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.Carnival Mirrors	By : keithcompany Category: Star Trek > Star Trek Views: 3189 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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When Spock returned to his cabin, he stripped off his uniform and hung it up. Then he stretched across his bunk. A small sound drew his attention to the cage.

Massira stood behind the door, her clothes gathered around her waist, just as he'd left her. Either she didn't pull her shirt back up when she was alone or she'd restored the condition when he returned.

Either way, it seemed she had good potential as a slave. He stood and leaned, snapping the latch open in an easy gesture. Then he lay back down and beckoned.

She climbed out and crossed his table, then scurried over his desk to jump down to his bunk.

He raised himself on his elbows to regard her. Her breasts, full but firm, rested uneasily against her breathing. She stared back up at him and waited.

"My knife is hanging up at the end of the bed." She turned, evidently to try to retrieve it for him. The idea of a slave touching his weapon sounded an alarm in his mind. "No, no," he said. "I merely meant that I would be unable to cut you out of the rest of your garment."

"Oh. Okay." She was amenable as she stood by his chest, slowly removing what remained. He picked up her boots from where she placed them on the mattress and tossed them into the corner.

Massira couldn't match the distance so she just tossed the rest of her clothes off the side of the bed. Then she spun in place to give him a view.

He admired her form, reaching out to stroke an ass cheek as it went past. "You remind me of someone I knew at Starfleet Citadel," he said.

"A lover?" she asked hopefully as she turned to face him.

He shrugged. "There was sex," he admitted. "Not love, no." The Vulcan lay back against his headrest. He picked Massira up to lay her across his chest, but his eyes were light years away.

She lay over his sternum, toying gently with his chest hairs, trying to extend his mood. "What was her name?"

"Slave Clovia Sigma 452," he said softly. Her hands jerked up from his chest. He heard her gasp and he smiled. "I used to call her, 'Hey! You!' and she called me, 'Noble Sir.' It was a thing we had."

Massira started to roll off of him. He grabbed her by one arm and held her close. "There was one other thing she used to do for me." He dragged her body down along his, stretching her over his right thigh.

He allowed his rage to flow freely and his penis lifted and hardened. He pinched her head between two fingers and held it next to the tip. "How much of this can you cover with your tongue?" It throbbed before her, as big around as her waist.

"Not... not enough," she said, choking back a sob.

"Well, we shall see about that. Won't we?" He moved her closer and held her against himself. She licked obediently if not enthusiastically.

"We could see how much of my blade you can fit in your mouth," he suggested. She responded with greater energy. Soon he felt able to release her head and relax into the moment.

He let down his guard and rage filled him. Contempt for his shipmates, however useful they might be; frustration at the limitation of his minions; resentment of his brother and the special position he held in their father's squadron.

The emotional vigor and the physical attentions brought him off as quickly as he'd ever managed. Hot green fluid shot out and covered his little pet. Steam rose from the shiny material.

"Hot!" she shouted then bit her cheeks and hissed. His cock dripped and drooped. She was writhing across his lap when it softened enough that the knob touched her forehead.

Her memories flowered in his mind as the inadvertent mind-meld was completed.

Spock found himself in an alien landscape. Massira stood beside him. They were both dressed in the ship-suits of the Lilliputian's vessel, and both stood at the same height.

Citizens of her native planet went about their business in a huge city. The Imperial officer noticed the bulky buildings fashioned from primitively worked stone decorated with more advanced advertising.

The vehicles were of unsurprising construction, matching Mr. Scott's estimate of the planet's technical level.

A large green moon hung in the early evening sky. Sparkles on the surface suggested extensive habitation.

"Without quick or efficient space travel," he said, gesturing towards the satellite, "you would naturally spend more time developing near-by celestial locations. This ensures a large harvest of slaves with technical skill."

He turned and looked the place over, estimating population density and average physical health. His little food scholar stared in shock.

"Where are we? Are we home? Is this a dream? Or the... capture. Was that a dream?"

"This is a Mind Meld," he explained. "Your species seems innately favored in telepathic abilities. It usually takes a concentrated effort on my part to achieve such a strong melding."

"So I'm still... in your bed?" she asked. "Are we... what, sitting in a meditation position? Forehead to forehead?" She stepped through her homeworld dream, reaching out to test textures of buildings and furnishings.

"Actually," he said as he strolled along beside her, "my dick rests against your skull." Her hands rose. "And, yes, my ejaculate is dripping into your hair." Spock stepped past her to move among the populace.

"Your mind seems to be concentrating on your homeworld right now. Even in the midst of servicing me. Not all that unusual, given the circumstances."

She flinched as he locked a glare onto her. "Of course, it is not all that complimentary, either. Lucky for you, I have no ego to bruise. At least, not with respect to sexual games."

He spun slowly around, nodding with a rather acquisitory air. "The captain will gain quite a bit of recognition for bringing this planet into the Empire. And of course, all full crew members get a First Contact bonus."

"What will happen to them?" she asked softly.

Spock turned and pointed to the moon. "It will begin there." Lights flashed in the sky, beams of color scattering over the surface. Each place they hit, lights of the cities vanished. "Your colonies will become untenable." Rockets flew down to the main planet.

"Then we remove your infrastructure." He waved and there were explosions. She somehow saw satellites being destroyed in each one. "You will be contained on Lilliput."

"Then you destroy our cities, I suppose?" Beside them, a great stone structure was struck with light from the sky and started to shatter.

"Not at all," he spat. He waved his hand and the building was restored. "We want the cities functional. It concentrates the population." Flames descended and burned miles upon miles of croplands. "Starving refugees will stumble to the cities, looking for leadership, shelter and food."

The city swelled far beyond any imaginable capacity. People were crowded on the streets, in the apartments, under the slideways and inside the arenas.

Then outsized tents appeared, sparkling into existence at the edge of the burnt countryside. Giants in Imperial uniforms stepped out and held out handfuls of food. From their other hands they dangled tiny collars.

"NO!" she cried as her people, her desperate people, staggered forward. They took the food and stood docile as they were shackled.

"Yes," he said cheerfully. "It has happened on many worlds. This crew alone has brought more than two dozen into the Empire."

"No," she sobbed. She knelt at the edge of the crowd, imploring people to turn away, to resist.

Spock strode among the collared dream-people. He grabbed a young woman by the hair and peeled off her clothing. "Some will find useful employment in the Empire. Some day in the distant future, you may join the Empire as a loyal client state."

Rough hands explored the taut body. The woman didn't blink. Finally he tossed her aside. She staggered against men and women who hardly noticed. "Others will merely be fed into the consuming maw of the Imperial citizenry." He shook his head.

"Enough drippy sentimentality," the Vulcan said. "You would think I was melding with one of those wimpy Romulan warrior-poets." He snapped his fingers and woke them up.
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.Carnival Mirrors