The Secret Logs of Mistress Janeway
Lieutenant Tom Paris
Captain’s Personal Log:
It was inevitable that Mr. Paris and Mistress Janeway would collide in spectacular fashion. He was in many ways the perfect challenge for her: young, attractive, virile, insatiable, and completely out of control. My choice of Mr. Kim as my first subject hastened that inevitable clash. Mr. Kim and Mr. Paris were close, after all. He couldn’t help but notice the change in his friend under my tutelage.
In the weeks since the Ensign’s submission to my training, he had changed. It was not only I who noticed. The rest of my command team noted that he was more centered and confident. There were times when I had to reign in my passion for his remarkable body so he wouldn’t look as though he was erotically sated immediately before his watch began. He had such an honest face it hid nothing. And, of course, our behavior was never anything more than professional in public.
However, even my precautions couldn’t prevent someone who knew Harry very well from noticing the change. Paris noticed. I realized that his attention to Mr. Kim was especially pointed the day after our sessions. I suppose it was natural for that darling boy to occasionally think of the previous night during lulls in his shift. I would catch the flashes of color to his skin on those occasions. That was distracting. It reminded me how much I would love to flush his skin with an expert paddling. But I digress.
At those moments, I would notice Mr. Paris scrutinizing him as well. I wondered if he had begun to question Mr. Kim. I wondered how long the sweet man could hold up under the pressure.
My answer came on the third month anniversary of our first session. As per our custom, I awaited him in my bedroom. I wore the Outfit, but I left my breasts and bottom bare. I loved rubbing myself against him. I loved the way he sucked my nipples. He entered and with eyes cast down, stripped naked then dropped to his knees and crossed his wrists at the small of his back. This time, however, he was not erect. I found this puzzling because an emergency had kept us from our sessions for two weeks.
I asked him what was wrong. Nothing, he replied. He tried to claim fatigue. Nonsense. I had him after pulling twelve hour shifts and he drove me to near unconsciousness. I rose and went to him. I lifted his chin with my index finger and repeated the question. His dark eyes fell into mine. He licked his lips. It’s Paris, he admitted. He’d been hounding Mr. Kim unmercifully. He had figured out the nights we met and checked his whereabouts on the computer. Paris knew Harry was with me. He had begun to ask questions.
I found myself smiling slightly. I bent down and kissed Mr. Kim until he was returning my passion. God, how I adored his deep, hungry kisses. When I lifted my head, I told him not to worry. I would handle Mr. Paris. He pulled back and lowered his eyes. He asked if he should speak freely. I consented. He asked me if I intended to bring Mr. Paris into training. I told him yes. Of all the men in all the galaxies, no one needed training more than Mr. Paris. Harry’s shoulders sagged.
I demanded that he tell me what was tormenting him. After a moment’s hesitation, he told me that he feared Mr. Paris would take his place with me. Tom was so much more experienced. He had a way with women.
I tilted his head up again and cupped his face. "Mr. Kim, I said, you are my first and always will be. Your place is yours and none can take it." I began to kiss him again. This time I sank to my knees in front of him and pressed myself against his chest. He moaned in my mouth, but I forbade him to use his hands. I kissed his chest, his belly, up his back and through his hair. I rubbed my tits up his spine and heard him gasp.
"Please, Mistress, let me..."
I ordered him on the bed spread eagle. I shackled him -- I had them installed after he submitted to my training. Let me show you what you mean to me, Ensign. I attacked his mouth until he moaned and writhed beneath me, then I traveled lower. I felt his body still as my head reached his penis. I licked him thoroughly enjoying the salty taste of his flesh. Then, I took him in my mouth as far back as I could and began to suck him. He watched me his dark eyes in an erotic trance. He fought for as long as he could, but after a while his eyes rolled back and his neck arched as he came in my mouth full force. I swallowed and smiled at him.
I left him there while I went to the replicator for some champagne -- the best taste after a man’s cum. When I returned, he was almost breathing normally. I petted his chest then sucked at his nipples.
