Author's notes: This is a simple BDSM/erotica story focused on emotions
Word of warning: while the practices displayed here have a good basis in real-life BDSM, the story skips over some details (like the safety of the restraints and the details of negotiations that had to happen before the characters started to meet) and so should not be used as a guide. If you want to practice BDSM, do your research, do it from reasonable sources (not porn), and play safely.
Additionally, BDSM is not a substitute for therapy in case of serious issues.
That being said, you are invited to enjoy the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, concepts, or names. This is the work of a pastiche.
Takes an Ocampa
Kes was standing in the center of her quarters with her eyes closed; she was running a checklist in her head.
Simple but at the same time elegant clothing – check. Restraining devices and cuffs are operational – check. Tea is brewing in the pot – check. Plans on how she should approach her guest this time ready – check. Dinner prepared from creative use of replicated food and spices bargained from the kitchen, put in suspension – check. Implements of pain prepared – check. Fresh comfortable sheets on the bed, put there just in case – check. Contemplation corner – check. Sensory deprivation tools prepared – check.
She opened her eyes and quickly glanced at all the items she had just listed – they were all in place, just where she put them.
She then took a look at the ancient, mechanical clock on her nightstand and smiled; it was a gift from Tom, an expression of him, reminding her of his odd hobbies and interests. Most of the time, it simply reminded her of their friendship – but today, its role was more literal, more in line with what the clock was supposed to do.
There were fifteen seconds left for the time they agreed on – but she knew that her guest was never on time.
...
B'Ellana Torres was nervous – in a way that could not be easily amended.
Most of the time, when she got nervous, she simply got angry, and when she got angry, people got yelled at, threatened, or even outright injured. This was the order of things; it has been like this since she remembered.
At least until recently.
At least until she finally decided this was making her life too hard and tried to find help. And, after a few failed attempts that almost made her scrap the whole idea, found it in a place she would never expect.
B'Ellana stared her reflection in the eye, anxiety painted all over her face.
'No way. I'm not going like this', she shook her head, closed her eyes, took a breath, and held it. 'Hands. Shoulders. Jaw', she recited the words in her mind, just as she was taught, slowly relaxing each of those body parts as she named them. 'Don't be an idiot. Nobody forces you to go there', she reminded herself as she let her breath out. 'And you can walk out anytime. And you will if things go wrong enough.'
As much as she refused to admit it even to herself except in the most secret thoughts – but this has been the most important part from the beginning. Virtually all previous attempts to find her path to peace felt forced and were often based on ultimatums: do this or else. The fact that Voyager lacked a dedicated counselor – and the only medical officer was the opposite of knowledgeable on the matters of the soul, most of the time – that could have figured the right approach to her was just another problem that was hindering its progress. And so, this take on the problem was far from perfect, yes – but it at least brought her progress. Noticeable progress.
She repeated the exercise once more – breath in, relax hands, relax shoulders, relax jaw, breath in – and opened her eyes again. The anxiety was not entirely gone, but the woman in the mirror looked quite differently now – she had a certain determination in her eyes instead of borderline fear.
"Better. Much better", she confirmed with a small smirk in the corner of her mouth and reached for the jacket of the two-piece, grape-colored suit she chose for the occasion.
It was time to leave and face her tonight's fate.
...
Kes was still standing in the center of her room, her eyes closed again, her mind in a state of shallow meditation. There was nothing more to do, and trying to make things better would invariably result in making them worse – so she decided to detach herself until her guest arrived, letting her mind empty–
The door chimed – and she opened her eyes, catching a glimpse of the clock as she turned toward the door. What she saw made her smile a somewhat wry smile. "Come in", she said in her regular, soft voice – and the door opened, framing the unusually meek Lieutenant B'Ellana Torres.
No, not Lieutenant. She was wearing semi-formal clothing, yes, but that was not her uniform. Right now, it was just B'Ellana; a familiarity they agreed to in the beginning.
"Good evening", B'Ellana said in a somewhat uncertain voice.
"Good evening. Come in", Kes replied with a warm smile on her face. Once B'Ellana stepped and let the door close behind her, she continued. "You're late."
"Um... impossible?" B'Ellana paused, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Two minutes", Kes indicated the clock on the nightstand; her smile remained unchanged.
