3

The Goddess began by putting on a fashion show for Barclay, sensuously undressing him while morphing from one outfit to the next until Reg's soaring vitals convinced the computer it had found the most arousing Troi hologram possible.
He swallowed when she stepped to one side, gracefully indicating what lay behind. The implements neatly arranged by an ornate altar were very familiar. Barclay's ardor cooled further as she indicated the position she wanted him to take. He had never seen a Klingon altar before and they clearly weren't designed for any kind of religious worship. Equipped as they were with ingenious pain devices and restraints, the adult Klingons used them solely to ensure they became strong warriors worthy of Stovikor.
He gulped again looked back to her. 'Troi' was smiling quietly at him. "My Lord is already sorry," she said softly. "But you know you deserve it."
After she had ensured Barclay was securely restrained, the Goddess leisurely soaped up one hand and ran it sensuously up his leg to his groin. She paused –-
- Eyes slitted, Deanna unconsciously caressed the `oy'naQ's pain settings.
Then hologram squeezed and Barclay yelped. In moments he was adding new deep bite marks to the soap. One hand maintained the discomfort while her other lifted a paddle. Barclay mumbled around the soap bar and squirmed frantically.
Troi checked the fast downward swing at the last second. She set the paddle aside and wiped his nose clean. Her hand went to the soap, gave it a few turns. Having created a little more room, she shoved the bar further in. "Milord wishes to speak?" She asked.
"Errr—ah— Gd-Mmmfff-Sss!—Ugh-" The soap was an agonizing burn against his swelling tongue. Tears of desperation coursed down his face as her grip on his groin tightened. Barclay's eyes bulged. He lost sight of her face, moaned as she ignored the pleading twitch of his hand, which was all the movement the restraints afforded.
Bright red welts blossomed across his buttock. Barclay howled, spraying pieces of soap everywhere. The paddle came back down hard on the same spot. And then again. She paused to regard her handiwork. The paddle had left bloody welts in the pattern of the Klingon Imperial Trefoil. Satisfied, she continued the paddling down the inside of his leg. Barclay fought the restraints wildly. As intended, the altar's design was scraping cruelly at sensitive areas of his body.
Had Troi been real, Barclay might have been crippled. As it was, the computer program constantly scanned him and kept her aim and force accurate to several decimal points. There would be no serious injury or permanent damage.
"My God!" Barclay sobbed. "Oh, stop, God, Jeez, Owww! -–" She was methodically repeating her treatment down his other leg. Giving him no respite, she released his groin to toggle the agonizers set into the altar. Barclay writhed. His howls were choked off as he gagged on the remaining soap.
Some moments later the agonizers switched themselves off. On the verge of passing program parameters, Troi froze, a half-smile on her lovely face, her hand holding the paddle scant millimeters from connecting.
"C—C-C—Couns-sel-lor-" Soapy spittle dribbled as Barclay gasped for breath. His body heaved. A moment later the paddle connected with considerably less force. The agonizers stayed off.
"choSuvchugh 'oy'lIj Daghur neH." Deanna eyed the waiting soap bars thoughtfully. "Struggling only makes it hurt more." The computer translated helpfully.
Goddess Troi reiterated it as she perused his legs for some unmarked skin to flog. Satisfied, she gently stroked her new targets.
- Deanna bit into her cheek, hard as Reg snapped. It only took moments before the restraints to give way to the rush of adrenaline. He rolled off the altar, frantically evaded Troi's swing and crawled sobbing for Deanna. The paddle broke on the altar. Troi froze mid-stride as she went after him.
"C-Counsel- -Counsellor-Deanna…p—p-please….." He spat out a bit of soap. "Blah. P-p-please, Counsellor!" He beseeched. "No, no more -"
"How does it feel, Lieutenant?" Deanna asked. She prodded him to his knees with the `oy'naQ. "How's it feel to be abused by a holo-program?" She positioned herself so her face filled all his vision. "Reg, are you paying attention? How does it feel?" She shifted coquettishly. "So, how many different times have you spanked or whipped 'me'? I suppose it was hard? Oh yes, I'm sure 'we' were hurting!" A long pause. "I wonder, now, how many times you've taken and raped me."
