt sorry for the Klingon and for the
Cardassians. That he felt sorry for both Jake found worrisome.
The three captives were shackled and forced to kneel in a row and
three Cardassian soldiers were selected to step forward. Drawing out their
stiff cocks, each of them already jutting out at forty-five degree angles,
they approached the three captives who were told to suck them off. The
three torturers stepped up behind them, their electric rods ready in case
any of the three decided to object. Although each of them wanted to, they
knew that to fight this would be futile. The corpse of the Lieutenant
hanging from the ceiling was a constant reminder of that. Besides, their
minds were so numb now from so much humiliation, nothing really mattered
anymore. The three captives opened their mouths and went down on the
soldiers, much to the amusement of the others watching. They sucked on the
strange beige and pale brown Cardassian cocks as they slipped their lips up
and down the stiff leather-like shafts mechanically. The Cardassians
commented on how perverted they were, and how weak, but the only effect of
their name calling and racial slurs was to get themselves more aroused.
Their captives had become too numb.
Many of the Cardassians had now taken out their cocks and were
fingering them while they watched and waited for their turn. Suddenly the
three captives began to choke as each felt something hard and hot emerge
from the short four inch stumps they had been sucking and ram down their
throats. As they desperately drew their mouths back, they gagged a second
time with the taste of a gooey, bitter gum. The three Cardassians laughed
as they withdrew their cocks and the captives discovered that the short
leathery shafts they had been sucking were actually casings. Pale beige
cocks of an equal length and hardness, but covered with a thick gummy
slime, extruded from the leather casings. Grabbing their captives by their
heads, the three Cardassians slammed their eight inches of cocksheath and
cock back into their mouths.
The three men being sucked were highly aroused and it did not take
long to bring them off. The first to come was the man sucked by Ren. With
a guttural groan, he grasped Ren by the ears, possibly in passion but
probably as a further insult to his race, and began squirting his load down
his throat. The second was the Cardassian being sucked by D'garov. The
man waited until the last moment and then withdrew, squirting his off-white
cum in the Klingon's face. The opening of his cock had dilated to at least
an inch in diameter and his cum streamed out like a jagged flow of piss.
The cum clung to D'garov's facial ridges, and oozed down his smooth cheeks.
Squirt after squirt erupted from his cockhead as if there was no end. He
was still cuming when the last Cardassian began to fill Jake's mouth with
his salty cumm. Jake debated if he should spit it out or swallow it and
opted for the latter, deciding it was the least likely to offend the man.
He shuddered as the slimy, salty goo oozed down his throat. Squirt after
squirt erupted from the thick cock in his mouth like lava from a volcano.
Jake could not swallow it all and it flowed out from the corners of his
mouth and flowed around his chin, forming an obscene goatee. Half a cup of
cumm had erupted from the Cardassian before he subsided.
As another three stepped forward to be sucked, the three torturers
stepped up behind the captives. "Now it is time for me to have your dainty
prune," Jake's torturer said with a leer. He again removed his studded
jock and revealed his four-and-a-half-inch erection, except this time Jake
knew that inside that leather-like casing was a gummy, hard, hot cock of
equal length. Another soldier brought him a bucket, and scooping out a
generous amount of grease from it with his fore and index fingers, he wiped
it on the end of his cocksheath more to reduce the amount of blood than for
any concern about Jake's comfort.
Stepping up behind Jake and kneeling down, Jake's torturer grasped his
hips and rammed his thick, hard cock sheath up the black boy's ass. Jake
groaned as he felt the thick casing enter him. "Yes," whispered the man in
his ear, "groan with the pleasure of having a man up your ass. This is
only the first of many, but I guarantee, it will be the best." He humped
Jake's ass rapidly and eagerly, enjoying being rough, enjoying the pained
gasps and squirming of the boy. Jake trembled with the anticipation and
fear as he thought of the cock emerging from the casing he had just sucked.
As if knowing what Jake was thinking and wishing to prolong the agony of
expectation, the torturer's cock bided its time before emerging.
It did emerge, and Jake jerked his hips forward and contracted his
stomach muscles as he felt the thick, gummy cock easing further up his
rectum like a thick snake. As he felt it moving up inside him, he could
not help but become erect. The Cardassian reached around and began to
fondle the stiff black cock as his own cock fully penetrated the boy's ass.
He reached up and tweaked Jake's nipples as the abused youth sucked on the
now exposed gummy cock of the Cardassian soldier standing before him.
Grasping his head by his short, curly hair, the man began to groan, and in
his eagerness to get off he began to work his hips to and fro, fucking
Jake's mouth as the torturer fucked his ass. Once again a half cup of
salty Cardassian cumm filled Jake's mouth, and once again his own cock
spurted forth his own cum as the torturer milked his hot, hard, black rod.
The torturer held back his own load for as long as he could, and then with
a lunge and a groan, he began to fill Jake's rectum violently and
triumphantly. Jake could feel the Cardassian cum spurting up into his
intestines and flooding his bowels. He could feel his intestines swell and
slither as half a cup of his attacker's off-white seed gushed out of his
cock.
Another six stepped forward, three in front and three behind, and Jake
dutifully took his two cocks without thinking, without caring. His mind
was numb, and he was exhausted. He had had little sleep, food, or drink
these past four days, and the strain of his captivity and torture had taken
its toll. He just wanted this to be over. He mechanically sucked and
worked his anus at the same time. They fondled his cock and balls, but
they only ached and could perform their duty no longer. He closed his eyes
but he could see the Cardassians watching and waiting, their eyes filled
with a combination of contempt and lust. He could see the ribbed, leather
sheaths and extruded pale cocks glistening with his spittle and with the
moisture of his rectum as the spent men backed off, leaking off-white cum
from their gaping cockslits. He could see his two companions enduring the
same indignities as he was.
The room was filled with jeers and cheering and shouting and laughing
of hot horny men. It was filled with cries of pain and shouts of surprise,
of swishing arrows and falling bodies. Jake opened his eyes in confusion
as the two men he was servicing withdrew. He could not remember them
cuming, but in his state of mind they easily could have. He looked about
the room and slowly became aware of a battle being waged around him.
Cardassians grasped their chests, feathered arrows protruding from them.
Reddish-brown men with flowing black hair and wearing only loin cloths were
bounding about the room with knives dripping with blood, Cardassian blood.
Phaser blasts sent the strange men flying through the air and gouged holes
in the floor and walls. Jake sighed and fell unconscious to the floor.
Images flowed in and out of his mind, some with bright sharpness and
clarity, some blurred and vague. Some of the images were familiar, like
his father and Nog and Dr. Bashier, some were grotesque and unrecognizable,
monsters from childhood dreams. Some were new, his Cardassian torturer,
and the reddish-brown men in loin cloths. Voices called him, some shouting
his name angrily, some accusing him of something but he could not make out
what, and other talking to him gently and soothing him. He twisted and
turned as he remembered the violent storm back in New Orleans and his fear
for Salene's safety. He cried out in agony as he remembered his pain and
frustration upon finding Nolar had been whisked away to an institution on
Bajor.
