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 Chapter 2

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Angie and Lyra followed Doctor Tabor to sickbay.

Of course, the Middies probably could have found their way on their own, and without consulting the ship's computer.  USS ARTEMIS (NCC-69069) was an INTREPID-Class starship, like the famous VOYAGER, and they'd started studying (memorizing) her specs upon receiving their orders.  The ship had recently completed an extensive overhaul in the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, receiving an engine upgrade and an extension of her shuttle bay.  The full details of the new work done were classified, of course, but from the unclassified information available, they knew her basic deck plan remained more or less class standard.

The sickbay door opened and the trio entered.  The Doctor went straight to her desk, accessed the computer, and stared at the screen, pursing her lips in concentration.  Angie and Lyra stood at ease and looked around, but saw nothing unexpected.  It was a starship sickbay, smaller than some, bigger than others.  There were three treatment bays with fully adjustable beds and a fourth bay and bed enclosed in a large isolation chamber.  An examination/surgical table was centered under a bank of lights and medical monitors in the center of the room, and the sickbay's lab was off to one side, behind a transparent partition.

"Okay," the doctor said, "I see Olena's taken time out from playing pirate to boot your shipboard files and sync your comm-badges.  Nothing's been flagged in your files by Academy Medical, so..."  She smiled at the Midshipmen.  "Who wants to go first?"

Angie and Lyra exchanged a glance, but before they could answer—

"Thank you, Midshipman D'varas," Gwen said with a dimpled grin, walked to the examining table, and patted its padded top.  "Up you go, and boots off."

"Boots off?" Lyra asked as she jumped up and sat on the table.  Starfleet medical technology didn't usually require a patient to undress for a routine exam.  In fact, even most surgical procedures not involving the repair of major trauma could be conducted with the patient in uniform.  Lyra removed her boots and socks and tossed them to Angie.

"I need to work on your feet," Gwen explained, then laughed at the Middies' confused expressions.  "When your new Department Head gets around to something resembling an actual orientation briefing, you'll learn about the first away mission the Captain has authorized for the Expanse.  Lie back," she ordered, and Lyra did so.  "You two are tentatively on the mission roster, by the way," she continued, her attention split between the table's control panel and the holo-display that had appeared above the table.  It depicted the outline of Lyra's body, but far from being a realistic image, it was an ever-changing 3D collage of her various organ, skeleton, and muscle groups, cycling through a range of bright colors, with graphical information and symbols superimposed.  "My last tour was on a science vessel that did a survey of part of the Expanse, " Gwen added.  "We'll be doing a followup visit to Scatara-IV, one of the planets, and the locals will expect us to go barefoot."

"Barefoot?" Angie asked.

"Among the Carmow," Gwen explained, "only nursing babies and warriors armed for battle wear anything on their feet.  Visitors are expected to go barefoot as a sign of peace."

"Warrior culture?" Lyra asked.

"Yes," Gwen confirmed.  "Pre-industrial.  Some clans are nomadic hunter-gathers and some are sedentary farmers.  The Carmow are feloids, somewhat similar to the K'zinti, only more cat-like than lion.  One theory holds they're an ancient K'zinti colony that evolved in isolation, but the DNA evidence is inconclusive.  Anyway, we'll be doing a followup to the First Contact survey and Olena wants to pump the elders for intelligence about recent pirate activities.  So... I'm going, Science is going, and Olena's going, and she'll be taking you two along to hold her boots."

"But... our feet?" Angie asked.

"That little 'Welcome to ARTEMIS' holo-fun Olena arranged for you two was set on Scatara-IV," Gwen explained.  "You want to run around barefoot in that jungle without me toughening up your tootsies?"

Angie and Lyra exchanged another look, and grinned.  "No, ma'am," they answered in unison.

LT Ezri DaxJust then, the sickbay door opened and a Starfleet Lieutenant in a teal-blue tunic with short, brown hair entered.  The brown spots of a Trill framed her very cute but scowling face.  "Okay, Gwen, let's get this last torture session over with."  She saw the midshipmen and her expression brightened.  "Oh, hello."  She stepped forward and shook Angie's hand.  "Ezri Dax, Science Officer."