"Mistress," he said, "I’ll never question you."
I told him I would never hurt him. I released his shackles and told him to show me what I meant to him.
Mr. Kim caught me up in his arms and kissed me until I nearly swooned. I felt my back against the mattress and my legs drape across his shoulders. He worked my clit with an enthusiastic tongue then gently sucked at it with such skill that I was seeing stars. Then I felt his fingers gently squeeze my nipples and everything shattered. I felt his mouth covering my screams as he filled me then pumped me until I was coming and screaming all over again.
The next day Mr. Paris’ scrutiny intensified. I let the morning pass normally then took to my Ready Room for the afternoon. Before his lunch break, I summoned him. He seemed curious as he sat before me. I gazed at him levelly. I felt no need to sugar coat with an unnecessary preamble. I told him that I was aware of his harassment of Mr. Kim and I would not allow it to continue. He looked very uncomfortable. Mr. Paris, I said, any questions you have about my rapport with the Ensign must be addressed to me.
Mr. Paris sensed an opening and heedless of the danger, took it. He talked of the change in his friend and his visits to my quarters. I listened placidly. I agreed there had been a change. I was flattered at being thought the reason. Mr. Kim, I explained, had risen to his own potential. Then I admitted to giving him some instruction that may have bolstered his confidence somewhat. Mr. Paris was curious as to what kind of instruction.
I replied with admitted wickedness that it was the kind of instruction only a woman of experience could impart to a young man. Paris pressed me.
"Why him? Harry’s a great guy, but he’s nearly a monk where relations between men and women are concerned." I replied that Mr. Kim had qualities that he was unable to see and that he responded very well under my hand. Paris nearly squirmed in his chair.
"What is it exactly that you and Harry do," he asked.
"That is between Mr. Kim and myself and is privileged," I said. "However, I could arrange to provide you with some guidance that may enhance your service on this ship."
I gave him my most potent gaze and told him that he was invited to come and find out for himself, though I doubted if he was up to the rigors of my discipline. Of course, having thrown a gauntlet, Mr. Paris could do nothing else but accept it. I told him to report at 2000. Mr. Kim looked a little concerned when I took command, but I assured him with my eyes while Mr. Paris wrestled with a hard on.
That night, I waited with special anticipation. I enjoyed my sessions with Mr. Kim immensely, but I looked forward to finally using the Equipment and the new restraint features in my bedroom. I installed them myself as I had designed for my dungeon on Earth. I sipped the coldest of crisp chardonnays and waited. The Outfit was covered by my diaphanous tunic.
Mr. Paris was prompt. He came in and stared at me. I realized that he had never seen me with my hair loose and free. He smiled spontaneously. I appreciated the compliment and offered him a goblet of wine. He asked me why I was wearing gloves, but I declined to answer. I sipped my glass and picked up the short riding crop -- a gift of a very grateful Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He drank deeply and quickly. Such a cretin. He had no sense of the savoring the moment. Ah, well. I was already wet.
"Finish your wine, then come into my bedroom, Mr. Paris."
He finished the glass in one gulp and responded with, "Yes, ma’am!"
I tapped him on the abdomen with the riding crop and told him that in these quarters at these times, he was to address me as Mistress. Then, I walked into my bedroom and removed my tunic. I heard him gasp as I turned around. He immediately came for me. I kept him at bay with the riding crop.
"You are here to learn, Mr. Paris, not to teach. I am not the Delany Sisters." He stopped.
"Yes, Mr. Paris, I am well aware of your exploits. I’m sure that all the Kazon are, for that matter. What is important here is only how you can please Mistress Janeway. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ma -- er, Mistress."
I frowned. It was the proper statement, but he still had a silly smirk on his face. This would never do. He was still looking for an opening to get his hands on me.
"Come here, Mr. Paris." He moved over the few feet separating us. I reached over to the wall and pressed a button with my right hand while my left hand slid up his chest. I stroked his jawline with my left hand and asked him to raise his hands above his head for a moment. In an instant, the shackles had slid into place. He was supremely startled as they stretched his arms almost straight above his head.