"This can't be, I–" B'Ellana started; Kes said nothing, but her eyebrow rose – and cut B'Ellana's attempt at denial short. "My apologies, mistress", she bowed her head slightly.
"Good girl", Kes replied, her smile unchanged. "I'm adding just two for that."
B'Ellana's lips tightened for a second before she replied in a suddenly softer tone that hinted at relief. "Yes, mistress. My a–"
"This was just accounted for… and forgiven", Kes interrupted, her hand raised slowly, her expression suddenly firm. "Do you wish for a cup of tea?" she asked, returning to her mellow voice.
"Let me guess, I can't refuse?" B'Ellana chuckled nervously with a small smile in the corner of her mouth.
"You shouldn't", Kes confirmed with a small smile. "But you can."
"Yeah, sure I can…" B'Ellana chuckled again. She knew that technically, Kes was right; all it took was to refuse politely and with a good reason. She also knew that "I don't feel like it" was a good enough reason, as long as it came from a genuine feeling. The problem was that she would never admit to being anxious – and Kes would know the lie the moment she told it. "Let's have it, then", she finally decided. "You make good tea."
"Thank you", Kes gestured to the comfy chair next to the low table. "Please, take a seat then."
...
About fifteen minutes and two cups of tea later
"…and Tom is a little bit crazy about that luau festival thing", B'Ellana said before she took another sip. "I have no idea why, but hey, at least he's busy with that and not with doing some stupid stuff. I'm telling you, his ideas and hobbies will one day give us more trouble than we can handle."
"You're too hard on him", Kes objected. "It's a good thing to have hobbies."
"No doubt", B'Ellana confirmed with a nod. "I'm just saying that his hobbies are more dangerous than your average holodeck stroll. Oh well", she shrugged and put the emptied cup down. "Didn't kill us yet and, yeah, sometimes he even saved us. So I guess it evens it up."
A moment of silence hung between them. "Another cup, perhaps?" Kes suggested – and immediately noticed that B'Ellana tensed in response. "All right, it's time then", she declared in response to her own question, her face suddenly serious. "Undress now", she said in a different tone, one that left no doubt that this was a command.
B'Ellana took a deep breath. This was the moment she was both waiting for and fearing, despite having experienced it a few times already. But voicing her doubts and fears was not something she was going to do, not unless commanded to. "Yes, mistress", she simply said, stood up, and walked to the middle of the room.
This was the beginning of the ritual, and her only way out now was the safeword.
Kes relaxed in her chair, a serious expression on her face. Her eyes were watching B'Ellana's movements carefully.
B'Ellana carefully unfastened the jacket; she wore this suit to her sessions before, and the sense of familiarity took some edge off. As much as she refused to admit that, she was stressed enough without worrying about her clothing betraying her and forcing her to fumble in the full sight of her mistress.
To her relief, the fastenings on the shoes and the pants gave in just as easily – and now, she was standing there just in her underwear, suddenly hesitant again.
"All of it, B'Ellana", Kes spoke up. "You know why."
'Oh, bloody Hell, of course I do know why!' flared in her mind. '"No secrets, no barriers", you said, and you stuck to it. You even offered to strip down yourself, if this "made me feel at ease"… perhaps I should've taken it? I think it's still on the table… That would be a Hell of a party, right? Her and me both n–stop', she chided herself with the last word. "Yes, mistress", she managed to say as she clicked the fastener and removed her bra, quickly followed by the removal of her panties.
And so it was done: all her clothing was laid out on a chair, and she was standing naked, with no barriers, without anything to hide behind.
"Assume the position, B'Ellana", Kes commanded, and B'Ellana twitched momentarily before following that order. She knew this was a misstep on her part; she was supposed to end up in the proper position just after undressing, without any prompting. Fortunately for her, this time Kes decided that this was not worth mentioning – nor a punishment.
The position itself was simple, and she trained it a number of times: front toward Kes, hands behind her back, her palms grasping forearms, her legs spread just enough to keep her stable. The similarities to at ease position from her Academy days did not elude her; she sometimes wondered if that was intentional on Kes' part.
"What do you wish to confess, B'Ellana?" Kes asked.