He lay back feeling totally fatigued as he remembered the soothing
comfort of being in Salene's arms. He grew feverish and perspired as he
thought of the pleasures of being naked and in the throws of orgasm with
Nolar and Gowran. He smiled as he remembered the joy and excitement of
discovering sex with Nog, and then he twisted and turned with guilt as his
father's inquiring eyes probed his mind and he kept asking why, growing
more and more angry as Jake could only lay there unable to speak, or
unwilling he did not know which. Maybe it was because he didn't know why
himself. Jake chuckled. He didn't know why, but he knew the question even
though his father hadn't asked it. Jake grew tenser and tenser until with
a cry of despair he opened his eyes and was greeted by a gorgeous angel, a
young man with smooth, tanned skin, with soft, flowing hair of brown silk,
and with sensuous blue eyes. The angel smiled down at him with a kind,
knowing smile and with a boyish sparkle in those eyes. Fuck, he looked so
sweet and caring. Jake closed his eyes and slept.
The unmistakable aroma of soup awoke him after what he thought was a
few minutes but which really was several hours. He slowly opened his eyes.
The boy angel was still there, sitting beside him on his bed of blankets
and looking down at him. His chest was naked and looked so smooth, so
inviting. He smiled down at Jake.
"Who?" Jake croaked, surprised how coarse his throat was.
"Don't speak," whispered the angel. "There will be plenty of time for
talk."
He helped Jake sit up and then sat there holding him. His chest was
smooth, and warm, and yes, inviting even if he was an angel. A woman
brought a wooden bowl and set it beside them. It was steaming and smelt
delicious. Dipping a wooden spoon into the bowl, the young man brought it
to Jake's lips and Jake sucked in the liquid. It was hot and spicy. He
could feel it run down the middle of his chest to his stomach and warm his
body from the inside. He opened his mouth gratefully for a second spoon of
the soothing broth. It was nowhere near as good as his grandfather's
gumbo, but it was good. He allowed himself to be cradled and spoon-fed
like a baby, and he fell back asleep.
When he awoke again, the angel was gone and he had to take a leak. He
had to take a leak badly. As he began to get up, his head began to spin
and he had to lie back. He inhaled deeply and tried again with the same
result, but he had to get up. The need in his bladder was insistent. He
would be a most unappreciative guest to wet the beautiful blankets that
made up his bed. As he tried to get up a third time, a young boy suddenly
appeared by his side.
"You are to stay in bed."
"Can't," Jake said, managing to finally sit up. The room spun.
"Chilam says you are to."
"Screw Chilam, I have to get up."
"You are too weak to screw him."
Jake could not help but smile as he looked at the boy. He could not
be more than nine or ten. His face was serious, and his eyes reflected his
concern. He had evidently been assigned the duty of looking after this
stranger, and he was taking his duties seriously.
"I have to, well, I have to. . . ."
"Go wee?"
"Yes."
"I will bring the pot."
The boy was back in an instant, and kneeling down, he threw back the
blankets covering Jake's lower body. He reached over to untie the loin
cloth Jake discovered he was wearing.
"I can do it myself."
"I have removed it before," the boy said. "When you were unconscious
and soiled it in your sleep."
"Well, I'm awake now."
The boy shrugged. "Very well, but it is foolish to use up your energy
so."
He made no effort to leave, or to even turn his back. Jake decided to
leave it be as he fumbled with his loin cloth. If the boy wanted to have a
look, let him have a look. The simple task of untying the knot and
loosening it enough to expose himself left him exhausted. Perhaps he
should have let the boy do it. The boy held the clay pot dutifully before
him.
"I can do that," Jake said, reaching for the container.
"You are too weak to hold the pot."
"I am not that weak," Jake objected obstinately.
"Very well," the boy relented with a sigh only a child can make as he
handed him the pot.
Jake almost dropped it. "You mind leaving, or at least turning
around?"
The boy looked at him as if he was being very strange, and then he
slowly turned his back to him. Jake strained to perform his job,
embarrassed by the boy's presence and worried that he might indeed drop the
pot and soil his blankets. His need was greater than his embarrassment and
fears however, and he finally began to relieve himself. The trickling
sound as his stream hit the clay pot and then the hollow ringing as he
began to fill it left no doubt what he was doing. Done, he lay back
totally exhausted and the boy picked up the pot. Someone came into the room
and Jake hastily threw a blanket over his lower body.
"You have succeeded, Chilam. He is much better. He went wee by
himself."
Jake felt his face flushing hotly with the child's innocent comment.
"That is good, Swift Ocelot. Now, would you get us a bowl of soup?"
"Of course, Chilam. Broth again?"
"No, I think we can handle something more solid now."
The boy smiled and quickly departed. Jake looked up as the figure
which had spoken moved across the room to him. It was his angel.
"Chilam?" he asked as he struggled to sit up, and the young man smiled as
he assisted him to a sitting position and propped him against some pillows.
He had a boyish face, making him look like a youth in his late teens, but
Jake figured he had to be older than that. He was very handsome, and being
dressed only in a loin cloth, Jake could also see he had a great body. He
smiled as he thought about his earlier comment when the boy had said Chilam
had ordered he stay in bed, and the boy's reply to his comment. Fuck, he
wished he was well enough to screw Chilam. He was gorgeous. Jake smiled
even wider. He must be getting better to have such thoughts.
"Where am I? Where are the Cardassians? And D'garov and Ren?"
"Rest, and I will tell you as much as I can."
The boy brought in the steaming bowl of soup and sat on the floor as
the one he called Chilam scooped up a spoonful and proceeded to feed Jake.
He was exhausted by the simple bodily function he had performed and did not
object. The soup was the same as he had before and he welcomed its heat.
The Sisko culinary talent surfaced as the older youth fed him, and Jake
could not help but analyse the ingredients. Corn, rice, cubed potatoes and
some type of squash were easy to identify, as was the onion and tomato.
There appeared to be three types of meat, a bland white fish, diced
chicken, and tender shrimp. Garlic, black pepper and a hot red chili that
made his tongue burn made up the major spices. It was still not as good as
Creole gumbo, but it was close.
Jake listened as the young man described the raid on the Cardassian
headquarters, taking advantage of the special entertainment Jake and the
two others from "off world" were providing. Jake flushed as he thought of
that and he wondered if Chilam had been present during the raid, and if he
had seen the indecencies he, D'garov and Jer'a Ren had been forced to
perform. Chilam explained that normally a raid directly on the
headquarters itself would have been impossible, but almost every man in the
army camp had been in the main hall to witness and partake in the
festivities, making attack feasible.