"What are you doing?" He asked. His voice almost cracked.
"We’re going to begin your training, Mr. Paris." Before he could think about moving his legs, I reached down and shackled them to the mounts on the floor. The next part was fun. I took a pair of electronic scissors and cut off every stitch of clothing from him. All the while he was alternating between breathing deeply and testing his restraints.
He calmed when I began to run my gloved hands all over his body. I felt every contour of his muscles. I learned how they bunched and relaxed along his spine. I learned the nuances to the texture of his skin. He was so fair. He would bruise badly if I weren’t careful. I could never go after him when I was really angry.
"Mistress," he asked, with a slight bit of derisiveness still in his tone, "Do I get to chain you up sometime?"
I almost thanked him. I was enjoying the Celtic beauty of his young body and forgot why he was there. I picked up a lightweight paddle since corporal punishment was what frequently came to mind with Mr. Paris. I spanked his Irish ass until it was bright red and very hot.
"How will you address me in this room, Mister?" It took him a few whacks before he gritted it out minus the hesitation. He took about thirty before I stopped. Paris was gulping air and looking at me warily when I came around him. He was also quite erect. Perfect.
"Eyes down, Mister. You look at me when I talk to you." He lowered his eyes, but didn’t answer. "What are you to say when I talk to you?"
"I hope your not trying to humor me, Mr. Paris. It would be an insult to me, and a disservice to you." I touched him again, gently. The time had come to show him some of the pleasures of proper service. I ran my fingers over his lips then down his neck and chest.
I dropped to my knees and slid my hands along his slender, muscular legs up his thighs then I took him in my mouth and began to suck him. Paris moaned loudly in surprise. I didn’t do it long. I didn’t want him to come. I just wanted his attention. I worked him to just before he came then backed off.
"Please... M -- Mistress..."
"No," I said. "You have not earned."
"How?" I could hear the desire in his voice.
"You must do the one thing you have the most trouble with, Mr. Paris, obey unconditionally. You must trust me. I am here for your pleasure, but I will have compliance. You must learn to give yourself completely to me."
He didn’t reply. He hung his head and tried to recover, or that was what he seemed to be doing. He was struggling with something. I ordered cool water and sipped it watching him.
I put down the glass and walked back to him. It was time to proceed. I reached out to pet his cock once more while I pondered my next course of action. The instant I touched him, he came, shooting the hot liquid all over the Outfit, my gloves and my jaw. When my eyes met his, Mr. Paris realized just how displeased Mistress Janeway was. I started to wipe the cum off, then thought better of it.
I held my hand out and told him to lick it off. He knew from my tone that I wasn’t kidding. Mr. Paris was startled by the taste. He didn’t seem to like it. However, he was fascinated by the texture of the gloves. He had a good tongue. The sensors were telling me that I would enjoy feeling it on my bare skin. He cleaned the glove.
I walked over to my Equipment and began picking up pieces. With each piece, I explained to him where it was from, what it was used for and how I obtained it. Some of them were antiques, like the cat o’nine tails. It was hundreds of years old handed down to generations of dominatrix. That was what I chose. Mr. Paris was already near panic, so I gagged him with a soft leather strip.
I wondered aloud as I let the initial blows fall against his back just how many women he pulled that interesting little trick on. I told him that it wouldn’t happen in my chambers again. I told him that he would learn that everything he felt and did would be controlled by me. It could be pleasure or it could be pain. I whipped him for twenty lashes. He was very welted and no doubt in considerable discomfort.
I stopped before I got truly carried away. I removed the gag and ordered him to thank me for my instruction. He caught his breath and complied. He wouldn’t look at me. I knew he couldn’t. I told him that he still had to clean his cum off my face. I brought my jaw to his mouth. He licked the stain slowly until my skin was clean, then pulled back. I covered his mouth with mine and kissed him slowly. Mr. Paris began to respond drawing me into him. The kiss intensified. He seemed determined to hold me close that way. I moaned and reluctantly pulled away.