"Midshipman Angeronia Goodnight," Angie answered.

"Midshipman Lyra D'varas," Lyra said, still prostrate on the table.

Ezri walked over and shook Lyra's hand.  "Welcome, but lie still, or Gwen will bite our heads off for ruining her scans."

"Hah!" Gwen huffed.  "I know you two are curious, so I'll prevent you having to hack Ezri's personnel file.  Yes, she's joined."

Angie and Lyra were mildly shocked.  It was universally known that Trills sometimes joined their bodies and minds with a symbiotic life-form native to their home world; but in the Federation, it was impolite to casually share personal information peculiar to another species, unless and until they brought it up.

"You can take the girl out of Mars," Ezri chuckled, "but you can't teach her manners."

Angie and Lyra smiled.  Ezri was revealing that Gwen was from Mars, and Martian colonists were notoriously (boorishly) proud of the hardships their ancestors had endured in the early decades of the terraforming of Sol-4, and often cultivated an "uncultured" manner.

"Yes, that's right," Gwen sighed, addressing the Middies.  "I'm one of those rude sand-rats from the Martian desert.  Down," she ordered Lyra, then nodded at Angie.

Lyra hopped off the table and Angie took her place and began removing her boots and socks.

"Up on bed one," Gwen told Lyra, and pointed to the left med bay.  She then focused on Ezri.  "Well," she demanded.  "Are you waiting for a formal invitation?"

Ezri grinned, walked to the area near the isolation chamber, and began removing her uniform.

By this time, Angie was on her back on the table and her examination had begun.

Gwen noted the Middies' puzzled expressions as Ezri continued to disrobe.  "The dermal generation field has a peculiar side-effect on joined Trills," she explained.

"It tickles like crazy on full strength," Ezri sighed.  "It makes my entire skin crawl, from the inside out, and it's worse if I'm wearing anything."

By this time, Ezri was down to her gray panties and tank-top, and those were coming off, as well.  Angie and Lyra tried not to stare, but neither had ever seen a naked Trill.

"Your spots are very pretty," Lyra said.

"Lyra!" Angie scolded her friend.

"That's okay," Ezri laughed.  Now fully nude, she turned in a full circle with her arms extended.  The spots in question, ranging in size from small, round freckles to thumb-size, irregular, glyph-like splotches, ran from her scalp, down either side of face and neck, across her shoulders and outside her breasts, then down either flank to the tops of her feet.  "I guess it's true what they say about Orions," Erzi said to Gwen.  "They are all brazen flirts."

Lyra grinned.  She knew she was being teased.

Angie knew it too, of course, but that didn't prevent her from blushing on Lyra's behalf.

Ezri turned and tapped the control panel of the isolation chamber and its door cycled opened.  The bed inside was like those in the med-bays, except the foot end had some sort of metal framework attached.  Ezri hopped up on the bed and placed her feet in two padded slots on the frame.

Gwen walked towards the chamber.  "She could have allowed me to do this with a dozen or so hour-long sessions on low power," she said, "but nooooo."

"Who has the time?" Ezri chuckled.

"So," Gwen continued, "instead, it's three ten-minute sessions on full power."  She entered the chamber and folded a metal bar across the top of the framework.  There was a click, and Ezri's feet were now trapped in what amounted to a pair of steel stocks.  Gwen then pulled a bag of milky plastic over Ezri's left hand, snugged it around her wrist, pressed a tab, and the bag inflated like a balloon.  Next came a padded cuff attached to a thin cable, which she snapped around Ezri's wrist.  "She dug her nails into her palms during the first session," the doctor explained, "so I have to take special precautions."  She walked around the bed and Ezri's right hand and wrist received similar treatment.  Gwen then produced a padded rod and placed it between Ezri's teeth.  "She also bit her tongue," she explained, as she pulled an attached, elastic strap over her patient's head and let it snap taut against the nape of her neck.  She then stepped out of the chamber and began setting its controls.