The youth went on to explain that he and the others were part of a
core of colonists who were opposing the Cardassians. The group he was with
was a cell of the Maquis, the loosely organized movement of colonists who
were uniting to fight the Cardassians and the Dominion powers on each of
the planets along the Cardassian-Federation border. "Now, you relax. Your
friends are here and asking of you too. You will be able to see each other
soon."
With the nourishment and the rest, Jake soon regained his strength and
within a couple days was even well enough to venture outside. He found he
was in a village of several dozen homes made of willows and with steep
roofs thatched with a broad local grass. Fields of corn, potatoes and
assorted other vegetables surrounded the village. These were looked after
collectively by all the women in the group, just as when a hunter brought
home meat, it was shared by all, not just eaten by his family. Jake,
D'garov and Ren were introduced to the three most powerful and influential
men of the encampment, the chief of the village, the Halach Uinic, the high
priest, the Ah Kin, and the military leader, the Nacom, the first day they
were well enough to leave their huts.
"So, where exactly are we?"
"The village is called Uxalpoctl. We are one of several dozen
scattered about the jungle," explained the chief, an elderly, wrinkled man
with as much white in his hair as black.
"Everyone seems to be going about their business as if everything is
normal. Where are the Cardassians?"
"They are nearby, but the trails are hard to follow, and it is easy
for one who does not know his way to get lost," the chief said with a
smile. "Besides the trails are full of many dangers for those of
Cardassia." The others chuckled at the implication.
"They prefer not to venture too deeply if they do not have to,"
commented the Nacom. He was the youngest of the leaders, a solidly built
man probably in his late forties with a physique many men half his age
would love to have.
"What about the raid on their headquarters? Surely they are looking
for those who attacked them," observed D'garov.
"Yes, surely, but they have no idea where the raid originated, so they
have no idea where to look."
"I guess I don't really understand. With their technology surely it
can't be that difficult to locate villages this size," Rem commented.
"We are like the maquis of Earth, difficult to stamp out," the Nacom
commented with pride, referring to the Mediterranean scrub after which the
Maquis of France during the Second World War were originally named. "We
blend in with the jungle and become one with it. Then, when the time is
right, we emerge, strike fast and disappear again."
"Like the viper, and the finch," said the chief, snapping his fist
before Jake's face so fast that by the time he had blinked the Chief's hand
was again resting in his lap.
"We arrange raids to constantly harass the Cardassians, to make life
inconvenient for them, but never in a pattern that they can understand,"
Chilam said.
"But there is a pattern, for in all life there is a pattern," said the
high priest, glancing at Chilam, who quickly nodded in agreement.
"The Cardassians simply cannot see the order in the randomness,"
observed Chilam.
"Besides, there is a power that is greater than technology," commented
the high priest. He was the oldest of the three, his hair pure white and
his face more wrinkled than a dried apple. He also had a manner about him
that gave you the impression you did not want to cross this man. He looked
at Chilam again, but this time with a different look, a look of reverence.
"We will never leave these lands," announced the chief proudly and the
others all nodded.
"It is just strange to see everyone going about as if life is normal,"
Jake observed
"Life is normal."
Jake smiled. "I guess normal is what you make of it."
"So when do we make the next raid?" asked D'garov eagerly.
"You are a brave warrior. But you must gain your strength."
"I am ready," D'garov said gruffly.
"And already have the strength and courage of three men," grinned the
war chief, "but let us wait until you are six men."
"Very well. I can wait until tomorrow."
They laughed, but there were those about the council fire that were
not certain D'garov was joking. They exercised in the shade of the jungle
canopy that afternoon, and then stripped and soaked their aching muscles in
one of the natural hot pools. It felt wonderful. When Chilam joined them,
Jake averted his eyes as the young man dropped his loin cloth, but he could
not keep his eyes off his smooth, muscular body once he had entered the
pool. Despite himself he felt himself growing erect and he tried to divert
his thoughts but it was no use. How can you not worship a god when in a
god's presence?
"If I may ask a question?" D'garov began, interrupting Jake's
thoughts, much to Jake's gratitude.
"Of course."
"I notice that the people pay you much reverence, even the three
highest members of the council who are much older than you. What exactly
is your position, if it is not rude to ask?"
"No, it is not rude. I am Chilam."
"That is a title?"
"Yes. A title and a name."
"Which means?"
"Soothsayer."
"Soothsayer," repeated Jake.
"I intervene between mortals and the gods."
"I see."
"You are sceptical."
"No. It's just well, yes, I am."
"Soothsayer is a poor translation in English, but the most accurate.
But, I am not a clairvoyant, or a fortuneteller, if that is what you are
thinking," he said with an amused smile.
"A Prophet," said Ren, his voice reflecting his sudden respect for a
man that had to be only a few years older than himself.
"Yes, in that I communicate with the gods, and read the signs they
provide, and predict what will happen. But not as powerful or godlike as
the Bajoran Prophets."
"You know of the Prophets."
"Oh yes. I have not lived my whole life here on Dorvan V." Chilam
smiled. "Perhaps you would be more comfortable calling me by my name,
Izitikan, Tongue of the Gods. Or perhaps the name I used to go by at one
time, Wes. Wesley Crusher."
"Wesley Crusher?" Jake's eyes widened. He had heard of Wesley
Crusher. He had heard how he had created a gateway to a warp bubble
reality when he was only sixteen, and how he had single-handedly foiled a
Ktarian invasion of the Federation two years later at the age of eighteen.
The Ktarians had hoped to take over the Federation by using mind control,
but their ploy had been discovered by Wes, who was visiting the Enterprise
while on leave from Starfleet Academy. That was just over a year before
Jake, who would have been thirteen, had come with his father to DS9. He
had remembered his father talking about it, and talking of the cadet with
some admiration
Jake had also heard a few other things about Wesley Crusher since
then, such as his coverup of a classmate's death caused by performing an
illegal flight program just before graduation at the Academy. In the end
he had confessed, but he was never really satisfied with Starfleet after
that. Jake had also heard Wes had been kidnapped by the sterile Aldeans
for his leadership skills and forced to be a breeder, although some claimed
that he was rescued by Picard before he actually did anything. Jake had
his own fantasy about that, one that he had jerked off to frequently. That
the event actually occurred was easily proven by searching Starfleet's
archives, which the horny young teenager had done instead of doing a
research assignment on Starfleet captains.
There were a number of other rumours that did not have any validation,
but made for great fantasies. Most of these rumours Jake had gotten from
Nog, who had a large number of contacts with some unsavoury types back when
he was younger. A few others he had picked up from eavesdropping on
conversations of drunken traders at Quarks. Among the more savoury of the
rumours was that Wes had relationships with his own mother, that he wrote
porno holoprograms featuring handsome young men from twentieth century
Earth, that he was gay and had caused the death of a friend during an S & M
fantasy in a holosuit, and that he was gay and had a Vulcan-Betazoid lover.