B'Ellana took a deep breath and began to speak. "I snapped at Carey when he told me the sensor realignment was going to take twice the scheduled time; I yelled at him, despite him having a perfectly fine explanation. This was the first and only major offense."
Kes acknowledged this with a nod. "Continue."
"I got angry at the Doctor and annoyed him with a comment or two before stopping myself. This was the first minor offense…" she continued as she listed the missteps.
...
"…and I lost my temper in the mess hall. Leading to yelling. That's the sixth and last minor offense", B'Ellana finished.
Kes raised her hand; B'Ellana immediately fell silent. "Is this truly a minor, B'Ellana? You have lost your temper."
"It was with Neelix, mistress", B'Ellana pointed out in a borderline aggressive tone. "Didn't we agree that on his worse days, any offense towards him is counted one degree less? And this was not one of his good days, anyone would tell you that. Even Tuvok was quite close to clocking him on that face mere minutes before I gave him a piece of my mind."
Kes gave B'Ellana a look that was mostly exasperated, with a hint of suppressed laughter – at least it seemed to be so to B'Ellana's limited sense of empathy. "All right", Kes agreed, her words spoken carefully; B'Ellana was now certain that her mistress was trying not to laugh. "I'll let it slide this time. But please try better; I know he's a little annoying at times, but this is no excuse to lose control."
'A little annoying', B'Ellana chuckled to herself, doing her best not to let this emotion surface. 'You're a poor judge of that, with your borderline angelic patience. You stayed – what – three years with him?' she recalled before pushing that thought down; it was not the right time for musings. "Yes, mistress. I'll make no promises, though."
"I expect no promises. Just fair attempts", Kes confirmed with a solemn nod. "Was this everything that you wanted to confess?" she asked the ritual question.
"It was, mistress", B'Ellana confirmed and took a deep breath before speaking again. "Please deliver your judgment and your punishment."
Kes nodded. "You recognize your mistakes, and, aside from the last one, I agree with your judgments. And I agree to let that last one be minor this time. As for the punishment… I want you standing upright today, hands up. What is your choice to implement, then? Paddle, strap, crop, cane?"
A small shiver passed through B'Ellana's body and she closed her eyes for a moment. She was, of course, no stranger to pain; even if she actively rejected most of her non-human heritage, her tempestuous nature and her past in the Maquis ensured a fair share of injuries, burns, lacerations, broken bones, and simple bruises.
And yet, this was different. This was not a brawl where she would fight back, this was not a holodeck training program where she was feeling the pleasant pain of an exercise, this was not a combat situation where she relied on her skills to avoid pain. This was a scenario where she would be intentionally rendered helpless and where she would choose how she would be hurt. 'Ironic', she mused for a moment, 'Klingons were supposed to be obsessed with pain, we invented painstiks for this very purpose! I always found this stupid, idiotic, backward… and here I am, about to endure, no, enjoy–'
She mentally grabbed that thought and slit its… well whatever a thought could have to slit; B'Ellana was not one to dwell on such details when there was a kill to be made, especially if it was on something as minor as an unwanted thought. After all, this was a ridiculous idea; she was here to find peace, not to enjoy herself.
Having reassured herself about that, she opened her eyes and found Kes still patiently waiting for the answer. "The crop, mistress. I want… I'd rather", she corrected herself, "have you use the crop", she finished and enjoyed a moment of relief before her stomach started to knot again. To decide was one thing. To endure was another.
"Your wish is accepted", Kes agreed with just a hint of a smile. "Computer, extend the holding devices one and two", she ordered. A sound of acknowledgment rang – and a moment later, a pair of manacles quietly emerged from the floor and a long metal rod with a matching set of restraints lowered itself from the ceiling. B'Ellana smiled despite all the anxiety; she remembered installing those tools herself, not long after they started their sessions, knowing that absolutely nobody else could have been trusted with that. She was still proud of them, even if her thoughts at the time were full of worries and anxiety. "I expect you to fasten the leg manacles yourself, B'Ellana."
"Ah. Yes, mistress", B'Ellana snapped out of her reverie and crouched to do just that. "My apologies."
"Don't worry", Kes smiled a small smile. "I'm sure we can work on your focus. Hands up", she commanded the moment B'Ellana was standing upright again.