The chamber's bed lowered to the floor, leaving Ezri's naked body suspended in a null-gravity field.  The cables held her captive hands floating to either side, at the level of her waist.

Gwen tapped another key, and an energy field began sparkling around the Trill's imprisoned feet.

Ezri squealed through her tongue-protector (bit-gag), her feet wiggled, her toes curled, and she tugged on her wrist bonds.

Gwen tapped more keys and the sound of Ezri's distress abruptly stopped, as if a speaker had been turned off.  "Sonic dampening field," Gwen explained.  She turned her back and walked away from the chamber as its door cycled closed.

Angie and Lyra stared in horror.  The sides of the chamber were translucent, but thanks to its interior lighting, they could clearly see the blurry shape of Ezri's naked, struggling, thrashing form.

"You should have heard the racket she made during the first session," Gwen chuckled, "until I turned on the field."  She noticed the Midshipmen's expressions.  "What?  This nonsense?"  She laughed.  "Don't get the wrong idea.  Things aren't usually this medieval in my sickbay.  But, if she'd come in for low-intensity treatments when I told her to, this wouldn't be necessary."  She shook a warning finger at the still staring Middies.  "Let this be a lesson for you both.  When Doctor Tabor says report to sickbay... you report to sickbay!"

"Yes, ma'am," the Middies said, in unison.

What the Middies didn't know, of course, was that the Department Heads had been engaged in an unofficial, tit-for-tat, practical joke competition for the last several weeks.  It was all very amiable and confined to the Holodecks, for the most part—and what the doctor was doing to Ezri was most emphatically NOT a practical joke.  That would be unethical!  Her back to the Middies, Gwen smiled.  She was pushing the edge of the envelope, of course.  She could have complained to the XO and had her order the Science Officer to report to sickbay when she was supposed to... but she hadn't, and Ezri didn't... and now the cute little Trill had no choice but to either let herself get tickle-tortured or let someone else from her department go on the away mission.

"Bed two, Midshipman Goodnight," Gwen ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Angie repeated, and hurried to the center bay.

Gwen went to Lyra's bed and produced another set of steel stocks.  She snapped them into slots at the foot of the bed-frame and lifted the top bar.

Lyra smiled (nervously) and placed her ankles in the padded slots.

"Just relax," Gwen said as she locked the bar and selected a small instrument from a tray.  "I've never used this procedure on an Orion, but you shouldn't feel anything other than a slight tingling sensation."  She touched the bulbous end of the device to Lyra's left foot.

"Eep!" Lyra squealed and flinched, then composed herself.  "Sorry.  That wasn't bad."

"Good girl," Gwen chuckled, and began tapping the keys of a small pad.  A panel opened in the base of the bed and a compact field generator rose into view, rotated ninety degrees, and positioned itself near Lyra's feet.  "Brace yourself."  She tapped a final key.

"Ahh—that's n-not bad, e-either," Lyra gasped.  Her mouth twitched as she struggled not to laugh.

"Lie back and relax."  Gwen gave her patient's shoulder a reassuring pat and helped her recline.  "Do you want a sedative?"

"No, ma'am," Lyra answered.

Gwen gave her another pat, then turned to the center bed to find Angie staring at her with horrified dread.  "Lighten up, Midshipman," Gwen chuckled as she attached a third set of stocks to Angie's bed.  "This procedure is rarely fatal."

Angie forced what she hoped was a brave smile, and placed her ankles in the slots.

Gwen chuckled as she closed the top bar.  "Honestly, I don't see what you're so—"

"She's t-ticklish!" Lyra blurted.  The Orion was biting her lower lip and sweat was glistening on her forehead.

"Shuddup!" Angie huffed, blushing bright crimson.

"I see," Gwen purred, and held the instrument she'd used to test Lyra's feet near Angie's left foot.

Angie swallowed, composed herself, then nodded.  "Okay, I'm ready.  Turn it on."

"It is on," Gwen responded.

"I... I don't feel anything," Angie said, blinking in surprise.