Jake had downloaded photos of Wesley Crusher as an ensign and had
wished that the rumours about him being gay were true, and that somehow
they might meet each other. As Jake thought about that he shook his head.
Now what were the odds of a horny, teenage, black boy fantasizing about a
good-looking white boy actually meeting up with him three years later? It
was too great to be Chance, but too insignificant for the Fates to have a
role in this.
"So, you have heard of me," Chilam said, interrupting Jake's thoughts.
"Ah, yeah, some things," Jake said quickly. Fuck, what if he could
also read thoughts! Jake began to blush.
"Well, most of them are false, and the rest are exaggerations," Chilam
said with a smile.
Jake smiled back. It was easy to smile with Chilam. D'garov and Rem
excused themselves and headed back to their huts to rest. Jake's mind went
wild now that he was alone with Chilam. He did not want to leave, and he
couldn't leave even if he had wanted to, not with the raging hardon he had
developed.
"So how do you prefer to be called?"
"It does not matter. Here I am most frequently called Chilam."
"Then Chilam it is."
"So what about yourself? Tell me something about you."
"Not much to tell," Jake observed with a shrug.
"Begin, and you'll be surprised."
So Jake did talk, about losing his mother, about his father and life
on DS9. They emerged from the pool and lay beside it in their loin cloths,
allowing the sun's rays to dry their bodies. Jake talked about his
friendship with Nog and about the special relationship he had with his dad,
their openness and respect for each other. He felt a twinge of guilt as he
thought of the one big secret between them, and then quickly brushed it
aside. He talked about Starfleet and his dad's beliefs and goals and his
own. To his surprise, two hours went by. As they began to talk about
things more recent, and why he was on Dorvan V, he began to balk, and he
felt his body become tense. Throughout all this he had said nothing about
his sexuality, nor about the special friends he had in that regards. He
had been unable to broach those topics with his shrink, Counsellor Hojia
back on DS9, and he sure was not going to get into it laying there in the
sun with a hot-looking hunk like Chilam.
Chilam noticed his tenseness, and having Jake roll over, he began to
massage his back, working out the knots in his muscles. Jake began to
relax once again and to enjoy the soothing massage. If Chilam ever wanted
another job, Jake could set him up with a thriving business on DS9. Jake
allowed his mind to wander.
"Roll over."
"Ah, I can't."
His eyes widening with concern, Chilam placed his fingertips against
Jake's nape and began to feel down his spine slowly and gingerly. "Perhaps
it is a pinched nerve."
"No," Jake replied quickly, the youth's fingertips making his cock
palpitate. "It's not that."
Chilam waited for Jake to continue, and then a smile slowly crossed
his face. Taking Jake's hand, he placed it lightly against the loincloth
between his own legs. He had the same "problem" as Jake. Jake's eyes
widened with surprise, surprise at his condition, and even greater surprise
at his action, and then they narrowed inquisitively.
"Are, well, you're not. . . ."
"I am," replied Chilam, with a smile. He rolled Jake over and ran his
hand gently along his smooth chest. Jake trembled with his touch and his
cock lurched with desire. This felt so great, but he was so tense he felt
like he was being stretched on a rack and about to split in half.
"You're "
"I am Chilam. I am what you see, just that. Nothing more. Nothing
less." His hands were causing Jake's entire body to pulsate with pleasure.
"Now don't talk. Just feel, experience, understand. Follow the course the
Gods have plotted for you."
The way his hands were making Jake feel, he was more than willing to
obey him and any god who gave a damn. Chilam's fingertips caressed his
chest with the lightness of feathers, causing his nipples to become firm
instantly. He lay beside him and caressed his shoulders and Jake closed
his eyes and their lips met. It was a warm, sweet kiss. As Jake drew back
he felt the twenty-three year old's fresh breath caress his parted lips.
He lay there and allowed the sweet breath to enter his mouth. He inhaled,
filling his lungs with Chilam's breath. They lay there breathing into each
other's mouths, neither moving nor touching save their breaths. Never had
Jake felt so aroused without even being touched.
Finally as Chilam began to caress him again and their lips met in
another soft kiss, Jake dared to reach over and run his fingertips along
the youth's soft, smooth back. They caressed each other slowly, gently,
caressing each other as if they had hours before them, and indeed, they
did. As Chilam untied Jake's loincloth and slipped it off his body, Jake
had the feeling he was being unveiled, and he looked into the boy's eyes as
the boy looked down at his crotch. The look of desire and of admiration in
the youth's eyes filled Jake with lust. Here was a boy who worshipped and
desired cock just as he did. Here was a boy who had no doubts in his mind
about the pleasures of sex with another boy.
Chilam reached down and began to caress the erect organ with a
reverence and gentleness like Jake had never felt before. He ran his
fingertips along the shaft like a butterfly flitting about a flower. His
fingertips landed on the swollen knob, tasting its sweetness and flitting
away, only to return. He ran his fingertips down along the wrinkled sac
with even more gentleness. Chilam caressed the sensitive orbs and then
tugged and stretched the loose skin with his thumb and first two fingers.
Jake finally awoke from his trance and reached over and untied
Chilam's loincloth, although not with his finesse. As the loincloth fell
away, Jake found the youth's stomach and buttocks were the same delightful
shade of brown as the rest of his body. His erect organ sprung up,
beautiful, graceful, six inches of tanned flesh with a gorgeous bulb of a
ruddy brown encircled by a collar of skin. Jake tried to duplicate
Chilam's touch, running his fingertips along the stiff shaft, over the
spongy knob, and along the silky skin of his balls. Chilam sighed with the
pleasure. The two caressed and kissed for the longest time, neither
wanting this to end, nether wanting to go on to the next step that would
bring them closer to the climax of this enchanting afternoon.
Chilam finally got up and retrieved an onyx jar from the cupboard
under the wooden bench by the pool. Taking out a honey-coloured paste, he
smeared it over Jake's cock. It was cool and soothing, like an ointment
for a burn, and Jake's cock was burning. He allowed Chilam to coat his
cock thoroughly with the paste and revelled in the cooling sensation
although it did nothing to reduce the severity of his need.
Finally Chilam lay down on his stomach, and Jake crawled between his
legs and lay above him. There was no need for talking. Balancing on knees
and elbows, he positioned himself above the twenty-three-year-old and
guided his cock to the entrance to the boy's body. He could feel the boy's
hot pucker open and seem to grasp at the tip of his pecker as if eager to
have it enter. Jake slowly eased forward and felt the warm moist flesh
enveloping him. The lubricant made their union effortless. Jake closed
his eyes with ecstasy as he sank his cock deep up the boy's hot, eager
rectum until his curly black hairs were pressed against the youth's smooth
buttocks.
