Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek, I'd be pimpin' it in some nightclub with the new cast right now. I'm not, therefore... well, you get the idea.

Author's Notes: Ho Boy... Remember the last note? About how I would be changing things up and that this chapter was unbeta'd? Well that's changed. I now present to you a new shiney chapter full of edited, beta'd goodness. (Thank you L Moonshade and Lina-Baggins!!) That said all previous disclaimers still apply. This chapter is still as graphic and still dark. The whole story will be dark, get used to it. I also would like to thank all of you who put me on your watch list and gave me reviews, it made this old lady happy.

Epsilon IV

Chapter One

Jim shuddered as he sensed the creature behind him, the heat of its stare searing his bare backside. It growled something in its own language and two others appeared from the shadows to tie the already weakened captain down.

The leather cuffs were tight, digging into his wrists painfully and causing his fingers to tingle with numbness. The straps around his ankles were no better. They pulled his legs out to an obscene angle, baring everything to his captors, stripped of everything and now his dignity. . The creature reached out and stroked his firm rear then gently ran its claws from hip to knee; fondling, appraising… as though it was choosing a prime bull for slaughter.

"We are the Gorn," it hissed. "This will be your first of many encounters with our noble race." Its breath was hot against his neck, its voice dripping poison in his ear. "You should feel honored by our generosity. We do not often stoop to such carnal needs." It chuckled lightly tracing a claw down Kirk's side, "We'll make an exception for you."

Without warning, the talons came down brutally upon him, leaving weeping gouges in his flesh. A second blow fell, delivering an accompanying bruise to the other cheek. Kirk looked ahead into the darkness, refusing to give the creature satisfaction of his pain. The beating continued, leaving bruises and bleeding gouges in its wake. This was hell - a hell he couldn't escape from, couldn't wheedle out of. Kirk was trapped and that scared him more than the inevitable events to come. When the blows stopped, he released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. How long had that gone on? It felt like an eternity.

The frigid temperature of the cargo hold was beginning to take effect. Goose pimples rippled across his skin and Kirk wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the scaly hand that had resumed its repulsive trek along his body. When the creature stopped in front of him, Kirk graced him with a glare. It was smiling, twisting those hideous lips into a mocking leer as though daring Kirk just to try to escape.

Jim could see the ugly bulge in the creature's pants, a very male protuberance that spoke of the promised pain to come. He was not afraid of the pain. He could suppress that, he was a master at hiding his feelings. Spock would be proud if he truly knew, though perhaps not under the circumstances he had found his captain in.

Not that the Vulcan would show it. That almost brought a grin to Kirk's face, but he would not allow this creature to think it was of his causing. He fought to keep his features blank and emotionless. The creature was stroking his face now, running its fingers along Jim's cheekbones. He hoped it wouldn't cut his face open - it was much harder to hide those wounds, let alone explain them. It traced its fingers over Jim's lips; those beautiful lips that enchanted women and men alike. Maybe that is why these creatures singled him out from the crowd, out of all those people in the bazaar. He was sorely tempted to bite those fingers, leave his own mark.

Suddenly, the other hand came down on him.

Hard.

Kirk couldn't suppress a whimper this time. Not at the pain, or the humiliation; he could handle all of that just like the many times before. But the abrupt shock had thrown him off-guard momentarily. Those cuts the creature inflicted would be visible, he realized. Bones would have to treat him.

A simple scan and the gruff doctor would know what happened to him. Kirk could handle the look on Bones' face, but it would get out. It always did. He couldn't handle the looks the crew-his crew would give him… see the pity in their eyes…

The creature was moving again, sauntering down the other side. He could imagine… must imagine what that look would be. He wouldn't think of the outcome of this… wouldn't think of the consequences, the rescue. Or escape.

The hands were on his ass again, stroking the wounded flesh… unrepentantly toying with him. One traveled lower, gripping his flaccid length and pulling roughly. It squeezed and tugged cruelly, no other intention but to cause him more pain. It moved to his sac, crushing and pulling, those burning hands leaving tiny bleeding cuts against his softest parts. The pain was too much. Jim cried out, wishing he could pull away from that hand, wishing he could defend himself.

He could hear the creature's wheezing chuckle, and the hissing notes of its language. It was enjoying this, and it was telling the others that much.

The audience.

Rage flared up in Kirk, he fought the bonds, knowing that it was useless before he even tried. He shouted and strained, feeling an ominous tearing in his shoulder. The searing fire left him gasping as he slumped against the tiny table, becoming light-headed from the exertion.