Deanna caressed her `oy'naQ lovingly. A satisfying holler answered her. He went down hard, rolled gasping on his back. " 'oy' DaSIQjaj !"
Barclay knew that one: "May you enjoy the pain."
Another bolt of blue molten agony ran down his tormented nerves. It lasted longer; and he couldn't stop the screaming. Her lovely face swam in and out of focus, showing no mercy, no pity. An eternity later the fire ebbed and flowed away. Barclay gasped for breath and clutched at his groin protectively. A rejuvenating warmth brought on by her med kit enveloped him. It didn't las; Deanna had scanned and found his readings satisfactorily stable for more.
"Now you get yourself back over there!" Nulled, she used the `oy'naQ to prod him back towards the altar. "Go on. Move. I said, move!"
New, stronger restraints materialized on the altar. His holo-nemesis came back to life, selected a new flogger and waited expectantly. Reg moaned and collapsed into a huddle. The counsellor and the hologram glanced at each other simultaneously. Each wore identical expressions of sorely tried patience. Barclay couldn't have said which Troi looked scarier. His hand slid to a nearby paddle; gripped it hard.
Now or never, he thought, surging to his feet, and cracking the counsellor full force across the face. She hit the deck hard, rolled and lay stunned. He evaded the hologram, bolted for the exit, and found it had vanished. Barclay scanned the vast room desperately. No sign of door, Arch or communicator.
Deanna barely winced as she touched her face. Her hand came away bloody. She started the long climb to her feet. Her groggy eyes glared murder.
"C-computer! Override-" 'Like that would work,' Barclay thought. He swung around. She'd begun moving in on him, albeit a bit wobbly. "Troi. Troi. Jesus Christ, p- pl-please, no. Stop this thing!"
Humming to herself, the holo-Troi began closing in from the other side. Reg panicked. His bladder let go again. "Troi!" It was almost a scream.
The counselor gave a low, wicked laugh. '"Troi", is it now? Hmmm. Interesting ...…' "You really walloped me one…... Deanna mused aloud. "I've fallen off my pedestal, haven't I." Her voice went gentle, for a Klingon. "I think, I think that maybe my man-boy is finally learning." She set the `oy'naQ on the floor between them, stepped far back and folded her arms. Her eyes dared him to try for it. Barclay considered it; didn't move.
The engineer watched his nemesis nod and slowly levitate right before his eyes. She danced and pulsated in the air before him, smiling as she beckoned him to follow her down through the opening of an ever-deepening blue whirlpool. He grabbed onto her mischievous smile and followed.
'Shock,' Deanna thought. She caught him just as he went down, cradled his fall. The program frozen, she was again the lovely compassionate Betazoid counsellor he remembered. He shuddered as she helped soothe his shaking by restoring his clothes, administering a stimulant and raising the room's temperature. Schooling herself for patience, Deanna drew up a stool and sat before him, and waited.
'Do it right,' she thought. 'Mess this up and we'll have gained nothing. We'll both have to face the captain-' She stiffened, suddenly, her Betazoid abilities telling her what was happening before her tricorder beeped. She had denied him some necessary medicines; Reg's vital signs were bouncing everywhere, and she was suddenly furious with her new spiteful self. 'qoH!--This is not professional!' Deanna followed the medkit's directions, waited, and then scanned him again with both mind and machine. He was stabilizing. She let her breath hiss out in relief.

Reg wouldn't look at her. As his breathing finally slowed, his attention became focused on the fountain. The DenIbya' Qatlh leered back blankly. The counsellor went over to it and posed provocatively. He didn't react. Deanna gave him a little longer and then made a production out of appreciating the soaps before dropping both bars into the steaming water. His breath quickened.