"Human's seldom do," Gwen smiled.

"Lucky you," Lyra muttered.  Her hands were balled in tight fists, and her smile had a slight twitch.

Angie lay back as Gwen deployed and activated another field generator.  Now, energy pulsed against both pair of wrinkled soles, the green and the pink.

"One hour," Gwen announced, as she walked towards her office.

"You okay, Tree Frog?" Angie whispered to Lyra.

"J-just peachy, Kipper," Lyra whispered back.  She knew her friend's concern was genuine, and she appreciated it.  Lyra tried for a reassuring smile, but feared it was probably coming across as a hideous grimace.

"She's fine!" Gwen called from her office.  "I'm monitoring all your stats."  The stats in question were indeed being displayed on a nearby monitor, but the main holo-projector in front of her desk (with the polarized privacy feature engaged, of course) was painting images of Ezri's wiggling feet, squirming, naked body, and grimacing, giggling, gagged face.  Okay, it's a dirty trick, she mused, but you should have come in when I told you, and you could have let me give you a sedative.  Ezri continued writhing, and the holo-cameras captured every detail.  I think you like being tickled.

Gwen activated the sonic suppression field around her desk, and spoke into a small microphone.  "Your readings are excellent, Ezri," she said, knowing her words were echoing through the isolation chamber, "but I've decided to extend this final session an two extra minutes, for maximum effectiveness."

It wasn't at all clear whether or not Ezri had heard.  Gwen knew the intense sensations rippling through the helpless Trill's delicious body were very distracting.
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 Chapter 2
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Gwen sighed in contentment.  She was naked, lying on her stomach with her head cradled in her folded arms, and she couldn't be more relaxed.  One of Risa's spectacular tropical sunsets was painting the sky and a gentle ocean breeze was caressing her oiled skin and wafting the gossamer-thin drapes of the silk pavilion.  The main resort, on the far side of the lagoon, was already in shadow, and its multitude of fairy lights were twinkling, decorating and illuminating the entire complex.  She could see the early diners in the ocean-side restaurants enjoying their meals, but only as tiny, distant figures.

Her Risan masseuse (a computer-generated holo-character) was native to this archipelago.  She was tall and slender, with full breasts and the well-defined muscles of an athlete.  Her skin was coffee-brown, her lustrous hair long and black, and her high-cheeked, doe-eyed features were exquisite.  She was clothed (just barely) in a whisper-thin loincloth and bandeau of iridescent silk that shone with all the colors of the rainbow.  Her long, strong fingers, drenched with perfumed oil, slid over Gwen's back.

"Is Mistress happy?" the masseuse purred.

"Very happy," Gwen sighed.  Her body floated, suspended in the near null-gravity of the cloud table's repulsion field and barely touching its smooth, white silk sheets.

"Gooood," the masseuse cooed.  "When Yulani's Mistress is happy, Yulani is happy."

Gwen gasped as Yulani applied deep pressure to her shoulder muscles.  "Oooooh... nice...  Thank you, Yulani."

"Mistress is most welcome."  The massage continued.  "Does Mistress desire Yulani's help?"

Gwen frowned.  "I don't understand, Yulani.  Help with wh—M'mmpfh!"

A pair of gloved hands were pulling Gwen's hands behind her back and another pair was shoving something soft and round into her mouth!  A wide band tightened around her wrists, pinning them together—Vrrrip!—and another band cleaved her mouth, trapping the expanding ball inside—Vrrrip!  She struggled, but it was already too late to prevent her capture.

"Thank you, no, Yulani," a voice—Olena's voice—answered.  "I want to do this myself."

"I could use a little help with her hair," another voice said, and this time it was Ezri's!

"Of course, Mistress," Yulani sighed.  "Yulani is always ready to help."

"Mrmpfh!" Gwen screamed.  Yulani gathered and held her hair as Ezri—Gwen still couldn't tell exactly what was happening, but she guessed it was Ezri—reinforced her gag with some form of black, self-adhesive tape, applying turn after tight turn until Gwen's lower face was mummified from just below her nostrils to her dimpled chin.