B'Ellana felt the hard leather trimmed with rough fur close on her wrists just as she closed it on her ankles a moment ago. This was the only bow to the traditions of "her people" as her mother called the Klingons – replicate the restraints to appear as if they were made of targ leather. She saw it as a meaningless gesture – but still decided to go with the idea. 'Perhaps some of my ancestors would smile? On the other hand, here I am, ready and willing to be punished by a woman not much larger than half my size and with no battle prowess… perhaps it's better that they don't watch over me…'
"Computer, start raising the holding device two, slowly", the command coming from Kes broke her train of thought. "Stop at my command…" she paused as the spreading rod slowly rose, pulling B'Ellana's arms up by their wrists until they were slightly above her head and spread wide, "now. Good. Do you wish for a gag, B'Ellana?"
"Only if it pleases you, mistress", she replied after a moment of thinking. This was a reply she still had a hard time using; it was about giving up control, and this was definitely not something she was used to. She still could not use it for some things, like the choice of the implement.
"It does not", Kes replied. "For I want you to count out loud. I'm glad you don't fear your reactions anymore."
This was not entirely true; she was still afraid about expressing all the things this exercise brought out of her. B'Ellana did not know whether Kes truly thought she was beyond that fear, or just lied for her benefit. But now, it did not matter; someday, she would find the answer – but not today.
Kes picked the fiberglass riding crop from the display of tools and stood before B'Ellana. "You will receive four strikes for the single major transgression, and one strike for each of the six minor ones. You will also get one strike for being late. That is a total of eleven. Do you have any questions?"
"One, mistress? I was two minutes late", B'Ellana asked, knowing all too well that she might have just made her situation a bit worse. On the other hand, it would not be the first time that Kes tested her by making a deliberate mistake.
"Correct. It would be two if this was the strap or the paddle", Kes explained. "Do you have any further questions?"
"No, mistress", B'Ellana shook her head; she was aware that her impatience and anxiety had to be visible, and a treacherous part of her mind was telling her that the woman in front of her was enjoying the predicament just a little bit too much. The hint of a smile B'Ellana saw in the corner of her mouth was not helping things. Contrary to her previous thoughts, she was now hoping that the pain would start soon – otherwise, the anxiety would eat her up and ruin it all.
"Ready, then?" Kes asked, either unaware of B'Ellana's state of mind – or consciously deciding to ignore it.
"I am, mistress", B'Ellana replied. 'Well, I'm not, but I won't get any better', she admitted to herself. "Please, start."
"Count out loud", Kes repeated the command, and before B'Ellana could confirm, sharp pain flared on her buttock – and in her mind.
"One!" B'Ellana exclaimed. She knew the feeling, of course – but the surprise, along with the pain coming from the blow, made her voice less steady than she wished it to be. Despite that, she welcomed it with all her heart, for it brought her relief: the punishment has started, and there was no longer time to dwell on anything.
"Two!" followed shortly as a line of pain flared on her other buttock; this time it was less of a surprise, allowing her to steady her voice just in time for "three!", accompanied by louder and faster breathing. The pain was there; the heat started to slowly spread.
"Four!" followed when another, parallel strike fell on her skin; Kes was clearly avoiding striking the same place twice.
B'Ellana's muscles tensed in anticipation – but the fifth strike did not fall. Instead, she heard a voice: "You have a wonderful body, B'Ellana", Kes said as she slowly walked into B'Ellana's field of vision again, giving her an approving – no, almost appreciative – look. "I envy you for your muscles."
"That's the better part of my heritage, mistress", B'Ellana remarked. "There's no credit on my own."
"B'Ellana", Kes started in a firm voice, her eyes catching B'Ellana's gaze and making her shiver. "What did I tell you about taking compliments?"
"That… that I should learn to take them graciously, mistress", B'Ellanae replied, suddenly averting her gaze. "And if I don't, you will teach me to."
"Yes", Kes confirmed with a nod. "Since the punishment is in progress, I will not extend it. But from now on, if you reject a compliment, this will be seen as a trivial transgression. If this doesn't work for a week or two, we will make it a minor one. Is that clear?"
"Yes, mistress", B'Ellana confirmed, her breath suddenly much faster than it had been from the strikes.
"Good. Now, count", Kes ordered and a short moment later, another blow landed on B'Ellana's bottom – this time, crossing the two previous ones.