I released the shackles and he dropped to my feet. I instructed him in the way he was to enter my chambers and await my pleasure. He assumed the position. I got a medi-kit and healed his welts just enough that they wouldn’t get infected, but not completely. I wanted him to feel them while he wore his uniform. The relief must have been tremendous because he sighed deeply then thanked me.
It was time to let him go. I told him there were suitable clothes in the other room. He was to dress and leave. He needed rest and time to think. Mr. Paris asked if he could speak. I consented. He wanted to know when he could return. I told him that I would know when the time was right. He would be summoned.
Providence in the form of Torres kept me from the Bridge most of the next day. I didn’t see either of my pupils until late in the afternoon. Mr. Kim acknowledged my arrival with a nod. Mr. Paris was occupied with Chakotay. Our eyes finally met when it was time for him to go off duty. He searched my eyes for some signal, but finding nothing, bid me a good evening.
It was difficult not to summon Mr. Paris that night. I wanted to continue with him. He was bending his will to me in increments, yet I knew he was waiting for the moment to screw me into submission to him. I had to wait until he was so eager to have me that he was willing to accept my terms completely.
I waited a week for his welts to heal and for him to forget the pain and remember the pleasures. I know he was carrying on with his usual bedmates during that time, but he was growing increasingly restless in my presence. Like Mr. Kim, he too found any inane reason to talk with me privately. He looked at me pointedly at any opportunity. By the time I issued him the summons, he was having trouble sitting still for the entire length of his watch.
His entrance set the tone for the encounter. He did strip naked and get on his knees. His hands were in the right place. His eyes were even averted. But when I allowed him to speak, he demanded to know why I had never lashed Mr. Kim.
For his tone, I informed him there would be five lashes. For his continued harassment of Mr. Kim another ten. Then, I told him that Mr. Kim was finely disciplined already. Corporal punishment would do more damage than good with him.
"You, Mr. Paris, are not in control of yourself. Until you are, you cannot give control to me. The lashes are for you to learn restraint around your Mistress. Now, lay on the bed on your stomach."
I shackled him to the bed. He asked to speak and pleaded for me not to gag him. I consented. The lashing was an attention getter, but not near as brutal as the first one. I wasn’t nearly as angry. Paris fought to keep his moans to an acceptable volume. When I finished he tried to breath evenly and slowly. Good boy, I said. Then I put on my custom made harness.
"Have you ever been ridden by a woman, Tom?"
He nodded yes his eyes entranced on me. I had removed my bra and panties. He was drinking up my body. He admitted he didn’t like it.
"You’ll like everything I do to you, Mr. Paris." I lubricated the dildo then straddled him.
"Relax," I said gently. "Open yourself to me, sweet boy." It took a while, but slowly and carefully I worked the cock into him.
He was so still watching me. "See how it feels to be female, Mr. Paris. The pleasure or pain of entry in control of someone else?" I began to rock inside him. I was rhythmic and slow letting the erotic friction build. He was moved watching me take him my breasts bobbing with my movements; my hair in disarray. He began to let himself go. His breathing began to get shorter. He began to moan. I increase the speed just enough to bring him over. He closed his eyes and came.
After Mr. Paris rested a moment, I removed his shackles and offered him wine. He thanked me properly and sipped it. He was quiet. He seemed to be thinking. I asked him what was on his mind. An apology I owe to someone, was the reply. Of that I had no doubt. You are already learning. For a few moments we were silent. The Mistress was assessing his progress and how best to proceed. Paris was stealing glances at me while he drank. I allowed this little transgression because he was so charming about it.
"Permission to speak, Mistress."
"Speak," I said. "And look at me."
"I want to taste you, Mistress." His eyes held mine. I remembered his tongue. Then I remembered that that was what he wanted.
"Someday, you will," I said. "I’ll allow you to taste every inch of me. Someday."