The creature had pulled back from him and was laughing again. The others were laughing as well. The noise swallowed the room and threatened to engulf Kirk. He heard the blow this time, as it whistled down against his backside.

Then the creature was against him, forcing entry. The pain was more intense than Kirk could imagine. Every thrust jostled his now searing shoulder, caused the cuts to reopen and bleed afresh. The creature had the foresight to use some type of lubrication, he was sure he wouldn't have survived if it hadn't. The pain began to overtake him and the room lurched sideways as he started to fade in and out of consciousness.

The creature was digging its nails into his side.

Frank had done the same.

"Shut up and take it, boy!"

It was panting against his back, tearing him in half.

"Your mother can't even look at you, you stupid whore."

Frank always collapsed against him when he was done. Lying there and enjoying his afterglow.

"She'll never forgive you for what he did to her."

The pain was always worse right after he finished.

"She doesn't even love you."

Kirk chuckled lightly.

"Tell anyone and I'll kill you."

The pain was what kept him sane.

"Not like they would believe worthless shit like you."

Kirk closed his eyes and let the darkness take over.

"You asked for it anyhow."

Winona always sang to him after a nightmare... at least, she would when she wasn't off escaping earth and the little house she couldn't afford to leave. Jim knew she saw her husband in his face, knew that it killed her inside. But she was always there, on those rare and treasured occasions, to sing him back into blissful slumber when he had a particularly bad dream.

The singing was there now, soothing him even amongst the pain. Lights and images danced across his mind easing the trauma, relaxing him. But from what? Kirk strove against the gentle lull to pick at the dark emotions roiling just below.

Pain hit him like a steamroller, his shoulder flaring angrily against the position it was in. Jim opened his eyes to a dark cell and a damp floor. Something had been wrapped crudely around his waist and his buttocks felt strangely numb. The internal pain was still clawing viciously at his insides.

When he tried to pull himself up, gentle hands assisted him. Soft hands attached to a small, vaguely feline face. Concern glinted in its large eyes. He smiled at it.

"I'm Jim," he said, pointing at himself. The pain was more manageable now, as long as he didn't move his shoulder. He probably couldn't stand, but he would worry about that later.

The creature flicked two very large ears up at him. Definitely feline. Short, soft fur covered its body and long tail. A lethal looking blade tipped it, glinting in the weak lighting.

"Jim," he repeated, pointing again. The creature tilted its head and chirred at him. Kirk frowned.

"You don't know how to get out of here do you?"

The creature blinked and chirred again.

"I'll take that as a no."

He looked around the cell for anything that might come in handy to help him escape. The cell was tiny, with a small hole for what he assumed to be bathroom facilities. It definitely was not tall enough for him to stand, but he knew standing wouldn't be a good idea now anyway.

Without warning, the memories of his encounter washed over him, leaving him hunched over and wheezing. He could feel that creature moving inside of him, the heat of its breath against his neck. Kirk tried to pull his legs up to stick his head between them, but the movement sent pain screaming up his spine. The cell was dimming, he couldn't breathe properly.

Soft hands touched him, soothing, pressing gently against his sweat-soaked brow.

"Shh, sweetie. I'm here now, no need to be afraid."

He so desperately wanted to fall into the darkness threatening his brain.

"Nothing can hurt you while I'm around."

Singing filled his mind, a gentle lullaby that took him away from his pain. Winona's face was floating in his vision, his mother's face.

He was six again. It was the first time Frank had beat him. He had missed a spot while cleaning up after dinner and Frank wasn't happy.

"If you can't even manage this simple task how will you ever get a job? You're worthless!" The reek of alcohol drifted down to him, filling his nostrils. Frank had backhanded him then, kicked him across the kitchen.

Jim knew Frank would have gone farther, had the transport lights not lit the front of the house up then. Had mother not come home. He was sent to bed before Frank went out to help her unload the car. That was unusual, it was always Jim's job to do it. He wiped his face angrily of the unbidden tears and trudged up to his room.

"Where's Jimmy?" he could hear her ask.

"Oh, you know those kids - they wear themselves out playing around all day. We had an early dinner and he went off to bed a while ago." Frank never spoke to him in that tone, at least not when they were alone.

She had come in later that night. He had pretended he had a nightmare to disguise the tears on his face.

"Shh, sweetie. It's okay." The smile never met her eyes when she looked at him. He knew she only did this out of guilt, fearing George would think her a bad mother. "It's just a nightmare, soon the sun will come up and everything will be better." She would sing to him then, lulling him back into slumber.

It's just a nightmare.

Jim woke again to the gentle touches of the cat creature next to him.