Meanwhile, zip-bands were tightening around her thumbs—Vrrrip!—crushing her elbows together—Vrrrip!—binding her knees—Vrrrip!—and her ankles—Vrrrip!

Gwen's hair was released and her captors and the traitorous Yulani stepped back.  Gwen rolled over onto her back, but was careful not to roll off the cloud table.  The table's field adjusted, distributing its gravity nullifying effect so her weight didn't press on her bound arms.  She bucked and struggled and fought her bonds, but her efforts were to no avail.  Finally, she shook the hair from her face and fixed her captors with a glowering stare.

Olena and Ezri grinned back.  Both were dressed in reef suits, the full-length, skintight, leotard-like wetsuits guests at the resort used to dive the island waters.  These particular suits were mottled in shades of aqua, blue, and gray.  It was marine camouflage, and Gwen knew such suits were used for spearfishing—and apparently, for swimming across the lagoon to abduct other guests!  The outfits included gloves, booties, and hoods, leaving only the wearers' faces exposed. 

"M'rrf!"  Gwen continued to fight her bonds.

"She seems upset," Ezri remarked, an obvious understatement.  "I thought you said she'd be expecting something like this."

Olena removed her hood, shaking her head to free her short, blond hair.  "I think your presence is what's upsetting her."

Ezri giggled and focused on Gwen's gagged, glaring face.  "Don't worry, Doctor," she said, pulling off her own hood.  "I'll only be staying through dinner.  Olena was kind enough to invite me.  She knew I'd enjoy the floorshow."

"Mrfh?"  Gwen was confused.  The 'floorshow'?

"The floorshow," Olena confirmed, her lips curled in an evil smile.  "That would be you," she told Gwen, then turned her back and started peeling off her gloves.  "Let's get changed," she suggested, "then, we can make Gwen more comfortable."

Ezri smiled and began removing her gloves.  "Make her 'more comfortable'?" she purred, nodding at the still furiously struggling prisoner.  "Did your girlfriend give you a copy of My Big Book of Clichés last Federation Day?"

Olena smiled, but otherwise ignored the question.  She turned to Yulani.  "The pavilion is equipped as I asked?"

Yulani smiled, crossed her hands over her breasts, and bowed.  "Yes, Mistress."  She bowed again.  "It is Yulani's pleasure to serve Mistress."

Gwen shifted her glare to the Risan maiden.  "Hrmpfh!" she snorted through her gag.

Yulani's angelic face turned slightly sinister.  "One Mistress at a time, of course."

Olena smiled.  "You may change."

Yulani bowed a third time.  "Yes, Mistress."  She backed several steps, then turned, passed through the drapes, and was gone.

Gwen shifted her gaze back to Olena and Ezri.  Both had stripped off their reef-suits and were donning two-piece bathing suits and sarongs, standard guest attire.  Olena's skimpy, revealing (and sexy) outfit was a dazzling silver-white that really set off her tan skin, and Ezri's was a shimmering, pale blue that matched her eyes.  The contrast between Olena's athletic form and Ezri's delightfully girlish, pale and spot-patterned body was delicious, or—might have been delicious, under different circumstances.  Gwen struggled and fought her bonds—but it was pointless.  She wasn't going anywhere.

The naked, helpless captive lay back on the cloud bed's cushioning field.  This was not the evening she'd planned... not exactly, anyway.
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 Chapter 2
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After changing, Olena and Ezri adjusted the cloud table to the semi-reclined position, then pulled a series of broad, web straps from hidden slots in the frame and stretched them across Gwen's already helpless body.  Their captive was now seated with her legs straight and straps dimpling her skin above and below her breasts and across her waist and thighs.  Her bound ankles were locked in a set of padded clamps and her toes splayed and individually tied to a semicircular steel arch by taut strands of nearly transparent cord.  She could barely squirm, and she couldn't move her feet at all.  Adding overkill to total helplessness, Olena was in the process of stretching a final strap across Gwen's throat and pulling it taut.