He looked perplexed and I laughed. "It’s all too easy for you, Mr. Paris. You figure out just the right maneuver and move in for what you want on your terms. This is going to be different, my pet.
"You must surrender yourself to me. You must trust that I can take you out of yourself to levels of pleasure that you have not imagined." Mr. Paris swallowed hard. He was getting hard.
"Why is it so difficult for you? You trust me not to flay you alive, though I’m not sure how wise that is. Yet you will not trust me to control your pleasure. Does that make you too vulnerable?" He lowered his head and said he didn’t know.
"That is something for you to think about until next time, Mr. Paris. When you can trust the Mistress enough to let her control your pleasure, then you will get what you crave from her." I told him to dress and to go.
I had no delusions about my progress with Mr. Paris. His habits with women were probably formed in adolescence. They would be hard to break even for the Mistress. I left him to think about my last question to him for a time. My attention returned to Mr. Kim. He had become intoxicatingly good at full body massage. I put my tired, tense muscles under his hands the next night. He straddled my butt with his naked thighs and slowly worked his way up my spine.
Mr. Paris had stopped harassing him over the Mistress. The only time Harry knew that Tom was thinking about it was when he would stare at him with a confused look as if he wanted to ask a question, but then didn’t. I asked dreamily of his nocturnal exploits. Mr. Kim laughed and said they were more outrageous than ever. It didn’t surprise me. I had been leaving the poor man quite frustrated.
I asked if he was managing to behave himself any better. Mr. Kim said no. There are a few women who were angry at each other over Tom. Though Mr. Paris had denied it, Mr. Kim had heard persistent rumors that Tom had locked one of his conquests out of his room without her clothes. I asked if Harry believed it was true. He wasn’t sure. There are times when he’d swear it couldn’t be true and other times when that kind of behavior wouldn’t surprise him. I began to drift off as Mr. Kim reached my temples. But I would remember the conversation.
I summoned Mr. Paris a week later. My stress levels at work were high and I needed to work off my aggression. He was flawless in his entry and his demeanor. I walked around him as he knelt before me. I stroked the muscles along his back. He was silent. Mr. Paris seemed determined to not give me reason to lash him.
I asked him if he had thought about my question. He said he had. He said he was terrified of losing control that way. He had to be the one to run things in bed.
"Even to the point of putting your partner out of your quarters without her clothes?"
He was silent, but he his face reddened. "You did that didn’t you, Mr. Paris?"
He almost whispered, "Yes, Mistress."
"How should you be punished? Should I send you out of here naked? You run pretty fast. You may make it to your quarters unseen." He looked stricken. I laughed harshly. "Didn’t you think of that feeling when you did it?"
"No," he said softly.
"What will it be then? A little naked sprinting or the lash?"
His shoulders sagged. "The lash, Mistress."
I shackled him to the bed face down. He took ten brisk lashes. I unshackled him then re- shackled him on his back. I put on a soft leather blindfold on him and removed the bra and panties of the Outfit. I kissed him. I let his mouth work mine over with all the skill he possessed. I pulled away to kiss every part of his skin I could reach. He was rock hard and writhing nearly off the mattress despite the restraints when I mounted him.
Oh, god, he moaned. I used a couple whacks of the riding crop to still him. I kissed him again, then began to ride him. I moved on him with long slow strokes at first getting used to how he felt. When his tension began to grow, I moved faster and held tighter. He fought for control of his body. He never moved his hips even as he reached climax just before I did.
For a while, all I could do was lay on top of him. Mr. Paris didn’t seem to mind. After a short rest, I removed the blindfold. He looked sated and perplexed. I released him. He thanked me. I told him to get dressed and to go. While he was free of restraint, I kept my distance and my cat o’nine tails. As he left my chambers, he looked back at me and smiled. It was not the smile of the submissive. I knew that singularly male kind of smile. He still wanted to have me on his own terms. He was determined to figure out how.
I smiled back. I knew it would be a most excellent struggle.Home
03: Commander Chakotay