She continued, satisfied she had his attention again. "Lieutenant Barclay. This is Counsellor Troi speaking to you. I am going to ask you some things now. I want you to think before you answer." She paused, eyed him narrowly. "I can't hear you."
"Then use your goddamn Betazoid abilities, Counsellor!" Barclay shot back rudely.
"I pick up on your pain, Reg. Don't make the assumption I actually like it." She ignored his filthy epithet. "I pick up on your humiliation and anger." 'Do it right,' she thought desperately as Reg spat out another anatomically impossible suggestion. The lovely Betazoid flinched in shock and filed that one away for later. "You have abused and humiliated me." She kept her rich melodious voice soft and even. It took effort. "Do you not understand the depths of my pain and anger, Reginald? Can't you feel it?"
She still wasn't getting through, considered her few remaining options and took in a deep breath. "I've done something else to you as well, Lieutenant. I've gone and had a look-see at your holo-programs. All of them. They were... well ..…..they were interesting. In the clinical sense, that is."
Barclay stiffened and reddened. "Y-you watched -"
"That's right." She nodded. "You have no more secrets."
"Y-you h-had no right-" He finally looked at her. The way the counsellor was watching gave him new chills. Then she waggled a shapely finger over each ear. He abruptly forgot the pain he was in. "Ohmygod; Jalan -"
"And you thought I was bad?!" Deanna dropped her voice. "Do you have any idea what her Andorian honour demands? No? Then I will tell you. Somewhere around now, you'd be begging hopelessly for death." She raised a hand. "Don't interrupt me! Jalan would bathe in your pain and kill you slowly." 'Under-statement!' "After, she'd see to your body feeding her pets, bit by little bit. It's another Andorian honour ritual to ensure that there'd be nothing remaining for your family to bury." Deanna paused to let that sink in and then continued remorselessly. "And being the very severe interspecies cultural violation that it is, Starfleet would have to exonerate her."
She paused to get control of herself. He was very pale, and she could still lose him if she weren't very careful. "Three programs, isn't it?" She asked. At his nod she looked at him hard to be sure. "Three it is, then. They're now deleted."
It was time for humour. The counsellor softened her stance and moved in a careless, non-threatening manner. "I was particularly fascinated with what you did with 'Ro Laren'. She'd probably take you up on it if you asked her to." She 'accidentally' ended up close by, touched his arm and smiled. "Shall we watch it together?"
Reg began to come to grips with what Deanna had had the holo-Troi do to him. What she had done to him. He was realizing his compulsion wasn't harmless. At last. 'He didn't pull away when I touched him. Thank the Powers,' Deanna thought fervently. 'He still has some ways to go, but it can be treated in a conventional fashion.' Her thoughts went cold. 'That is, after….…' "It's time, Lieutenant."
The counsellor had locked all of considerable personality on him. Barclay found he could savour it without his previous infatuation with her. He took a deep breath. "Computer. Delete all of my holo-programs. Authorization –-" He looked at Deanna.
"Authorization Omega-Delta-Two-Eleven-Wow." She supplied. Her look was bland.
Reg winced, closed his eyes and could still feel the heat of her gaze. The moment was so intimate he went a step further. "And-and d-deny future holo-programs that haven't been authorized by Counsellor Troi."
"Programs deleted."
"MajQa' !" The lovely Betazoid hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. "You've done well, Reg!"
Reg breathed out and reopened his eyes. It was done. He was finally on the road to his recovery. Then he stiffened. The counsellor's program was still running; and the DenIbya' Qatlh seemed to - no, it was smiling at him.
"W-what the fuck-!"

"We've some unfinished business, mister!" 'And I should be making him fetch me the soap.' Deanna got her face right into Barclay's personal space as she chivied him along. He balked; she slapped his blistered ass and Barclay went airborne.