The sun isn't going to rise. Not here.

The music hadn't stopped though. He looked over to realize that the creature was singing to him.

His mother's lullaby.

Had he hummed it while he was unconscious? If he had, how had the being memorized it so quickly? It stared at him in the darkness, humming the soothing tone and adding its own melodies to the mix. Its hands were cool against his hot flesh, rubbing in small circles against his back.

"Jim," he tried for the third time.

"Harooc," it responded, lapsing into silence. He could hear the sound of engines now, rumbling away somewhere beneath him. Great. They were on a ship headed who knows where. His crew would never find him, which left Jim with no other option but to figure out how to escape.

"I don't suppose you know where we're going, Harooc." The creature looked at him blankly, then twitched an ear to the side. He decided his cellmate was female. "I'll take that as another no."

He reclined against the bars and closed his eyes. They felt gritty from his lack of sleep. Sitting here the way he was provided him no pain, except for the throbbing of his shoulder. He could handle that. He had gotten worse in bar fights.

"Captain, I do not see the logic in this disorganized market we have ventured into."

"It's a bazaar, Spock - there isn't any logic to it. This place is all about sticking your shiniest and most eye catching thing out to pull customers into your booth. You can't tell me you didn't have stores on Vulcan," Kirk laughed, winding his way through the crowd with Spock at his side.

"Indeed, we had buildings to find the necessary commodities for living, but it was much more… organized. I do not see how one could find anything useful amongst this," he paused, taking in a booth full of cheap trinkets.

Kirk merely laughed, enjoying the atmosphere and the sellers crying out their wares. They were on twelve hour shore leave, and Kirk had decided to beam down to the planet and investigate the bazaar he had heard many people speak of. Spock had deemed it 'logical' to accompany him and prevent him from 'engaging in any regrettable trysts planet -side.'

He had paused to admire a few ceremonial blades when they came upon him. Spock had wandered a few booths down, pretending to be uninterested in the many aromatherapy scents the eager Betazoid was showing him. A shadow over his shoulder alerted Jim to a presence behind him.

"Follow us sweetheart, or we'll gut you right here," the first cowled figure hissed, digging a very sharp blade into his side.

Kirk dazzled the female vendor with a grin and turned around, surreptitiously sizing up his would -be captors. He chanced a quick glance down the aisle, only to see Spock thoroughly engrossed is a stall selling manuscripts. They were too big for him to take down alone… and that blade looked lethal. The captain drew himself up in mock-dignity.

"Very well, men. Shall we depart?"

He hadn't thought to turn his emergency beacon on as they led him into an alleyway out of view of the cameras. It was too late for that now.

"Okay, what is it that you want? I hate to tell you but I'm quite bro-" A sharp blow from behind ended his query, leaving him unconscious on the ground.

He woke up on that table.

His head snapped up from where he had relaxed against the cage. Harooc chirred soothingly at him, and tilted the corners of her mouth up in an imitation of his smile. He wondered where they caught her, a quick scan showed her unscathed, with nothing but a tattered loincloth tied carefully around her body. Well, she looked unhurt but he couldn't tell how much her hair concealed.

He braced himself and prepared to take stock of his own injuries, he looked down to find cloth wrapped carefully around his waist, cloth that matched Harooc's own. It resembled a tunic, with a dyed pattern almost completely faded out. Flowers. He smiled, Mother used to wear flower print dresses when she was out in the garden.

The sun won't rise here.

He frowned, dismissing those thoughts from his mind. Just as he was about to remove the cloth to check his injuries, a door banged open somewhere down the corridor. Booted feet stomped down the hall, coming towards their cell. Unbidden anxiety bubbled up in his throat, choking him.

Harooc chattered quietly, shrinking against the back wall. Her eyes flicked to him and she tugged him back with her, shooting a sick pain up his spine. Kirk muffled a groan and peered toward the oncoming footsteps.

They paused out of sight and the hissing language of the creature-captors filled the air.

They were laughing at him. Enjoying his pain.

Bile surged in his throat as he fought the onset of the flashback.

He could feel those scaly hands running along his body, stroking him, promising the pleasure to come.

Kirk dry heaved against the wall, vainly trying to fight the rising panic. He was gasping now, but his lungs weren't working. He couldn't get enough oxygen.

The table wasn't meant for humans. It was too short and too narrow. He couldn't breathe right on it.

Soft hands were on his face this time and a deep calm settled over him, coating him like a blanket.

"It's just a nightmare, the sun will rise and soon all your worries will be nothing."

See? That wasn't too different! Now tell me what you thought, I love constructive criticism!!