Jake paused then and sighed as he felt the warm, moist flesh pulsate
about his cock. The boy's smooth, firm butt pressing up against his groin
and inner thighs felt so warm. He finally began to work his cock in and
out of the boy's rectum, working slowly and rhythmically, working himself
gradually to a climax that he wanted so badly, but which he wished would
take forever to achieve. The two youths relished the sensations passing
through them, and despite their arousal, the inevitable was postponed as if
their minds and bodies were reluctant to bring their lovemaking to a close.
It did have to eventually come to a close, and as Jake began to
approach that delightful peak that only men can know, he began to work his
hips faster. Chilam raised himself slightly and Jake reached down and
grasped his thick, throbbing organ. He began to jerk it in time to his
fucking. The sun shone down on the two youths, the black boy now furiously
fucking the tanned, his thick black cock pumping in and out of the other's
butt as his long, black fingers stroked the other's burning, aching cock.
Finally the time came and he shot his load into the youth's hot,
grasping asshole, and at the same time he felt the boy's cock throbbing in
his hand and squirting out his seed. It was totally fantastic. Jake
trembled as his loins went weak and his brain went numb, as everything
centred about his throbbing cock and his partner's throbbing hole, for that
instant the centre of his being. As Jake sighed with the exquisite
pleasure, he became vaguely aware of the boy's hot, slimy cum oozing over
his tightly grasping fingers and the centre of his being shifted to the
other cock and the pleasure he had given his partner.
Afterward, they lay there cuddled together, arms about each other,
black and tan, the aroma of their seed fresh in their nostrils and their
naked bodies glowing with the warmth of post- climatic bliss. They drifted
off to sleep like that, their organs now limp and the last drop of cum
clinging to their tiny slits. They did not stir as the young boy who had
been watching them from the jungle undergrowth crept forward and covered
their naked bodies with a blanket.
The following day Jake felt more refreshed than he had ever felt and
he and the others spent the entire day out in the heat weeding the gardens.
That night, they joined the war council to plan a raid for the next day.
They woke before the sun was up and headed out, walking at an irritatingly
slow pace but which Jake later realized they could keep up for hours
without needing to stop. It took them six hours to reach their
destination, a munitions supply depot that a scouting team had discovered.
Just seeing the Cardassians again brought back memories of their capture,
and the three "off-worlders" seethed with the need for revenge. For the
next hour they skirted around the guards and planted explosives, and then
retreating, they set them off with a glorious explosion. While the
Cardassians were in turmoil and confusion, they hit the trails, and six
hours later were back in camp. That night they celebrated their victory
with feasting and wine, and although D'garov declared he would much sooner
have Klingon bloodwine, he made do with the local mead and got just as
drunk and sang just as loudly of their achievement.
As one by one the men wandered off to their beds, Jake glanced over at
Chilam, and his slight smile and the almost imperceptible motion with his
beautiful eyes was all that was needed. Jake joined him in his little
thatched home in the centre of the village. They made passionate love that
night, even more passionate than they had at the pool. They kissed hotly
and with a desperation of men in love, eager for each other's body, eager
to please each other. They caressed each other with an urgency and a need
that went beyond being horny. When Jake finally penetrated Chilam, it was
with a lust of a man who needed to be satisfied just as badly as he wanted
to satisfy the man under him. When it was over, they nestled in each
other's arms, content and satiated.
A week went by with quick daytime excursions into enemy territory and
hot passionate love at night. If D'garov and Ren suspected anything, they
said nothing. Nor did the rest of the tribe although it was obvious he was
spending every night with Chilam.
"Chilam?"
"Yes?"
"Does, well, does anyone in your village know, well, that you like
men?"
"That I like men, or that I have sex with them?"
"All right," Jake said, unaccustomed to being so blunt. "Have sex
with them."
"They all do."
"All?"
"Yes."
"Even the women, and the children?"
"Yes."
"That does not bother you?"
"Should it?"
"Well, no, it shouldn't."
"But it bothers you."
"Well, not exactly."
"Then you would announce to D'garov and Rem that you and I have been
having sex all week?"
"Well, not announce."
"If they asked, you would not deny it?"
"Well, I, that . . . damn, Chilam, it is not that easy."
"Why not?"
"Why not? You were once part of the Federation. Part of Starfleet.
You know the attitude toward homosexuality. And that is mild compared to
how Klingons and Bajorans feel about it."
"Yes, I know of Starfleet's attitudes."
"They how can you ask why it is not easy?"
"It is not the Federation, nor Starfleet that is your difficulty."
"What do you mean?"
"It is you."
"Me?"
"It is not easy for you to admit what it is that you are."
"You mean gay."
"Yes."
"It really doesn't bother you that everyone in the village knows
you're gay?"
"They don't think of me in those terms."
"What do you mean?"
"I am Chilam. It is my nature to have sex with men. Just as it is
the nature of the ibex to eat fish, and the ocelot to hunt the rabbit, and
for D'garov to scratch and bite his mate to arouse her during sex."
"So you're saying it is your nature to be gay."
"No. It is my nature to be neither male nor female. It is my nature
to be both, to be androgynous. I am halfman-halfwoman."
"You're not, well, that is," Jake stumbled as he searched for the
words and wrinkled up his nose in frustration. "You're not a
hermaphrodite."
"No. Nothing like that."
"I don't understand."
"If you were to say to another, 'I am gay', then he would say, 'oh,
you are a man who has sex with other men'."
"Yes," Jake agreed, "besides possibly saying other things."
"If I were to say to another 'I am Chilam', then he would say, 'oh,
you are the unified one'. I am not seen as a man, but rather as the
unified human before humans were divided into males and females. I am one,
and part of being one, of being Chilam, is having sex with men. In your
case, as a man, you could have sex with women, with men, with both, or with
neither, so you must define who you are as gay, bi, straight, or celibate.
I need no such definition in terms of my sexuality. To have sex with men
is not my preference. It is my nature, my Destiny. It is something
expected. I am if you wish, a third sex."
"So is being gay my preference, or my Destiny?"
"I do not know which, or if either. I do not know what is your
destiny, or just what you are at this moment, or will be in the future."
"I can change?"
"If such is your Destiny."
"Do I have a say in this?"
"Destiny has determined what you are and what you will become, but
knowing your Destiny you can capitalize on it. You have heard of the
Traveller?"
"A little. I read a few things about him, mostly his relationship
with you."
"He is the trans-dimensional Tau Alphan. He saw my destiny, and told
Captain Picard to foster my skills, to capitalize on them. At that time
everyone thought I was going to become a great scientist, or a great
Starfleet officer, including me. Later when we met again he told me my
Destiny would be joining him and learning from him."