"Is that really necessary?" Ezri inquired, but a coy smile more or less nullified her objection.

"No, it isn't," Olena admitted, "but she looks so deliciously helpless like this, doesn't she?"

"She does," Ezri agreed, "helpless, and vulnerable."

The Ruthless Kidnappers sauntered to a small cafe table and two chairs off to one side of the pavilion and sat.

A Risan male entered the pavilion, carrying a large tray.  He was wearing only a tiny loincloth and was nearly two meters tall.  He was quite muscular, had long black hair, like Yulani's, and was as handsome as the masseuse was beautiful.  "Appetizers, Mistresses," he said, setting several plates and platters on the table, together with a chilled carafe and two stemmed crystal glasses.  "The soup course will be served in a quarter hour."  He smiled at Ezri.  "I am called Butai," he said.  "After dessert, I will be taking a swim at Turquoise Cove.  It is quite beautiful as the moons rise.  I strongly recommend it as an after dinner... diversion."  Still smiling at Ezri, he backed two steps, turned, and left.

Olena smiled as she poured wine into the glasses.  "Butai's a big fella," she purred.

"Oh, I certainly hope so," Ezri chuckled.  The friends clinked glasses and drank.

Gwen sighed through her gag and rolled her eyes in disgust.

"She's very pretty like that," Ezri asked Olena, "don't you think?"

Olena sampled a canape before answering.  "Who," she said, finally, "the Martian?"

"Yes," Ezri giggled, "the Martian."

They both watched Gwen continue to squirm and fight the straps.

"I like her tits, especially," Olena said, eating a small stuffed crustacean of some kind.  "Yum, have you tried these?"

"No."  Ezri selected one of the creatures and took a delicate bite.  "Delicious."  She smiled at her dinner companion as they both chewed and swallowed.  "You realize that once we enter the Expanse, there will be no time for anything this... involved?"

"I know," Olena answered, "that's why I wanted to make this final evening before we get underway... memorable."  She took a sip of wine.  "I appreciate your help."

Ezri smiled at Gwen.  "Always glad to assist a shipmate... especially when it lets me slake my thirst for well-deserved revenge on another shipmate."

Gwen huffed through her gag and turned her head away in disdain.  Revenge, really!  It had only been a little innocent medical tickle torture... to make up for that time, a month ago, in Holodeck Two, when Ezri and B'Elanna snuck in and pelted her with snowballs just as she was getting out of the hot tub in that Alpine Resort program.

"We should have invited the Middies," Ezri suggested, then chuckled, softly.  "You should have seen them eying me in sickbay, especially after my 'treatment', when I was all sweaty and panting."

"Unfortunately," Olena said, "our two newest shipmates are dining with the Captain and Chief Engineer."

"Poor kids," Ezri laughed.  "They don't know what they're missing."

Just then, the wind gusted, the drapes fluttered, and Yulani reentered the pavilion.

Gwen's eyes popped wide and Olena nearly choked on her wine.

Ezri simply smiled.  "Oh, my," she purred.

Yulani had changed costume, as instructed.  She was now wearing a complex harness of thin, black, leather straps.  The tight, glistening bands dimpled her brown skin across her breasts, shoulders, waist, and through her thighs, and included a minuscule g-string panel that covered (just barely) her crotch.  Her legs were sheathed in shiny, black thigh-boots with ten-centimeter heels, and tight, black leather opera gloves covered her hands and most of her arms.  Her hair was combed back in a tight ponytail, a spiked collar was around her throat, and she was cracking a black leather whip.

Yulani was HOT... in an—I want my mommy!—Where can I hide?—sort of way.

"Yep, My Big Book of Clichés, Kinky Edition," Ezri chuckled, and refilled her wine glass.

Olena held her glass out for a refill as well, but her eyes never left Yulani.

The Risan dominatrix cracked her whip, again, then tossed it away.  "I hear you've been a very... bad... girl, Doctor," she said, and pulled a thin metal wand from her right boot top.  "Would you, by chance, be familiar with the Klingon Pain Stick?"