"Five!" B'Ellana exclaimed, the surprise again clear in her voice. 'She and her tricks!' was a stray thought that appeared in her head before another strike followed, making her exclaim "six!", catch her breath just in time for "seven!", and then for far too quickly coming "eight!"
The welts were burning, her skin was radiating heat that was quickly spreading from her bottom to the rest of her body, and her breathing was fast – but all that paled in the face of relief she felt. That pain was not a random consequence of her actions – it was one of deliberate means to an end, a way to absolve her of guilt.
And it worked.
B'Ellana did not know how much time has passed between the eighth strike and the moment she opened her eyes – but when she did, Kes was standing in front of her. "Ready for the final three?"
"Yes, mistress", B'Ellana confirmed and braced herself – and this time, there was no surprise; "nine!" was delivered in a steady voice. Granted, it was a little bit rough, just as the following "ten!" and "eleven!" – but she did not care.
"Thank you, mistress", B'Ellana managed to say as she watched Kes put the crop down.
"You took it well, B'Ellana", Kes said in a soft voice, with a smile on her face. "I am going to release you now. Computer, lower the holding device two", she commanded.
"No thinking time, mistress?" B'Ellana asked in a surprised voice.
"Oh, I would never deprive you of that", Kes replied with a smile as she started to unfasten the hand manacles. "We'll do it differently today", she explained, waited until B'Ellana removed her leg restraints, and took her hand, leading her to a space next to the bed. "You will kneel on this", she pointed to a pillow.
B'Ellana obeyed, her face expressing confusion – at least until soft fabric touched her face and Kes skillfully made a blindfold from a silken scarf. "Do not move it, keep your hands behind your back."
"Can you tie them too, mistress?" B'Ellana suddenly asked.
"Hm… of course" Kes replied after a moment of thinking – and for the first time since the session began, B'Ellana heard actual uncertainty in her voice – but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Computer, hemp rope, ten meters long, seven millimeters in diameter", she said instead.
B'Ellana stiffened immediately when she heard the command, followed by the familiar sound of the replicator at work. "Mistress, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – I mean–"
"Shh", she heard as a finger touched her lips. "It is something we will be using quite a bit, I think. Don't worry about it", Kes continued as the rope touched B'Ellana's skin and nimble hands started to quickly wrap it in an elaborate pattern around her palms, forearms, and chest. "Done", Kes said after a few more minutes during which B'Ellana obeyed the non-verbal command to stay quiet. "Now, since you won't be able to use safeword normally, lean back and speak if needed. The bed is right behind you… try it… yes, like that. Now, straighten up again… Computer, initiate audio program Kes Six Alpha."
Those were the last sound B'Ellana hear before silence descended upon her, with only soft sounds of the sea in the distance. 'Ooh. Nice. I wonder where she got that…' flared in her mind – but quickly went away. She knew Kes would never tell her; this was actually one of the reasons she decided to finally trust her with this whole thing: Kes was quite social and outgoing – but she would not be caught dead gossiping. And so, instead of dwelling on this, B'Ellana relaxed – and let her thoughts wander off.
This has been a part of the ritual – she used that word, no matter how different it was from the Klingon rituals she either hated or at least did not care much for – almost since the beginning. Initially, this felt far too much like "go stand in the corner, think about your behavior" her mother sometimes forced upon her – but Kes quickly removed this association by simply stating that B'Ellana was free to do it her own way: to sit, to lie down, to leave, or – as they did it most often – to stay in the previous constraints, only usually adjusted for comfort. Or, as it was today, to kneel in the corner.
The blindfold was a standard accessory: it served well to reduce distractions. The restraints usually remained on her after the punishment and provided her comfort of being kept in place; this is why she asked for them now without much thought – and, she now felt stupid that she made Kes use her replicator ration, no matter what reassurances she made. Just as she often felt stupid about many things in her life, many of them caused by acting or speaking before thinking.
And this was exactly the moment to think about them – starting with the transgressions that caused her to receive the welts that were still burning like fire on her skin. And starting with the realization that once more, that pain made her feel absolved of the guilt – but she would also be much happier if there were fewer reasons for her to get them.
She let the memories replay in her mind – and focused on finding ways to act better.