"Did you think you could talk like that to me and get away with it? I don't think so, Reg!" She propelled the protesting engineer around to face the sudsy basin. "You know the drill from this morning. Pants down, shirt off, now." She eyed him with real satisfaction. "Now all that's needed is for you to learn your manners from a true lady."
"C-counsellor!" Disbelieving, Barclay twisted around to face her. "I-I know y-you mean business. I know you c-can do it. Don't please. I'll a-apologize….." His eyes opened wide. "Oh, come on-" Her and that goddamned transporter trick. This time he didn't move. Reg let the sudsy torrent filling his mouth spew right into Deanna's face.
The counsellor wasn't quick enough. She made a face as more than some went in her mouth. Part of her was grimly satisfied that Barclay was resisting. "Ooohhhhh!" Deanna didn't bother wiping her face. Wanting something physical, she tossed the `oy'naQ aside and feinted for her favorite spot: his groin. His hands went down; hers went up. Barclay's aim was deflected by the simple expedient of her painful grip on his ear. In a second she had him helplessly hunched on his knees and gagging into the basin.
Reg blinked through his blinding tears. A bar of soap swam into view. Deanna scooped sudsy water into his face. She followed up with the bar itself, scrubbing hard. The counsellor got a firmer grip on the back of his neck and pushed his face right into the basin. The water erupted into a sudsy geyser. It diminished suddenly as the enema bag emptied itself. Barclay surfaced, gripping the sides of the basin with both hands as he wheezed and spluttered.
Deanna grabbed up a nearby paddle and then reconsidered. The holo-Troi had done too good a job. Any more could cause serious injury. She decided on popping the soap back in his mouth instead. The soft bar quickly filled his mouth with suds. "jQuE! SoH matlh loDHom! You're going to be so clean when we've done -"
"Warning: Scans show subcutaneous swelling developing to eyes, trachea and epiglottis. Probability of a significant stay in Sickbay is at 38.6%...44.7%..."
"petaQ ! Qu'vatlh yIntagh toDSaH…. toy'wI''a' !" She grabbed the hypo spray.
"Worthless, fecal matter, random acts of copulation-" The computer paused. "-How extremely unfortunate." it finally said.
"How extremely prudish and Victorian --" Deanna snorted, and incredibly, Barclay snorted too. She instantly forgave him of most of his bad deeds.
"Ah, yes. Look at those suds you're drooling! And all that soap caked on your teeth! Very good!" She gave a small laugh and spun him around to caress his throbbing backside. Barclay stiffened as she studied him critically. "What a fine set of welts you're sporting! You'll remember this for a long time, won't you?" She laughed again and spun him back. Her tone became playful. "Well now man-boy, speak to me. Remind me what those words you were using earlier were."
Reg was recovering; he tried to use his hands. She knocked them down and just barely kept herself from slapping him. "Are you asking for more? Leave your filthy paws where they are! What did you call me? Say it!"
"Argghh—Ugh—blethhh-Guh-OW!" He'd bit into his swelling cheek.
"You called me a fucking Betazoid bitch," The Betazoid recited matter-of-factly. "Then you went and called me a servitor's half-child. Oh, and as to your last suggestion..…the Troi family do not engage in anal intercourse with decomposing Romulan thrai!" She fought down her real, unfeigned anger and came up for air again. "Say to me: 'I am a very sorry little man-boy. I understand now why I've been punished, and I apologize. It will never, ever happen to me or anyone else again."
"Oh, and Reg? Do be the most convincing ever possible."
The urge to spit vast mouthfuls of suds in her direction was overwhelming. He knew better than to try it. "Guh, Blahh-blech-OW! I-I'm—echh uh very dirthy litthle—ugh s-sorry m-man-b-boy. Blehhh, Yechh!" Oh God, his tongue burned. "I-I underthand why I was p-punished. I apolot-hize! Apogolize!" He snorted another cloud of suds. "A-polo-gize! Deanna-aa!"