"So?"
"So if you know your Destiny, you can conduct your life accordingly.
The colony here is descended from the Maya. You know of them?"
"Yes. A tribe that originates from Central America."
"The ancient Maya spent much of their life in ceremony, guided by the
heavens and the belief in numbers. They believe that everything is
predestined, controlled by Gods and revealed to us through signs, such as
visions."
"Which you interpret, or even can capitalize on, maybe even help
determine."
"Yes."
"And you believe this?"
"Our people today still follow the ancient beliefs. The god Itzamna
himself, the first shaman, told me that I was Chilam in my own vision
quest."
"Then what of this war with the Cardassians? Is it Destiny that these
people settled here and that the Federation abandoned them in their desire
to reach an agreement with the Cardassians?" Jake asked bitterly.
"Yes. It is not right what the Federation did, but it is not their
fault. We follow recurring cycles of creation and destruction. This
struggle was preordained to be. Just as it is preordained who will
eventually win this war."
"And who will that be?"
"That has not been revealed to us."
"And it was preordained that you would be a, a, Chilam."
"Yes."
"And me? Was it preordained that I would be here at this time, and
that we would meet?"
"I believe so."
"Why?"
"I have thought of that. I suspect perhaps it is because you are
struggling."
"Struggling?"
"You have many worries, and many questions. You are struggling to
accept what you are."
"And what am I?"
"An unformed vase, a partial picture, a half-finished house."
"A half-assed boy."
"No, that is round and full," Chilam said with a smile as he caressed
Jake's buttocks.
"Funny." Jake snuggled closer to him
"You have yet to discover what your Destiny is."
"But it was to be here."
"Yes. I believe Destiny has great things in store for you, Jake
Sisko. And I believe Destiny has brought you here so I may help you. I
am, if you wish, a guide for this part of your journey. And," Chilam said
solemnly, "I believe you will have some major impact on this world, perhaps
this sector of the universe. You have been brought here by others too."
Jake did not fully understand, but he did not pursue it. "Well, I'm
glad Destiny and you and the others have everything planned for me," he
said sarcastically. The idea that his life was so controlled was most
uncomfortable, and not something he was willing to accept.
"Such is the way of things."
"I was being sarcastic."
"I don't think that is part of your nature, or your Destiny," Chilam
said with another smile.
"So it is as Nolar said. Life is not just random Chance as I argued
with him. The Prophets, or what you call Destiny, or something out there
controls our lives."
"Yes."
"Well, I disagree. I think life is a bunch of random events, and you
make do with them as you can. If everything is controlled by Destiny, than
why bother? Just go with the flow."
"But if you know which direction the flow is, the easier it is to
become what you are destined to become. The mind works to prove itself
right, so we become what we most think we will become."
"So, it is the expectation of what will happen that causes it to
happen?"
"You told me all of Nog's friends and relatives told him it would be
impossible for a Ferengi to join Starfleet."
"Yes."
"If Nog had given in and accepted that, his mind would have reinforced
what everyone was telling him. However, he chose to believe that he could
do it, and he became what he was determined he could become. Although he
knew what the others thought he should be, he didn't allow them to direct
his thinking."
"Like the concept of Positive Thinking that was a fad back in the
twentieth century."
"Yes."
Jake looked at him, and then out at the jungle. So, was he gay
because that was what Destiny had planned for him in this game of life, had
he become gay by Chance through a set of random experiences, or had his
mind convinced him that being gay was possible and that to have sex with a
girl was impossible so that was the path he had blindly taken? He didn't
like any of those reasons. And what was his Destiny regardless of his
sexual orientation? He slowly got to his feet and wandered off. This
conversation had not been very helpful. It was even more useless than his
conversations with his shrink Counsellor Hojia had been back on DS9. Nolar
had believed in Destiny. Now Chilam. Maybe it was just the type of men he
attracted.
The next morning Jake joined a recognisance group which was scouting
out an area of the jungle purported to have captives working in a mine. In
the intensity and danger of the search, he put his conversation with Chilam
out of his mind. It was too uncomfortable to think about anyway. For four
days they cut through the jungle. His companions seemed to know where they
were going, but he was sure they were walking in circles. On the fifth
morning, they discovered the mine. It was not heavily guarded, this being
declared a Cardassian world and to the Cardassian's knowledge its location
being unknown. There appeared to be at least a hundred prisoners working
the mine, three shifts of thirty men each and a handful of others to
prepare the meals and look after the camp. They were housed in a long
barrack, the only building to be locked and heavily guarded. There
appeared to be two dozen guards, the camp work crew and the three shifts
each having six guards. Last, there was a handful of other Cardassians,
probably clerks and administrators.
The Nacom commenced making plans. Jake was not a soldier, not even a
warrior. He sat back and waited for orders. An early morning attack
seemed most appropriate. One team of six guards would be in the mine. One
team of six guards would be preparing the next shift of workers to go down
the mine. The third team would be in the barracks sleeping with the third
shift. The remaining guards would be with the kitchen staff preparing
breakfast for one shift and the bedtime meal for the other, or patrolling
the camp.
Using the stealth of their arrows and their knives, they dispensed
with the kitchen guards first and then the sleeping guards. Using the
freed prisoners as a distraction, they managed to kill or capture the
guards for the shift about to go down the mine. Then it was only a matter
of waiting for the graveyard shift to return to the surface.
They waited until all the prisoners were out of the mine and then they
attacked. The battle was over quickly. As the last guard was felled by an
arrow, the prisoners whooped and rushed out to join those who had emerged
from the mine with the news of their freedom. Maquis, Klingons, Bajorans,
and Federation soldiers whooped and celebrated, danced and swore.
"DaHjaj SuvwI'e' jiH!" called out a youthful Klingon voice. "Today I
am a warrior!"
Jake stopped and looked around for the speaker. That voice! He knew
that voice! There were several Klingons in a group walloping each other on
the back and rejoicing, and they all looked much alike, except for one, a
teenager. Jake began to walk toward the group, his legs feeling like
cooked spaghetti. He could not hope for it to be. The boy turned. His
dark brown, swarthy complexion was blotched from the grime and dust in the
mine, and his sharp fierce eyes were bloodshot and dulled from the lack of
sleep and the endless hours spent underground. There was, however, no
mistaking the prominent forehead ridges, the thin face, or the half-leer
and half- sneer of the lips and droop of the eyes that gave one the
impression the boy was thinking of having his way with you and then tossing
you aside.
"Mu'qaD!" he cursed. "DHom R'uustai! My bonded brother!"
"Gowran!"
The Klingon youth bounded over and grabbed Jake and swung him around
like a little boy despite his height and weight. His coarse, long black
hair swung in Jake's face and Jake felt like he was being crushed. Working
in the mine had only strengthened those already muscular arms and legs.