Gwen was still staring in naked horror—naked everything, actually.

"I asked you a question, Doctor," Yulani growled.  "Klingon Pain Sticks?  You've heard of them?"

Gwen nodded, frantically.

Yulani's smile turned truly evil and she extended the tip of the wand towards Gwen's helpless, totally immobilized, left foot.  "Well..."

Gwen clinched her eyes tightly closed and squealed through her gag.

"This isn't one of them," Yulani said, and tapped the wand to Gwen's sole.

The captive's eyes popped wide, and she squealed in distress.

"Tickle wand?" Ezri asked.

"Tickle wand," Olena confirmed, and they clinked glasses.

Meanwhile, Yulani had begun running the wand over Gwen's sole, gently caressing every wrinkle and crease.  Tendrils of blue energy crackled and snapped, stimulating every neuron within roughly a centimeter of the wand's tip.  She then used the wand to pluck the cords binding Gwen's toes, one by one, as if she was strumming a harp, and the energy traveled down each string to envelop the toe that was its prisoner.

Gwen squirmed and struggled, mewling through her gag and grimacing in distress.  Obviously, even though her soles had been hardened like the others assigned to the Scatara-IV away mission, the wand was fully effective.

"The fun won't be limited to just her feet," of course, Olena explained, for Ezri's benefit.

"No?" Ezri responded, then selected a small square of toast spread with some sort of green pesto and popped it in her mouth.

"No," Olena confirmed.  "The floorshow will be a series of two or three minute sessions, separated by brief rest periods, of course."

"Of course," Ezri agreed.

"And Yulani will be exploring every part of Gwen's body with her wands," Olena continued.  "And while we enjoy dessert, she'll reset the cloud table's repulsion field to resonate with the wands' output frequencies and will insert a special wand between Gwen's thighs.  She'll then work her over again, from head to toe, but this time, instead of being tickled..."

"Yes?" Ezri demanded.

Olena selected another hors d'oeuvre before answering.  "Let's just say she'll be cumming like a Martian dune rat in heat the entire time.  And after you leave for your midnight swim with—Butai was his name?—I have additional entertainment planned for the good doctor."

"Poor Gwen," Ezri chuckled.  "Being your girlfriend can be rough."

Olena smiled, and watched the girlfriend in question shiver and squirm as Yulani continued to tickle her helpless feet.  The main result of Gwen's desperate efforts was the very entertaining, oscillating bob they imparted to her breasts.  Olena noted that the prisoner's nipples were hard as the proverbial rocks (as were her own).  "She loves it," Olena muttered.

"And she loves you," Ezri purred.

Olena blushed, slightly, and covered her show of "weakness" by refilling their glasses.  "So she says... except right after I torture her, like this."

Ezri smiled and sipped her wine.  Ezri knew she should be scandalized, but Dax had watched and participated in many such playful scenes in the course of the long lives of his previous hosts, both male and female.  It was impossible to tell if the relationship between Olena and Gwen would last, but she wished the lovers well.

Meanwhile, Yulani had reached into her left boot top and produced a second wand.  "Enough foreplay," she purred, and tapped the tips of the two wands together.  Blue sparks snapped as they touched.  "They're set on slightly different, very carefully chosen frequencies," she explained, for Gwen's horrified benefit.  "Used in concert, the harmonic interactions are.. unendurable."

"Unendurable... unless you happen to be bound, gagged, and strapped down, of course," Olena whispered in an aside to Ezri.

"Of course," Ezri agreed.

Gwen squirmed and whined through her gag as the wands slowly approached her helpless feet.

"Be honest," Olena asked her dining companion.  "You don't think I'm going too far with his program, do you?"

"Waaaaay over the top," Ezri chuckled, sampling another of the crustaceans.

"Yes," Olena agreed, "you're undoubtedly correct."  She selected one of the pesto-spread toast squares and settled in to watch the rest of this, the first session of Gwen's ordeal.
 Chapter 2

Chapter 1
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Chapter 3