...
"Can you hear me, B'Ellana?" sounded muffled, as if delivered from a great distance. Sounds were returning slowly; she quickly realized that this was likely another function of the program Kes ran – and her sense of smell suddenly told her that something was cooking.
"Yes, mistress… let me guess, the program makes use of the localized environmental controls to hide the smells as well?" she voiced her realization after a moment of thinking about how she would solve that particular problem.
"Well, it was supposed to provide a proper deprivation, right?" Kes confirmed with a smile clear in her voice. "Do you need more time?"
"No, mistress, I think I had more than enough", B'Ellana shook her head – and felt the hands manipulating the ropes. "I do hope for fewer reminders next time, though."
"Well, compared to the previous sessions, there is progress", Kes replied in the same tone as she carefully removed the last rope – and B'Ellana felt her hands on the side of her head. "You might want to close your eyes, I dimmed the lights, but still."
"I'll be fine, mistress", B'Ellana smiled – and soon enough, her vision returned.
"Come, then", Kes smiled. "Do you want to dress before we eat?"
B'Ellana pondered the answer for a moment – and shook her head. "If you don't mind me like that, mistress."
"I told you before: I envy you for your body", Kes replied with an appreciative look and a warm smile, a smile B'Ellana could only match when she saw that the chair intended for her had a pillow on it. "It's a delight to watch it. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"You're not, mistress", B'Ellana smiled – and, to her unchanging confusion, she truly meant it. 'And I still don't get how this could happen. Perhaps it is better not to think about it too much…' she decided as she sat down – and began to admire the results of culinary experiments placed in front of her.
...
About two hours later
Kes was sitting in the low chair, her hands on the armchairs, her eyes closed, her breathing steady, her mind in a clear state of deep meditation.
She was slowly returning to reality now: she slowly opened her eyes and let the events of today flow through her, and a moment later, a single concept emerged. "Time", she whispered what came to her mind. "She just needs more time."
Kes smiled to herself; this was not the worst possible conclusion. She, of course, knew she did not have asmuch time as B'Ellana did, Ocampa's life expectancy being what it was – but judging by the progress they were making, B'Ellana would be fine long before Kes would be gone.
She was giving her opportunities to come closer, to open up more.
So far, B'Ellana took some and refused some.
Today, she refused. Perhaps next time, she will accept.
Kes stood up and stretched before starting her pre-sleep routine. A smile did not leave her face; as much as B'Ellana required attention and care, she was making progress – and she was growing.
And this made Kes happy.
...
Meanwhile, a few decks away
B'Ellana Torres was laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The whole ritual, the whole session, all that had been a success. She understood quite well why the sessions with Kes worked: she had a surprising amount of freedom to say 'no', which made her much more prone to say 'yes'. Kes was a very patient guide that did not follow procedures and regulations except as a broad framework. Just like B'Ellana understood machines and used the instruction manual as a guideline, so Kes understood the mind.
And her methods, unorthodox as they were, worked.
The events of the evening started to play in her mind.
The dinner that followed the session was quite pleasant, the food being an interesting take on human-style cooking. She kept the remark about Kes being a better cook than Neelix could ever be to herself, though. Neelix might have been the butt of many jokes among the crew – but mentioning them in front of someone who was still fond of him would surely count as a transgression. And committing one before she even left the quarters after the punishment for previous ones would be setting a new record.
But then, after a few praises of food and some more light-hearted talk, Kes made a proposition – and B'Ellana said 'no'.
And right now, she was starting to regret it.
The question was deceptively simple: "do you wish to spend the night here, with me?" – but it triggered something in B'Ellana, something was not sure what to think of.
She knew the proposition was purely platonic, for at least two major reasons; one was the strangest biology of the Ocampa, and the other was their current connection – not a very good start to an erotic relationship or a romance.
She also knew Kes would never do anything she lacked clear consent for. She trusted Kes.
She just did not trust herself, though. And that had to do with a few things that she still had a lot of issues with.
This was about care and being close.
As much as she refused to admit it, B'Ellana still had serious issues with being close to someone and with letting someone take care of her. She admitted, begrudgingly, that Kes was allowed to and was doing quite good work with the care part.
She could only secretly hope that one day she would be able to accept being close.