Gowran lowered him and grabbing him by the sides of the head, kissed him
violently on the lips. As they separated, Jake gave a yell as close as he
could to a Klingon cry of lust and returned the kiss. He knew others were
watching with wide-eyed astonishment, including Jer'a Ren, but he did not
care.
That night miles away from the mine, there was much rejoicing and
celebration as the men ate their first meal in freedom. For some it had
been a matter of only months, for others it had been years. Nobody noticed
the two youths slip away to be by themselves.
"I thought you dead," Jake said, unable to take his eyes off the
Klingon.
"And I was afraid nobody would ever find us. That I would die in that
accursed mine without a single battle to have you write an opera about."
"It is so good to see you."
"And you. Who would think my D'Hom R'uustai would come and rescue
me!"
"Yeah, who would?" Jake asked, faced once more with the evidence that
he was a pawn being moved about in a game called life, a game that was
still much a mystery to him.
"What has happened since I have seen you?"
"Not much."
"No?"
"No."
They sat there awkwardly, not sure how to proceed, not sure how to
raise the question that was on each mind, not sure how to express the need
each was feeling.
"I have thought many nights of the day we parted on DS9." Gowran
observed with uncharacteristic fondness for a Klingon.
"And I too," said Jake, and then after a moment's consideration, "and
of our last day in the holosuit, my bonded brother."
Gowran slowly smiled, his lips forming that sexy combination of a leer
and sneer. "Those can be dangerous thoughts without someone to help finish
what they begin."
Jake smiled and looked into Gowran's eyes.
"Or has there been someone to help you?"
Jake considered lying, but then thought better of it. Lying never got
anyone anywhere. "Well," he confessed, risking Gowran's friendship, "there
was a Bajoran boy. . . ."
Gowran slapped him on the back so solidly he slipped off the log they
had stopped to sit on and fell on his ass on the spongy jungle floor. From
the pain he seriously wondered if the boy had dislocated his shoulder.
"That is a true warrior! Always ready to test the mettle of his d'k tagh!"
Jake smiled as he thought of the first time Gowran had referred to his
cock as a triple bladed Klingon dagger. He had never thought of his
encounter with Nolar in those terms, and he knew Nolar certainly would not.
"And you? Has your d'k tagh seen much action?" he asked as he got to his
feet.
"No," Gowran replied, shaking his head sadly. "There have been none
worthy to taste its blade."
"Then it must be very sharp."
With a roar Gowran attacked, wrestling Jake to the jungle floor. Jake
responded with an equal yell of passion, managing to thrust his hips upward
and toss Gowran off. Before he could get to his feet Gowran took a flying
leap and forced him back to the ground, knocking the wind out of him at the
same time. He tore at Jake's clothes savagely as a rapist might attack a
maiden, and Jake wrestled with Gowran's wide leather belt with the same
abandon. The two boys literally tore each other's clothes off and threw
their naked bodies against each other. Their lips met for a long, hot
kiss, and Gowran's tongue slipped into Jake's mouth, probing his hot, moist
cavity and duelling with his tongue. Jake could feel Gowran's saliva
trickling in his mouth and his cock began to stiffen with the thought and
the sensation. At the same time he felt Gowran's ridged organ swelling
against his naked belly.
They pressed their lips together hotly, their kisses short and fierce
like two roosters pecking. They caressed each other with an eagerness
borne out of lust, forcefully running hands over firm butts and muscular
chests, contracting biceps and thighs, and slipping fingers along damp ass
cracks. At times Gowran took the lead, at other times it was Jake. He
delighted in the animal smell of Gowran's sweat, in the feel of his coarse
thick hair against his naked body. He delighted in the lust and the
forcefulness of their sex, its masculinity and dynamic power. They kissed
hotly and with a desperation of desperate men, men who lived for today
because tomorrow they might die. It was, in a way, the opposite of sex
between himself and Chilam.
It was Jake who finally crawled between Gowran's legs as he lay on his
back, and in response Gowran threw his hips up and wrapped his legs about
Jake's waist, positioning his butt in line with Jake's aching cock without
argument. Relying only on his spittle and their heat, Jake thrust his
eight-inch ramrod forward. The pain that shot through his sensitive
cockhead almost caused him to go limp, but pain was a part of their
lovemaking, both receiving and giving. Jake endured the pain around his
glans, and Gowran the pain about his sphincter, because that was what was
expected. Jake penetrated the Klingon, and with a roar of success and lust
that surprised even himself, he thrust his hard, hot cock up Gowran's moist
hole.
Jake had penetrated his beloved with the desire of a man who needed to
celebrate his masculinity, with the need of a man for whom sexual prowess
was paramount. Jake's coarse, black public hairs pressed against the cord
that ran between Gowran's asshole and his balls, and Gowran's hairy
asscheeks pressed against his thighs. All eight inches buried in Gowran's
butt, Jake began to work his cock in and out slowly, wanting to prolong and
enjoy this union with his bonded brother for as long as he could. He
looked down at Gowran and at the look of pleasure on his face. Of all the
positions there were to fuck a man, Jake decided at that moment that this
was his preference. As he eased his hard, hot cock in and out of his
bonded brother, he could feel Gowran's asshole pulsating about his organ,
squeezing it and releasing it in unison with his thrusts and withdrawals.
Two warriors working as one, two men grinding to a common goal, they looked
into each other's eyes.
Gowran smiled that erotic smile of his and the grinning black teenager
bent forward. They kissed without Jake missing a stroke. Gowran reached
up and began to tug on his nine-inch bone, satisfying the itch about the
knob that was driving him mad. His irritated knob dripped precum on his
heaving stomach, and Gowran flicked it up with his fingertips and fed it to
his lover. Jake eagerly accepted the bitter gift as he fucked the Klingon
warrior with long, sure strokes, drawing them both to that delightful
conclusion that both ached for. Jake marvelled at how wonderful he felt,
at how right this all seemed.
The two hot youths could hold back only for so long. As the itch that
encircled their cockheads increased in intensity, so did their attempts to
satisfy that itch. Jake gradually speeded up until he was humping the
Klingon's tight ass with a fervour of a mad man, and Gowran was tugging on
his swollen cock with a ferocity that threatened to damage it. The two
teens grunted and snorted with their pleasure like two stags in rut, and in
a way that was what they were. Finally with a cry of passion, Jake thrust
his hips forward and shot his seed into Gowran's ass, and as he came, so
did Gowran, shooting his grey cum in clots over his hairy chest and
stomach.
"MajQa!" cried Gowran with admiration. "Well done!"
Jake could only gasp for breath. Easing his still stiff cock out of
the Klingon's burning hole, he lay on top of him, Gowran's grey cum gluing
the two sweating teenagers together. They lay like that for a long time.