"Apology accepted, Lieutenant." She put a gentle hand on Barclay's shoulder, guided him around to face the basin and placed the jetter in his hand. "Be sure to rinse well now. Report to Sickbay when you're done. Dr. Crusher will want to examine you. Need to, I mean." Deanna began to straightened her natural appearance in the mirror. "Our next appointment will be at 1000 hours tomorrow. Yes-es?"
Barclay had stopped his frantic rinsing and was staring at her in trepidation.
Her face softened. "Relax, Reg. It's a regular one. We still have a ways to go in-" she'd almost said "beating" "-curing this holo-addiction."

Honour satisfied,' Deanna thought as she headed out.

Dr. Crusher found herself musing over some of her son's recent undesirable behaviour after treating Lieutenant Barclay. A chat with a certain Betazoid ship's counsellor appeared to be in order.
She smiled slowly.

Ten-Forward was doing its customary late-movie thin out. 'At least it's not a vampire movie this time.' Guinan thought. She looked back to Deanna as their discussion of today's events continued. Riker entered, looked around, and then headed straight for their table. "May I join you ladies?"
Guinan stood up. "I'm off to bed." She smiled. "Can I get you something before I go, Commander?"
Riker shook his head. "I'm on shift shortly."
"Counsellor?" The El-Aurian studied her sidewise. "A very-very chocolaty sundae?"
Deanna smiled softly, naturally. "No, thank you, Guinan. I'm fine."
Riker straddled his chair. "Uh, Counsellor, about today."
Deanna looked at him innocently. "Today? Mmmm, did something happen to you?"
Riker became uncomfortable. "Uh, no. What I mean is…..um…I had these, err, reports from Engineering..." There was that questioning amused tilt to her head; and a mischievously raised eyebrow that signaled trouble. Deanna had begun hitching her chair around closer to his causing the first officer to become even more uneasy. "I mean, well, um, maybe a little more use of discretion - the next time -"
"Next time?" The counsellor ran her clean warm hand down Riker's face in a loving caress and then gripped his chin hard.
Deanna was smiling one of her enchantingly best as she stretched it out. "Are you, um, asking for something, Will?"

She was in the bathroom, doing her night routine when Beverly called. "Troi here," She listened, the colour draining from her face while the tooth-marked soaps looked back up at her. They were lovely, and it had seemed a waste earlier not to use them up.
'Oh no, O Powers, what have I started? ' Deanna thought of all the parents and young children who were aboard the Enterprise. "No, Beverley! Absolutely, unequivocally 100% not."
Beverly stared at the dead intercom and abandoned the idea. 'Well, that certainly was an emphatic response! Lucky, lucky Wesley….'

Time stopped having any meaning as Guinan stumbled down the endless sloping tunnel. Her skin and nerves were scraped raw; she was dressed in bruises, bloody cuts, and a mind-numbing fatigue. Her mind spoke realms to her about arriving too late, defeat, and a pain that would never end. She kept one hand pressed to the rough wall for guidance and gripped her 'etlh jej tighter for reassurance.
Then the screams began, echoing and oscillating up and down through the many octaves that were unobtainable by human voices. They died into moans amidst the wet sounds of bodies being smashed into floors, walls, and ceiling. The sound galvanized her into a run. The darkness ahead reluctantly gave way to a fetid light and the warding spell she'd been taught burst from her lips as she rounded the last turn. A face - a face swimming towards her through the cloying air. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter the mouth opened, revealing sharp double-edged fangs. It whispered sick words back that were drenched in the ochre blood of her friends -
Guinan bolted out of bed. Her hands clawed emptiness; a half-completed warding spell in an alien dead language hung in the warm air. Her naked body was covered in cold sweat. The El-Aurian swore softly, vilely. Over a hundred years, and she still wasn't over it.
'If Deanna could hear me now,' She thought, obscurely tasting soap.