"If only we had blood wine to celebrate," observed Gowran as they
finally sat up.
"Or Denebia Quatlh Min," said Jake, remembering the Denebian Slime
Devil Eyeballs he had to eat to witness the commitment of their love at the
end of their bonding ceremony back on DS9. He said so partially to humour
his bonded brother, but mostly he said it because he did love him and
wanted to live the full Klingon experience with him. It pleased Gowran to
hear a human desiring Klingon fare, and he smiled that sexy smirk of his as
he put his arm around his lover and bonded brother. When he had first
spotted this boy on DS9 and decided he wanted him to join him in the
nga'chuq R'uustai he knew he was making the right choice. Jake had
reaffirmed that opinion many times ever since then.
So the week was spent, exercising in the cool of the morning, sleeping
in the heat of the afternoon, and training in warfare in the evening. Jake
and Gowran went on as many excursions into the Cardassian camps as the
Nacom would allow, and in the night they made wild, violent love that
caused the Nacom to comment that he was surprised the Cardassians had not
been able to determine their location simply by following the sounds of the
two lovers. Gowran blushed and Jake smiled and the rest of the encampment
laughed, except, Jake noticed, the Bajorans. At least his relationship
with Gowran was one part of his Destiny Jake was finding easier to accept,
at least there on Dorvan V. The rest he was not.
"I have great difficulty with the idea of some god or gods toying with
my life," Jake said as he, Gowran and Chilam lay relaxing in the shade of
the jungle one hot afternoon.
"Is there something wrong with your life?" asked Gowran, the twinkle
in his eyes the only hint that he asked with humour.
"Not this past week," Jake said, unable to hide his love-puppy grin.
"You should not question the Gods," commented Gowran seriously. "What
will be will be by their will, and the will of our ancestors."
"Not you too," groaned Jake. "I am doomed to be surrounded by
fatalists!"
"Such would seem to be your Destiny," Chilam observed with a smile.
"So some great-great-grandfather of mine that I never met is moving me
around like a chess piece in some giant game."
"Life, like chess, must have a purpose, and a structure. What sort of
game would it be if everything was left to Chance, if the players just
picked up a piece and moved it with no thought of its consequence."
"Well, I don't appreciate being treated like a mindless chess piece."
"You cannot expect to have the wisdom of the Gods," Gowran observed,
his voice rising in shock at such an affront.
"I would at least like to know what the consequence is going to be if
someone picks me up."
"By reading the stars and the numbers and other signs, that is
possible," observed Chilam.
"Well, I don't know what the stars or the gods have in mind for me,
but I thank them for reuniting me with Gowran."
"From the noises in your hut, uniting seems to be a frequent objective
of the Gods," Chilam said with a grin, and the two teenagers blushed and
then laughed.
"It is a good way to tone the muscles," Gowran observed with a wry
Klingon smile.
"I'd say your muscles, and Jake's, need not be any firmer."
"It is good to be firm," observed Gowran.
"It must be firm to be good," observed Jake and the two youths glanced
at each other.
"Before I get caught between you two and get crushed in your lust, I'm
out of here," observed Chilam as he got to his feet. "And speaking of
crushing, there is a rumour that there is a new Cardassian expedition at
the Chi-pan ruins. They are seeking artifacts they can sell to raise money
for their war campaign. Would the two of you care to join me to check it
out tomorrow?"
"Anything to serve my rescuers, and to bring glorious honour to the
Klingon Empire."
"I'm with stupid," observed Jake with a smile.
The next morning as the sun broke the horizon and long before its rays
were able to penetrate the thick foliage of the dense jungle, the three
were off. It was a long, hot hike in the steaming, humid jungle. Sweat
was pouring off their bodies by the time they approached the ruins near
noon, the odour causing both Gowran and Jake to feel an arousal despite the
previous afternoon, much to the amusement of Chilam. Approaching the old
ruins, a small cluster of adobe huts in a typical concentric circle
formation around a central plaza where the high walled ravine widened, they
spotted a white tent near the closer edge of the ruins. Heading down into
the ravine, Gowran circled from the right as Chilam circled from the left,
the two planning on getting close enough to determine the number of their
enemy and their armament.
Taking a vantage point on an outcrop half way down the ravine, Jake
crouched down and watched, ready to sound an alarm or to assist one or the
other as the need arose. Jake smiled as he observed the two warriors
making their way to the ruins. They were so different in appearance and in
temperament, and yet so much alike in other ways. He allowed his mind to
wander and he ran his hands over his crotch as he tried to picture making
love to both of them at the same time.
Although he allowed himself to fantasize, he did not allow the
pleasure to distract from his duty. A movement to the right caught his eye
immediately. It was a Cardassian making his way through the ruins and
heading toward Gowran. They were still significantly apart, but definitely
on a collision course. Jake took out his mirror, hoping he would be able
to warn Gowran without alerting the Cardassian. The Cardassian stopped to
take a piss. Finishing, he turned and began to head back and Jake sighed
with relief. Suddenly the Cardassian stopped and disappeared into one of
the buildings.
At the same time, another Cardassian appeared to the left, emerging
from a cleft on the other side of the ravine and heading down a trail that
would join the trail Chilam was on. He had evidently been on a hunting
mission as he carried a number of dead fowl and was too occupied
concentrating on his step to notice the individual on the trail across the
ravine. Chilam was similarly concentrating on the ruins he was
approaching, not the trail on the other side.
The Cardassian on the right suddenly appeared on a roof top. Jake
watched helplessly as the Cardassian spotted Gowran and quickly disappeared
again, probably now making haste toward where he had seen the Klingon.
Jake began to flash his mirror desperately. The Cardassian on the trail
was getting too close to Chilam also. Jake knew he would risk being
spotted by the Cardassian, but he had to try to attract Chilam's attention
too as he alternately flashed the mirror at one and then the other of his
companions. His heart began to pound and he tensed. Suddenly the second
Cardassian spotted Chilam. Dropping the fowl he had killed, he bounded the
short distance to the edge of the ruins and out of sight.
Two Cardassians at opposite ends of the ruins, both now stalking his
two closest friends was this Destiny, or was this Chance? If it was
Chance, then their luck could not be worse this day. If it was Destiny,
then Destiny sucked. In a matter of minutes the Cardassians had located
and targeted their prey. The Cardassian on the right having climbed another
building, was now on the roof aiming his phaser at Gowran. The other was
in a tall tree ahead of Chilam and taking aim with his phaser as Chilam
cautiously picked his way along the littered street.
Jake shouldered his phaser rifle. He could not save both Chilam and
Gowran. He did not have enough time to kill both Cardassians. Which one
was he to choose? "Fuck the gods," he cursed as he rose from behind the
boulder. "Fuck Destiny."